“Ren!” yelled Alex.

She stood up on wobbly Bambi legs.

Alex looked over his shoulder as he and Luke yanked her forward. The oversized thug had pushed himself up to one knee, and the slap of boots on pavement alerted Alex to three more men racing down the ramp. The grim looks on their faces told him they weren’t coming to help.

The three kids took off running, but it took Alex and Ren a few steps to get up to speed. Luke could’ve left them in the dust but hung back to help as they headed up the opposite side of the ramp, away from the disabled car and toward the exit. Alex panicked when he saw the upslope. Hills had always been a major challenge for him. Then he remembered: That was before. His legs found their rhythm and began driving him smoothly up the ramp.

There were four men in pursuit now. The other three looked lean and hungry, like a pack of wolves, and were already overtaking their beefy buddy, who had wobbled to his feet.

Alex pawed uselessly at his amulet with his bound hands.

“We need to reach the top of the ramp!” called Ren.

Her short legs pumped hard on the upslope, and her sneakers slapped the pavement, but she wasn’t moving fast enough. Alex held back, unwilling to leave her behind. And with each step, the wolves pulled closer. They were ten yards behind … eight … six …

MEEEEEEP! MEEEEEEP!

A tiny car careened into view like a tin-plated, turbo-charged golf cart. It fishtailed around the corner at the top of the ramp before barreling down the slope.

“Watch out!” called Alex. All three friends dove to the side to avoid the speeding vehicle.

The little machine whizzed past them in a red-and-white blur, heading straight for the wolf pack. The four men scattered like bowling pins, half diving to the left and half to the right. As they hit the pavement, the undersized engine shifted into reverse. The sound was less mighty roar than feverish whine, but the tiny car zoomed backward up the ramp and slammed to a stop in front of the fallen friends. A tall lady with striking features leaned out the open driver’s-side window. “Get in!” she shouted.

Painted on the door below her in red letters:

THE BRITISH MUSEUM

OFFICE OF THE DIRECTOR

“Dr. Aditi?” shouted Ren.

“Sorry I’m late!” the woman called.

The three friends ran around to the passenger side and piled clown car–style into the little vehicle. With no time to push the seatback forward, Ren vaulted between the seats. Alex attempted to do the same but got caught up. A solid shove from Luke finished the job. The taller cousin plopped down in the front passenger seat and the little car was moving again before he even slammed the door.

Fists pounded on the hood and side of the car. Alex was afraid the thugs would capsize the so-called automobile with their size and muscle. Liam’s large fleshy face appeared at the window nearest Alex, who was still trying to untangle himself from his friend in the tiny backseat.

“Where’s your luggage?” Dr. Aditi shouted over the combined racket of men and machine.

“My what?” said Alex. He’d forgotten all about his suitcase — except for the part where it had come down on his head.

“At the bottom of the ramp!” shouted Ren.

“Right, then,” said Aditi. She brought her chin down in a sharp nod and her foot down in a sharp stomp. The car came to an abrupt stop. Four thick thumps rocked it as the pursuers bounced into and off of its angled frame.

Aditi floored it. A quick bump inside the car coincided with a sharp yelp outside. Was that someone’s foot? wondered Alex. He hoped so.

And just like that, the little car was racing back the way they’d come. Aditi screeched to another halt near the van. “Would you mind terribly?” she said to Luke.

He jumped out of the passenger side and tossed Alex’s battered briefcase into the open door. Alex was useless with his hands tied, so Ren wrestled the thing into the backseat. Out the back window, the thugs were gaining again — except for the one with the fresh limp.

“Hurry!” called Alex. It seemed like a lot of fuss for luggage and he considered saying so, but he knew that no one liked a backseat driver.

Luke tossed in Ren’s wheelie bag then jumped back in, holding his own duffel. A fist smacked the back window as the car hightailed it the wrong way up the ramp, toward the disabled car. Aditi revved the engine and bumped the little car up on the curb to get around the sideways sedan. She bounced and jostled over another curb to get into the next lane.

And just like that, they were on their way out of the airport. Aditi downshifted, and everyone — the little car included — seemed to take a long, deep breath.

Aditi adjusted her mirror and looked around. “So,” she said brightly, “how was the flight?”

At a small executive airport outside the city, another, smoother flight had just touched down. The pilot of this one had not been at all surprised by the red rain and, with plenty of fuel, had simply circled above the clouds, waiting for it to end. The sleek private jet taxied to a halt, and a lone passenger disembarked. He was tall and gaunt with spiky silver hair, and he carried a long black case in one hand.

No one asked this man how his flight was as he walked into the small main building. No one said anything to him at all, just tried to avoid his eyes.

No chance of that. Perched atop a long, sharp nose, his eyes were dark and cold and predatory. They took in the room at a glance and identified the approaching threat immediately. Even at small airports, there are rules. Even at small airports, there are international borders.

A young, blue-shirted customs official named Lewis broke the silence. “Sorry I’m late, Dave,” he said as he rushed into the room to relieve his coworker. “My car wouldn’t start.”

Dave wheeled around and stared at him in surprise. Lewis wasn’t late; he was early.

Dave had debts and needed the money. In a word, he’d been bribed. And part of his job had been to disable Lewis’s car. He simply hadn’t disabled it enough. Now he tried to warn his coworker off with a sharp look and a shake of his head, but Lewis had no idea what any of that meant. He ignored it and got to work.

“Right,” he said, turning to the silver-haired man who had approached the desk. “Let’s see your passport.”

The room fell completely silent. Everyone there — Dave, the pilot, a safety inspector, even a few members of the ground crew — they all knew the deal. Everyone except Lewis.

“I’m afraid I don’t have one,” said the man slowly.

“You … I’m sorry … What?” said Lewis. “Listen, mate, this is a small airport, things are a little looser maybe, but you still need the basics.”

He turned toward Dave with a Can you believe this guy? smile. But Dave was not smiling. In fact, he was trembling slightly.

He mouthed three words, slowly and distinctly, and underlined their importance with his eyes: “Let. It. Go.”

Lewis looked at him closely. He was just now hearing the silence, sensing the fear, and beginning to put things together. He didn’t know what was going on, but he knew it wasn’t legal. “Aw, Dave,” he said, the disappointment clear in his voice. “You know I can’t do that.”

He turned back to face the man, but the man’s face was no longer there. In its place was a long iron mask in the shape of a crocodile head. The black bag lay empty on the floor.

Lewis flinched, more from surprise than fear, at first. From flat scales to blunt teeth, the detail in the dull gray iron was impressive. The man stared out coldly through eyeholes above the snout. And then he raised his hand, and an ancient power flowed forth. That’s when the fear started. The fear, and the pain.