The hunter waved his free arm. I wished I had a universal translator.

“What is he saying?” I asked.

“He is . . . crazy.” Volodja put his index finger to his temple and turned his hand back and forth.

The hunter barked something. The dog at his feet woofed quietly. I missed Grendel. I wished I could’ve brought him. Maybe he’d bite Hugh and Curran for me.

Volodja waved at him, like you would at a mosquito, and started to the cave. “We go.”

“Plokhoe mesto,” the hunter yelled.

Accented Russian. That I understood. “He says this is a bad place.”

Volodja pivoted on his foot, his gaze sharp. “You speak Russian?”

“I do. I also get very angry when people try to trick me.”

He raised his hands. “No trick. You want orange things or not?”

“We do,” Aunt B said. “Lead the way.”

“Agulshap,” the hunter said. “Don’t go into the cave.”

Agulshap didn’t sound like a Russian word. “What does agulshap mean?”

“I don’t know,” Volodja said. “I talked to you: he is crazy.”

Keira shook her head. “I don’t like it.”

I didn’t like it either.

“Come along,” Aunt B said. Her face still had that pleasant, sweet-as-sugar smile, but her eyes were hard. Suddenly I felt sorry for Volodja.

He pulled a torch out of his pack and lit it.

The mouth of the cave grew closer with every step. A few more seconds and it swallowed us whole.

* * *

The cave stretched on and on, tall, giant, vast. Stone steps carved into the living rock of the mountain led down below, and my steps sent tiny echoes bouncing up and down from the smooth walls.

“Little far,” Volodja explained over his shoulder.

“Clear as mud,” Keira muttered.

The stone steps ended. The only light came from the torch in our guide’s hand. We crossed the cavern floor to a rough arch chiseled in the rock. Volodja stepped through. Aunt B followed, and then I did, with Keira bringing up the rear. We stood in a round chamber, about thirty feet wide. Another exit, a dark hole, yawned to the right.

“We wait,” Volodja said.

We stood in darkness. This wasn’t filling me with oodles of confidence.

Keira touched my shoulder. Something was coming.

The kid dove forward, through the second opening. I lunged after him and ran into a metal grate that slammed shut in my face. The second clang announced another grate slamming into place over our only exit.

I pressed against the wall, between the two exits.

“I thought so,” Keira said.

Aunt B sighed.

We just had to figure out if this was a straight robbery or if someone had hired them to do it.

Someone shone a light through the grate. “I have crossbow,” a deep male voice said. “Silver bolts. Give money.”

“I don’t understand,” Aunt B said. “Where are the orange shapeshifters? Volodja?”