A scream pierced the silence of the market, followed by manic laughter. “Oh look, two new mice to play with” came a haunting voice that echoed against the buildings.

I pushed back my fear as a low fog moved through the cobblestones. Electricity sparked on Frankie’s palms.

“We have to get to the school,” I said, but as soon as I did, my foot caught on something, and I almost tripped. “What the . . . ?”

I stared down in horror at the leg poking from behind an overturned food cart. Frankie and I both stopped cold. I was afraid to look any closer, thinking that the leg might be missing the rest of its body parts, but then it moved. We peered behind the cart, where a woman lay against a wall, cradling a wound across her chest.

“Are you okay?” Frankie asked.

“Do I look okay?” the woman moaned with her eyes still squeezed shut.

I kneeled at her side. “Do you need help getting up?”

“I’d rather stay here.” The woman opened her eyes, and they were hollow. When she smiled, she didn’t have a tongue or teeth. It was like looking into a tunnel of darkness. “There’s much fun left to play.”

I jumped back. Okay. Nope. I’d had enough of diabolical villains for the day.

“Let’s keep moving,” I told Frankie, and thankfully the woman didn’t follow us.

We set off again, but this time at a jog, barely missing gaping holes in the cloud beneath our feet. By the time we arrived at the edge of the school grounds, we were half out of breath. The plaque on the gate read: INTERGALACTIC SCHOOL FOR THE MAGICALLY GIFTED. Behind it stood an empty field. No buildings, no trees, no sign that anything or anyone had ever been here.

“I should have thought of this,” Frankie lamented. “If the school doesn’t really exist in one place. It must have moved when the prisoners attacked Azur.”

“Convenient for the school, doubly inconvenient for us,” I groaned.

“There has to be a trick to it,” Frankie said.

“Rana Kane, the 112th librarian, said the school is always open to children in need, and we’re in need.”

Something—scratch that, some things moved in the fog, creeping closer to us. We had to figure this out and fast. On a hunch, I pushed open the gate. It was heavy but offered no resistance. “I have an idea,” I said. “What if we wait for it to come for us?”

Frankie peered at the shadows drawing closer. “What makes you think it will?”

“It’s just a . . . um . . . theory,” I told her as we stepped onto the manicured lawn.

“Two tiny morsels to eat,” sang a voice in the fog. “What a tasty little treat.”

“They’re mine!” shouted another voice.

“Let’s play a game,” suggested a third.

“Pick their bones clean,” sang the first voice. “They look mighty lean.”