Harry sniffed. There was something in these dark woods to which he was allergic. He said, “What about Nashuna and Osso-bucco and all the rest of the demons?”

Singing Rock told him, “Demons and gods have to be summoned according to a hierarchy. First they summoned Sak, the guardian of the gateway, and with Sak’s help they’re going to summon the lesser demons. Then they’re going to call Ossadagowah. For any kind of revenge, I would have thought Ossadagowah would have been quite terrible enough. But Misquamacus is obviously hell-bent on using Ossadagowah to call on Ka-tua-la-hu, and that’s going to be devastation time.”

Neil said, “We’d better get back there, huh? Back to the bus? I know this stuff is really important, and all that, but Toby—”

Harry put his arm around Neil’s shoulders. “We’re going to do the best we can, Neil, and a little bit more besides.”

They made their way down the gloomy path of the Petrified Forest, down a flight of rough, log steps, until they reached the turnstile and the gift shop again. The girl was waiting for them anxiously, and she was obviously relieved that they weren’t trying to bust their way out with a petrified tree under their arms.

“Did you see the professor?” she asked.

“Sure,” said Harry. “Everything’s fine.”

“Did you enjoy the forest?” she asked.

Harry shook his head. “No. I was petrified.”

*

They drove cautiously back along the highway to Lake Berryessa, but they needn’t have worried about being intercepted by the Highway Patrol. The bridge across Pope Creek and its immediate surroundings were in chaos. Floodlights now illuminated the bridge from all sides, and there were police cars and press cars and armored half-tracks from the National Guard parked all over the road. Helicopters clattered in and out, bringing television teams and police officials, and there was a constant echoing blare of amplified comments from a loudspeaker system.

The night was still warm, but it was unusually dark already, and the air still trembled with the vibrations of a coming electric storm. Along the hills on the opposite shore of Lake Berryessa, across the deep, troubled waters, lightning forked like the fangs of a poisonous snake.

A cop held his hand up as Harry and Neil and Singing Rock slowly approached the bridge area in their pickup.

“I’m a parent of one of the children,” said Neil, and produced his driver’s license again.

“Okay, okay,” said the cop. “Just pull over there and keep your head down. We’ll let you know if anything changes.”

Neil parked, and they climbed out of the truck. This time, Singing Rock took his suitcase with him, and they walked along by the side of the road until they reached the edge of the creek. There they stood against the railings and tried to see what had happened since the Highway Patrol had sent them away.