What the hell was six five three supposed to mean? It didn’t sound like any spell I’d come across. In the Dewey Decimal system, 653 referred to books on shorthand. It could also be a code word or command keyed to her jewelry. Maybe she was trying to tell me something, and didn’t want anyone else to overhear or understand. Or maybe she’d set a trap to petrify me the moment I emerged.

I couldn’t risk it. The water burbled behind me as I burrowed down the pipes.

Three very long, very cramped hours later, I was walking along the side of a road, barefoot and dripping and smelling of water purification chemicals and worse. I managed to flag down a passing car. The passenger window lowered, and the driver grimaced.

“I know,” I said. “It’s been a long day.”

He snorted. “Looks like a hell of a night, too. Sorry, man. I don’t know what you’ve been into, but I can’t let you in my car. You need me to call someone for you or anything?”

“I don’t think so.” I looked around. “But do you think you could tell me where to find the nearest bookstore or library? What I really need is a book of fairy tales.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Let me pull it up on the GPS.”

“Thanks.” I looked down at myself, then back at him. “You’re not going to ask about the hospital gown or anything?”

He flashed a broad grin. “Buddy, I’ve lived in Vegas for twenty years. If there’s one thing I know, it’s when not to ask questions.”

I arrived in Michigan wearing a brown wool tunic and a pair of seven-league boots, with an old library book tucked under one arm.

I’d gone to the Copper River Library first, but it was locked and empty. I checked Lena’s oak tree next. She wasn’t there, but when I touched the tree, the roots shifted to reveal a folded square of paper with a Grand Rapids address on it.

A short time later, I was back in the Lower Peninsula, double-checking the note against the blue-gray ranch house in front of me. A flat ceramic bumblebee hung beside the door, the word WELCOME arching over its wings. I stepped onto the porch and knocked.

Jason opened the door and immediately covered his mouth, trying to hide his laughter. “You look like you just climbed down from a beanstalk.” His nose wrinkled. “And you smell like—”

“I know what I smell like.” I held up the book. “Don’t let me forget to send a check to Sunrise Library in Las Vegas for the book and the broken window.”