Colin stood at the far end of the room with a dog. Or a something. Because this was not Canut. This dog that looked a bit like Canut bristled with fur, and its eyes shone with a bluish spark. It had a sharp-toothed grin and its feet were the size of one of Lark’s platters.

Isaac’s head throbbed.

“That is not Canut.”

“No.” Colin smiled. “This is Daemon.” He put his hand on the beast’s back. “He’s a dire wolf.”

“A . . .”

“I heard him scratching at the door and it’s so nasty outside, don’t you think?” Then Colin grinned, and a chill ran down Isaac’s spine. It was only for an instant. Just a flash. A shift in Colin’s face. A spark of red in one of his eyes.

“We have been looking for you,” Isaac said uncertainly.

“Oh, and I’ve been looking for you, too, for ever so long. And here you are.” Colin took a step toward Isaac.

Isaac took a step back.

“What’s wrong, Isaac?”

Isaac stepped back again, placing his hand on the wall, trying to find the door. This was not Colin. This was awful. An enormous threat emanated from this small boy and his giant dire wolf. Isaac groped for a way to escape.

Colin lifted his face and he sniffed the air, and Isaac shuddered as Colin’s voice dropped an octave. “I’ve been looking a long, long time for you.”

Isaac’s fumbling fingers found a door handle.

Daemon growled. Colin frowned.

Isaac twisted the knob and pushed, and fell into the dark space, slamming the door and throwing the iron bolt that was on the other side, just as the wolf threw its body against the door with a thud.

Isaac leaned against the door, which was thick and old. He could hear the wolf as it scrabbled and the curses as Colin-not-Colin tried to open the door.

As Isaac’s eyes adjusted, he saw that he was in the stairwell again, and he moved fast, running, turning downward in a tight spiral. The stairs were no wider than his shoulders, and the stairwell and steps were stone. Down and down and down and at least he could breathe again as the noises behind him faded, and he wondered what had happened to Colin.

He was certainly spelled. But by what? And how?

Isaac lost count of the steps.

He needed to get to the others. He wanted to find out if Kat knew some spell that would free Colin. Isaac hoped he was heading in the direction of the kitchen but this castle was so mysterious . . .

The stonework became solid rock. The stairwell was carved into the bedrock itself. Isaac was deep inside the earth beneath the castle and nowhere near the kitchen.

Isaac stopped and leaned against the rock wall, breathing hard. What was happening in Rookskill, he was sure, was his fault.