He rubbed his bearded chin and sighed again. There had to be a way, of course. He just had to figure it out.

“Hmmmmm,” he mused thoughtfully. But his thinking produced nothing.

He shrugged. Well, there was nothing more to be accomplished by standing about.

He started to turn away and found himself face to face with Meeks. His half-brother had reverted to his normal form, a tall, craggy figure with grizzled white hair and hard, dead eyes. Dark blue robes cloaked his body like a shroud. He stood less than a dozen yards away, just a step or two back in the trees from the clearing’s edge. The black-gloved hand of his one good arm cradled the missing books of magic close against his chest.

Questor Thews felt his stomach lurch.

“I have waited a long time for this moment,” Meeks whispered. “I have been very patient.”

Dozens of random thoughts rushed through Questor’s mind and were gone, leaving only one. “I am not frightened of you,” he said quietly.

His half-brother’s face was unreadable. “You should be, Questor. You think yourself a wizard now, but you are an apprentice still. You will never be more than that. I have power you never even dreamed could exist! I have the means to do anything!”

“Except catch the black unicorn, it appears,” Questor answered bravely.

The dead eyes flickered briefly with rage. “You understand nothing—not you, not Holiday, not anyone. You play a game you cannot win and you play it poorly. You are a distraction to be removed.” The pale, creased face was a death mask. “I have endured exile and a disruption of my plans—all brought about by you and this play-King—and neither of you understands yet what it is that you have done. You are pathetic!”

The dark robes seemed to twitch where the right sleeve hung empty. “Your time in this world and life is just about over, half-brother. You stand alone. That prism cat no longer threatens me. Holiday is helpless and abandoned. The sylph and the black unicorn have nowhere left to run. Your other friends are already mine—all but the dog, and the dog is of no consequence.”

Questor felt his heart sink. The others were prisoners—all but Abernathy?

Meeks smiled now, a cold, empty smile. “You were the last possible threat to me, Questor. And now I have you.”

Questor stiffened, anger pushing back his fear. “You do not have me yet! Nor will you ever have me!”

The other’s laugh was soundless. “Won’t I?”

His head inclined slightly, and dozens of shadows slipped from behind the trees all about him. The shadows materialized with the light into small, crooked children with pointed ears, wizened faces, and scaled bodies. Pig snouts sniffed the forest air and serpent tongues slipped between rows of sharpened teeth.

“Demon imps!” Questor exclaimed softly.

“Rather a few too many for you to do much about, wouldn’t you say?” His half-brother’s words hissed at him with undisguised pleasure. “I don’t care to waste my time with you, Questor. I prefer to leave you to them.”