Sofia spoke up, breaking his concentration. “The part about ignoring everything else—it must mean the two lines after it are all that matters—the last two lines. The rest of it seems like nonsense anyway . . . but . . . ‘There lies a secret to unhide . . . ’”

“‘Inside the words of the words inside,’” Tick finished for her.

“What is that?” Paul said, his neck bent back as he looked up at the ceiling.

Tick ignored him, staring at the last two lines of the poem as if doing so would make them rearrange themselves. Rearrange . . .

Paul slapped Tick on the shoulder, then Sofia, who was also ignoring him. “Guys, cut the poetry lesson for a second and look.” He pointed upward.

Far above, odd shapes crawled across the black roof, defying gravity and blotting out the sputtering lights as they moved around. Impossible to make out clearly, the . . . things were squat and round with several long, angled limbs that moved up and down rapidly, bending and unbending as they scuttled about. They looked like big spiders, but false somehow—artificial. As if their legs were made out of . . .

“Bless my mama’s hanky—what are those buggins?” Sally asked.

One of the creatures jumped from the roof and landed on the closest balcony with a metallic clank. As it flew through the air, its awkward limbs flailing, Tick noticed a flash of steel. Another creature followed its companion, then another, then another. By the time the leader had jumped down to the next balcony, the dozen or so others had reached the first one. Balcony to balcony, down they came.

Straight for Tick’s group.

“This is gonna be trouble,” Paul said.

A sharp pain built behind Tick’s eyes, his mind spinning in all kinds of directions. He knew these mechanical spiders must be like the Gnat Rat or the Tingle Wraith, things sent by Master George to test them. At least he hoped they were from Master George.

“‘Inside the words of the words inside,’” Sofia said in a burst, her eyes widening in revelation. “‘Inside the words of the words inside!’”

The spider-things were two levels away, close enough for Tick to make out their features. The long, spindly legs were jointed metal, supporting a round ball of steel with all kinds of devices jutting from its body—spinning blades and sharp knives. The clanking and clicking and whirring of the hor-rible creatures made Tick’s insides boil.

Sofia grabbed Tick’s arm. “The words inside. Those three words are the main part of the riddle!”

The answer hit Tick like a catapulted stone. Anna Graham. Rearranging. Tick had always loved the puzzles in the Sunday paper, everything from Sudoku to number pyramids, but one game had always been a favorite . . .

Anna Graham.

“Anagram!” he yelled, probably looking insane to his friends because of the huge smile that spread across his face. The clanking sounds of the oncoming metal-spiders grew louder.