The mall was a collection of all sorts of shops and eateries, surround by a broad expanse of inlaid bricks. The three of them stopped to see which restaurant looked most appetizing—assuming, of course, they accepted Reality Prime money. Tick’s hopes were rising, because this place had some of the same fast-food chains as back home—their logos were just slightly different.

“Ooh, look—” Tick started to say, but a man stopped him by pulling on his elbow. Tick looked behind him to see a short, fidgety man with the worst comb-over Tick had ever seen.

“Excuse me,” the man said, his face breaking into a smile that would have looked more natural on a rattlesnake. “Is your name, er, Atticus Higginbottom?”

Tick didn’t know what he’d expected the man to say, but his mouth dropped open and his heart started thumping.

“Um,” he said, looking over at his friends to see if they’d heard. By the stunned looks on their faces, he figured they had. He turned back to the man. “Yeah, I’m Tick, I mean, Atticus.”

“That’s great, real great,” the man said, more relieved than happy. “Someone named, um, Mothball asked me to find you and offer you rooms in my hotel, The Stroke of Midnight Inn. My name is Phillip, and I’m happy to accommodate you.”

Then he bowed. He actually bowed.

Tick felt immediately suspicious, and it only took a second for him to see his friends felt the same.

“Mothball sent you?” Sofia asked.

“Why didn’t she come herself?” Paul added.

Phillip pulled his head back, looking like a startled—albeit pudgy—chicken. “I don’t know—why would I make something like that up?”

“What does she look like?” Tick asked.

The man didn’t hesitate. “She’s very tall—the tallest person I’ve ever laid eyes on. Black hair, thin, not very . . . well, what I mean to say is . . . well, she’s a bit homely, to be honest.”

“A-plus on that quiz,” Paul muttered, and Tick felt himself relax a little.

“She said you’d be staying here for a week or so,” Phillip continued. “She paid me in advance and asked me to provide you three meals a day, plus whatever else you might need.”

The prospect of a nice hotel room, a hot shower, and all the food he could eat sounded to Tick like the single best idea in the history of best ideas.

“Good enough for me,” Paul said. “Where do we go?”

“Wait a minute,” Sofia said, holding out her hand. “There has to be something else. There’s no message, no reason, nothing? I don’t like this.”

“Actually,” Phillip said, “she did leave you an envelope. It’s sealed, so of course I don’t know its contents. Oddly enough, she asked me to give it to you at exactly six o’clock.” He looked at his watch. “Um, tomorrow morning.”