Mothball rounded a corner and came upon a stout wooden door. Tick thought it seemed out of place inside a huge metal box floating on the ocean. She paused, then rapped three times with her large knuckles. “Got the last one, I did!” she yelled through the dark oak.

Muffled footsteps sounded from the other side, then the click of a latch. The door swung wide open and Tick’s five senses almost crashed and burned trying to take in everything at once.

Beyond the open doorway was an enormous room that looked like it had been plucked out of an ancient king’s castle and magically transported inside the metal building. Fancy, fluffy, comfortable-looking furniture sat atop lush carpets and rugs; the walls were covered in dark wooden bookshelves, complete with hundreds of leather-bound books; a massive brick fireplace cast a warm and flickering glow upon the whole room as the fire within it roared and crackled and spit. Several people were in the room, scattered amongst the plush furniture.

Tick recognized Sofia at once, sitting on an overstuffed chair next to the fire; when their eyes met, she stood and waved. Next to her was a couch where a tall, dark-skinned boy sat, grinning from ear to ear. That had to be Paul. An Asian boy sat next to him, short dark hair framing his angry, scrunched-up face. Tick thought he looked like he’d just been told he hadn’t passed a single one of his classes at school. Rutger was there, too, his little round body perched atop a pile of cushions. He leaned back, clasping his stubby hands behind his head like he owned the place.

And finally, standing by the door, his hand still on the inside handle, was a man dressed in the fanciest suit Tick had ever seen, black and pinstriped, a long golden chain marking where his pocket watch hid for the moment. His face was puffy and red, like he’d just walked ten miles through a freezing wind. A round pair of glasses perched on his nose, making his dark eyes seem two times bigger than they were. His balding scalp was red and slightly flaky. Tick thought he looked a little odd and a little anxious, but somehow nice all the same.

“Master George?” he said, wincing when it came out more as a croaky whisper than anything else.

The man smiled, revealing slightly crooked teeth. “Indeed, my good man. Master George, at your service.” He bowed his head and held out a hand, which Tick accepted and shook, his confidence and ease growing by the second.

“Nice to meet you,” Tick said, remembering his manners.

“Likewise, boy, likewise.” He stepped back and swept his arm in a wide gesture, as if revealing the warm room as the grand prize on a game show. “Welcome to our first meeting with new members in more than twenty years.”

“Members?” Tick asked.