It was a massive fortress of stone and rock, still dark against the scant light of dawn. Dozens of towers and bridges dotted its skyline. It had to be the single largest structure Tick had ever seen—bigger by far than even the Seahawks’ football stadium. It appeared that not only had Mistress Jane discovered a land full of something like magic, she’d set herself up in a castle fit for a king from any fantasy book in the library. Tick was in awe and had the sudden urge to explore the place.

The three Windbikes hovered next to each other, everyone in stunned silence as they gawked at the castle of Mistress Jane.

“Calls it the Lemon Fortress, she does,” Mothball said. “Why that woman loves the color yellow so much is beyond me. Looney, she is.”

“Are we sure they can’t see us?” Paul asked.

“Not sure at’all. Come on, down we go. Got to be about our business.” She pushed on her handlebars and flew toward the edge of the forest, the other two Windbikes right behind her.

They passed over the green cliff of the tightly packed trees and descended toward the ground, where a lush lawn of grass and wildflowers was sliced by the sinewy curve of a huge, sparkling blue river that spilled out from underneath the castle before finally disappearing into the forest. Not a person was in sight, and in a matter of seconds, the group had settled on the ground next to the deep, slowly moving waters, close enough to the trees to smell bark and pine.

“Where is Annika?” Sofia asked, not bothering to hide the frustration in her voice.

“Be along directly, she will,” Mothball replied, but her face showed signs of worry as she stared at the Lemon Fortress with a creased brow.

From where they waited, they could see a cobblestone path running along the river and up to a large double-doored entrance of the castle, just a few hundred feet away. Next to it, the river seemed to magically appear from nowhere, bubbling up from under the cold blocks of the castle’s granite. At the moment, not a thing stirred anywhere except for the trickling river and the early-rising birds of the forest.

Tick was about to say something when Mothball shushed him, holding up a hand as she perked her ears, looking around for signs of mischief. At first, Tick couldn’t hear anything, but then the faintest sound of giggling and high-pitched chatter came from everywhere at once, bouncing along the lawn in front of them and from the trees behind them.

“What is that?” Paul whispered.

The creepy cacophony of hoots and howls and wicked laughter grew louder.

“That can’t be good,” Sofia muttered, her eyes wide in her frightened face. “Mothball, what’s going on?”