Tick finally broke his stare from the burning car and looked at Norbert. “How did you know we needed help? And who are those people in the car back there?” The driver and his daughter had not gotten out yet, probably still in shock over what they’d just seen. “Why would they want to save us?”

Norbert smiled, a barely noticeable crack in his still-panicked face. “Those are some good questions you’re
a-spouting out, boy, good questions indeed. I reckon they’re in the same boat as you and your daddy, here. Back at the house, I’d just noticed a suspicious car pull onto the road to follow you folks when this fancy man and his little girl showed up, a-looking for the same stuff as you. Let’s go talk to them.” He gestured to the destroyed car. “Gazing down there won’t fix a thing. What’s done is done. Come on.”

They walked back to the car and to the people who had saved their lives. The driver’s side door popped open when they were still a few feet away; a tall, nicely dressed man stepped out, smoothing his greased blond hair back as he did so.

He bowed slightly as they approached, closing his eyes for a long second. “Good evening, sirs.” His accent was thick, maybe German. “I apologize that we have not formally made acquaintance—if you’ll excuse me.”

Tick’s dad had moved forward to shake the man’s hand, but stepped back in surprise as the stranger hurriedly walked around the car and opened the passenger-side door, bowing in deference to the person inside. Baffled, Tick stared as a girl about his age got out of the car and waved at them. Even though they’d been a couple of feet apart during the few crazy seconds it took to save his dad, Tick had not gotten a good look at the girl until now, thanks to the car’s headlights that were still shining brightly in the darkness.

She had an olive complexion and long dark hair framing her brown eyes and thin face. She was maybe an inch or two shorter than Tick and wore clothes that seemed like nothing special—he’d almost expected a princess the way her blond companion acted toward her.

“Hi there,” she said, her gaze focused on Tick.

She also had an accent, but very subtle. “Hi,” he answered. “Uh, thanks for saving us—to you and your . . . dad.”

The girl laughed. “Oh, he’s not my dad. He’s my butler.”

The man jerked his head stiffly in another bow. “It is a pleasure. My name is Fruppenschneiger, but you may call me Frupey.”

It took every ounce of willpower for Tick not to laugh. Frupey?