“My brother could thrash you with his arms tied behind his back!” she called over her shoulder.

Merritt had grinned in a way that made Jaren’s stomach do a clumsy somersault. “Is that so?”

“Erm, no,” Jaren said, not about to put pride before his own mortality. “You know how little sisters are,” he said with a forced chuckle. “Think their big brothers are capable of anything.”

“Jaren,” Tad whined, embarrassed by his cowardice. “Everyone is looking.”

Jaren truly didn’t care what the other townspeople thought of him, but the expression of utter disappointment on his little sister’s face made his stomach twist with disappointment in himself. With a sigh, he started to raise his fists. Merritt’s grin widened.

And just when Jaren thought he was about to be pummeled to death by a red-faced oaf with fists the size of ham hocks, Maggie had stepped forward and whispered something into Merritt’s ear.

Merritt had chuckled darkly and nodded. “Maggie here has an idea. Personally, I’d rather kick your ass into next Tuesday. But judging by the state of you, it won’t be much of a fight.”

Jaren swallowed audibly.

“I’ll tell you what,” Merritt said. “I’ll give you a choice.”

“And since you don’t believe in magic,” Maggie sneered, “it should be an easy one.”

Merritt raised his voice so everyone in the pub could hear him. “Go to Lake Luma and bring back a vial of water.”

The crowd gasped in unison. It might have been comical under other circumstances.

“Tonight. Alone,” Maggie added, and Jaren knew he’d made an enemy for life.

“Or stay and fight me now,” Merritt said. “The choice is yours.”

At the time, it had seemed like Jaren was getting off easy. Back home, the very worst dare was jumping off of Dead Man’s Ridge into the river below, which had earned its moniker more than once over the years. But Lars had assured Jaren that a glass vial with just an ounce or two of lake water was transportable. At least, he thought it was. In theory. Jaren had decided it was worth trying, if only to buy him some time before he had to face Merritt.

Now that very vial, carefully collected from the lakeshore in the moonlight, jostled in Jaren’s pocket. He pressed his hand over it, afraid if he fell, it would break and spill poisonous water all over his unmentionables.

Stupid, stupid bet! Jaren thought, and ran as fast as he could away from that cursed lake.

Chapter Eleven

Five days. Five short days until Tate would board the boat used to send incantu children away before their twelfth birthdays. Five precious days before Leelo would never see her brother again.