“I . . . I understand that,” said Tally. “I know just what that means.”

“He was our brother,” said Sinclair. “And we failed him. And your father, child, your father failed us all.”

“But how?” I said. “Is that why Mom left Pop? Is that why we had to flee the swamp?”

Sinclair looked at me, eyes black and sad, just an opal shimmer in the darkness.

“To answer that, we must come to the last night, the hexed night, and I am loath to tell it. It was five years back, and it became apparent that Bobby Felix could no longer be ignored. Your father called us to a secret meeting, because as much as we were all friends, there wasn’t any doubt he was our leader. He couldn’t help himself but to lead, do you understand? We all had our part.”

I did understand. I understood that all too well. I’d been following Pop’s lead my whole life.

“The lanterns in our secret room went dark, the candles whisked out. Magic was afoot, fearsome dreadful magic. The door swung open and there stood Bobby Felix, much changed. Behind him walked Drusilla Fey, chanting a hex, and Marina was pinned against the wall. Bobby Felix had two lackeys with him, two hangers-on that we wouldn’t let near us, so vile they were, Cecily Bob and Mr. Hugo. They followed Drusilla Fey, and they were armed. Cecily Bob held his knife to me and Mr. Hugo grabbed your mother. Your father was free, but what could he do with a knife at his wife’s throat?”

I couldn’t believe it, someone threatening my mom like that. It made me so mad I wanted blood. How could Pop’s friend do something like that?

“So what happened?” I said.

“Boss Authority—for that’s what Bobby Felix would now be called—challenged your father to a Parsnit duel.”

“And Pop whooped him square and good, right?”

“No, child,” said Sinclair. “You are much mistaken. Your father lost. And in losing, he doomed us all.” Sinclair twitched, his neck muscles flared, his head flinched backward. “Look at me. Look at what I’ve become. Look at what your father made me.”

Sinclair let out a scream and fell down onto the cave floor. He covered his face with his hands and cowered back from the torchlight.

“You must leave,” he moaned. “Please. Cecily Bob and Mr. Hugo are gone now, and you can hide in the trees until you are safe. But you must leave this place, now.”

“Why?” I said. “I still don’t know what happened.”

“Blood has been spilled in this swamp,” he said. “There lies a new body for me.”

“Is it Pop’s?” I said. “Is Pop okay?”

“Make for Baudelaire Quatro’s Place,” said Sinclair. “That’s where your father’s headed, I wager. He should go straight to Marina’s, but he won’t, no matter who counsels him. He wouldn’t listen even if I told him, not even if it was old Sinclair. You will learn, child, that your father never listens.”