I was always more of a moonlight kid, to tell you the truth. I liked the nighttime better—the cool air, the hoot owls and tree frogs, the starshine and the moon so big and gorgeous above me that I wanted to rear back and howl like a wolf at it. But by golly, sometimes the sunshine is the only thing that’ll do the trick. Sometimes you got to remember that if it weren’t for the sunshine, the moon would just be a dark dead rock up there, nothing else to it. It’s the light, you know. The light is everything.

We were up in the sweaty swamp air, sucking in breaths, tired arms treading water. The skiff was still there, floating around in circles, the hull bouncing soft off some cypress knees. Tally climbed in first, and she helped me in afterward.

“Thanks,” I said. “You saved my life. Again.”

“I can tell you one thing, I don’t ever want to go back down to that cave.” She spat into the water. “Buddy boy, you think we can make it a full day without somebody trying to kill us?”

“I doubt it,” I said.

“You and me both.”

We curled up in that boat, the both of us wet and exhausted, the bright hot sun pouring through the trees and warming our bodies. We were hidden in the entrance to the Creepy’s cave, safe there I knew, even if old Sinclair was scary, even if he’d gone through something more horrible than I could imagine. Truth be told, I hated what he’d said to me about Pop, about how Pop was wrong about things, how he never told the truth. That somehow Pop had doomed him, had doomed the whole swamp. What was I supposed to think about that? How was I supposed to feel about my long-lost pop, my hero, the person I loved most in the world? But I loved what he said about Mom, that she was a witch. Was that what she was doing, up late at night in her kitchen? Was she conjuring things? I knew why she kept quiet about it in general—most towns, even dinky places like Collardsville, aren’t safe for witches—but why hadn’t she told me? My brain was tired and it was too much for me to think about. The sun warming me, the call of birds off hunting for grub. The whole thing made me tired, it did.

There wasn’t any time to sleep though, not yet. We still had my pop to find. We still had to hunt out a cure for Tally.

“Come on,” I said, taking up the oars. “We’re off for Baudelaire Quatro’s Place.”

“At least the day’s nice,” said Tally. A dragonfly circled her head twice and buzzed off. “At least we don’t have to do all our searching in darkness, like usual.”

Then came the rumble.

Behind us, coming up from the east, was the crackle and groan of black storm clouds creeping up on us. Lightning flickered in the far-off distance. Far-off, but not that far, and galloping mighty and mean toward us.