“If you have come here to take my life, Drusilla Fey, then I suggest you get it over with, and quickly. I am not one for delaying the inevitable.”

“That would be too easy now, wouldn’t it?” said Drusilla Fey. “I look forward to watching you grovel at my feet.”

I heard what sounded like a stampede down the hall, folks screaming and hollering war shrieks, Parsnit players fleeing and Boss Authority’s men hunting them down.

“Ta-ta, Arabella,” said Drusilla Fey. “Don’t forget, I gave you a chance.”

And then she was gone. I don’t know how I knew it, but it was true. It was like I could feel her leave, she was so powerful the air couldn’t relax until she left the room. Miss Arabella swept her dress back and we were sitting on our stools again. I don’t know how she did it, except for magic.

“Thank you,” I said.

“We were lucky,” she said. “Come quickly, children.”

Miss Arabella grabbed my hand and I grabbed Tally’s and we took off running down the stairs of the head, past the eyes and the little nook of the nose and around the earlobes until we were at the bottom, the wide-open mouth, the concierge’s front desk. Miss Arabella stopped right where she was and yanked my hand tight. It was like a current was zapped through us, and both me and Tally were frozen stiff right on the spot. I couldn’t hardly have flapped my eyelids if I wanted.

The concierge’s desk had been flipped over, tossed on its side, and where the secret door had been now stood a huge hole in the wall. The concierge stood in the back of the room, holding something in a big glass jar.

And in front of him stood a short, squat man with a back slightly hunched, his arms thick with hair and tattoos, his right hand squiggled all over in symbols that looked obscure and magic, his left hand a giant chunk of metal. A ponytail that swished back and forth on its own like a dog’s tail dangled down his back. I knew him, somehow, I knew him in my heart, I knew him from stories told. There he stood before me.

Boss Authority.

“You shall not have him,” said the concierge. “It is neither fair nor good. In fact, it is exceedingly indecent. No, I simply will not allow it.”

“Little fella,” said Boss Authority. “I don’t think you got much choice in the matter.” He took two steps toward the man, the buckles on his boots going clink clank with every step. “Come on, now. Let me see him.” Boss Authority held out that iron hand. The pointer finger whisked a here, here movement. “Let me see what’s left of old Baudelaire Quatro.”

It was like you see with magic magnets sometimes, the way they pull metal toward them. The glass jar began to draw slowly toward Boss Authority. You could tell the concierge was mystified, fighting it as best he could, but he could not hold his arms back.