Alex looked around, blinking. He saw Metz watching them from the back of the Rolls. Beyond the car, a castle ruin rose starkly on a hill above the village roofs, a single tower poking up like a crumbling finger thrust accusingly at the heavens. It wasn’t the ruined castle Kingdom and Metz had talked about, he knew, but it seemed a menacing premonition and intensified the chill in his blood. His grandfather noticed him staring at it.

“Oh, I do love a derelict castle,” the old man said, forcing cheer into his voice. Then he frowned. “Well, most of the time. Now. We really should get moving. Alex?”

Alex took a breath. He felt history pressing at his back. But the only way to go was forward.

“Yeah.”

“Good man.”

•  •  •

ALEX’S GRANDFATHER CHECKED his wristwatch as they hit the outskirts of Stuttgart. “Almost four thirty. Sunset’s around half past eight. Then it’s officially Walpurgisnacht. Although midnight will be the center of it all, of course. That will be when they’re hoping to open the gate and conduct whatever madness they’re up to.” He brooded darkly then shot Alex a bright smile. “Gives us almost eight hours. That’s loads of time.”

Alex watched the stately city passing behind the raindrops on his window. Cars nudging one another, a police car, a hearse, tourist coaches. People on the streets. Eventually, Kingdom slowed, searching for a place to park.

“Here we are,” Alex’s grandfather said. “The Staatsgalerie. It used to be just the old museum, Alex.” The old man pointed out a stern, classical-looking building across the road. “They added this extension a few years ago.”

The newer structure looked as if its designer had started to build an imposing fortress, but at the last minute a child had snuck in and scribbled happily over the plans with crayons.

For the most part it was a solid, somber construction of heavy-looking sandstone in tones matching the old museum. But here and there were sudden wild angles, changes in level, curves and incongruous splashes of color. Big, friendly plastic tubes of bright pink and blue marked stairs and ramps that led up from the street to the entrance, where the main facade was punctured by a huge, undulating curtain of glass in a Day-Glo-green frame, as if the wall had melted.

Harry helped Metz out. Metz tested his leg, tentatively putting weight on it.

“’Ere you go, lean on me,” Harry said, offering an arm.

Metz considered him carefully, then accepted. “Thank you. My leg is better but still just a little weak.”

“We won’t be long,” Kingdom cooed gently to her dogs. She wound down her window and closed the car door. “I have a feeling that’s our man,” she added sourly, nodding to the entrance.