They were into their second round of peanut-butter-and-banana sandwiches when Mom emerged from the basement. Finally, thought Henry.

“Oh! Is it lunchtime already?” She hummed to the tune on her iPod, made herself a turkey sandwich, gave Brianna two aspirins, gave Henry a pat on the head, and disappeared back into the basement. When he heard the click of the lock from her studio door, he knew he was doomed. And as he buried his head in his hands, he saw Brianna smile.

The combination of nap, medicine, and food had revived her. Henry was stuck at least until dinner.

They played hand after hand of Go Fish. Every now and then he’d purposely slip and say “Go away,” but she didn’t rise to the bait. They sat together and watched an old black-and-white version of Frankenstein. Fortunately, Brianna fell asleep on the sofa before the scary parts came on. It would be his fault if she woke up in the middle of the night from a nightmare about dead monsters coming to life. Henry was fascinated by the movie—especially the scenes in the “la-bor-a-tory” with all the mad scientist equipment.

Not for the first time, he found himself wondering how much of what was in a movie was actually real. Is it really possible to bring something to life with lightning? After he’d witnessed the destructive power of lightning in the garage loft a few nights earlier, he found it hard to believe. But what if it was possible …

“Henry. Henry, get up.” He opened his eyes, startled to see Brianna shaking him. “You fell asleep,” she said, pushing him off the remote and switching to cartoons.

“Henry, when is Daddy coming home?” she asked. Her eyes were glued to the caped dog and his sidekick hamster on the television.

“What?” Still groggy, he looked at the screen to see if she was repeating lines from the show.

“When is Daddy coming home?” This time she faced him.

He had been wondering the same thing for days. It wasn’t unlike his father to go away on business, but he had been gone for several weeks. The last time Henry had spoken to him was in his room the night Henry tried to make Brianna disappear. He couldn’t recall their conversation, but for some reason, he was disturbed by the thought of it. He was sure it had to do with his wand.

“Henry!” Brianna snapped.

“I don’t know, okay? Probably soon.” She crossed her arms and scowled, unsatisfied. “Why don’t you go get your crayons and we’ll make a picture for him.”

“Can we use your colored pencils?” She smiled mischievously. His colored pencils were forbidden to anyone under the age of nine (next year he’d change it to ten). But for reasons he couldn’t explain, he found himself giving in to her more and more frequently these days.

“Okay, but you need to follow some rules … ”