The door banged open and Toad jerked awake. Before he could rid his eyes of sleep, rough hands grabbed him and yanked him to his feet.

“This the blighter?” said a gruff voice.

“Yeah — that’s ’im, Glenn!”

Toad recognized the second speaker’s voice and he saw the same scraggly-haired fellow from the bar before a musty-smelling bag covered his head.

“Hey!” Toad shouted, struggling in his captor’s arms.

“Search the place!” Glenn ordered, keeping a fast hold on Toad.

Toad heard the sounds of a vicious search going underway. A loud rip told him the cushion of the armchair had been slashed and next, the two mattresses met a similar fate. He didn’t understand where Melena and Hazel were. If they were in the room with him, they were mute, which didn’t make sense at all. It could only mean that they were downstairs and did not know their room was being ransacked.

There was a crash and a swear.

“Don’t wake up the whole joint, Vest!” Glenn growled. “Just find it!”

They’re looking for the flower, thought Toad, his stomach lurching. Why had he blabbed last night? They were going to steal it or possibly the entire bagful of ingredients, in hopes of getting the bounty from Owl themselves. What they would do when they discovered Owl was never going to pay Toad…

“There ain’t nuthin’ ’ere!” Vest swore.

The bag over Toad’s head was yanked off. The man before him smelled even worse than the musty bag had — a mixture of rotten eggs and manure-splattered boots.

“Talk,” Glenn snarled.

Now that he could see, Toad quickly took stock of the room. Every bit of it was upended. All the fluff from the cushions and beds lay in thick clumps on the floor. As he had suspected, Melena and Hazel were nowhere to be seen. Relief swept through him. The ingredients were safe. Melena had taken them with her — she was probably having an early breakfast. As long as she didn’t come back up to wake him —

“Don’t clam up now,” breathed the man in Toad’s face. “Or would ya rather me slit your throat?”

“Slitting my throat won’t help you,” said Toad stoutly. “There ain’t nuthin’ you can do to make me talk.”

“Search ’is pockets!” said Vest excitedly.

Glenn and Vest roughly dug their hands into every pocket of Toad’s coat, but they found nothing. Losing his temper, Glenn grabbed the front of Toad’s collar and yanked him close.

“If ya don’t tell me where —”

“Glenn — wait! What about the girl?” said Vest and Toad’s heart turned over.

“What girl?” Glenn spat.

“He said he was with a girl!”

“Well, where is she?” Glenn demanded.

Vest looked around the room as if he thought he had missed her in his initial search. “I’ll look downstairs.” He dashed through the door.

Glenn kept his hold on Toad. They glared daggers at each other. After a short stretch, heavy boots sounded on the stairs and Vest bounded back into the room empty handed. “She ain’t there,” he announced sourly.

This caused a curious sensation inside Toad. He was filled with elation that Melena had not been found, but then … where was she?

“She must be hiding! Where is she, boy?” Glenn growled, giving Toad a shake.

“I ain’t telling you nuthin’!” Toad repeated hotly.

Furious, Glenn swung Toad around and pushed him up against the wall, making picture frames rattle. “Have ya looked under the beds?” Glenn roared at Vest. “Did ya look there?”

“Yeah —”

“Look again!”

As Vest lowered to his knees, and peered under a bed, grumbling, Toad laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Glenn growled dangerously.

“Even if you find the ingredients, Owl won’t have nuthin’ to do with you. He’s my client, see. Mine!” Toad jeered in the brute’s face. “He won’t take nuthin’ from your grubby paws.” This was far from true. Toad was sure Owl would take the ingredients from anyone, but the chance to prod the oaf was too good to resist.

“What ya babblin’ about?” Glenn spat, spittle hitting Toad in the face. “We ain’t lookin’ fer no ingredients!”

This took Toad by surprise.

“What you looking for then?” he asked, nonplussed.

“Joe, ya bleedin’ fool! The Beer Mug o’ Thieves! Ya was wavin’ him right under Vest’s snotty nose! Where is he?”

Toad stared. They were looking for Joe? Toad was so relieved, so thrilled, that he grinned — almost laughed — until something dawned on him. He hadn’t untied Joe from his belt last night. He had been so tired and so worried about the inescapable talk with Melena that he’d forgotten, which meant that Glenn and Vest should have found Joe when they’d searched him … So where was he?

A chill slipped into Toad’s stomach.

“Where’s Joe?” he asked to no one in particular.

“That’s what I’ve been sayin’, ya blasted loon!” Glenn shouted.

“He was here —” Toad muttered, disbelieving. His eyes roamed the destroyed room, his left hand patting his hip. “Why ain’t he? Why…” Realization hit Toad with such force that he actually jerked.

Joe was gone.

The bag of ingredients was gone.

Hazel was gone.

Melena was gone.

Toad swore at the top of his voice. This surprised Glenn so much that he actually dropped his hold of Toad and took a startled step back.

Melena was gone. She had taken everything. She was heading to Owl.

Toad barreled past Glenn and Vest. He exploded out of the inn and raced down the road. Who knew how long ago she had left? She could be hours — miles ahead of him! And she didn’t know about Cutter. If she bumped into him —

Toad ran harder.

Why had she taken off? She couldn’t have been planning this all along, could she? The thought was too horrible to bear. Toad was the untrustworthy one, not Melena.

He was forced to stop, gasping for breath, a stitch, sharp and painful in his side. The inn was out of sight now. It appeared that Glenn and Vest were not following him and Melena was nowhere to be seen. The buggy station couldn’t be much farther. The only destination that made any sense was Hickory. But why? Why had she left?

Something must have brought on such a drastic action. Melena willingly stealing was as unbelievable as Bone baking cakes. Toad’s heart turned over. Had she heard him last night? The bar, stairs, and landing had been dark. Toad tried to think back, tried to remember hearing a creak or shuffle, but he’d been too preoccupied to know for sure. She had seemed normal in their room ... hadn’t she?

Had she … had she really played him for a fool?

Double-crossing was not foreign to Toad. It was a daily occurrence — an expected one when you were a thief. So why did he feel so … so …

Toad screwed up his face and hid it in his palms. He didn’t want to admit it to himself.

He’d never been double-crossed by a friend.

Wasn’t that what he and Melena were? Friends? Of course he had fully intended to steal the ingredients from her when he’d first met her, but that had been before their adventures, before they’d gotten to know each other. Now, as he stood on the empty road, he realized just how much he liked Melena’s company. He’d been looking forward to their next adventure very keenly: finding her brother.

His mouth twisted. “The joke’s on her. Owl won’t give her anything.”

He would, most likely, kill her.

The thought made Toad’s blood run cold. He wouldn’t let that happen. He’d track her down — he’d convince her that they’d get some money from Owl for the ingredients. He’d make this right.

Toad started running again, but the rumble of wheels made him stop. He jumped off the road, darting into the shrubbery by the lane and when the buggy shot past, he leapt, like he’d showed Melena how to so long ago. For a heart stopping moment, his foot slipped, but he tightened his hold and settled more securely on the back rails, hair whipping into his eyes.

“Joe,” Melena whispered, voice trembling, “is Milo Toad?”

“Yes,” said Joe.

“No!”

“Yes,” said Joe, impatiently.

“But — how? How can he be Milo?” Melena couldn’t believe it. Joe was wrong. The potion hadn’t worked properly.

Joe glared at Melena, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. He said tartly, “Does m’lady wish to find her brother?”

“Yes. Of cour —”

“Black Swan Inn. 2nd floor. Room 5B. Shall we go?”

“But Joe,” Melena said pleadingly, as if trying to reason with an unreasonable person, “you know this can’t be right. You know it. Toad has a father — a pirate. He said so.”

“Has m’lady believed something that was probably untrue?”

“You mean he made it up? It never seemed to me that he made it up. He sounded very, very sure about it.”

If Joe could have he would have shrugged. “People are odd.”

Toad was Milo? Milo? But they didn’t look anything alike. Toad’s hair was dark as black cardamom pods, hers as yellow as a haystack. Toad’s face was heart-shaped face, hers long and narrow. Their noses were different. Their eyes were different.

In all her time imagining her brother, she had pictured him older. Never once had she considered the possibility that he would be close to her own age … that he could in fact, be younger.

But he had been about to double-cross her. He’d admitted it to that man in the bar, but was it possible that Joe was right about that too? Had Toad let his anger get the best of him and said something he hadn’t meant? If that was true, then she had left him behind for no reason. What would he think when he woke and saw she and Joe gone?

Meanwhile, Joe was at the end of his tether.

“M’lady!”

“Yes. Yes,” said Melena breathlessly. “We’ve got to hurry.”

Joe looked close to saying something waspish, but Melena put him away inside her bag before he could.

She hadn’t traveled far. If she ran she’d be there before the cook rose.

But the cook had already risen. He stared at her in befuddlement, pausing in his search for breakfast ingredients, as she burst into the inn, wheezing. She didn’t pause to catch her breath. Save for the staring cook, the bar was just as empty and dark as when she’d left it. She raced up the stairs, two at a time, and tumbled into the room they had been renting.

“Toa — AGHH!”

Her foot landed on a bed-knob and it rolled out from under her, sending her falling flat on her back. Hazel, who had been perched on Melena’s shoulder, flapped into the air with an angry hiss and landed on an overturned armchair, ruffling her wings.

“Ow.” Melena sat upright and stared about in shock. Every inch of floor was littered with debris: bed posts, shattered ink bottles, torn bits of paper, goose feathers and woolen fluff. Melena stood and turned in a circle. What had happened? Where was Toad?

Melena pulled her knapsack close and dug inside it.

“He’s not here,” she said to Joe.

“Of course not. He’s on a Kentmorth buggy, heading southeast,” said Joe promptly.

“What do you mean he’s on a buggy?” said Melena, startled. “How can he be on a buggy? You just said he was here!”

“Yes. And now he’s not,” said Joe, unmoved.

A strangled oath escaped Melena. “He must be going to Hickory. He must think that I’m ahead of him, that I’m going to Mr. Owl.”

“That would be a reasonable deduction,” Joe agreed.

Sweet Charlotte, they’d probably been minutes from passing each other! She’d been practically at the buggy station. The knowledge that Toad was headed to Hickory didn’t explain the state of the room, though. Perhaps in his rage at thinking she’d double-crossed him, he’d torn the room apart? As dramatic as Toad could be, that seemed excessive.

There was only one thing to it. She’d have to run back to the station. Maybe he wasn’t too far ahead of her and she’d meet him on the road.

“Who let loose the tornado?”

Melena spun around. A man stood in the doorway. He wasn’t one of the lodgers, but she had the feeling that she’d seen him before. With a start, she recognized him as the man from the train. His name had been something odd … Butter … Flutter …

“Cutter!” Joe cried in alarm. “M’lady, this ruffian is no good! He threatened Master Toad!”

“What?”

“I was there when he accosted young master. I tell you m’lady, he is no good!” Joe insisted.

Melena looked from Joe to the man in mounting confusion. But both Toad and he had met on the train right in front of her, and they hadn’t acted like they’d known each other …

“I never thought I’d say this, but you should listen to the mug,” said the man. He stepped further into the upended room, inspecting the clutter with mild interest. “Toad at least kept his guard up … you” — Cutter snorted derisively — “you never had a clue. Blind as a mole, you are.”

“What are you talking about?” Melena demanded, clutching her bag and Joe tighter to her chest. With a clatter, Hazel joined her, claws squeezing reassuringly on her shoulder.

“The job. The job for Mr. Owl. You didn’t really think he’d hired Toad?” said Cutter, scathingly. “A runty, pathetic whelp like him? Mr. Owl would have let me take care of him right then and there at the house if it hadn’t been for those guards keeping watch, so he scared Toad up nice and proper, told him to fetch him five impossible ingredients or else, just to watch the idiot sweat, and boy,” Cutter laughed, “was he sweating! He didn’t know it, but I followed him. I was going to cut him up in a back alley, but the rat knew shortcuts that I didn’t. Finally tracked him down heading out of the city with you.”

Melena was too horror struck to speak. Cutter continued, stepping further into the room, eyes sweeping the floor.

“I decided to tail you, see if you’d actually manage it. The way you two were talking you sounded mighty determined. When you got that unicorn’s hair, Mr. Owl told me to keep an eye on your progress.”

“Just for the heck of it?” Melena snarled. Had they really risked their lives for a sinister, practical joke?

“Oh, no,” said Cutter, eyes flicking up to her. “Oh, no, Mr. Owl’s been after those ingredients for a good long while. He wants them and he wants them bad. You’re the first two to finally do it. Mr. Owl’s surprised, but right pleased. Where’s Toad?” Cutter asked suddenly.

“I don’t know,” said Melena. As Cutter had moved into the room, she had retreated. Her eyes darted to the open door, but she’d never make it past him.

“Did a runner, did he?” said Cutter, unmoved. “No surprise there, but no mind. I’ll find him later. Now —” Cutter finally stopped his inspection of the room, putting his whole attention on Melena. Hazel’s claws squeezed a little tighter on her shoulder. “I’ll be having that bag.”

Melena’s hands convulsed on the knapsack. The ingredients were gone, save a lone bottle of Mirg water.

“Toad ran off with them,” she said in a rush. “We had a fight and he ran off with them —”

“I don’t believe you.”

Fear was like an itch on her skin.

“It’s the truth!” she cried. “Here! Here!” She threw the bag at him. “See for yourself! He took all of it!”

Cutter’s face grew ugly as he groped inside the bag. He extracted the extra bottle from Mirg before tossing it and the bag away.

“Where is he, girl?”

“I told you, I don’t know!”

Melena took hurried steps back as Cutter advanced. An ink bottle cracked beneath the heel of her foot. Hazel growled, smoke curling around her snout.

“Toad knew I was following,” Cutter argued, his dark eyes narrowed. “He could have told you to play the fool while he turned tail—”

“He didn’t!” Melena cried. “He took the ingredients for himself — I don’t know where he is! I don’t know!”

A sharp, broad knife was in Cutter’s hand, appearing there like an extension of his arm; Melena’s back hit the wall —

“What is this?”

Cutter whirled around. The big-bellied proprietor stood in the doorway, stupefied by the state of his room and Hazel struck. She leapt from Melena’s shoulders. Cutter turned, but not in time. With a vicious snarl, Hazel sunk her claws into his face. Cutter bellowed; the knife flashed.

“NO!” Melena dove forward, tackling Cutter. They both toppled into the wardrobe, its doors and drawers ripped off their hinges. Cutter’s leg kicked out, catching Melena in the stomach. Winded, she doubled up. Hazel flew back into the air, snarling, and Cutter clutched at his bleeding face with one hand while the other whipped the knife wildly. He was screaming. Hazel had pierced his eyes.

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Cutter roared. “I’LL KILL YOU!”

The knife swung within an inch of Melena’s face; she scrambled backward.

“Call the constable!” the proprietor yelled. The noise had woken the rest of the inn. The landing outside the room was full of confused and frightened lodgers in slippers and dressing gowns.

“Where are you!” Cutter screamed, still swinging the knife, his face scarlet with blood. “I’ll kill you! I’LL KILL YOU!”

“Run, m’lady!” Joe shouted.

Melena got to her feet. She snatched up the bag and little bottle from the floor; Hazel shot into the hallway over the panicking lodgers’ heads.

“Wait just one minute —” But Melena pushed past the proprietor. She flew down the stairs and out into the sunlight, sprinting, arms pumping, Cutter’s pained and enraged roars still audible.

It was pure adrenalin and terror that kept her going. She was beyond breathless when she staggered to a stop at the buggy station.

“Joe — where’s — Toad — now?” Melena heaved.

“Still on his buggy, m’lady,” said Joe immediately.

She wanted to rest, but she knew that if she sat on the packed earth, she’d never rise again. Only one buggy was at the station, the driver brushing down his horse. Gulping for air, she hurried to him.

“I need to get to Hickory.”

The man didn’t even pause in his brushing. “Twelve gorents,” he grunted.

Melena’s heart froze mid beat. Twelve gorents? She only had five druets left. As she stood in horrified silence, the driver finally looked at her.

“I don’t do charity,” he said firmly. “No money, no transport.”

“M’lady,” Joe hissed impatiently. “Master’s getting away.”

“Please. I have to get to Hickory. I’ll pay you back.”

“Not how this works, girl,” said the driver, his focus back on his horse. “How about you run along back home, eh?”

Melena felt numb. How was she going to get to Hickory? After Cutter, the potion, Toad, after everything that had happened, the thought of being stuck in Piddleton with no way of moving forward left her winded. This couldn’t end here!

“Passage to Hickory,” said a new, sharp voice.

The driver turned, his attention now on a woman with flaming red hair, thick curls barely contained by straining pins. The driver pushed Melena out of the way, hurrying to the woman.

She cut her sharp eyes to Melena.

“Did you need passage?” she asked.

“Don’t mind her, madam,” said the driver in an undertone, obviously embarrassed. “Kids are always playing pranks these days.”

The woman ignored him.

“Did you?” she asked again, speaking only to Melena.

“Yes,” said Melena.

The woman fished inside her money bag again to pay for a second fare.

“Well,” she said, still in her no-nonsense voice, “hop to it.”

Melena wasn’t sure if the woman was addressing her or the driver, but they both jumped into action, the driver hastily attaching the woman’s suitcase to the harness at the buggy’s rear and Melena clambering inside the carriage, Hazel flapping after her. The woman followed, carefully moving her skirt out of the way as the door slammed shut. With a lurch and a whistle from the driver, the buggy moved.

Melena couldn’t stop from looking out the window. She wasn’t sure what she expected to see there: a brigade of Piddleton Guards, chasing after her, or Cutter, screaming and stumbling, front soaked in blood.

“Honey nugget?”

Melena turned back around, facing her new companion. The red-haired woman held out a tin box of toffee-colored candies. Melena took one just to have something to do.

“Thank you,” said Melena, “for paying for me.” She fished inside her knapsack for her money pouch. “I have five druets. Please, take them.”

But the woman happily shook her head, gently pushing the offered coins away.

“Not a bother. What has you in such a rush to be in Hickory?” The woman plucked a candy for herself from the colorful wrapping.

“My brother’s there.” The words came so easily and readily that they took Melena by surprise.

“Oh really?” said the woman. “I’m off to see my sister and brother, too, as happens. Here’s to family reunions,” she said good naturally, though there was a wry twist to her mouth that told Melena that not all reunions were what they were cracked up to be. “Do you mind?”

Melena looked at her. She was holding out another honey nugget, eyebrows raised in question.

“Your Spit-Fire,” she said. “Honey’s excellent for their circulation. Do you mind if she has one?”

“No,” said Melena, taken aback. “Go ahead.”

“I train Spit-Fires,” the woman explained, holding the sweet out for Hazel who gave a preliminary sniff before gobbling it whole. “The cases I get …” she let out a strained sigh. “Some days I don’t know why I bother — Sweet Charlotte!” Her eyes had found Joe, resting between Melena’s hip and the buggy door. “What’s —”

“It’s a gift,” said Melena quickly, “for my brother.”

Joe was still as a statue, but Melena thought that his cheek might have twitched in amusement.

“It’s quite … original,” said the woman awkwardly. She offered the tin again and they fell into companionable silence. But Melena, though her breathing had finally steadied, could not stop the anxious jumping of her leg.

Quicker. Faster. She urged the horse silently onward, watching for a buggy with a boy perched like a bird on the back rails, but though the road became increasingly busy with traffic, she didn’t spot Toad once on the way to Hickory.