Melena’s voice was left behind in the dining room as she was pulled down the hall. Owl’s thin fingers were like iron bands, bruising her arm. He made a short detour to a room that looked like a study. Keeping the pistol upon her, he retrieved a very small box from inside the desk and put it in his pocket.

Owl’s grip returned to Melena’s arm and they quickly traveled down a sweeping staircase and out of the house into the darkness. Thinking of Hickory Guards and nosy neighbors, Melena stared wide eyed around the manicured lawn. Seeming to read her mind, Owl’s fingertips dug deeper.

“That’s why we’re going out the back way, Miss Elf. And fair warning, if you scream I will put a bullet in your back.”

Melena nodded jerkily.

“Where is Bell’s Brews?” asked Owl, conversationally. “I haven’t heard of it.”

“21st Street, East Hickory,” Melena whispered, her voice shaking so badly she was amazed he could understand her. “It’s a terrible shop. Dreadful. Worst potions in the city. No one would ever, ever think that the ingredients to the Seeking Solution would be there. It’s the perfect hiding place.”

“How do you know it’s called the Seeking Solution?” asked Owl, eying her critically. “I never said what the potion was.”

Melena hesitated for half a breath. “I’m good at potions.”

“But the Seeking Solution,” Owl pressed, tightening his hold on her arm to the point that she winced. The gleam from the moon fell upon the pistol, inches from her side. “That is a terribly rare potion. It took me a tedious amount of time to learn it was in fact actual and not fantastical babbling. How could a little girl figure out something so quickly?”

Melena’s legs jerked as she walked.

“I’m good at potions,” she repeated.

Owl snorted contemptuously. “Did you know that people thought the directions were nothing more than a children’s poem? Hair of the unicorn, talon of the roc, Springs of Mirg, Moonflower, Elfin Moss. Stir together what you seek. Listen. Listen. The Vessel speaks. Moronic, isn’t it? But after a few potioneers proved the poem came from a woman who was known for her unnaturally powerful brews, they began to think otherwise.”

They were nearing 21st Street. Melena recognized the area. There had to be a way of getting away, but his hold upon her felt unbreakable. And if she did break free, would he react fast enough to shoot? Would he miss her in the dark? She couldn’t stop glancing up at the lines of apartments and lofts as they slipped underneath. If only someone would look out a window …

“Aren’t you curious what it is I’m seeking?” Owl asked suddenly.

“No — I mean, I never thought about —”

“Do you know about me, Miss Elf? Have you heard of me?” Owl asked.

“I — Toad told me you’re rich,” said Melena, taken off guard.

“I am the sort of businessman who follows in his father’s footsteps. The name of Owl has been feared and respected for three generations. I was more than honored to take up the mantle from my father, but my younger brother was a dreamer. He wanted to be an explorer. Someone who dug about in the dirt in search of artifacts. I loved my brother, Miss Elf. I loved him far more than anything else in this repugnant world. I knew he wouldn’t be content in the family business so I agreed to fund his and his partner’s endeavor to find the fantastical and mysterious.” Owl’s voice was harsh in its sarcasm.

“It was the last time I ever saw him.”

Melena did not miss the irony that Owl too was in search of his missing brother and a manic bubble of laughter escaped her throat at the insanity of it all.

Owl didn’t seem to notice, too lost in memories.

“He died in the venture.”

Melena sobered at once, the cold steal of the gun returning with frightful clarity. “What?” she blurted.

Owl nodded. “His partner — the woman — abandoned him after an attack of some sort. Abandoned him and left him to die. She disappeared, fled to who knows where after I failed to kill her. No one has ever hidden from me so well, but I am a persistent man. And finally, after five years, I will have the tools to smoke her out of her burrow like the weasel she is.”

There was a gleam of white in the dark as Owl smiled.

“Right before she escaped from me, I managed to get this.”

Owl removed his hand from her arm and for one split second Melena considered running, but her eyes were fixed upon the cold steal of the pistol and she knew she’d never make it.

From the confines of his coat, Owl pulled out the small box. “Are you squeamish? I hope you’re not.”

He clicked it open and held it out to her. Against her better judgment, she looked down inside the box and there, nestled in velvet lining, was a finger.

“I cut this from her hand and preserved it as best I could with the aid of certain potions. At the time I didn’t realize how important it would be. I kept it as a reminder of the vengeance denied me. But as you know, being so good at potions, the Seeking Solution requires a bit of the thing you seek. Imagine my delight to discover how handy this finger would become.” He snapped the lid closed and tucked it away again.

“Nice that my house is in East Hickory,” Owl added pleasantly, returning his hand to her arm. “21st Street is practically around the corner.”

Melena’s heart thundered with the realization of who Owl spoke of. She kept her eyes on the dark street, fearing that he would be able to see that she knew far more than he thought she did if he met her gaze.

“When you find her, are you … are you going to kill her?” Melena asked, voice trembling as much as the rest of her.

“Oh, yes.”

“But that won’t bring back your brother.”

Melena knew she’d gone too far when Owl jerked to a stop. Violent tremors raking her body as he stood as if carved from ice. The fingers digging into her arm could have been talons.

“No,” Owl whispered, not looking at her. “It won’t. And that, Miss Elf, is the point.”

She nearly fell as he began to walk again at a brisk pace, yanking her after him.

Bell’s Brews looked just as it had when she’d left it six months ago, and the sight of it, with its dirty front window and barrels of yellow-striped snails sitting squatly on either side of the door startled Melena thoroughly, as if she had expected the building to have crumbled down like the Rambler’s abandoned ballroom. The windows to the Bells’ apartment over the shop were dark. Melena silently prayed that they had left the city, maybe for a little get-away trip, but she knew that wasn’t likely. Mr. Bell was the stingiest man in all of Calendula. He had never taken a vacation in his life.

Melena knew where the spare key was kept and she carefully eased it out from behind one of the barrels, flicking off a wayward snail before unlocking the shop door with a faint click.

“The ingredients are in the workroom,” she whispered, her heart banging in her chest. “I’ll just go and —”

“Lead on.”

“I’ll be faster on my own. The Bells are probably upstairs.”

There was a window in the workroom, small enough for her to squeeze through. If she could just get to it —

“I’d rather you give me the full tour,” Owl replied, coldly.

Owl followed her closely as she crossed the dark shop to Mr. Bell’s back room. What was she going to do? Would Owl recognize elfin moss, or could she pass off a bit of lichen?

Her throat dry, Melena raised her hand to open the workroom door when something flashed under the door — a light. Before she could utter a sound, the door swung open and a man spoke: “Nice doing business with you, Mr. Bell. I’ll get those spider eggs next we—”

Everyone froze, taken by surprise. Melena could see Mr. Bell, a small oil lamp in one hand, standing open-mouthed behind a greasy haired man in a much too tight suit.

Half a heartbeat later, the greasy haired man bolted, barreling past Melena and Owl, sending Melena careening into a tower of shelves. Bottles crashed down upon her, shattering around her feet.

“What? What? What?” Mr. Bell kept repeating. Then his mouth snapped shut as he spied Owl’s pistol.

“The ingredients,” Owl demanded. “Get them!”

“W-w-what?” Mr. Bell stammered.

Owl kept the gun on Mr. Bell as he yanked Melena to her feet, pushing her toward the workroom.

“Bring me the ingredients! Now!”

“Ervin, what’s going —” As one Melena, Owl, and Mr. Bell turned to the stairs where Mrs. Bell stood, her fluffy dressing gown rosy pink, her blonde hair in curlers.

“ROBBERS!” she shrieked, seeing Owl’s weapon. “ROBBERS!”

Owl pointed the gun at Mrs. Bell —

“NOOOOO!” Mr. Bell tackled Owl. The gun went off and Mrs. Bell shrieked. Mr. Bell and Owl fell to the floor, sending another cascade of broken glass and wood to the floor. Melena tried to scramble clear of their thrashing limbs, slivers of glass cutting into her palms.

That was when she saw it, the oil lamp Mr. Bell had been holding. He’d dropped it when he’d jumped Owl. Dropped it upon the potion-soaked wood floor — potions that were highly flammable.

Smoke was already billowing upward, stinging her eyes, choking her lungs. It wouldn’t be long before the floorboards sparked into life and then the entire shop would be an inferno. There was another bang from the gun that made Melena drop to the floor, covering his head. Another shot. A scream. A shattering of glass as the front window smashed.

Melena couldn’t see. She couldn’t breathe. If the gun didn’t kill her, the fire certainly would. She crawled blindly, hoping she was heading toward the door.

Something landed on Melena’s back and, thinking it Owl, she shrieked, flailing.

There was an indignant screech, the sound of flapping wings, and the weight lifted off her. Melena looked up and through the smoke she saw the form of Hazel.

The shop door banged open.

“MELENA!”

Melena scrambled to her feet and ran. Covering her mouth, choking on the smoke, she hurtled toward Toad’s voice and her foot landed on something that rolled: Joe.

Scooping him up, she zigzagged through the crackling shelves and ran straight into Toad, hovering in the doorway, Hazel flapping above them. The street was quickly filling with people, woken by the gunfire and shouts. Thick, black smoke was rolling out of Bell’s Brews.

“Come on!” Toad yanked on her arm, pulling her into the gathering crowd.

Melena couldn’t leave. She had to help them. Mr. Bell — horrible, wretched Mr. Bell — had saved her life. But with smoke in her lungs she could only sputter and hack. She dug in her heels, refusing to leave, trying to get Toad to understand.

Toad was unswayed. “The Guard’s coming,” he said, pointing down the street. “They’ll sort it all out.” And he succeeded in dragging her away from the shop.

Before her eyes, a group of men in red uniforms rushed inside the apothecary while others whistled for more to come. Melena and Toad were steadily squeezed to the middle and then to the back of the crowd as more and more onlookers appeared, many offering their help to quench the flames.