Arms and Valet prepared to open the door. Arthur tightened his helmet’s chinstrap and drew both rayguns; Morgan activated her shield; Vassalus and Lexi eased in between them.

“Everyone clear on the plan?” Arthur said. “All right then, let’s go.”

The two servitors threw open the door, revealing the crowd of shades waiting on the other side. They didn’t destroy themselves running into the sigil-protected doorway this time. Arthur opened fire, pulling the triggers on both guns as fast as he could. He didn’t bother aiming — as long as he kept the guns at chest level, he couldn’t help but hit them.

He must’ve killed a dozen shades and wounded more before the monsters took the hint and scattered. Arthur angled himself against the doorframe so he could fire as far down into the hallway as possible, driving them farther away. Lexi peeked in the opposite direction, back toward the Great Room, where they had first entered the Manse and toward the door to the kitchen.

“I see only three shades on this side,” she said. “Vassalus and I will take them out.”

The wraiths, for whatever reason, had retreated to the other end of the Grand Hallway, and Arthur wasn’t going to complain about that.

“Arms and Valet, you open the door to the kitchen,” Arthur said. “If anyone gets in a rough spot, help them out. Let’s go.”

Morgan stepped out into the hallway with her force field up and spread out as wide as possible, which was nearly six feet across. The numina darted into the hallway and attacked the three shades on the left. Arthur followed and helped out by shooting a shade near the door to the Great Room. Two shades rushed forward — splatted against Morgan’s shield — and staggered backward into their comrades. Others tried to rush around the side, but Arthur shot at them. Once the numina took out the shades at their backs, they rushed in to help cover the flanks.

The plaque over the double doors said DINING HALL, and a sigil hung in the doorway. Valet and Arms pulled the doors open and indicated there were shadows inside. Arthur turned and, with Morgan and the numina shielding him from behind, stepped up to the doorway to open fire on the shades within. He scanned the large dining room, looking for dark-hearts, but couldn’t find any.

“Arthur, we’ve got to go in!” Morgan urged. “Now!”

The Grand Hallway's dark-hearts had already regenerated most of the shadows they had killed coming out. And now, behind the wave of shades, Arthur could make out eight wraiths rushing forward.

“Go!” Arthur shouted.

At his command, the numina dove into the Dining Hall and attacked two of the three remaining shades. Arthur stepped in and shot the third in the gut, dispersing it into a cloud of inky smoke that faded away. Morgan backed through the doorway with her shield up, shrinking it as she went. As soon as she passed the glowing triskelion sigil, she slammed the door shut.

Arthur hadn’t even scanned half the room for the dark-heart before Morgan said, “I see the stone.”

Arthur raised his pistol. “There were only twelve shades in here, so that’s the only one.”

“Wait, let me get it,” Morgan said.

She dropped her force field, held out her hand, chewed on her bottom lip, flexed her fingers, and … nothing. She huffed and tried again — and telekinetically crushed the sconce hanging on the wall nearby. With a third attempt, she finally force-grabbed the stone and smashed it against the wall.

“That felt good,” she said with a satisfied murmur.

Arthur sighed. “We made it.”

“Not a single injury,” Vassalus said. “Well done, everyone.”

“Well, that sconce didn’t fare too well,” said Lexi.

The Dining Hall was huge, and in its center was a table the length of four classroom chalkboards — a table that could easily seat thirty people. Places were set at every seat, with fine china trimmed in gold and adorned with starburst and triskelion patterns, sparkling silverware, delicate crystal glasses and goblets ... the works. Exotic blue, white, and purple flowers burst like fireworks from towering vases interspersed with old-fashioned glass lanterns down the length of the table. Like the Great Room, the Dining Hall was warmed by two giant fireplaces, now burning at full strength. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the walls were mostly covered by tapestries depicting a mix of nature scenes — on exotic, alien worlds — and massive space battles.

Glancing all around the room, Morgan gasped, “Arthur, I just noticed something weird. Honestly, I can’t believe I didn’t notice it in the Training Room. How many shots did you fire in here?”

He shrugged. “Dunno ... dozens, I guess.”

“And yet there’s not a single mark on the walls — the gunshots haven't done any damage!”

“Dear me,” said Vassalus, “but I think you are onto something, Lady Morgan.”

She was right. In this room filled with delicate objects, the only damage was from where Morgan had smashed the wall sconce.

“I can't believe we hadn't noticed,” Arthur said, shaking his head. “I feel stupid.”

“If you're stupid,” said Lexi, “then we're all stupid. And I really don’t think we are.”

“There was quite a lot going on to distract us all,” said Vassalus defensively. “There were so many new things to take in.”

“I guess the guns only affect Entropians,” Arthur said.

Arms gave him a thumbs-down, then he picked up a goblet, set it on the floor, and gestured for Arthur to shoot it.

Arms stepped back, and Arthur took a shot. The characteristic WHUM-WHUM-WHUM jet of energy waves zapped the goblet, passed through it harmlessly, hit the floor and vanished.

Arms shook his head and pointed emphatically toward the goblet. Arthur focused — aimed — took another shot — and still nothing happened. Arms threw his helmet on the floor and stormed away.

“Come now, old boy,” Vassalus said to Arms, “be patient. Master Paladin will figure it out …” Vassalus winked at Morgan “… eventually.”

Morgan stifled a giggle; Arthur shook his head and rolled his eyes; Lexi grumbled.

Arms’ metal helmet, still lying on the floor, faded away … and magically reappeared on Arms’ head. He fastened the chinstrap, turned, and gestured for Arthur to try again.

This could go on forever. I’ve got to break it, or Arms might give up on me.

He aimed …

“Blast it to pieces!” Lexi growled.

Arthur gritted his teeth and took another shot. The rays struck the goblet, shattered it into dust, and left a scorch mark on the floor.

Arthur staggered back. “Whoa … but how'd I do that?”

“Oh, I think I get it,” Morgan said. She drew her raygun, fired at a vase on a side table, and shattered it. She fired at another vase, but the second shot passed through it harmlessly.

“Morgan,” Arthur groaned. “Was that really necessary?”

“Yes, it was.” She turned to Arms. “You’ve got to mean it, right? If you want to kill a shade, and you fire the raygun, that’s just what the ray will do, and nothing more. And if you want to break something, and that’s what you mean to happen, that’s what it will do, right?”

Arms gave the thumbs-up, and then adjusted his helmet.

“If I wanted to shoot a person with the raygun,” Morgan said, “but not kill them, if I just intended to knock them out, it would stun them, right?”

Arms gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

“Too bad real guns in our world don’t work that way,” Arthur said. “Hey, what if you wanted to kill a wraith and blast a door open with the same shot — could it do that?”

Arms shook his head no and held up two fingers.

“So, two separate shots,” Arthur said. “Good to know. Really is too bad you guys can’t talk. There’s probably all sorts of things we’re missing out on by accident.”

A cloud of fog appeared in the room and, as with Valet and Arms, condensed into the form of a servitor: this one smartly dressed in a tuxedo with tails.

“Let me guess,” Arthur said. “You would be Waiter.”

The servitor made a half-bow and gestured toward the head seat at the table.

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“Not right now,” Arthur said. “But thank you.”

Vassalus nosed at the door on the opposite end of the room. It too had a glowing sigil. “I fear that is the Kitchen, and any hope of you two getting food, lies through there.”

From within the Dining Hall, the other doors weren’t labeled.

“If it’s no more dangerous than this room, we can handle it,” Arthur said. “What about the door to the right?”

Valet sat down in a chair, slouched, and leaned back. He picked up a fork and pulled it to his lips as if it were a cigar or cigarette.

“Ah,” said Lexi, “that would be the oh-so posh and delightful Smoking Lounge … hurm … strange that I should know that … though maybe it has something to do with me wanting a smoke when I first … woke up.”

“I think it is because part of your personality was pulled from Arthur’s Grandma Paladin,” Vassalus said.

“Well, fortunately, my desire for a smoke has completely faded.” She wrinkled her nose, puffed out her whiskers, and shivered. “Smoking is gross.”

“A smoking lounge?” said Arthur. “That’s kind of old-fashioned.”

“Yeah … what is this, a country club?” Morgan asked. She pointed to the door on the opposite side. “What about that one?”

Valet pantomimed washing his hands.

“Bathroom?” Arthur asked.

Valet nodded and pointed to Arthur then Morgan.

“A girls’ bathroom and a boys’ bathroom?” Arthur asked.

Valet nodded.

Arthur gestured to the Kitchen. “Well, first things first. We need food. Let’s get it over with.”

Valet and Arms pulled open the Kitchen doors. Arthur raised his pistols — and laughed.

Chuckling, Morgan reached out with telekinesis and, before the shades could even surge toward them, grabbed and smashed the dark-heart that was floating just beyond the doorway. The shades disappeared.

Inside, the Kitchen was, surprisingly, only about twice the size of Grandma Nelson’s kitchen. Given the size of the table in the Dining Hall, Arthur had expected something bigger. Arthur had seen pictures of his grandparent’s kitchen before they had remodeled it, years before he was born, and this kitchen looked even more old-fashioned. The appliances had this … maybe 1950’s … gleam and curvature to them, with cheerful pastel greens and blues trimmed in chrome.

“Nifty,” Morgan said.

“Very stylish and modern,” Lexi added.

“It is, in fact, a kitchen,” Vassalus said.

Arthur made his way around the island in the center and said, “Well, you know what? I really like it. Seriously — I think it’s cool.”

A fog cloud appeared and condensed into a plump woman (possibly a man) with a giant belly covered by a giant apron. Cook wore big, rubber gloves that probably would’ve been yellow if the servitors weren’t monochrome. Of course, like the others, Cook didn’t have any features. Arthur stifled a laugh when he noticed Cook was wearing a hair net on her bald head.

Arthur waved. “Hi, I’m Arthur and this is —”

Cook huffed, stomped her feet, brandished a large wooden spoon, and shooed them out of the Kitchen. Arthur quickly shuffled out with the others.

Back in the Dining Hall, Waiter seated Arthur in the throne-like chair at the head of the table, and Morgan in the seat to Arthur’s right. Then he gazed at Lexi and Vassalus, clearly perplexed.

“Do you guys want seats?” Arthur asked them.

“I should think it most proper,” Vassalus replied.

“I’m fine,” Lexi said, as she hopped up onto the table.

Waiter and Valet recoiled in horror.

Vassalus growled. “Alexis! That is most inappropriate.”

Lexi curled up next to a lamp. “I don’t see how …”

Waiter bobbed on his toes and ran his hands over his head. He clearly wanted to do something about this, but had no idea where to start. Arms shrugged; Valet paced.

“Lexi,” Arthur said. “Please sit in a chair.”

She seemed to suddenly come to her senses. “What? Oh … oh dear. Why am I up here? Sorry — don’t know what came over me. It was just an impulse to jump on the table, you know?”

“Er … sure,” Arthur replied.

“Sometimes I flash a bit of your grandma. And sometimes … well, sometimes I’m just all cat.”

Arthur took his helmet off, and Valet immediately stepped up and took it away before Arthur could set it on the table.

Waiter, his hands trembling, stepped over to Arthur and leaned down.

“You want my order?” Arthur asked.

Waiter made a curt nod.

“Do you … do you have a menu?”

Waiter shook his head, and then made an expansive gesture. Arthur was too tired to guess what that meant.

“Tell Cook we haven’t had lunch or dinner,” Arthur said. “We’re injured, exhausted, and have been through several fights already. Cook can make for us whatever she wants. We won’t care.”

Morgan started to say something, then choked back the words.

“Let me guess,” Arthur said with irritation, “you’re picky about what you eat?”

“No,” she said quickly and sullenly.

“Yeah, you are — you just don’t want to admit it.”

“I’m … I’ve been trying to work on that. I’ll do my best.”

“Good on you, my dear,” said Vassalus. “That’s the spirit!”

Lexi batted Waiter with a paw as he turned to leave. “I would like one large salmon, lightly salted, lightly cooked … in butter, with a dash of black pepper and paprika — no lemons anywhere near it.”

Waiter stared at her.

“Please,” she added.

“Alexis,” Vassalus said, “this is most ridiculous.”

“It most certainly is not. Even if I can’t eat it, I can smell it … I can admire it …”

“While it pointlessly sits on the table?” Morgan asked.

“Yes,” said Lexi. “So if you please, Waiter …”

Waiter nodded with a hint of irritation and looked at Vassalus, who replied, “No, thank you. I am a sensible numen. I do not require food … even to smell or admire.”

Waiter disappeared into the Kitchen.

“I wonder,” said Vassalus, “how does Waiter give the order to Cook since they cannot talk?”

“Good question,” said Lexi. “I bet they use sign language.”

Valet turned his back to Arms, held up three fingers so Arms couldn’t see, and then pointed to his head with his other hand. Arms then nodded and held up three fingers.

“Telepathy?” Arthur said, and Valet nodded.

“That’s awesome,” Morgan said. “Can you talk to each other from a long distance?”

Arms shook his head no.

“Same room?” Morgan asked.

Valet nodded.

“Good to know,” Arthur said.

Morgan looked at her hands, which were speckled with dirt and dried blood, and frowned. “I need to go to the bathroom and wash up.”

“Yeah, me too,” Arthur replied.

Together they went through the bathroom door and into a short hallway with a Men’s bathroom on one side and a Women’s on the other.

And there was a glowing triskelion in front of each door.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Arthur said. “There are shades in the bathrooms?!”

“I’ve been in some pretty rough bathrooms before,” Morgan sighed, “but none that were haunted.”

“Pete’s Pump-and-Go out on 9th Avenue might as well be haunted,” Arthur said. “Grandma likes to fill up there.”

Morgan cringed. “I had to go bad when Dad stopped there for gas one time. I went in and ran right back out.”

“There’s a patch of woods out behind the station,” Arthur said. “I recommend going there if you have to.”

Morgan’s face lit up with a rare, genuine smile. “That’s where I went!”

Arthur drew his raygun and opened the door to the men’s room — all twelve shades were massed at the entrance. The dark-heart wasn’t visible, but since it was L-shaped, he guessed the stone lay deeper within. He shut the door.

“Let’s check the women’s. We only need one bathroom.”

Morgan opened the door. The shades were massed at this entrance, too, but the dark-heart hovered in the air over them. Morgan shot the stone, and the shades disappeared.

“We’ll take turns,” Arthur said.

“What about the other bathroom?”

“We’ll clean it out later,” Arthur said. He motioned to the door. “Ladies first.”

By the time Morgan came back out — what seemed an eternity later — Arthur was doing the pee-pee dance. Morgan had washed the blood and dirt off her face, hands, and arms. Her clothes were still filthy, of course.

Arthur rushed by her. “About time!”

“I was only in there ten minutes, moron.”

The bathroom was more lavish than any Arthur had ever been in. The marble tiles were trimmed with sparkling glass mosaics. The walls of the four stalls were made of mahogany wood. The bronze sinks and accompanying mirrors stood out from a wall-sized mural of a hillside of pink and purple flowers. The water faucets, soap dispensers, and hand dryers were all automated.

Arthur finished his business, cleaned himself up as best as he could at the sink, and returned to the Dining Hall.

Valet stood tall off to the side, waiting to see if Arthur needed anything. Arms paced around nervously.

“Arms, you’re not used to being anywhere but the Armory, are you?” Arthur said.

Arms gave him a thumbs-up.

“Sit down, please. You’re both still wounded.”

They didn’t budge.

“It would make me happy if you did. So please, don’t make me order you.”

Both of them took a seat — at the opposite end of the enormous table. Arthur sighed. Whatever.

After that, everyone sat in silence, probably all half-asleep and lost in their thoughts — not good ones, in Arthur's case. The smell of cooking food eased into the room; Arthur’s stomach cramped and grumbled. Waiter bustled into the room carrying a pitcher and a basket of freshly baked yeast rolls with glistening, buttered tops. After that, Valet helped Waiter and Cook carry all the trays of food into the Dining Hall. Somehow, in less than half an hour, Cook had whipped up a roasted chicken, mashed potatoes with mushroom gravy, and broccoli drizzled with olive oil. Lexi even got her piece of salmon, which looked amazing.

“Can you eat it, my dear?” Vassalus asked Morgan.

She nodded. “Except the potatoes.”

“You don’t like potatoes?” Arthur asked, and she shook her head. “I’ve never met anyone who didn’t like potatoes.”

She shivered. “The texture is all … ugh.”

Waiter poured sparkling red grape juice into their glasses, and then they ate. Grandma Nelson was a fabulous cook, but her meals were McDonald’s compared to this. Arthur muttered between bites about how wonderful the food was — it was definitely the best he’d ever had. Morgan didn’t speak, but she looked content, and Lexi held her nose over the salmon and frequently oohed and aahed, which made Vassalus continuously groan and shake his head.

Arthur stuffed himself and finished long before Morgan, who ate slowly. As soon as she finally finished cleaning her plate, except for the potatoes pushed to the side, Waiter brought them bowls of blackberries covered in cream. Then, Waiter brought them steaming cups of black tea.

Arthur took a sip and coughed. “Whoa — that’s strong.”

Morgan drank some. “No kidding, but it’s good.”

Lexi bobbed her head in the air, sniffing. “That, my dears, is a proper cup of English breakfast.”

“You, dear Alexis, never seem to know anything of use,” said Vassalus.

Lexi stuck her tongue out at him.

“Well, I can use some strong tea to stay awake,” Arthur said. “I’m exhausted. Must be really late, huh?”

Morgan drew out her iPhone and squinted as she angled it one way and then another, trying to read through the cracks on the screen. “It’s only 6:38.”

“Seriously?”

She sighed with irritation. “Look, if we’re going to have to talk so much, let’s get one thing straight, okay? Otherwise you’ll drive me nuts.”

“Okay, what?”

“I don’t joke much.”

“Got it.”

“And I never joke when numbers are involved.”

“Oookay.”

“Never.”

“Roger that.” So weird. “I guess it just feels later because of all we’ve been through. Plus I’m stuffed with food, and I’m ready for bed.”

“But we have to stay up,” Morgan said, “because of our possible concussions.”

“We still need to figure out where we’re going to sleep, though,” Arthur said, “unless we’re going to spend the night in here.”

“The Dining Hall doesn’t look comfortable to me,” Morgan said.

“Valet, where are the bedrooms?” Arthur asked.

Valet pointed to Arthur and signaled that it was the ninth door on the opposite side of the hall, then he pointed to Morgan and indicated the eighth door on the same side.

“I don’t want to go back out into the hallway,” Arthur said, “especially that far into it. We’d have to fight every monster out there, just to go to bed.”

“The Smoking Lounge has cozy chairs and two plump leather couches,” Lexi said, with that perplexed look she got on her face when she realized that she knew something without knowing how. Grandma Paladin must’ve spent a lot of time in there. Or maybe when Arthur was a baby, this was the only place he’d ever seen her …

“We’ll have to fight more shades,” Arthur said, looking at the door with the sigil glowing in front of it.

“But so far we haven’t encountered any wraiths in the rooms,” Morgan said, “just shades from the dark-hearts. And we wouldn’t have to go back out into the hallway.”

“I shouldn’t think we would find the mightiest of our enemies congregating in the Smoking Lounge,” said Vassalus.

“Let’s do it then,” Arthur said.