For a few moments, Arthur felt like he was riding an out-of-control tilt-a-whirl at the county fair — but the sensation stopped abruptly, and he stumbled into Morgan.

She shoved him away. “Get off me!”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“That’s twice you’ve run into me now. Do it again and —”

“And you’ll what?” Arthur snapped. He held up his arm. “Burn me? Cut me? You don’t scare me, Morgan. You’re the least of my problems.”

Morgan folded her arms and huffed.

Arthur groaned, and then muttered, “I’m sorry I stumbled into you.”

She made no reply.

“Morgan, this is when you’re supposed to tell me you’re sorry for shoving me.”

“But I’m not,” she countered.

“I only stumbled into you because I was dizzy. It was like everything was spinning and bouncing. Did you —”

“I felt it … and then I saw all these colors swirling around me … and then — and then you ran into me — again.”

“Yeah, and just before all that started, it was like I had a second heart pounding in my chest.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Well, I didn’t feel that.”

Arthur held out his arms as if trying to balance himself and closed his eyes. He pursed his lips, took a few deep breaths, and said, “I can’t tell if we’re still moving.”

Morgan rolled her gray-blue eyes. “We can’t actually be moving. Houses don’t move, genius.”

“They aren’t normally bigger on the inside either, are they? Have you noticed the shades aren’t pounding on the door anymore?”

“Maybe they gave up.”

“Maybe we’ve traveled away from Earth,” he argued. “We’d have to open the door to find out.”

“Can’t do that,” she said. “The door stays closed until we figure out all this.”

“Maybe we teleported,” Arthur suggested. “You know, like in —”

Morgan slapped her hands against her ears. “Argh!”

Arthur thought she was about to throw a tantrum, like a four-year-old. But she composed herself, took deep breaths, and chanted something so softly he couldn’t understand the words. Whatever worked for —

Arthur doubled over as pain spiked through his shade-burned arm. He fought to control the sensation, trying to think of the rest of his body, instead of the burned place on his arm. But that didn’t do much good. The cuts from the glass door were starting to hurt more now; he was oozing blood on his arms, face, and back; and he still had a shard of plastic poking out from his chest. He was actually surprised that injury didn’t hurt more.

“You okay?” Morgan asked.

“I will be … I think. That shade burned me bad, and I was already messed up.”

“What happened to you before the shades found you? Because you didn’t get cut up from them — they would’ve burned you.” Her eyes narrowed; she pointed at his chest. “And what’s that poking out through your shirt?”

“Oh, that. It’s a device that fits over my heart. It got broken, and this plastic shard poked out. It doesn’t hurt as much as you’d think, but it is getting worse. I’m starting to hurt all over.”

“You’re running out of adrenaline.” She stepped forward and peered at the piece of plastic. “That’s gross.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you going to die?”

“I don’t think so … but I actually don’t know what the device does.”

“How can you not know what it does?”

“My doctor won’t tell me. He actually pretends not to have a clue it exists. And I don’t think my grandma knows, or else she’s in league with the doctor.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“Dead serious. It’s not like I haven’t tried to find out. No one will tell me anything.”

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“Curious,” she responded. “Bet it has something to do with your genetic condition.”

“My — my genetic condition?”

“Well, you are a freak, after all.”

“What the heck is wrong with you?! I am not a freak.”

She smirked and nodded. “Yeah, you kinda are.”

Arthur turned red in the face, anger bubbling up inside of him. The pain started to fade a bit.

She held up her hands. “Geez, don’t be so sensitive about it. That’s …” She turned away. Was she blushing? Nah, couldn’t be. “That’s my favorite thing about you.”

“It — it is? But I’m not that different from anyone else …”

“Oh, come on. How many people have you seen with Native American skin, pure white hair, and gold eyes?”

“Not many,” he snapped. He was sensitive about his appearance. When he was younger, the other kids had teased him about it. Sometimes they still talked about it, only they whispered behind his back when they didn’t think he could hear. Everyone had stopped teasing him directly, except Derek, because his outbursts scared them.

“I was just thinking that whatever’s wrong with your heart is probably connected to your unusual appearance. Maybe something you inherited, you know?”

His anger subsided. “Oh. Well, you could have said so.”

“I did,” Morgan replied impatiently.

“My dad had white hair and gold eyes and the same skin as me. It’s a family trait.”

“But not your mom?”

“She was very pretty, pale skin, red hair. I didn’t take after her at all.”

“Did your dad have a plate over his chest?”

“I don’t know. He disappeared when I was four, not long after my mom died. All I know is what Grandpa Nelson told me — that the device keeps me alive, but that my heart is fine. Of course, now that it’s broken …”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Morgan replied.

Arthur shrugged. “He said he was going to tell me about it when I got older, but he died.”

“So how come you’re a mess?” Morgan asked. “And what broke the plate? I know the shadow men didn’t do that.”

“I … I crashed through a glass door — before the shadow men — it’s not really —”

“You were fighting with your cousin?”

“Derek. Yeah.”

“You do that a lot?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess it’s not surprising,” she said, “given how you act at school, being a jerk and all.”

“Hey!”

“Look, since we’re friends and we’re having to talk like … like …”

“Normal people?”

“Ugh, yes. Arthur, you should know that I just say things straight out.”

“I noticed.”

Her voice turned defensive. “Well, it’s … it’s just what I do, okay?”

“Okay,” he answered. He clearly wasn’t the only one who was touchy.

“Now, you also seem to actually know something about the shadows,” she said accusatively, “and you knew this house might be here. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Well, there was —”

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a purple glimmer. Above and to the left, floating right under the crystal chandelier.

“Did you see that?”

“See what?” Morgan asked.

“There it is again!”

The glimmer came from a strange, fist-sized gem so dark a purple that it was nearly black. As he pointed at it, the gem flickered several more times. Oddly, those flickers were the only light it gave off. Whatever the gem was made of, it didn't reflect light from the lanterns.

“What do you think that's about?” Arthur asked. “It wasn't flickering before, was it? I didn’t even notice it up there. I wonder why —”

“We've got a problem.” Morgan was glancing all around the room with fear etched onto her face. “Shadows!”

From the pools of darkness Arthur had already examined carefully, shadow men were now emerging — moving slowly — taking shape as they went.

Morgan slapped his arm. “Do something!”

“Me?”

“You said it's your house! You said it came to save you!” She gave him a look so scathing he worried she might just team up with the shadows against him. “You’re the one who got us into this mess.”

“Well … maybe I was wrong.”

Morgan shook her head with a sigh. “So we're screwed after all.”

Two shadow men stepped out from each corner of the room. He had to do something …

The sword on the mantle!

“Stay here!” he yelled.

Adrenaline surging, he pushed away all the pain he felt and launched into action. He stepped up onto a couch and vaulted over its back. He hit the ground — slid on a rug — then caught his footing. Reaching the fireplace, he hopped up and grabbed the hilt of the steel longsword.

“Watch out!” Morgan shouted. “To your right!”

Arthur rotated as he stepped away, and swung the sword in front of him instinctively. The blade cut through the shadow man reaching for him. The creature fell back with a hand-wide gap separating its top half from the bottom.

But it didn't disappear, and its upper half didn't fall away — it just floated in the air.

“Duck!” Morgan yelled.

Arthur bent his knees and fell into a crouch. A shadowy hand passed overhead. He ran. He couldn't clear the couch from the back, so he went around. By the time he reached Morgan, the shades from the other side of the room were moving toward them.

Morgan shook her head and pointed in the direction Arthur had just come from. “Didn't work.”

The shade he had split in half was reforming, tendrils of shadow joining its separated halves.

“Doesn't matter. I've got a plan. Watch your head.”

Morgan ducked down and covered her head with her hands. Arthur leapt up and swung the sword, aiming at the strange gem. The sword struck the stone. He was worried that he'd just knock it down, but as soon as the blade touched it, the gem shattered into dozens of shards that rained down on them.

Arthur landed and tucked his face into the crook of his arm. Once the last of the shards had fallen, he pulled his head up.

Just like that, the shadow men were gone.

He pumped the sword in the air, full of excitement. “That got 'em!”

The fireplaces roared to life. The warmth coming from them vanquished the cold, autumn air that had entered with them through the door leading in from the outside. All the lanterns brightened suddenly, giving the room a warm, cozy feeling. The musty smell faded. The dust and cobwebs remained, but it wasn’t anything a good cleaning couldn’t take care of. The room was now bright, cheerful, and welcoming.

Morgan shook her head, and bits of purple crystal fell out of her hair. “How'd you know?”

“I saw the gem flicker eight times,” he answered. “And then there were eight shadow men.”

“Brilliant. I didn’t even —”

BOOM!

From out of nowhere, a thunderbolt struck, incinerating one of the couches. The searing light blinded Arthur — the boom deafened him — and the concussive force hurled him across the room. He struck the wall and fell to the floor … dazed … battered … fading …