With her stomach rising nearly to her throat, June twisted the doorknob and pulled and pushed on the door, to no avail. It would be no match for her if she Shifted, and the windows would easily shatter, so they could still escape. She closed her eyes. Aside from the faint sounds of whatever movie this Miss Jen the Terrible Babysitter was watching, she couldn't hear much besides Brendan's heart beating like a hummingbird's wings. Inside the room, the click-click-click of the Geiger counter had picked up a bit. Curious.

“Turn around,” she told Brendan. He weakly nodded and spun. She whipped off the sacred Gandalf hoodie and other clothing, and in a breath had Shifted. She made sure not to poke her head through the ceiling. She scooped up her clothes in a massive paw and threw them to Brendan, who shoved them in the backpack.

Now she could really hear. And she heard footsteps approaching rapidly. She crouched so the door would open and hide her—well, somewhat hide her at least, since she was over twelve feet tall.

“Draw their attention,” she rumbled softly to Brendan. His eyes were wide and white inside his mask, and he gave a shaky thumbs up.

The door handle jiggled several times. Then, slowly, the door eased open.

June could hear a single rapid heartbeat in the doorway, meaning only one person—or one little demon child, more likely—had come to get them. She tensed, ready to strike, and looked to Brendan for cues.

“Igor!” Brendan cried. “Look at you, still dressed in your Spiderman mask and looking just like you did when you locked us in here!” He made a small, inconspicuous open palm gesture toward June, down by his side. Stay put, he meant.

“Locked you in here?” Igor said, sounding confused. “I did not lock—ah yes, the door. It does that sometimes. I am so sorry. I thought I heard Miss Jen. I pulled the door closed and went to see if she was coming. I do not want to lose this game. Hey, where did the other pirate, Miss Jane, go?”

Igor’s heart rate didn’t change as he spoke, so unless the seven-year-old had been taught to slow his pulse and breathing while lying, he actually spoke the truth. Brendan sped toward him. “Uh, quick, this way Igor, I think I know where the treasure is!” As he passed June, he dropped the backpack at her feet, behind the door. She heard them step away down the hall.

Igor, it seemed, had not tried to capture them in his dad’s office. She Shifted back and got dressed. Now, firmly covered by Gandalf the Hoodie again, she grabbed the backpack and walked to the desk. Her stomach growled, loud and embarrassing, and June was glad no one was around to hear it. I’ll eat when we get back to the woods, she thought, but not yet.

The metal cube had been dissected, and there were still little screwdrivers and a magnifying glass sitting next to it. A key card was also laying nearby. June walked to the other side of the desk to get a better look.

Brendan and Igor entered the room. “Is that the treasure?” Igor asked when he saw her studying the cube. He looked confused. “My father has many of those.”

“It’s not the treasure, but it means we’re on the right trail,” June replied. To Brendan, she said, “It's a card reader for a security system.” He nodded knowingly.

“How can that be tied to treasure?” Igor asked. “My father, he was working on that all this afternoon. He did a lot of grumbling about it.”

“Grumbling?” Brendan said. “Do you mean laughing? Did he ever look at it and laugh like this: ‘Mwuahaha?’” This was Brendan’s best attempt at a villain’s gloating laugh.

Igor stared quietly at Brendan. Then he burst out laughing, with all the exuberance that only a child can manage. “Oh no, no he did not do any of that laughing. He says things like, ‘How could this fail?’ and ‘Should be foolproof.’”

June raised an eyebrow. Those weren't guilty words.

“So he never said anything like, ‘My plan worked perfectly’ and then did this with his fingers?” Brendan asked. He held his hands in a pyramid shape and clicked his fingers together in his best attempt at a villain’s gloating hand motions.

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June stared at Brendan, dumbstruck, but Igor laughed again. “Oh no, my father did not do anything like that. He makes a fist and says things like, ‘But it works perfectly, so how could someone get in?’ Then he yells at it and says, ‘Stupid piece of—’”

“Okay, Igor!” June interrupted. She motioned to the Geiger counter and Brendan scanned the desk. The metal cube made the device click a bit more quickly, but nothing else in the room proved any more radioactive than normal.

They left the office-lair and moved throughout the rest of the substantial house. As they searched at least fifteen more rooms, not once did Igor accidentally or purposefully trap them, and never again did the Geiger counter manage more than a soft and steady click. They certainly didn't find Mr. Moseley tied up or locked in a cage. As they investigated the upstairs, Brendan had whispered something to Igor about a favor, and June turned her attention elsewhere. Igor disappeared and reappeared about a minute later and handed Brendan something bunched up, which Brendan furtively stuffed into a pocket in his pea-cloak. He told June not to worry about it.

When they came back downstairs, they had only one room left to check, but it was occupied—the TV room. With no hint of the serum in the house, and no sign of a hostage, June felt certain they could rule Dr. Crushov out as a suspect. But they had come this far and she couldn’t stand to leave without checking every room. After a short debate while crouched behind the kitchen island, the group decided simplicity was the best approach. If Igor walked in with the device, Miss Jen the Terrible Babysitter probably wouldn’t even notice.

So, Geiger counter in hand and eyes shining at the new contraption, Igor pushed the door fully open and slipped into the TV room. June and Brendan waited, peering out from behind the island to see what they could see. And with the door now wide open, June could see a bit of blond hair sticking up over the couch. A black headband perched in that blond hair with a pattern on it. A pattern June had seen before. Many times before. Her heart sank and she groaned.

“Miss Jen is Jennifer Hammond,” she whispered to Brendan.

The TV screen, visible from this angle, proved beyond a doubt that Jennifer was watching a slasher movie. At the mention of Jennifer Hammond, Brendan's eyes looked like he was watching a slasher movie too. June had a flashback of Jennifer’s face leering at her in the school hallway, inviting her to a beauty contest for farm animals. June clenched her fists. She was no farm animal. Maybe Jennifer should see what kind of animal she really was—just like Michael Lark.

Igor crept around the room on his tiptoes, stepping carefully as if there were traps on the floor. June couldn’t even hear the Geiger counter over the screams and suspenseful music blasting from the TV. But she could tell from Igor’s body language that nothing was setting off the device. She wanted to punch a hole in something; neither the vial nor Mr. Moseley was here and they had wasted so much time.

Without warning the movie paused, an image frozen on the screen: a young girl in terror, a masked killer looming over her with a giant knife dripping red. The Geiger counter slowly clicked, and a phone chime could be heard. Jennifer shot to her feet, turned, and spotted Igor. Igor froze like a raccoon in a floodlight. Still staring at him, Jennifer appeared to forget about her ringing phone.

“What is that thing?” Jennifer asked Igor, irritation apparent in her voice. “Why’s it clicking?”

“What? I am doing nothing,” Igor responded with a shrug.

“Why are you wearing that dumb mask? Take it off and go put your dad’s machine thing back.” Jennifer looked at the phone in her hand, and Igor took the opportunity to dash out of the room to June and Brendan. He handed Brendan the Geiger counter.

Seconds later, Jennifer emerged from the TV room. Peering around the side of the island, June had just enough time to gauge Jennifer’s direction and when the island would block her view. June motioned frantically to Brendan and pointed. His eyes widened, he nodded, and then he crawled around the counter toward the hallway. Jennifer never saw him. June followed a few feet behind him, and she would have made it undetected if not for her stomach—it rumbled out of nowhere, like afternoon thunder on a sunny day, and June doubled over in pain, unable to move.

The noise drew Jennifer’s attention, and she looked over just in time to see a masked June curled in the fetal position halfway to the hall. Jennifer screamed, just like any number of victims in the movie she’d been watching.

“Who are you?” Jennifer cried, once she’d finished her ear-numbing shriek. “I’m calling the cops!” She pushed numbers on her phone, her hand shaking.

“Wait, stop,” Brendan said, rushing back. “We’re just leaving, don’t—”

The phone slipped from Jennifer's trembling fingers, hit the ground, and bounced to land at Brendan’s feet. June stood up, the pain in her stomach subsiding. Jennifer’s eyes darted to the frozen screen in the TV room, the killer still looming above a young girl, knife in hand and ready to slash. As she looked back at Brendan and June in their yoga-pant masks, the color drained from her face and her pupils doubled in size. Jennifer’s panic was palpable, and her gaze settled on the block of knives on the counter.

She pulled one out, especially long and wicked looking, and light gleamed off the blade.