Satchel rushed back down the stairs. “Jarek!” he shouted.

  Basco entered the hall as he reached Jarek’s side.

  “What’s going on, Satchel?” said the old mercenary between breaths. “What happened to Jarek?”

  Pointing up the stairs, the boy said, “Something up there got him.” Satchel looked down at Jarek. “Is he dead?”

  Basco bent down to check on the old thief. “I don’t know. But he’ll have to wait. Whatever got him is still moving around up there.”

  A loud thump made them look to the top of the stairs. The nightgown she wore hung loosely from her frame, its edges tattered. Her face carried a blank, emotionless stare.

  “Addie!” said Satchel.

  She looked at him, cocked her head to one side and stared.

  “Addie, what’s wrong?”

  Basco shifted his stance and gripped the handle of his pistol. “Lad, I don’t think that’s Addie.”

  “What?”

  “Remember what the witch said. Someone’s controlling her.”

  Satchel looked into Addie’s blank expression. Then a wicked smile crossed her face. She raised her hands, palms out. A blast of white light shot out, hit Basco squarely in the chest, and sent him flying backward across the floor of the hall. He fell to the ground and moved no more.

  “Basco!” said Satchel. He drew his dagger and faced Addie. “What’re you doing, Addie? This isn’t you.”

  She started down the stairs, keeping her gaze locked on him. “Of course it’s me, dear Satchel,” she said. “Don’t you recognize me?” She reached the bottom of the stairs and approached. With a pouting sort of frown, she said, “You won’t hurt me, will you?”

  The way she asked the question mingled innocence with something else that suggested otherwise. Satchel said nothing in reply. What could he say? She drew close and gazed deep into his eyes.

  Her mouth turned into a coy, playful smile. “I know how you feel about me,” she said.

  She lightly touched a spot on his shoulder near his neck with a finger and kept it there as she circled him. Warmth spread from the contact. Conflicting sensations ran through Satchel. He felt his forehead turn hot and his palms sweaty.

  “Now then,” continued Addie, now behind him, “why don’t you tell me where to find the scroll and the spyglass?”

  His mouth felt dry. “I don’t…know,” Satchel said. He turned to face her, breaking the contact of her finger with his shoulder.

  Addie scowled. Her voice became nasty. “Then what good are you?”

  She raised her hand and fired another beam of light. But Satchel was ready. He dodged to the right and rushed toward her. To his surprise, his speed had increased almost threefold. Addie trained her other hand and fired once more. Satchel twisted left, the beam just missing him. Addie continued to fire bolts of light and Satchel kept dodging, looking for any moment to move toward her. He found an opening and took it. He was nearly on her when she disappeared suddenly. A noise came from behind and a hard kick swept his legs from under him. Satchel tried to get up, but Addie stomped on his chest, holding him in place. She let out an evil laugh.

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  “You move well.” Light particles appeared in her hand. “But you’re out of your league.” The light formed into a ball. There would be no dodging this. “I’m afraid this one will kill you. Goodbye.”

  Satchel closed his eyes, waiting for the impact. But it never came. He opened one eye and looked down the length of his body. Not a scratch on him.

  He looked up at Addie. A confused expression hung on her face. Another ball of light formed, and she fired again. Satchel’s eyes were open this time and what happened surprised him. The light hit his chest, but then nothing; no pain, not even the pressure of impact. Addie fired beams of light at Satchel, repeatedly, each one having the same effect: nothing.

  Or rather, almost nothing.

  Satchel felt something build within him, an energy he had never experienced before. It was powerful. It grew with each bolt of light that struck him until finally, it felt as though he might burst.

  Get it out, he thought frantically. Getitoutgetitout. Get. It. Out!

  A glow formed around him. Instinctively, Satchel raised his hands and pointed them at Addie. A huge beam of light shot out of Satchel and struck Addie head-on, flinging her body upward. Cracks formed where her body slammed into the ceiling. She then dropped straight back down. Satchel rolled out of the way and her body hit the marble floor with a thud. When her right hand hit the ground, the ring on her finger exploded into shards of light.

  Then nothing more.

  Satchel got to his feet and stood in the middle of the carnage. He looked down at his armor and the pieces fell into place in his mind. It had protected him; the breastplate had absorbed each bolt of light. Not only that, but he released it back. The boots, too. They granted him the speed he needed to outmaneuver Addie.

  She was right, he thought. The witch was right.

  Then he remembered Jarek and ran to his mentor’s side.

  “Jarek! Jarek, speak to me!” Satchel leaned in to listen for breathing. Good, he’s still alive. He had to find help but from where? Basco and Orvis were both out cold. He then remembered Lady Montague. Satchel ran out the front door of the manor and headed toward her home. Upon reaching her estate, he climbed the gate, ran up to the door of the house, and knocked frantically.

  “Open up, please Lady Montague,” he yelled. When the reply came, he kept pounding on the door. “Please!”

  Footsteps came from behind the door. He stepped back as it creaked open to reveal the Lady’s face.

  “Satchel?” she said in a sleepy voice. “Dear boy, do you know what time it is?”

  “I’m sorry, Lady, but I need your help. Jarek and Basco are hurt, and so are Addie and Orvis. There was magic and the front hall’s been torn apart.”

  “Slow down, dear,” the Lady said. “Come in and tell me all about it.”

  “They need help now.”

  “I understand, but I need you to calm down right now and tell me what happened.”

  Satchel gave in and stepped in through the door. The Lady led him into a small study and had him sit in a chair facing away from the door. She left for a moment and returned with a pot of tea and two cups.

  “Here. Drink this, dear. It will soothe your nerves. Now, tell me everything, but take it slowly.”

  Satchel began to retell the story to the Lady, stopping only to answer her questions. When he was finished, she stared at him wide-eyed.

  “That’s quite a story,” she said. “Wouldn’t you agree, my lord?”

  Satchel cocked an eyebrow at her, then realized that she addressed someone behind him.

  “Indeed.”

  That cold voice.

  Satchel turned his head and, in the doorway, stood the White Knight dressed in the same clothes as the night he danced with Addie. Satchel jumped to his feet.

  “You!”

  “Tsk, tsk. Now, is that any way for a guest of the lovely lady here to behave?” The Knight crossed to the Lady and took her hand. On her finger, Satchel saw a ring similar to Addie’s. His vision started to blur.

  “Whoops. It looks like you got up too fast,” mocked the Knight. “That makes one feel light-headed.”

  Satchel looked at the teacup then at the Lady.

  She giggled and said, “Why don’t you rest Satchel, dear?”

  Satchel’s legs weakened. He tried to stay up, but the poison had done its work. He collapsed on the ground.

  The Knight’s face came into view. “That’s a good boy. Your armor fascinates me, and I would very much like to ask you some questions about it later. Sleep now.”

  The last thing Satchel saw before passing out was that evil smile.