Page 90 of Search for the Lost

“Look, mister. I have a bad history with witches, okay? Even the good ones withhold important info so they can make you go on a quest instead of letting you go home. Nonna Strega was just par for the course. At least she didn’t have any flying monkeys.”

The WOLF-mice, still on her shoulders, snuggled up against her neck to comfort her, and she spent a few moments telling them how good they were. Leo would have thought that Spike, at least, would object to being addressed in baby talk, but apparently not.

Leo wished he could converse in private with Crispin, but that was impossible in their current situation. Crispin, however, took a deep breath and tried again. “Can you describe the five brothers, miss? You see, we’re looking for⁠—”

“Almost home!” she sang out. She fixed all of them with a severe look. “See over there, somewhere under the rainbow?”

Leo blinked. There was indeed a rainbow, even though it was night and there were no clouds or any sign of rain.

Dorothy crossed her arms. “If they’re still there, I expect you to deal with them, okay? I want my farm back.”

Dietrich bowed deeply, bumping his head into Minkis, who made a hissing noise and inched away. “We will be honored to help you,” he said .

And then, in a patch of Kansas that was especially poorly lit despite the blazing rainbow overhead, the balloon gently set down. After everyone had scrambled out of the basket, it took off into the air. Leo wondered who Luft’s other clients might be.

He tried to take stock of the surroundings despite the darkness. They were all standing on a gravel road. He had the general sense of flat fields stretching out around them, possibly dotted with some outbuildings. The air smelled of sweet fresh-cut hay. A cow mooed somewhere in the distance, sounding a little mournful. Aspin sneezed, startling them all.

Directly in front of them, maybe thirty yards away and illuminated by porch lights, was a small house. It looked white, although it could have been pale yellow. The front porch was wide, with a swing and a few big potted plants, and a second-story window was tucked beneath the gable roof. A light was on in the room behind that window, although a curtain or shade obscured the view.

Dorothy hugged herself. “I’m so glad to be home again! Now, would you people please get rid of my unwanted guests? You can melt them if needed, but please do not drop any houses on them. The insurance deductibles alone would kill me.”

They needed a plan—even Leo could see that. They didn’t even know who they were dealing with here, let alone what those mystery men were capable of. They didn’t know who else was on the farm.

Do we have any weapons? Well, besides being Order and Chaos incarnate, which didn’t seem to work very well against Red Duke-related things.

Leo hoped very much that those awful men didn’t have any leftover curses. He’d had plenty of those already, thank you very much. He turned to Crispin. “We should⁠—”

But Dietrich was already running full-tilt toward the house.

Everyone except Dorothy rushed after him, but they were too late to stop him from pounding on the door and yelling in a booming voice: “Hey! Open up! The king wants to talk to you!”

“Oh no,” Crispin whispered.

The door flew open so violently that Dietrich got knocked on his ass into a small patch of unmowed grass—didn’t Dorothy keep this place up?

He scrambled backward as five extremely handsome men filed out. They wore matching red wrestling singlets with a coat of arms insignia on the chests, and every one of them had thick, flowing hair, as if they’d stepped off the cover of an old-fashioned romance novel.

They didn’t look happy.

The one with the hair so blond that it was almost white took another step forward, raised his arm, and pointed at Crispin. “There he is at last, gentlemen. Get him!”

31

Crispin

Crispin squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t look them in the eyes!”

“Why not? Who are these guys anyhow? And why do they all look like Hitler youth made a baby with Fabio….” Leo’s voice trailed off.

Crispin risked a glance at his companions. All of them had fallen silent, staring at the Red Dukes. All but Minkis, who seemed to be immune to all sorts of magick.

“Because they’ll paralyze you.” He slammed into Leo, knocking him to the ground. “Mink, help me!”

The former squirrel chittered in excitement. “Minkis help Acorn Man!”

Leo’s eyes fluttered open, looking up at Crispin. “What happened? I was so scared. I couldn’t move….”

A series of thumps followed by dazed moans sounded all around, as the boyish version of Minkis knocked their remaining companions into the golden dried grass.