The Second Siege by Henry H. Neff Page B

the lifeless lump of Mr. Sikes, but the mouse was gone.
    There, on the grass, lay the curled, broken body of Alex Muñoz.
    Max screamed.
    He awoke to see David standing by his bed, holding a lamp and looking frightened.
    “You were dreaming,” his roommate said. “You’re okay, you know.”
    “Sure,” croaked Max, blinking at the twinkling constellations and the lamp’s reflection in the glass dome. He flung the sweat-soaked sheets away from him and propped himself against the headboard. The disturbing details of his dream, so vivid a moment earlier, began to fade. He was almost certain, however, that he had seen Mr. Sikes. Max had no idea why the imp would have been visiting his dreams, but he was strangely loath to share the incident with David.
    “It’s past four,” whispered David. “The witches will be here soon. I’m going to watch for them if you want to come.”
    Max swung his legs over the bed with a nod and minutes later the two were creeping down the dormitory’s hallway, wrapped in sweaters and blankets to guard against the morning chill. They found a suitable perch in a cozy nook on the third floor where lead-paned windows looked out onto the front lawn and drive. There was no hint of sun outside, just a dull wash of chalky gray that extended to the horizon. Max rested his forehead against the cool window.
    “How’s the Riddle coming?” asked Max, fogging the glass while David studied a small slip of paper.
    David shrugged.
    “Some of it is easy. ‘Beneath where Teuton kings were crowned’ is obviously a reference to Frankfurt, Germany. Frankfurt’s where German rulers were elected and it’s the headquarters for the Workshop. The other stuff is a little trickier.”
    “What does the Frankfurt Workshop have to do with it?” asked Max.
    “They’re not Rowan,” said David, flicking the paper with his finger. “And I think that’s exactly why Bram would have left a piece of the puzzle with them. He obviously thought the Book of Thoth is dangerous—he’d want to ensure that no one person or group could get it by themselves. By scattering the means of reaching it, he’d ensure it could be obtained only through cooperation, and that’s likely only if the book’s really in danger. It’s pretty smart, actually—”
    David cut his sentence short and stood up to gaze out the window as a dozen crows suddenly flew from the direction of the gate. The birds circled and wheeled before skimming over the grounds to perch on Maggie’s roof. Several moments later a team of four black horses emerged from the dark wood, pulling an ornate red coach. The coach eased its way across the gray landscape until it came to a stop near the fountain below them. The horses tossed their heads, rolled their eyes, and breathed great clouds of steam, but the gleaming carriage remained closed and shuttered.
    “It’s like a jewelry box,” whispered David, pressing his nose to the glass.
    Max saw someone hurry down the Manse’s front steps. It was Miss Boon, wrapped in a blue shawl and looking miserable. She stopped before the coach and gave a low, solemn bow. A red door promptly opened, and four hooded shapes slipped out to follow the young Mystics instructor inside. David turned from the window and stepped quickly down the hall.
    “Now that they’re here, we’ll have to hurry,” he said. “Come with me.”
    “Where?” asked Max.
    “To the clock tower,” David replied, scurrying away. “There’s something I have to do, and I might not get the chance later.”
    “But they’ll be coming to get us soon!” hissed Max.
    “That’s why we have to hurry!” whispered David, disappearing around the corner.
    Minutes later, Max understood why Miss Boon had looked so glum. It was a raw, wet morning, and he shivered as he stamped the morning dew off his slippers and braced himself against the gusts that swirled about Old Tom. Max and David stood on a fenced balcony just outside the clock’s face, obscuring its