Tamara, Aaron, and even Jasper looked hopefully in the direction Call was pointing, but the ominous gray building didn’t seem to give any of them any comfort.

A cold wind cut across the parking lot. Jasper shivered ostentatiously and hunched down into his jacket. He made a big show of rubbing his hands together as if they were climbing Everest and he was afraid of frostbite.

“Shut up, Jasper,” said Call.

“I didn’t say anything!” Jasper protested.

Aaron waved a peacemaking hand. “You really think your dad might be hiding out here?”

“It’s not a place most people would look for him,” Call said, no longer sure of anything.

“That’s for certain,” Tamara said, putting a depth of feeling into those words. She looked over at the farmhouse near the tree line, a gray clapboard building with a tilting, patched roof. “I can’t believe someone lets him do this to their property.”

“She’s old,” Call said. “It’s not like her house is in great shape either. And he pays rent.”

“Do you think he might stay in there?” Aaron asked hopefully. The yellow glow of the windows seemed inviting. “I mean, maybe she let him crash in her spare room.”

Call shook his head. “No. When he comes here, he always stays in the loft of the barn. He keeps bedrolls up there and a camp stove. Cans of food, too. Maybe she would have seen him, though. He usually stops by.”

“Let’s go ask,” Aaron said. “Is she one of those old ladies who bakes a lot?”

“No,” Call said. He couldn’t remember Mrs. Tisdale ever cooking anything. Aaron looked disappointed. Jasper just kept looking angry and staring up at the sky as if hoping to be saved by a helicopter or an air elemental, or maybe an elemental driving a helicopter.

“Come on,” Call said, setting off toward the house. His leg wasn’t just aching anymore; it felt like spikes of fire were shooting up through the bones. He clenched his teeth as he made his way up the front steps. He didn’t want to make a sound of pain in front of Jasper, not one.

Aaron reached around him and knocked on the door. There were shuffling footsteps and the door opened a crack, revealing tangled gray hair and a pair of bright, pale green eyes. “Kind of short to be door-to-door salesmen, aren’t you?” cackled an old woman’s voice.

“Mrs. Tisdale,” said Call. “It’s me, Callum Hunt. I’m looking for my dad. Is he here?”

The door opened wider. Mrs. Tisdale was wearing a checked dress, old boots, and a gray shawl. “Why would he be here?” she demanded. “Think I decided to sell him for parts?”

As soon as she came into view, Havoc began to bark like mad. He barked like he wanted to rip Mrs. Tisdale’s arm right off.

“He hasn’t been home in days,” Call said, catching hold of Havoc’s collar and trying to pretend the wolf wasn’t slavering a little. “I thought maybe …”

“And the mages haven’t been able to find him,” said Tamara. “They’ve been looking.”

They all turned to her in shock. “Tamara!” Aaron said.

Tamara shrugged. “What? She’s a magician. You can see it on her! You can smell the magic in this house.”

“She’s right,” said Jasper.

“Quit sucking up, Jasper,” warned Call.

“I’m not sucking up; you’re just stupid,” Jasper replied. “And that pet of yours is a monster.”

Mrs. Tisdale looked from Havoc to Tamara to Call. “I suppose you all better come inside — all but the wolf.”

Call turned toward Havoc. “What’s wrong with you?”

The wolf whimpered but then caught sight of Mrs. Tisdale and began growling again.

“Okay,” Call said finally, pointing to a spot on the lawn. “Stay here and wait for us.”

Havoc sat grudgingly, still growling.

They shuffled into the house, which smelled like dust and cat, but not unpleasantly to Call. As much as it pained him that Jasper might have a point, it was good to be warm. She led them into the kitchen, where she put a kettle on the stove. “Now tell me why I shouldn’t contact the Magisterium and tell them to come pick up some truant students.”

Call wasn’t sure what to say. “Uh, because my dad wouldn’t want you to?”

“And because we’re on a mission,” Tamara said, although this time it didn’t sound as convincing.

“A mission? To find Alastair?” Mrs. Tisdale took out five mugs from her cupboard.

“He’s in danger,” Aaron said.

“You left the mages, didn’t you?” Jasper asked. “Like Call’s dad.”

“None of that matters.” Mrs. Tisdale turned to Call. “Your father’s in some kind of trouble?”

Call nodded vehemently. “We really need to find him. If there’s anything you know …”

He could see the moment she relented. “He came by last week. Stayed a few days out in the barn. Paid up a couple of months in advance, too, which isn’t like him. But I really don’t know where he is now. And I don’t like the idea of you four kids being out here by yourselves.” She gave Jasper a sharp look. “I might have left the mages, but that doesn’t mean I’m too proud to call the Magisterium.”

“How about we stay over in the barn and we promise we’ll go right back in the morning?” Call proposed.

Mrs. Tisdale sighed, clearly giving up. “If you promised not to cause any trouble …”

“Or the house,” Jasper said. “Maybe we could stay in the house. Where it’s warm and not creepy.”

“Come on, Jasper,” said Aaron, grabbing him by the arm. Jasper went quietly, as though he’d already decided that even Mrs. Tisdale was not on his side.

In the night air, the cars reminded Call eerily of skeletal creatures, like dinosaur bones jutting out of the earth.

Havoc padded behind them quietly. His pale eyes kept turning back toward the house and his tongue lolled as though he was hungry.

The others seemed to feel the same sense of foreboding. Tamara looked around with a shiver and summoned up a small ball of fire. It danced along the path to the barn in front of them, lighting up scattered license plates, tires, and cans full of bolts.

Call was glad when they reached the barn, with its red-painted door secured by a huge metal bar. Up close, it was easy to see that the metal had been oiled recently. Aaron set to work lifting aside the bar and sliding the door open.

The old post-and-beam barn was a familiar place to Call. It was where the good cars rested, each under oilskin tarps. It was where he and his dad had spent most of their time when they came down here. Call would bring a stack of books or his Game Boy and sit up in the loft while his father tinkered below.

They were good memories, but right then they felt as hollow as the skeletal landscape of cars outside.

“Upstairs,” he said, and started toward the ladder. He put his foot on the lower rung and almost collapsed as a jolt of pain shot up his leg. He bit down on the noise he wanted to make but caught Aaron’s sympathetic look anyway. He didn’t glance over at Jasper, just reached to pull himself up with his hands, keeping the weight off his leg as much as he could. The others followed.