Henry stares down at the message. Parents and grandfathers and being noticed make the words jumble.

  “Read it aloud,” Apollo says.

  Henry looks around cautiously. He’s imagining . . . Well, who knows what. A spider that can spy? A toad who can tattle? A pebble that can . . . Oh, whatever. You get the idea. With Vlad, any crazy thing is possible. But it seems like the coast is clear. Henry swallows. Takes a deep breath. Three people who might be friends . . . What a battle of nerves. The paper rattles, but he manages to read. “‘A small Dante has been forever altered—STOP. Evil abounds—STOP. The time is finally right—STOP. To the lighthouse, pronto—STOP.’”

  “He’s talking about my brother Rocco, who’s been turned into a reptile,” Apollo says.

  “Oh no! That’s horrible! Poor Rocco! What do you think, Henry? Did your grandfather really send it?” Jo asks.

  It does sound just like him. “I think so.”

  “Pirate Girl worried it was some sort of a trap. But maybe Captain Every thinks we can help,” Jo says. “With all his wisdom and knowledge, he might have an idea what to do about this.” Henry thinks the same thing, of course.

  “I want to see the reptile with my own eyes,” Pirate Girl says—rather threateningly, one might add. Being bullied has given Pirate Girl all of her best and worst traits.

  Apollo plucks Rocco from the back of Button. Rocco dangles midair until Apollo places him in his cupped hands. The girls lean down and listen carefully.

  “It’s me, Rocco Dante,” the lizard says. His voice sounds like a tiny, squeaky wheel.

  “Holy cannoli,” Pirate Girl says.

  “This is heartbreaking. And the poor little thing is undressed besides,” Jo says with her usual kindness.

  “Well, if anyone would know what to do about Rocco, Captain Every would. I’m in,” Pirate Girl says.

  “Me too,” Jo says.

  Pirate Girl puts two fingers in her mouth and whistles. Wow! Henry’s always wanted to know how to do that. Button’s ears twitch. Pirate Girl points to her sidecar, and Button hops inside. Henry can see lots of stuff in there—rolled-up maps from various lands, a compass, a message in a bottle. She seems ready for anything.

  “Let’s get a move on, people,” she says.

  CHAPTER 7

  An Entirely Different Tower

  As they ride down the road to Henry’s grandfather’s house, Henry begins to smell the familiar smells of the sea: salt water and seaweed, plus the dead stuff that dogs like to roll in. Pirate Girl pedals hard, and Jo’s hair flies behind her, and even Rocco, who’s back in Apollo’s pocket, seems to have forgotten his troubles for a moment. A truck passes, and Rocco pumps his tiny lizard fist, trying to get the driver to honk. The sky gets bigger as they get closer. Henry spots the twinkle of water, and then the white, glowing tip of Grandfather’s house.

  They drop their bikes outside the freshly painted fence of the keeper’s quarters. The waves crash in and crickle out. The air is fresh and alive. Pirate Girl looks up toward the big lamp at the top of the lighthouse.

  “Holy macaroni,” she says. “Now, that’s what I call a tower.”

  “I’ve never seen it this close before,” Jo says.

  “Me neither,” Apollo says. “And look! From here, you can see the set of highly polished prisms that create the lantern.” Even Rocco’s little beady eyes are wide.

  This tower is very different from the black-mirrored building on Rulers Mountain. The lighthouse is a tall white column with red stripes, and Grandfather’s majestic white house with red shutters sits alongside. It’s bright and clean. You can see the beam of light for miles and miles. The lantern is lit in the day and in the night, in every kind of darkness and storm.

  There’s nothing better than a lighthouse with stripes, Henry’s sure. He loves this place so much that his heart fills whenever he sees it. He loves everything about it. He loves the old tree out front, and the bank of ivy, and the white porch. He dearly loves what’s inside. Henry wishes he could live here with his grandfather, but his parents would never allow it. They say that it’s much too lonely a place for a boy. That it’s dangerous. That his grandfather is a bad influence, even though everyone else thinks he’s a great, wise man. To Henry, he’s the greatest everything.

  Pirate Girl runs up the porch steps and rings the bell before Henry can. Honestly, it’s kind of maddening. But Henry hasn’t eaten anything since last night, and he’s ridden his bike a long distance in the summer heat, and he’s dealt with quite a lot of intense emotion in just a few hours, so he might be a little testy.

  The door opens.

  And then there he is, in all his brilliance: Grandfather Every, with his white beard and barrel chest, and his kindly eyes. He’s wearing his blue captain’s uniform, as always, pressed neatly, crisp as a just-made bed. He’s beaming, same as that lighthouse. Henry smells biscuits baking. Suddenly, he’s starving.

  “Come in, come in, children! Welcome,” Captain Every says. Henry hugs his grandfather hard around his waist, and his grandfather hugs him hard right back. Henry’s head is held wonderfully against that big chest and that uniform, which smells like cold air and pancake syrup and salt water, or maybe those are just Henry’s favorite smells. He feels a kiss on the top of his head. It’s so wonderful, he wishes he could keep the kiss in a special box.

  “Hello, Captain Every,” Jo says, because she also has perfect manners. She shakes his hand.

  “We got your telegram,” Pirate Girl says, and shakes his hand, too.

  Smart, valiant, and handsome Apollo has lost all words in front of the revered captain. His bottom lip begins to quiver. It’s the kind of teary relief you feel when you finally hand over your troubles to a grown-up. He reaches into his pocket for Rocco. In his palm, Rocco jumps up and down and waves his arms. “We came for your help,” Apollo says.

  “Yes, yes,” Grandfather says. “Your brother has been turned into a naked lizard by Vlad Luxor. Tragic.”

  “Why did you ask us to come, Captain Every?” Pirate Girl asks.

  “I’m not sure what we can do,” Jo says. “But of course I want to help if I can.”

  “Well, let’s have something to eat first,” Grandfather says. “And then we will discuss the matter.”

  In the dining room, there are warm biscuits with jam and butter, slices of Ham Haven, a Chilled Cheese Mondieu, and an impressively tall Jell-O mold. There’s a bowl of water for Button beside a plate of Canine Crunch. There’s a cricket on a lettuce leaf for Rocco.

  An Impressively Tall Jell-O Mold

  It’s such a large and incredible feast, it must have taken hours and hours to prepare. Grandfather must have begun stirring hot water into gelatin even before Rocco’s spell, Henry realizes. His grandfather is admired for his wisdom, of course, but how would he know something before it even happened? This is no time for quiet thoughts that you keep to yourself, though. “It’s almost like you were expecting us,” Henry says.

  “Well, I have been,” Grandfather says. “In fact, I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long, long time.”

  CHAPTER 8

  The Awful Scene in the Always Open

  Oh, the food is delicious. The biscuits are buttery and flaky, the ham is salty, and the cheese is creamy. The Jell-O is cold and wiggly, and slips down the throat like a raft on a waterslide. Even Apollo has momentarily put aside his troubles and is licking his fingers.

  Henry is stuffed. Jo wipes her mouth with her napkin. Pirate Girl lets out a deep, satisfied sigh.

  “Are we finished? Nothing like a good meal to get the gears turning.” Captain Every taps his temple with his finger. “Shall we move to the living room?”

  It’s one of Henry’s favorite rooms in the house, but not the favorite. He has seen this room many times before, when he’s snuck out of his own dismal house to come here, but his friends haven’t. So, Pirate Girl races to one wall and examines the painting of schooners on the high seas. Jo settles into a big cozy armchair next to a lovely statue of a mermaid. Apollo carefully spins the wooden captain’s wheel set on a brass stand in the corner. Button curls up on the braided rug in front of the fireplace, while Rocco finds the circle of sun made by the telescope, which points out the window toward the ocean.

  The Painting of Schooners on the High Seas

  But then, Grandfather clears his throat. There are urgent matters to address. Pirate Girl finds her seat—the wooden swivel chair embossed with an anchor. On the old leather couch, Henry sits on one side of his grandfather, and Apollo sits on the other.

  “Now,” Grandfather says to Apollo, “if we are going to right this terrible wrong, we need all the facts. Begin at the beginning. It is impossible to begin at the end, and the middle will remain a muddle if we don’t start at the start.”

  “All right,” Apollo says. “Well, very early this morning, we went to the Always Open Grocery because we ran out of milk.” His eyes begin to water at the memory. “We’re always running out of milk.”

  “Hmm, yes. One does,” Grandfather says.

  “Otto was in the cart, and our mother was pushing it, and Rocco and I were next to her. Rocco kept asking for things. ‘Can I have Twisty Nibblers? Can I have Fried Crunchies? I want Lemon Zippers.’”

  “Ugh,” Jo says. “I hate when my little sister does that.”

  “He was popping his gum. He was blowing big bubbles that splatted across his whole face and had to be pulled from his hair. He’s been like this all the time lately, since Otto was born. Annoying. Following me around. Poking my tummy when I’m trying to read Great Moments in History. Begging Dad to have staring contests when he’s getting ready to go to work. Showing Mom how long he can hop on one foot while she’s on the phone. Coming in my room and touching my stuff, and then singing I’m touch-ing your stu-uff. Putting his face into Otto’s face and burping. Crying real loud when he isn’t even really hurt. I could give a million examples.”

  “Frustrating, indeed,” Grandfather says.

  “And then, at the Always Open, he began to shout, ‘I want Egg Jells! Give me Egg Jells!’”

  “Gross.” Pirate Girl makes a face.

  “Disgusting,” Jo agrees.

  “No one likes Egg Jells,” Henry says.

  “Exactly! He was asking for things he didn’t even want. ‘You don’t even like Egg Jells,’ I said. And then Rocco started to copy me. ‘You don’t even like Egg Jells,’ he said back.”

  Everyone looks at Rocco, who now snoozes in the circle of sun, because it’s way, way past his naptime.

  Apollo continues. “‘Stop it,’ I told him. “‘Stop it,’ Rocco said. ‘I mean it.’ ‘I mean it,’ Rocco said. ‘Mom!’ I shouted. ‘Mom!’ Rocco copied.”

  “Grrr. That’s so maddening,” Jo says.

  “And here’s where things really go wrong,” Apollo says. “Mom turns to Rocco and says, ‘You better quit that right now or you’ll be sorry.’ And then Rocco says . . .”

  They all wait.

  “‘You better quit that right now or you’ll be sorry.’”

  Henry gasps.

  “My mother’s face turned the color of an eggplant.”

  “Purple?” Pirate Girl says.

  An Eggplant

  “Red is mad. Purple is furious,” Apollo says.

  Henry can’t even imagine Mrs. Dante getting angry, though he supposes all mothers have their limits, probably quite often reached in the grocery store.

  “‘Rocco Xavier Dante . . . ,’ my mother warned.”

  They all hold their breath. Henry is hoping, hoping, hoping Rocco won’t do what he fears he’ll do.

  “‘Rocco Xavier Dante . . . ,’ Rocco copied.”

  “Oh no,” Jo says.

  “Oh no!” Henry echoes. He shudders, imagining what would have happened if that had been him.

  “My mother reached for his collar, but Rocco darted away. He darted as fast as a . . . well, a lizard. My mother tried to catch him. She steered the cart all over the place. It was the one cart with the squeaky wheel, and it kept making an awful screech screech whenever she went around a corner.

  “Otto started to cry. Everyone was staring. And then Rocco zipped around a bend and crashed into a large display of Power Zaps. They came tumbling down, making this huge racket. I squinched my eyes shut. It was all too hard to watch.”

  Henry wants to squinch his own eyes right now.

  “And when I opened them, I saw something horrible. Rocco was gone. And in his place was a naked lizard sitting among the Power Zaps.”

  “This is horrible,” Pirate Girl says. She is twisting one of the beads in a lock of her hair.

  “My mother screamed. Every single person was looking at us, but they’d stopped talking or even moving. You could see the fear on their faces. Vlad Luxor himself must have been there, in the frozen food aisle, or maybe in fruits and vegetables. It was the worst moment of my life.”

  Apollo sits back, exhausted. Jo is speechless, and Pirate Girl lets out a gloomy whistle of wow. Henry’s stomach aches with sadness.

  “I see,” Grandfather says. “Your brother has been trying to get attention. In the Always Open, he was getting plenty of it. And Vlad Luxor hates when other people get attention. Hates.”

  “Why a lizard, though?” Pirate Girl asks. “Why not a scurrying mouse, or better yet, a silent statue?”

  “Why? This is the first thing you need to know, my friends. There is never logic in evil acts. Evil is power run amok. This way, that way, upside down! There’s no point in searching for reason in the unreasonable! A madman does what a madman wants to do. Random, inexplicable acts cause the greatest uncertainty and fear. Irrational fury smushes your spirit like brown spots on a banana. Why is a waste of precious minutes. The only real question is What are we going to do about it now?”

  Grandfather is slightly flushed from his speech. He shakes his head as if there are too many things he’ll never understand, and then he folds his hands and sighs. For a long moment, he stares outside, toward the wide blue sky and the endless sea, as if he’s imagining the past and the present, both.

  They hear the tick and the tock of the clock on the mantel. The waves come in and the waves go out. No other great, wise words come pouring forth from Grandfather’s mouth. They wait for an ingenious plan, but he’s silent. He strokes his beard and they lean forward in expectation, but . . . Nothing.

  Apollo clears his throat, as if he’s nervous to interrupt the thoughts of the important captain. When Apollo finally speaks, his voice is a hesitant whisper. Of course, it’s not just bad manners he’s worried about, even though it’s clear that there are no spies at Grandfather’s house. “Um, Captain Every?”

  “Yes, son?”

  “Is there anything we can even do without a . . . spell breaker?”

  “Of course there is nothing you can do without a spell breaker!” Grandfather says.

  In an instant, Apollo’s eyes turn to two shining pools of tears. Jo puts her head in her hands.

  “I don’t know why we’re even here,” Pirate Girl says.

  “There’s no hope, then,” Apollo says.

  Henry feels the very familiar sink of terrible-awful that means this is entirely his fault. They rode all the way out to the lighthouse to help Rocco, but it was pointless. His grandfather called them together with a telegram, and it was a total waste of time. In moments like these, other children might understand that this was not their fault and that they had tried their best. But Henry never feels that way. Instead, a tunnel of sorrow and a weighty guilt goes straight through him.

  And what’s even worse: He has let down the three people and a lizard who could have been his friends.

  CHAPTER 9

  A Most Magical Place

  That horrible feeling—well, thankfully it lasts only a moment.

  The Sinking of the Titanic and Great Sea Disasters

  “No hope?” Grandfather says. “Don’t be ridiculous! This is the most hopeful day we’ve had in years!” He rises. He heads toward the strange contraption near the fireplace. It’s a large, round brass dial on a stand, with words like Full, Half, Slow, and Dead Slow written in a circle. Henry knows what this contraption does, but before today, he has never known what exactly it is.

  “An engine order telegraph!” Apollo wipes his eyes and jumps up to look. “I read about these in The Sinking of the Titanic and Great Sea Disasters.”

  Apollo bends over the machine. His eyes light with curiosity, and his cheekbones are high, and he still looks handsome, even after all they’ve been through. Jo seems to notice. She gazes at Apollo with admiration. It makes Henry feel the slightest twinge of disappointment.

  “What does it do?” Pirate Girl asks. “It looks amazing.”

  “On a ship, this is how the captain in the bridge talks with the officer in the engine control room,” Apollo explains.

  “Let’s just say it communicates a change in direction.” Grandfather turns the dial from Stop to Full Ahead.

  At the turn of that dial, any disappointment or guilt or bad feeling Henry had vanishes. Now he’s filled with a surge of excitement. “Come on, you guys!” he says, and heads for the door. Button rises to her feet, too, and jumps up around Grandfather’s knees. Henry and Button know something that even Apollo doesn’t: Apollo and Jo and Pirate Girl are about to see the most astonishing, and the most amazing, and the most hopeful place you can imagine.

  Apollo tucks a drowsy Rocco into his pocket. They head down the path that connects the living quarters to the lighthouse. Henry’s insides are leaping with glee, the kind of glee you feel when only you know the wonderful secret that’s about to be revealed.