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Clara had escaped with their lives, but it was a retreat. He had tucked his tail between his legs and run away like a wailing puppy. But the war wasn’t over yet.
    Nathan gazed at the rearview mirror, imagining the scene of death back at the props room. Mictar’s ghostly specter lurked there, a stalking shadow with deadly hands ready to suck the life out of him.
    Nathan firmed his chin. It didn’t matter. Soon enough he would fight back. For now, he had to wait for the right time tomount a counterattack. It was better to go along with Clara’s plan … his dad’s plan. Maybe, even in the wake of this tragedy, there was still a glimmer of hope … somehow.
    “Wake up! We’re here.”
    Nathan jerked his head toward Clara and rubbed his bleary eyes. Riding through miles and miles of farmland must have lulled him to sleep. He read the clock on the dashboard — 11:20. Still morning.
    He looked out the window. Rays of sunlight streaked through puffy clouds, highlighting a tall Ferris wheel and at least a half-dozen spires acting as center supports for striped tents of various sizes and colors. Stretching his arms, he spoke through a wide yawn. “Where are we? Some kind of carnival?”
    “It’s a county fair in central Iowa. This is the stop I told you about.” Clara parked in front of a chain-link gate near a square sign that said,
Hand Stamp Required for Re-entry.
    Nathan scanned the grounds. Only a few people strolled along the flat grass, most lugging tools, ladders, or buckets. One high-school-aged girl, clad in denim overalls and a gray T-shirt, carried a claw hammer, tossing them a glance as she passed close to the gate.
    “Looks like it’s closed,” he said.
    “All the better.” She opened the door and stepped out. “Let’s go.”
    As soon as Nathan joined her, Clara flipped up the latch and pushed the gate open. “Excuse me, young lady,” she said to the girl. “Where may I find the house of mirrors?”
    The dirty-faced blonde stopped and set the hammer against her hip, smacking her gum as she cocked her head. “We open at one.”
    Nathan rolled his eyes. This girl was treading dangerous ground. She shouldn’t mess with Clara.
    Clara’s voice changed to a formal, firm tone. “Had I askedfor your hours of operation, my dear, that would have been an adequate answer. Shall I repeat my question?”
    “I heard you, Granny.” The girl flicked her head back. “That way. Behind the merry-go-round. But the mirrors won’t help you look any younger.”
    Clara gave her an icy glare. “Thank you.” She stalked toward the tented attractions, muttering, “Impertinent, inconsiderate … If I were her mother, I’d …”
    Nathan kept pace, breathing a sigh of relief. The girl got off easy. He remembered the last time he smarted off at Clara. It had been a few years, but the echo of the tongue lashing still reverberated in his mind. Sure, he deserved it, but he didn’t wish it on anyone else.
    As they passed the carousel, the operator gave them a nod and turned on the motor, apparently testing the ride in preparation for their opening. The bright-colored horses sprang to life and rode up and down their poles as if dancing to the merry-go-round’s lively tune, an accordion rendition of “Hello Dolly!” that blared far and wide.
    Just ahead, a sign on a blue-and-white striped tent said,
House of Mirrors
. Clara stopped in front of it and unfolded a sheet of paper. Raising her voice to compete with the music, she handed him the sheet. “Here are your father’s instructions.”
    Nathan read:
    Go alone to the center of the house of mirrors and stare at the only mirror that doesn’t distort your image. In the reflection you will see a container I have left for you. Guide your image so that it picks up the container. Look straight ahead and exit the hall. It will be in your arms.
     
    “You have to go alone,” Clara said, “so I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
    “What are you going to do?”
    She