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bucks,” Henry said firmly.
    “Five dollars! You’ll pay me five dollars for not kicking your—,” I said, lunging toward the nerd-mates.
    “Here,” Alexander interrupted, grabbing my arm with one hand and reaching in his back pocket with the other. He pulled out his wallet and handed Henry a ten-dollar bill.
    Henry inspected the money as if he were looking for drying ink.
    “It’s real,” I said. “Give us the keys.”
    Henry pulled out his cell phone and intensely pressed a seven-digit number.
    Alexander and I glanced at each other curiously.
    We heard a ringing coming from the doorknob. The locks popped and the door creaked partially open.
    Henry stood proudly gazing at his handmade gadgetry.
    I started for the door, but the nerd-mates followed me.
    “You guys wait here,” I ordered. “You didn’t buy tickets, we did.”
    “It’s Henry’s treehouse.”
    Alexander reached into his wallet and pulled out a five. “This should cover a private tour.”
    Henry quickly put the money into his chinos pocket. “No kissing, disrobing, or touching anything besides the telescope,” he ordered. “I just assembled it.”

    I rolled my eyes.
    “We’ll be standing outside the door,” Billy Boy warned.
    I tiptoed inside, Alexander following closely behind me.
    The folding tables were still lined with beakers and petri dishes. Henry’s telescope was standing next to the front window. The black curtain, separating the treehouse into two rooms, was closed. The first time I’d pulled the curtain back, I’d found Jagger’s stickered coffin and Luna’s pink one. Those had been removed when Alexander and I inspected it a few days after the Graveyard Gala. This time, I wasn’t sure what I would find.
    I took a deep breath and yanked back the curtain.
    I found an empty room.
    What was he searching for?
    There must be something lurking inside the treehouse that we didn’t discover when we’d come to see that Jagger and Luna had gone.
    “I guess Valentine’s not staying here,” I said.
    “Maybe he plans to,” Alexander suspected.
    In the corner, a small closet door was slightly ajar. I reached inside and found a cardboard box hidden in the shadows. Perhaps it was the candelabra, pewter goblet, or Luna’s gothic makeup. Or more likely jars of molds and spores to be examined under Henry’s microscope. I peered inside and noticed rolled-up parchment paper.
    I unwound the rubber band and quickly unrolled them. It was a stack of graveyard etchings, like the ones Jagger collected from graveyards he’d been to and used as grim artwork to decorate the treehouse, the abandoned mill, and his apartment at the Coffin Club.
    “Jagger must have left these behind,” I concluded.
    “Time’s up!” I heard my brother call.
    I didn’t even have time to read the etchings. I rolled them back up, rewound the rubber band, and stuck the papers underneath my shirt.
    I pulled back the curtain and found Henry and Billy Boy glaring at us like Alexander and I were in trouble.
    “What’s that?” Henry asked in an accusatory tone.

    “What’s what?” I asked, faking shock.
    “Stuck under your shirt,” Henry accused.
    Reluctantly, I pulled the rolls out. “You mean this? Just a scrap of paper.”
    “Those are my maps of constellations!” He extended his hand. I had no choice but to give him back his papers, even though they weren’t maps. Henry pulled back the curtain and placed the rolled-up etchings in a small closet and locked the door.
    At that moment, we all heard a group of dogs barking off in the distance.
    Suddenly a chill was in the air. Alexander seemed distracted.
    He stepped out onto the treehouse deck.
    I pointed the telescope toward the front window and peered through. The image of Henry’s street was blurry, but I could just make out a white-haired boy staring straight at me.
    I gasped and quickly pulled the image into focus. The boy, a miniature version of Jagger in a white T-shirt and oversized black shorts,