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“Bwaa-ha-ha-ha-ha! Hors d’oeuvres for my pet!”
    The black boots and caped coat strode by again, faster on their way down than they’d been on their way up. “And if you don’t want your brother to wind up as the main course,” he called down the stairs, “you’ll do everything I say!”
    â€œHe’s not really our brother!” Angelo called.
    â€œDo I care, you fool?” Damien shouted back.
    After Damien was gone, the coast was clear. Dave stayed in the narrow crevice longer than was necessary. He had heard the cat-sized rat fall to its doom. He had heard the rapid fire of the Komodo dragon’s claws. He was, it’s fair to say, scared.
    What had he gotten himself into?
    Was flying really worth
this
?
    â€œÃ€ndale, hombre!”
Sticky urged. “If he moves the power ingots, we’ll never find them.”
    But Dave stayed put, and through chattering teeth, he whispered, “Why would he bring the Burrito Brothers down here? It doesn’t make sense.”
    Sticky rolled his eyes. “Not
Burrito
, Bandito. They’re a mariachi band, okay? It has nothing to do with food. And they’re not really brothers. That’s the name of their band.”
    This was just what Dave needed to get his mind off of rats and dragons and death.
“What?
You said they were bandits! Now they’re a
band!
Are you lying about
everything!
Are you just out to get me killed?”
    â€œAy-ay-ay.” Sticky rolled his eyes. “Look, the Bandito Brothers were a band, but people stopped hiring them because they were awful and they’d steal stuff from parties. So they became the
outlaw
Bandito Brothers.” Sticky shrugged. “Stealing is easier than playing.”
    â€œWhat about those bandoliers?” Dave asked. “Are they real? Why are they still wearing them?”
    Again, Sticky shrugged. “It’s part of their costume,
señor.
Without six-shooters, you have nothing to fear.” Then he added, “Tito uses his as suspenders.”
    Dave shook his head, remembering his original question. “But why did Damien bring the Bandito Brothers down here?”
    â€œThe same reason he always dragged me down here—to make them fear him and his dragon.” Sticky frowned. “He is training them.”
    This conversation had somehow calmed Dave enough to continue down the steps toward the dungeon. He hugged the oozy, slimy wall closely, approaching a lighted area beneath them. Soon a huge pit came into view. The floor of the pit was mostly sand, and the sides curved out and then in again like a fishbowl. Across the pit from Dave was the dragon’s den—a deep, shadowy cave thatgashed through the otherwise smooth wall. And in the center of the pit was a tree that wasn’t quite a tree—it was more a trunk with branches but with no leaves.
    â€œThere it is!” Sticky whispered, pointing to the ugliest beast Dave had ever seen. It seemed like a creature from another world. Another time. Another
dimension.
A hungry creature with a lumbering gait and a long, flicking forked tongue. A vile creature that stank of death and decay and, oh yes, disgusting dragon doo-doo.
    â€œHello, my sweet!” Damien Black called to it from the rim of the pit. He went out of view for a moment, then suddenly the treasure hunter was
in
the pit, holding an enormous goose by the neck. “Here you are!” he cooed at the dragon, then flung the goose across the sand and sauntered toward the dragon’s den.
    The goose flapped and honked, manically, trying to get away from the dragon, but the beast was hungry, fast, and ferocious, and there was no escaping him.

    â€œDo not think that will work for you,” Sticky whispered. “That evil
hombre
is putting on a show for the Brothers.” He tugged Dave by the ear, turning him so they were eye to eye. “Stay here. Do not go into the pit. The dragon will kill