Magic Rises

out.
    “How do you know where the orange shapeshifters nest?” I asked. Any distraction in a pinch . . .
    “I’ve seen them.” Volodja shrugged, adjusting the rifle on his shoulder. “It’s not far now.”
    I couldn’t wait to find out who pulled his strings.
    “Come on, dear,” Aunt B said. “Where is your spirit of adventure?”
    Midway up the trail, the magic wave drowned us. We paused, adjusting, and moved on.
    One hour later the trail brought us up onto the crest of the mountain. Straight ahead the sea sparkled. Behind us, low in the valley, lay the city. A tall cliff rose to the left and within it gaped a dark hole.
    “Cave,” Volodja explained. “We go in.”
    “You first.”
    Volodja took a step forward. The bushes on our right rustled. A dark-haired man stepped in the open. Around thirty, with a short beard, he carried a rifle and a dagger and wore a beat-up version of a djigit outfit. A bundle lay across his shoulder with mountain goat legs sticking out of it. A big gray-and-white dog trotted out and sat next to him. Broad and muscular, she had a dense shaggy coat. She might have been some type of Molosser—she looked like someone took a Saint Bernard and gave it a German shepherd’s muzzle and coat.
    The hunter squinted at Volodja and said something. The kid answered.
    The hunter waved his free arm. I wished I had a universal translator.
    “What is he saying?” I asked.
    “He is . . . crazy.” Volodja put his index finger to his temple and turned his hand back and forth.
    The hunter barked something. The dog at his feet woofed quietly. I missed Grendel. I wished I could’ve brought him. Maybe he’d bite Hugh and Curran for me.
    Volodja waved at him, like you would at a mosquito, and started to the cave. “We go.”
    “Plokhoe mesto,” the hunter yelled.
    Accented Russian. That I understood. “He says this is a bad place.”
    Volodja pivoted on his foot, his gaze sharp. “You speak Russian?”
    “I do. I also get very angry when people try to trick me.”
    He raised his hands. “No trick. You want orange things or not?”
    “We do,” Aunt B said. “Lead the way.”
    “Agulshap,” the hunter said. “Don’t go into the cave.”
    Agulshap didn’t sound like a Russian word. “What does agulshap mean?”
    “I don’t know,” Volodja said. “I talked to you: he is crazy.”
    Keira shook her head. “I don’t like it.”
    I didn’t like it either.
    “Come along,” Aunt B said. Her face still had that pleasant, sweet-as-sugar smile, but her eyes were hard. Suddenly I felt sorry for Volodja.
    He pulled a torch out of his pack and lit it.
    The mouth of the cave grew closer with every step. A few more seconds and it swallowed us whole.
    * * *
    The cave stretched on and on, tall, giant, vast. Stone steps carved into the living rock of the mountain led down below, and my steps sent tiny echoes bouncing up and down from the smooth walls.
    “Little far,” Volodja explained over his shoulder.
    “Clear as mud,” Keira muttered.
    The stone steps ended. The only light came from the torch in our guide’s hand. We crossed the cavern floor to a rough arch chiseled in the rock. Volodja stepped through. Aunt B followed, and then I did, with Keira bringing up the rear. We stood in a round chamber, about thirty feet wide. Another exit, a dark hole, yawned to the right.
    “We wait,” Volodja said.
    We stood in darkness. This wasn’t filling me with oodles of confidence.
    Keira touched my shoulder. Something was coming.
    The kid dove forward, through the second opening. I lunged after him and ran into a metal grate that slammed shut in my face. The second clang announced another grate slamming into place over our only exit.
    I pressed against the wall, between the two exits.
    “I thought so,” Keira said.
    Aunt B sighed.
    We just had to figure out if this was a straight robbery or if someone had hired them to do it.
    Someone shone a light through the grate. “I have crossbow,” a deep male voice said. “Silver bolts. Give money.”
    “I don’t understand,” Aunt B said. “Where are the orange shapeshifters? Volodja?”
    “No shapeshifters.” Volodja laughed, a little nervous giggle. “You give money and you can go. Human girl stays.”
    “Don’t I feel special.”
    “You trapped with us. Give money!”
    “You have it wrong, dear,” Aunt B said. “We are not trapped here with you.” Her eyes sparked into a hot ruby glow. “You are trapped in here with