She was standing on the edge of the lake, he realized, perched inches from the spinning waters. Surely she didn’t imagine they could escape into the lake? The vortex would tear them limb from limb.

“We can’t “he yelled to Lulu.

“We must!” she called back. “It’s the only way!”

He was within three strides of her now. He could see her bare feet slithering and sliding on the slimy rock as she fought to keep her balance. He reached out for her, determined to snatch her from her perch before she fell, but her eyes weren’t on him. They were on the monster at his back.

“Lulu!” he yelled to her. “Don’t look!”

But her gaze was fixed upon Hood, her mouth agape, and Harvey couldn’t help but glance back to see what fascinated her so.

Hood’s pursuit had thrown his coat of rags into disarray, and there was something between its folds, he saw, darker than any night sky or lightless cellar. What was it? The essence of his magic, perhaps, guarding his loveless heart?

“Do you give up?” Hood said, driving Harvey back onto the rocks beside Lulu. “Surely you would not choose the vortex over me?”

“Go…” Harvey murmured to Lulu, his gaze still fixed on the mystery beneath Hood’s coat.

He felt her hand grasp his for a moment. “It’s the only way,” she said. Then her fingers were gone, and he was standing on the rocks alone.

“If you choose the flood you will die horribly,” Hood was saying. “It will spin you apart. Whereas I—” He extended an inviting hand to Harvey, stepping up onto the rock as he did so. “I offer you an easy death, rocked to sleep on a bed of illusions.” He made a smile, and it was the foulest sight Harvey had ever seen. “Choose,” he said.

Out of the corner of his eye Harvey glimpsed Lulu. She had not fled, as he’d thought; she’d simply gone to find a weapon. And she had one: a piece of timber dragged out of the rubble. It would be precious little use against Hood’s enormity, Harvey knew, but he was glad not to be alone in these last moments.

He looked up at Hood’s face:

“Maybe I should sleep—” he said.

The Vampire King smiled. “Wise little thief,” he replied, opening his arms to invite the boy into his shadow.

Harvey took a step over the rock toward Hood, raising his hand as he did so. His face was reflected in the shattered mirrors of the vampire’s eyes: two thieves in one head.

“Sleep,” said Hood.

But Harvey had no intention of sleeping yet. Before Hood could stop him, he grabbed hold of the creature’s coat and pulled. The scraps came away with a wet tearing sound, and Hood let out a howl of rage as he was uncovered.

There was no great enchantment at his heart. In fact, there was no heart at all. There was only a void—neither cold nor hot, living nor dead—made not of mystery but of nothingness. The illusionist’s illusion.

Furious at this revelation, Hood let out another roar of rage, and reached down to reclaim the rags of his coat from the thief’s hands. Harvey took a quick step backward, however, avoiding the fingers by a whisker. Hood came raging after him, his soles squealing on the rock, leaving Harvey with no choice but to retreat another step, until he had nowhere to go but the flood.

Again, Hood snatched at the filched rags, and would have had both coat and thief in one fatal grasp had Lulu not run at him from behind, swinging the timber like a baseball bat. She struck the back of Hood’s knee so hard her weapon shattered, the impact pitching her to the ground.

The blow was not without effect, however. It threw Hood off balance, and he flailed wildly, the thunder of the vortex shaking the rock on which he and Harvey perched and threatening to toss them both into the maelstrom. Even now, Hood was determined to claim his rags back from Harvey, and conceal the void in him.

“Give me my coat, thief!” he howled.

“It’s all yours!” Harvey yelled, and tossed the stolen rags toward the waters.

Hood lunged after them, and as he did so Harvey flung himself back toward solid ground. He heard Hood shriek behind him, and turned to see the Vampire King—the rags in his fist pitch headfirst into the frenzied waters.

The maned head surfaced a moment later, and Hood struck out for the bank, but strong as he was the vortex was stronger. It swept him away from the rocks, drawing him toward its center, where the waters were spiraling down into the earth.

In terror, he started to plead for assistance, his pitiful bargains only audible when the whirlpool carried him to the bank where Harvey and Lulu now stood.

“Thief!” he yelled. “Help me, and…I’ll give you…the world! For…ever…and ever…”

Then the ferocity of the waters began to rip at his makeshift body, tearing out his nails and rattling out his teeth, washing away his mane of splinters, and shaking his limbs apart at the joints. Reduced to a living litter of flotsam and jetsam, he was drawn into the white waters at the whirlpool’s heart, and shrieking with rage, went where all evil must go at last: into nothingness.

On the shore Harvey put his arms around Lulu, laughing and sobbing at the same time.

“We did it…” he said.

“Did what?” said a voice at their backs, and they looked around to see Wendell wandering toward them, blithe as ever. Every article of clothing he’d found in the rubble was either too large or too small.

“What’s been going on?” he wanted to know. “What are you laughing at? What are you crying for?” He looked beyond Harvey and Lulu, in time to see the last fragments of Hood’s body disappear with a fading howl. “And what was that?” he demanded.

Harvey wiped the tears from his cheeks, and got to his feet. At last, he had a purpose for Wendell’s perpetual reply.

“Who cares?” he said.

The wall of mist still hovered at the edge of Hood’s domain, and it was there that the survivors gathered to say their farewells. None quite knew what adventures lay on the other side of the mist, of course. Each of the children had come into the House from a different year. Would they all find that age—give or take a month or two—awaiting them on the other side?

“Even if we don’t get the stolen years back,” Lulu said as they prepared to step into the mist, “we’re free because of you, Harvey.”

There were murmurs of thanks from the little crowd, and a few grateful tears.

“Say something,” Wendell hissed to Harvey.

“Why?”

“Because you’re a hero.”

“I don’t feel like one.”

“So tell them that.”

Harvey raised his hands to hush the murmurs. “I just want to say…we’ll probably all forget about being here in a little while…” A few of the children said: no me won’t; or, we’ll always remember you. But Harvey insisted: “We will,” he said. “We’ll grow up and we’ll forget. Unless…”

“Unless what?” asked Lulu.

“Unless we remind ourselves every morning. Or make a story of it, and tell everyone we meet.”

“They won’t believe us,” said one of the children.

“That doesn’t matter,” said Harvey. “We’ll know it’s true, and that’s what counts.”

This met with approval from all sides.

“Now let’s go home,” said Harvey. “We’ve wasted too much time here already.”

Wendell nudged him in the ribs as the group dispersed. “What about telling them you’re not a hero?” he said.

“Oh, yeah,” said Harvey with a mischievous smile. “I forgot about that.”

The first of the children were already braving the wall of mist, eager to put the horrors of Hood’s prison behind them as soon as possible. Harvey watched them fading with every step they took, and wished he’d had a moment to talk to them; to find out who they were and why they’d wandered into Hood’s grip. Had they been orphans, with no other place to call home; or runaways, like Wendell and Lulu; or simply bored with their lives, the way he’d been bored, and seduced by illusions?