A black shadow smashed through the glass and hurtled into the room so fast I screamed. 

Himena threw herself in front of me, drawing a sword from her hip. 

The man who landed—Rodney, the one who had called himself that—grinned at us, the corner of his mouth twisting into a cold smile.

“So you were here all along, Anthony,” he said, looking straight at me.

“Don’t you dare lay a hand on Anthony!” Himena shouted, brandishing her blade.

At the sound of the commotion, Gertrude stepped out from behind the bookshelves. 

The Time Thief’s smile widened into something almost obscene.

“So you are here, Gertrude. Glad I followed this brat,” the man sneered.

“Hide, Himena. Anthony—get down!” Gertrude ordered.

Himena grabbed my hand and shoved me into a grey capsule tucked against the wall. 

I peered inside—soft cushions, sheets patterned with little pink black cats—and she whispered that it was a bed. 

We pressed our faces against the round glass window and watched.

The black-clad man advanced on Gertrude. “You’ve given me trouble long enough… but this ends now!” 

He drew a thin rod from his waist, like a giant second hand, and lunged. 

Gertrude stepped back, narrowly avoiding the strike, and drew a knife from his own belt. 

His blade flashed, but only just grazed the man’s cheek.

The man chanted something; a black mist spat from the rod. 

Gertrude slashed at it to scatter the fog, then used the momentum to kick out and drive his heel into the intruder’s jaw. 

The man slammed into the wall; the rod clattered from his hand and skittered to the floor.

Himena burst from the capsule, charging and raising her sword. 

I followed instinctively, darting out and hugging my head down, slipping through the man’s blind spot toward the far corner of the room. 

He snatched up the rod and spat another incantation at Himena. The black mist raced toward her——but Gertrude threw himself in front of her. 

The attack struck him full-force; his body flew back, a harsh, sickening sound, and his knife spun free and skidded to a stop at my feet.

“Dad!” Himena cried, rushing to his side.

The man was preparing another strike. 

I ran without thinking, all my weight driving into his back, and shoved the knife—Gertrude’s knife—into him.

He screamed—an animal, inhuman howl that shook the air—and collapsed to the floor. 

Gertrude, barely conscious and bleeding, fumbled a small round gold watch from his pocket.

He held it up to the ceiling and began to chant in a voice thin with effort.

From the man’s body something burst—rainbow-colored spray mixed with black mist—like a torrent, Niagara-falling into the face of the gold watch. 

The spray was drawn into the watch as if caught by a vortex, and then everything stilled.

let out a small, exhausted smile. “We did it. We got back the time he stole from people…” he breathed.

“Gertrude!!” I screamed.

He lay there, gasping; blood stained his shirt. I tore my own shirt off and wrapped it around his abdomen, pressing as tightly as I could.

“Don’t die… please, Dad,” his daughter choked.

Gertrude stroked her cheek with his large, bony hand.

 “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, and looked at me. 

His face was pale but steady. “I have a favor to ask. Can you—take me to that park? There’s one more thing I must do.”