A heavy fist pounded on the oak door, making the hinges groan. “We know you’re in there, kids,” the oily voice of the man in the trench coat called out. “Make it easy on yourselves. Just slide the box under the door.”

“Not a chance!” Michael shouted back, his voice cracking only slightly. He looked around the attic for a weapon or a way out.

“Michael, look!” Olivia whispered, pointing to the floor. A thin trail of gray smoke was beginning to seep under the door.

“Are they trying to smoke us out?” Emma gasped, her eyes watering.

“No,” Michael realized, sniffing the air. “That’s not wood smoke… it smells like… sulfur?”

The handle of the door began to glow a dull, angry red. The men outside weren’t using a crowbar; they were using something much more high-tech—a thermal cutter. The metal of the lock was starting to liquefy.

“They’re coming through!” Aiden cried, clutching his stick.

“The window!” Olivia pointed to the small, circular window at the peak of the roof. “It leads to the gables. We can climb onto the porch roof!”

“It’s too high for Aiden,” Michael said grimly. He looked at the glowing door, then at the heavy trunk they hadn’t opened yet. “Help me push this!”

Michael, Olivia, and Emma threw their weight against the massive iron-bound trunk, sliding it across the floorboards until it blocked the door. Just as they shoved it into place, a white-hot spark burst through the wood of the door.

The trunk gave them seconds, but not minutes. Michael scrambled to the window and kicked out the glass. The wind and rain lashed inside.

“Out! Now!” Michael commanded. But as Olivia climbed onto the ledge, she looked down and let out a scream. The second man—the one in the uniform—was standing on the lawn below, pointing a high-powered searchlight right at them.

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