“Okay, there is a small problem.” Shawn handed the invitation to Gus, who struggled to make out the words in the dim light.

“What? It’s the right date, the right time, the right place. What’s wrong?”

Shawn tapped the block of type at the bottom of the card. “Did we get anything along with this invitation? A note or a letter?”

“You know we didn’t. Why?”

“Funny little thing in small print at the bottom here. Apparently if you wish admittance to the Fortress, you must say the magic words, else all is four feet.”

“Four feet?”

“Although I think you can’t really say it’s all four feet. Four feet and fangs, more like.”

“That doesn’t make any sense at all.” Gus snatched the invitation and squinted to read the tiny print.

“Neither does siccing a pack of vicious dogs on your guests. Although I’ve been to a couple of parties where it wouldn’t have been a bad idea,” Shawn said.

The letters danced in front of Gus’ eyes, finally resolving themselves into one recognizable word.

“Not four feet,” Gus said. “ Forfeit. Else all is forfeit.”

A growl came from the darkness directly in front of them. Gus moved behind Shawn, just in case.

“Okay, Mr. Night Vision,” Shawn said. “What are the magic words?”

Gus desperately scanned every centimeter of the invitation.

“It doesn’t say.”

There were growls all around them now. Brush rustled in every direction.

“Abracadabra!” Gus said loudly.

“You’re kidding.”

“It’s a magic word,” Gus said.

“To a five-year-old.”

“Do you have a better one?”

“I know the magic word that opens all doors, rights all wrongs, and grants all favors,” Shawn said.

“Oh, please.”

“Exactly!” Shawn pulled himself to his full height, took in a deep breath, and spoke in his deepest, most authoritative voice. “Please.”