He was an idiot. A full-fledged, fairy-tale-swallowing idiot.

Marcus leaned against the corner of Fisher’s Cove’s only church building, his legs none too steady just yet. Lizzie had obviously been more concerned with the taste of her putrid concoction than its actual healing properties.

And with Sophie watching, he hadn’t dared tip it into the nearest plant. Earth witches got unreasonably mad when you killed their green leafy pets.

Well, wobbly or not, these were the legs he had. Time to get on with business. Marcus pushed off the wall, cursing the looming hints of old age. It wasn’t the first time he’d crept through a dark night toward the church steps, but his legs had been far steadier the last time.

It was his mind that had been shattered then.

He’d come every night for weeks after Evan had gone, hoping against hope that he’d find his brother under the steps, waging epic battles and offering a sunshine grin of greeting. Night after night of hoping until the word “dead” had finally seeped into every corner of his soul and blown out the candles of happiness and wishful thinking.

He hadn’t been back since.

Shaking with memories, Marcus edged toward the steps. They seemed so much smaller now-a crawlspace, not the castle fortress of two small boys. His hands reached out, fumbling in the darkness, looking for a board left loose for forty years.

Youch. Forty-year-old boards had some vicious splinters. Nursing a finger inside his mouth, Marcus pulled a small flashlight out of his pocket. The board hung slightly off-kilter, just as it had when two marauding pirates discovered it all those years ago.

Evan had wanted to pry it loose so they could make people walk the plank-and then they’d discovered the world hidden behind it.

The world clearly not meant for adults. Marcus twisted his shoulders through the opening, grimacing as his shirt caught and tore. He might let Sophie take a splinter out of his finger, but he wasn’t letting her near his chest again anytime soon.