“HEY!” Yunho bellowed, clutching his arm as blood dripped down to his hand. Boa pressed the flat of the blade to the cut and collected some blood before letting it fall into the vat. The gurgling substance turned deepest red. “Doctor, might I ask…?”

“Blood magic can be powerful, and that’s the only answer you will get. I’m still pissed about the gong.” Sending him a cruel smile, she grabbed two grinders and shook them over the bubbling surface. A quick stream of her ancient language, and…the salve turned clear, thick, and stopped swirling. Boa scooped some into a metal can and screwed the lid shut. She repeated the process until five cans had been filled, stacked them on the table, and exhaled. “There! That should do it for your dreamy prince, Majesty.”

“Boa, I swear…” When he realized that she was smiling at him with less malice, he gave a barking laugh. “All right, I deserve the teasing. So slap this on under a couple of bandages?”

She cursed under her breath, distracted as she waved her hand; the mess on the table and in the vat disappeared. “Forgot the lemon zest. That won’t smell very pleasant. You’ll have to apologize to the prince for that. But no, you fool. This isn’t some Neosporin-type product. It must be applied thickly, at least half of each container every second hour until the inflammation leaves. The wrappings must be loose enough to not dig into the infection or it could be painful, but must fit snugly. Once the redness has gone, just rub enough to cover the bite. The skin will heal, but a scar will probably remain. There are only two types of venom that deal such deadly damage, and from your vague-as- description, it sounds like a Coeurl’s saliva. The prince is lucky to be alive and coherent.”

Yunho knew of the Coeurl—sneaky cat-like creatures that lived in the deepest parts of the Dark Forest. He was king of the realm, and not even he thought to venture in there without a small army to back him. “They’re legendary…but venomous? I don’t remember hearing about that.”

“Not exactly. Their bite is a magical one, usually leads to madness and bad hallucinations. Normal humans would mistake it for venom. But a bite imbued with magic is always worse than I can only take an educated guess about this Bandersnatch, but it sounds like the combination of the saliva with the beast’s own genetic code didn’t do so well. It would explain the potency of the venom, anyway. Because the prince is immortal, it won’t affect him as badly, but to rule out all possible results would be a mistake on our part.” Something sparked in her eyes and she fixed Yunho with a steady gaze. “The servants mentioned something about numbers on the doors.”

“What? Oh yes.” He scratched the side of his bed, trying to remember. “2-3-5-8. The same on every door except ours.”

Boa’s eyes narrowed and she frowned, mumbling to herself. “Two…three…what could they symbolize? A pattern, perhaps? Or a message, standing for…the alphabet…then B-C-E-H. No. Unless those stood for something, like an acronym. Doubt it. Five…eight…” She traced her finger in the air, muttering under her breath. “…two…three…a street number somewhere? An address? The last numbers of a phone number? Three…five…” Her fingertip touched the hard surface of the table, drawing the numbers. “Two…three…two thousand, three hundred—no no, I feel that’s wrong…”

Her finger stopped. She outlined it again. “Two…three…” And then her hand moved an inch away. “Five…eight…” Boa stared down at the table, a look of horror dawning on her face. “It…maybe? Possibly? Not separate numbers. Double digits.” Yunho knew better than to interrupt her thinking but he knew she was on the cusp of a great realization. “Twenty three…fifty eight. Oh!” She clapped a hand to , and he startled, too. “Twenty-three fifty-eight! Of course! That must be it, but…if it is…”

“Doctor.” He cleared his throat and she jumped, remembering his presence. “Care to explain?”

“Twenty-three fifty-eight. Not a street address. Not a year. A set of numbers. A time.” Her eyes swiveled over to him, and he frowned, trying to understand. “23:58 hours. Standard way of telling the time for much of the world. What strikes you as odd about that time, sire?”

Yunho pictured the numbers as if they floated before him. “23:58…well, that would be 11:58 P.M. in other places…”

“What is another way to tell that time?” she said slowly.

“Well, that’d be two minutes to mid—” He understood. And dread filled him at once. “It’s a reference to the Doomsday Clock. Yi Xiang had an interest in it…this must be why. When the clock strikes midnight, all hell breaks loose. Humans would call it a global catastrophe. If it hits midnight, it means something akin to an apocalypse taking over reality. Whatever’s controlling the Bandersnatch…”

“Has something in store that may strike the realms and anyone in it, and it’s not good news,” Boa finished for him. “If that is the case, then we need to leave immediately. Halloweentown—nay, everyone in the realms might be in grave danger, my king. This is Oogie we’re talking about. Ah, I need a bag.” Snap of the fingers, and a dark sack appeared on the table next to the cans. “That salve is a ing good one, though. If it can treat normal Coeurl bites…I think it should work on another bite. Then again, what the hell does his survival matter if we’re all going to die anyway?”

“No need to be so positive, doctor.”

“Yeah, well…not even my clever can save us all.”

And this is all a guess on the doctor’s end. He frowned as they began to hurry back up the laboratory steps to the entryway. What if it doesn’t work? What will happen to Changmin? And the reference to a doomsday…Yi Xiang swore he could not lie and said he was not involved. But the report from today stated his interest. If this doesn’t paint his hands red, what would?

Unexpectedly, a great clanging sound and Boa’s soft scream of frustration brought him back to reality. “Idiots! Morons! ing…no-good…dingbats!” she seethed as she stomped over to the door and yanked it open. “READ THE SIGN! THAT’S ALL I ASK! THROW EGGS AT MY HOUSE, TAKE MY GARDEN GNOMES, LEAVE ON MY DOORSTEP, I DON’T CARE! BUT READ THE ING SIGN, HOW HARD OF A REQUEST IS THAT TO FOLLOW?!”

The visitor threw his arms over his tousled blond hair, cowering. “I am m-most sorry, you most f-frightful lady!” he shrieked, trembling as she fixed him with a glare that could melt the leather on Yunho’s expensive wardrobe. “But you s-see…I c-come bearing news f-from, uh…uh…San V-Valentino’s realm!” When he noticed the Nightmare King looking over the tiny woman’s head curiously, he paled and started to back up on the steps, muttering about making calls and not having enough time to do things the proper way. He sunk into a bow, and that was when Yunho noticed the wing tattoos peeking out from beneath his white mesh shirt.

“One of the cherubs? Tell me, what is wrong? Have you come to speak to me?” he asked. He was short on time, if all their assumptions were correct.

“Your M-majesty, I…yes, I have!” The cherub man’s eyes flickered from him to Boa (who still looked ready to murder something) and then he cried out, “The p-people who witnessed the attack in t-the Hinterlands…they’ve come out of their shock!” When he realized that they were too intent on listening to his words, he grew a little braver. “And they believe they know who did the attacks on the Doors, your Majesty! Some remember a person nearby.”

Boa glanced at Yunho, but he had already reached for his coat. “Dear cherub, if you will accompany us to my manor, you may recount what you heard to us.”

Lock, Shock, and Barrel had since come back from the Hinterlands, taking notes for their boss to review. The numbers in the door—2358—were impossible to crack. Though devilish little kids, they were clever and none of the usual pattern and code-cracking skills had worked. Their measurements of the claw marks told them of the animal that left them; Shock sent a crow with the creature’s identity on a scrap of paper to Yi Xiang and the king. Now, they would await his return from moving the injured prince to the king’s home.

“Wonder what made Bandy so aggressive?” Lock pondered aloud as the bathtub slowly trudged across the rickety bridge that led to the front door of Yi Xiang’s manor. “She’s usually so sweet…”

“Maybe it was Barrel’s jokes that set her off. I mean, they’re so bad!”

“HEY!”

Shock and Lock giggled shrilly as their youngest companion hung his head, face burning. “Oh look!” Shock cried, pointing up to the windows; light poured out from the highest most one. “Master’s home!”

“Good, we can ask him about the numbers!” And they went back to bickering about what the digits could mean, the bathtub taking them up all the winding paths. It was much too heavy for the lift, so the Boogeyman had built a series of ledges for their travels. In no time at all, the great iron door loomed before them. It stood a little open, and more lamplight snuck out from the crack. “Master!” Lock called, wriggling over the edge of the bathtub as Barrel helped Shock out. “We’re back!”

No answer.

“Master!” Shock shrieked, after sharing a confused look with the other two devil kids. “Are you in here?”

A tan hand curled around the edge of the door, pushing it open. Yi Xiang stepped out, hair coming forward so that it fell over his eyes and hid his face in shadow. “Welcome back,” he greeted them with a grin that would have sent many sane men scurrying. “I have been…waiting.”

They stood in a little line, practically bouncing on their toes. Lock took the lead. “Master! We did a further, thorough examination of the Holiday Doors for you as you asked. Took down the number! But we don’t know what it means,” he confessed sadly. “But you’re the smartest person in the realm! We just know you can figure it out yourself! Here,” and he jutted his arms out, holding a small black notebook. “Look! See? Lots of notes.”

“Good…very good…”

Barrel peered up at his master’s face, and the color drained out of his skin. He fidgeted and poked Shock in the shoulder, but she ignored him. “We also sent a crow ahead. Did you get it? The animal who did everything was the Bandersnatch,” she went on anyway. “Don’t know what happened to her, boss. Acting strange, if you ask us. Maybe she has a toothache. Ooh, or maybe she has a thorn stuck in her paw! Poor baby Bandy.”

Lock nodded in agreement as Barrel poked Shock a second time. “Something is definitely up. So, Boss! What do we do?”

“Come…come in and…wait…”

Barrel prodded Shock again, this time much harder.

“Stop that! It’s annoying!” she complained, turning on him with a snarl. But he wasn’t looking at her; he was staring up at Yi Xiang with fright. “What?!”

“Not Master,” Barrel whispered. Shock opened to ask what was wrong with him, and Lock turned to them with a petulant frown. At the same time, Yi Xiang’s hands shot forward and tight steel ropes appeared out of thin air, snaking around the children’s bodies. It happened so fast, they didn’t have time to scream before the impostor pulled them into his chamber, head jerking back as he let out a hideous laugh.

“They were going to overthrow him, weren’t they?”

He knows.

Any pretense of self-control snapped at that moment. Changmin roared and, using his long legs, placed his feet against Yi Xiang’s chest and him off the bed. Yi Xiang gave a shout, landing ungracefully on his back. The duvet and sheets tumbled to the floor in a satin waterfall as Changmin stood, his thin body trembling with rage. “You impudent nightcrawler,” he snarled, hands clenching into fists at his side. “That has nothing to do with you. The past is in the past, and I have put it behind me. Yunho has moved on. So have I. Trying to reopen old wounds won’t work.”

Yi Xiang’s smirk had gone. “I don’t know what’s more amusing—your obvious attempt at distraction or your general ignorance. If neither of you face what truly happened and act as if the other is the bad guy for driving you away, then what? And they told me you were a smart fellow! Pretending the spiders aren’t there won’t stop them from spinning their webs above your bed! Ignoring the problem won’t wipe the slate clean; it just smears the ink, doesn’t it?”

“STOP THIS!”

“I know about the plot, prince. You found out about a coup, a plan to depose the king and place someone new on the throne, someone the rebels wanted to have as a leader. And instead of turning anyone in, a decision I am sure you will forever kick yourself for…you removed yourself from the picture. An outsider would wonder why, but I know. It’s because it was all…your…fault. You left. You turned your back on someone who loved and trusted you beyond anything. And you knew deep down that if you didn’t leave, everything would unfold and you—Prince Changmin of Christmastown—would be responsible for the king losing his crown.”

The words rang out in the silence that followed. Changmin was beyond any rage or fury he could summon. He was…tired. Tired of fighting him, exhausted from the day’s events, and in a way…he was glad that someone else knew about it. The burden was not only on his shoulders. The fact that Yi Xiang was the one that knew did not settle well with him, but he was someone, and that helped. It was my fault. He’s absolutely right.

But this jerk was not about to have the last word. “Pardon my ill manners, but will you please off?”

“Dare I believe my own ears? More swearing from you?” He sprang up and drew himself to his full height, a few inches taller than Changmin’s already lanky frame. Jabbing a threatening finger into Changmin’s chest, he snapped, “Do your worst to me, highness. Darling Yunho isn’t here to save you or stop me. You want to have a go? Have a go. We’ll see who comes out on top. I always do. Don’t you know? They were going to replace him with me.” Changmin’s mind ground to a halt, and he found he could not meet Yi Xiang’s eyes. “Didn’t they mention who they were going to stick on the throne? I was the brilliant choice. The first Boogeyman, a master of terror—a connoisseur of fear. The haunting shadow on the moon at night, filling all…”

But the thoughts came forth, like gears whizzing back into action. Shadow…he’s a shadow on the moon…his shadow…

Standing so boldly in front of him, the fire smoldering but still giving off enough light in the room, the Boogeyman cast no shadow over him.

“I knew something was wrong with you.”

Yi Xiang narrowed his eyes. “Whatever are you talking about?” he asked coldly.

“Look around you. What do you see? Or rather, what don’t you see? Your shadow,” Changmin finished, and he was grimly pleased when Yi Xiang’s lips parted in shock. “Everything casts a shadow, especially in this sort of lighting. Yunho didn’t notice, but I have. You know the story of Peter Pan and his shadow? How they separated and his shadow wreaked havoc on Neverland? Where’s your shadow, Mr. Boogeyman? What have you done with it?”

“Precisely what I would like to know,” a humorless voice called from the doorway.

Yunho had his arms crossed, his face dark with suspicion. He slowly paced into the room, eyes never leaving Yi Xiang as he addressed him formally. “Received an interesting piece of news from San Valentino’s realm, you see. The folk that were witnesses to the first assault on the Holiday Doors finally came out of their shock and were able to talk to their own investigators. They had a lot to say and…well, here’s the funny part: some of them swear to have seen you in the Hinterlands moments before they were attacked and the door ripped off its hinges.”

Changmin gaped. “How…do you know…?”

“The servants are a gossiping bunch,” Yunho said before his eyes cut back to Yi Xiang.

“I had a promise from your Majesty that I would not be indicted in this case in any way,” Yi Xiang responded in a lethal tone. “I will spend the next hundred centuries drilling this through your head and I expect you to sometimes remember it—I cannot lie. Call it a side effect of being what I am, but it is an impossible feat for me to do. I swore that I had nothing to do with—”

There was a weird smile on Yunho’s face as he disrupted what was sure to be a good defense. “And that is true. You were not responsible for this. However, you did not know that your shadow was. Could any of us call our shadows part of ourselves? Or are they merely there because we are? That is why you could say that you were not involved and have it fall as a truth. It was not you, but something that came from you. A self from another self.”

“Knock off the poetry,” Changmin muttered. He ignored Yunho’s fleeting grin and said, “So you’re saying that this idiot’s shadow is responsible for the damage. Fine, that’s fine. I’ve lived long enough to just accept this kind of stuff at face value. That leaves a lot unsolved. What about the numbers on the…?” He suddenly felt very faint; he gripped the bed post just as Yunho and (shockingly enough) Yi Xiang took a step forward, faces awash with alarm. “What’s…what’s wrong?” When he let his hand drift down to his stomach, and felt a wet stickiness, his mind blanked. “Oh.” The injury had begun to bleed again, probably from his rising to challenge Yi Xiang. “I should…I should…” He fell backward onto the bed; Yunho exclaimed his name but he was awash with so much pain that it was no more than a buzz in his ears. Damn it, he was baiting me and this happens.

“And down goes Frosty.”

“I told you to leave him alone,” Yunho said quietly.

“And I told you I could not make any promises. Do what you will with him. I grow weary of this, and let’s not forget that we all have duties to attend to, no matter what is going on behind closed doors.”

The king would not budge, however. “Your shadow, dear Oogie. That is not a small matter, and I would like to find him—it—as soon as possible. We must get the Bandersnatch under my control and find your shadow self before he commits any other acts of vandalism. Or anything worse. Now that I know what’s out there doing this, I want it to stop.”

“What you desire is what I shall deliver. Give the Doctor my regards; I imagine she insisted on accompanying you to berate Sandy Claws for doing such a stupid thing as allowing himself to be attacked. May you be back on your feet soon, prince,” he added insincerely. Changmin had closed his eyes, but he heard Yi Xiang stride from the room, slamming the door behind him. It groaned open a couple of seconds later, and smaller footsteps crept across the room. He jerked his eyes back open, fighting the dizziness; in front of him stood one of the tiniest women he knew, hands on her hips as she walked forward.

“Oh…’lo, Boa.”

“Doctor. Doctor. Doctor. I have a title, and everyone refuses to use it!” she tittered, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her small hands found the hem of his shirt and dragged it up; judging from her small intake of breath and Yunho’s quiet curse, Changmin did not want to see the bite again. “It’s worse than I imagined. His Majesty said it was infected, but this…”

“The salve will help, right?” There was no mistaking the raw desperation in Yunho’s voice. He towered over Changmin and Boa, helping her remove the gross excuse of a bandage for new ones. But Boa didn’t respond. She only pursed her lips together and shrugged as she went to work cleaning the wound and wiping the blood off his torso.

Just the slightest touch or brush of fingers hurt Changmin. He kept biting on his lower lip and shutting his eyes tight, refusing to let the pain get the best of him. Boa barked at Yunho to fetch a bowl of his cleanest water with a washcloth to finish wiping the mess. The king returned in record time, choosing to watch from a few yards away as she applied the salve, rubbing it into the open flesh and spreading it a few inches out from the wound. There was no way to ignore the pain; as he had taken the entire potion Yunho left him, he could not go back to sleep.

He found something to distract him, though; Yunho’s eyes found him, swirling with unabashed concern, and he let the memory finally come up—one he had fought down for so long, but he had no strength left in him.