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He acts like I’ve done something to him.”
    â€œWell, you did—” Holly started, but broke off when Ben glared at her. But Everett did steal something from Mr. Gallaway: Was it any wonder he wasn’t very friendly?
    â€œAnyway,” Holly went on, “maybe the three of us can figure it out. Something to do with water.”
    â€œI guess it’s worth a try,” Everett said, sounding unconvinced. He stood up.
    â€œWait a second,” said Ben. “If we’re going to the forest, and if we might find our way back to Anglielle, I’m getting some stuff together. For one thing, this time, I’m taking way more underwear.”

Chapter 5
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W Is for Water
    For all of their preparation—packing backpacks, changing shoes, remembering compasses and pocketknives and Tylenol (“Trust me,” Ben said, “we’ll need it”)—Holly didn’t really think they’d get very far. Especially when, as soon as they entered the forest, a loud crack of thunder boomed overhead.
    â€œNot again,” Everett said, sounding nearly as whiny as Ben. “It’s been raining nonstop for weeks here.”
    â€œWell, it is England,” Ben said.
    â€œNo, but it’s never been like this. We’ve hardly had a dry day all summer. It’s like a ruddy monsoon all the time.”
    As he spoke, the wood darkened. The rain descended in sheets.
    â€œI told you a mac was a good idea,” Everett said.
    A gust of wind tugged at Holly’s poncho as she struggled to put it on, and another crack of thunder shook the trees at the same time a bolt of lightning lit up the gloomy wood. Suddenly the forest was alive with noise—the rain pounding on every leaf and trunk, the constant rumble of near and distant thunder, the stream churning like river rapids somewhere nearby. “Everett!” Holly yelled, grasping her hood around her face. “It’s not safe!”
    â€œWe should go back!” Ben agreed.
    â€œNo, wait. Over here!” Everett dashed ahead and took cover between two broken trees crisscrossed over a rockfall. The overhanging vines formed a small cave. Holly and Ben ran in after him.
    Inside it was steamy with three wet bodies. Holly wrung out her long braids one at a time and wiped her glasses dry.
    â€œWe’re just asking to get hit by lightning.” Ben pushed back his spiky black hair. “Holly, try working a juju on the rain.”
    â€œIt’ll pass,” said Everett. “It always does.”
    Holly blushed. She was a little afraid to use her key in front of the boys, but it vibrated impatiently in its scabbard. She pulled it out. Closing her eyes, she visualized desert sands and camels and cracked ground, pushing the images through her heart into the key. A warmth in her chest traveled down her limbs into her hands, and the cold iron crackled hot beneath her fingers.
    The thunder stopped, right in the middle of a rumble.
    Holly’s eyes flew open.
    The rain had calmed to a light mist. The forest brightened, and the wind died down. What had been a raging storm was now just another drizzly day in Britain.
    â€œHa!” said Ben, ducking out of the cave. “What’d I tell you?”
    â€œLike I said. It always passes.” Everett stepped out and started back down the muddy hill.
    Holly lagged behind as the boys walked on. Was Everett right? Was it just another coincidence? If it was, why was she furious with him?
    â€œThat wasn’t just the storm passing,” Ben was saying as she caught up. “That was magic .”
    â€œWhatever,” Everett said.
    Holly skidded a bit down the hill. “You’re the one who wanted us to come here. Do you believe in this stuff or not?”
    â€œI’m just saying not everything is magic.”
    â€œIt doesn’t matter,” said Ben, stepping between them. “Let’s just keep going, okay?”
    They trudged through the