Free Horus and the Curse of Everlasting Regret by Hannah Voskuil Page B

his hands on his pants. “I wasn’t sure that was going to hold.”
    Suddenly Perch, who had been looping overhead, let out an urgent squeak. It was followed by a loud crack.
    Peter quickly looked down. As he watched, the lower half of the ladder fell away from the wall with a groan of twisting metal. It dangled for a moment and then crashed to the ground.
    Was it Peter’s imagination, or was there something moving in the shadows below?
    Tunie rushed over. “What was that?”
    They both looked down at the street. The electric streetlamps illuminated portions of the road, but outside their circles of light, everything was murky. Peter blinked. Whatever it was had vanished.
    “The ladder broke.”
    Tunie looked anxious. “Did you see someone?”
    “I’m not sure. Maybe not. I guess we’ll have to find another way down,” Peter said. He pulled WindUp from his knapsack, slid aside a small door on the robot’s stomach, and flipped a switch. The metal was slippery beneath his sweaty fingers. Light shone out from WindUp’s middle.
    “Swell!” said Tunie, sounding impressed. “Now we can see!”
    “I wanted WindUp to be a useful companion,” Peter said. “He’s helped me out of some jams with the twins, that’s for sure.”
    Peter lifted the robot and used him to scan the rooftop. It was flat, with cylindrical smokestacks here and there. On the far side there was what looked like a shed with a door and a sign that read EXIT TO STAIRWELL .
    Tunie said, “Perch, will you show us where you found the headband? And then let’s get over to the station, fast. This place is scary. I’ll feel a lot better with some police around.”
    Perch sailed over to the small roofed structure and landed on a railing that ran along one side of it. He piped. Tunie and Peter followed.
    “This is where you found the headband?” Tunie asked when they reached the bat. She looked at the shed’s peeling paint, the empty rooftop, and shrugged. “There’s nothing here.”
    Peter studied the railing near Perch’s tiny claws.
    “Wait, look,” he said. “Some of the rust has been scraped away along the top and side of this railing, see?” He pointed.
    “Oh my goodness!” Tunie clapped a hand over her mouth, and tears sprang to her blue eyes.
    “What?” Peter asked, alarmed.
    Tunie pointed. On the wall beneath the railing, scratched into the peeling paint, were the words
HELP ME—D.J.
    Tunie’s voice was shaking. “D.J….”
    Peter and Tunie exchanged a look and said in unison,
“Dorothy James.”

This whole adventure was suddenly too real for Tunie’s taste.
    “This is enough, right? I mean, for us to go to the police and get the reward,” Tunie said.
    “Definitely,” Peter agreed. He sounded as edgy as she felt.
    “Okay.” Tunie swallowed. “Let’s go now. There are always a few officers working the night shift.”
    Peter stood behind Tunie as she tugged at the locked door. She froze.
    “What if Dorothy James is down there, in this building?” Tunie said. “Or what if her kidnapper is? What if both kidnappers are in there?”
    Peter let out a breath. “I don’t know what else we can do. It’s the only way down.”
    “The door is locked.” Tunie rattled the knob uselessly.
    Peter looked closely at the lock. “I can pick this kind.”
    He opened a hatch on WindUp and took out what looked like a small metal stick.
    “Really?” Tunie blinked.
    “Sure,” Peter said, sliding the piece of metal into the lock and moving it around. “It’s a skeleton key lock. Not the most secure design.”
    Tunie had to admit, Peter certainly was handy.
    “Got it!” Peter said, sounding pleased. With a click, the door swung open. Hot air, even warmer than the steamy summer evening, wafted out. A staircase descended into darkness. He held out WindUp. They could see only a few steps, to where the stairs turned.
    Perch flew in and vanished. Peter and Tunie waited uneasily for the bat’s return.
    In less than a minute, Perch