Our lovely little peculiars are a bit behind schedule, so this chapter is for them only. Maybe next chapter, too. But don't worry; our Hollowgast friend will be back!

Evan watched Tamara for the remainder of the trip. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about her. But he couldn't figure out why.

Whatever it was, it couldn't have mattered at the moment, so Evan busied himself with making sandwiches for lunch. He and Tamara ate fast and then switched places at the controls of the motorboat.

It was almost dusk by the time they reached shore. Evan was relieved that they had set out early in the morning, and more than a little surprised that they had reached Europe so fast.

"Land ahoy!" Tamara shouted, laughing. She too was more than happy to arrive.

"Hey, Tamara…" Evan said, surveying the forest-covered beach. "Are you sure we're in Europe already?"

Tamara stopped celebrating. "Well, I'm not sure," she replied slowly. "But where else could we be?"

"Oh, I don't know, an island?" Evan said. He anchored the boat. "Let's find out."

He and Tamara waded ashore, ignoring the freezing water soaking their pants. They picked a random direction to walk in, and soon they were heading down the strip of white sand in search of civilization.

"We're not on a deserted island, are we?" Evan voiced as they walked. "Because that would just be depressing."

"Worst luck ever," Tamara agreed. "Fortunately, we aren't on one."

She pointed ahead. There was a fence blocking the rest of the beach. Attached to it was a sign that read in big block letters, KEEP OUT. PRIVATE PROPERTY.

"Do we Keep Out?" Evan asked.

Tamara snorted. "What do you think?"

Evan smiled. He decided that there was nothing odd about the way Tamara was acting; she was simply braver than before. That was all.

They hopped the fence, ignoring the warning, and found themselves facing a path into the trees. It was obvious that continuing along the beach was fruitless, so they took the path.

It quickly hardened into a road as they went along, until houses began taking trees' places. Soon Evan and Tamara were standing in the middle of a small vacation town.

Since it was not very warm out, there were very few people home. Tamara leading the way, they walked down empty streets.

"What are we looking for again?" Evan asked.

Tamara scanned the neighborhood. "I have no idea."

What if they were stuck? Tamara couldn't bear to think what would happen.

"You know, there is no way we will make it to Europe," she whispered.

Evan knew it too, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he focused on the deserted street.

Suddenly, he cried, "Bingo!" and pointed.

Tamara looked up. A few blocks down was a stretch of fenced-in gray. She blinked before realizing what it was.

"An airport?"

"A private airport," Evan said excitedly. "Which means we can go in low-key. I'm not sure how those things work, but we'll surely have better luck with this than a boat or big airport. Come on," he said, running down the street.

Tamara followed. Did he really know what a private airport was like? Somehow Tamara doubted they could just waltz inside, snag a pilot, and borrow a plane.

But Evan was already ahead. With a sigh, she followed him to the airport.

Later….

"Can we borrow a plane?"

Tamara wanted to smack him, but it was too late. The man standing in the doorway looking blearily at Evan had heard him.

"Uh, you realize I've got only one of them?" the man said, rubbing his eyes. He had a cup of coffee in one hand.

"We need to get to Europe," Evan said earnestly. "Our youngest aunt is getting married tomorrow."

And Tamara thought Evan was supposed to be the realistic one.

The pilot was too tired to question the story. Instead, he asked drowsily, "How much do you got?"

Evan tilted his head and glanced at Tamara. She mouthed, Money.

"Oh. Um, two hundred," Evan fibbed. He hoped the man would ask for payment after the trip.

The pilot looked mildly surprised. He scratched his head. "Uh, wow. You sorta look like kids. I can't tell." He squinted groggily at them. "But I'm sorry, I can't pilot a plane this late at night. Come back in morning."

As he made to close the door, Evan said, "You promise to take us to Europe, right?"

The man nodded sleepily and closed the door.

"That was close," breathed Tamara. "If he wasn't half-asleep, we'd be goners."

Evan felt as though his knees were about to give out. "Yeah, but we have to hope that same luck is with us in the morning. And we need a place to sleep."

Tamara glanced around the dark airstrip. "How about that garage?" she asked.

The pilot had a car as well as a private jet, it seemed. His two-car detached garage housed a bright red convertible.

But there was room for another car. Or two exhausted children.

Tamara and Evan crept into the open garage. There was no keypad on the door; who would steal from a rich man on an empty island?

In the darkness, Evan and Tamara lay down on top of whatever open space they could. Tamara's head brushed a spare tire and Evan's back was against something slimy, but they were finally resting.

"Tamara?" Evan said softly.

"Yeah?"

"Are you sure you want to go to Europe? Just to track some random Hollow?"

Evan heard her sigh. "It's too late to turn back now. And something tells me I have to find it."

Evan didn't push her. After a moment of silence, he added, "I looked at a map this morning at the boat rental. I remembered something Miss Canary told us once, when she was trying to get us to live with them. She said where Miss Wren's loop was." He paused. "Do you remember that?"

"No," Tamara responded.

"Well, she said Miss Wren's loop is by the London Underground." Evan shifted, removing an object that had been poking him in the back. "So that's where we'll go. Okay?"

"Yeah," Tamara murmured, drifting off.

"Good." Evan hoped, truly hoped, that it was smooth sailing from here on out.

He was entirely wrong.

Later that night, when Evan had long since fallen asleep, Tamara woke up in shivers. She twisted and turned on the ground, sweating hard.

You have to.

You have to.

YOU HAVE TO.

Tamara woke up breathless. She couldn't collect herself. It was all too hard.

"Let go of me," she whispered, barely audible.

Whatever it was sank back into her, and she collapsed, not remembering anything the next day.