Davy Hans sat in his little prison cell and brooded.
How had it come to this? He'd been having a dandy of a time in Alsace, pulling off his plan to take care of two of the bratty kids Atticus was scheming with—and proof. Everything fell to pieces.
After being knocked out in the silent cemetery, Davy had awakened in this teeny little room, which was barred and chained with enough locks to hold the Great Hercules and his father Zues. The walls of his cell were made of metal, with lines of rivets and bolts all over the place. He felt like a grenade locked in an old World War II ammunition box.