by Meg Cabot
Alex’s gaze was on his father, who was across the yard, busily picking up palm fronds and other flotsam from the storm and stuffing them into the garbage can. “But my dad wouldn’t say.”
“Of course not,” Mom said. “You know how he is, loyal to the core. I was horrified when I found out about all of it — the hard drugs, Chris being encouraged to take the blame for what Nate started, the fact that Nate never intended to keep his promise to preserve Reef Key as a spoonbill nesting ground. I was so ashamed of not having had the guts to turn in Nate myself. I wanted to, but he threatened me, saying if I went to the police with what I knew, he’d see to it that Chris had an ‘accident’ in jail.” She began to cry again, raising the napkin to her eyes. “He said he had friends who could arrange it. I was so frightened, I broke off our relationship and left for college and never came back to Isla Huesos, except for my father’s funeral.”
“Oh, Mom,” I said, and went to her side to put an arm around her shoulders, glancing over at John. It was at my grandfather’s funeral that he and I had met. Granted, I’d been only seven, and we’d bonded over a dead bird he’d brought back to life — Hope’s twin. But it had still been a meaningful moment in our relationship. “I’m so sorry all of that happened to you.”
“Don’t be,” Mom said, patting my hand. “It was my fault. I never should have gotten involved with Nate in the first place. I was the older one and set a terrible example for Chris. He was only following my lead. I thought by coming back now that he’s out of jail, I could help him, but things have turned out worse than ever.”
“Well,” I said. “You didn’t know there was a hellmouth under Isla Huesos, or that Grandma was a Fury.”
John narrowed his eyes at me. “It’s not a hellmouth.”
“Oh, right,” I said. “It’s our home. An entrance to the Underworld, then.”
The sound Mom let out was halfway between a sob and a laugh. “No. That’s not something I ever suspected, although perhaps I should have. But I wasn’t particularly surprised to hear Nate Rector parlayed all his illegal drug earnings into the real estate market and has converted Reef Key into a high-scale luxury resort. That seems exactly like the kind of thing the Rector Wreckers would do.”
“I agree.” I dropped my arm from around my mother’s shoulders and moved to tap the file in front of Alex. He’d kept close hold on it when the wind burst in. “What I want to know is what it says in here about those bones they found on the beach.”
Alex grinned devilishly as he reopened the file. “You mean, are Seth’s and Farah’s dads building their fancy new subdivision on top of an ancient Indian burial ground?”
“I believe the politically correct term would be ancient Native American burial ground,” I said. Alex began to crack up, which caused me to crack up, but neither my mother nor John smiled.
“It isn’t funny,” Mom said. “I know what I was doing in the photo was wrong, but I had an excuse: I was young, in love, and maybe a little bit drunk.”
I widened my eyes. Mom said, quickly, “I didn’t say it was a good excuse. And Pierce, if you ever do anything remotely similar, I will ground you for the rest of your life.”
Trying not to smile, I met John’s gaze and found that he, too, was grinning. Mom still didn’t seem to get it: I was already grounded for the rest of my life … in the most delicious way possible, in the Underworld, with John.
“The Calusa Indians were fierce warriors and expert sailors,” Mom, not having noticed my smile, was saying. “And they managed to eke out an existence on these islands hundreds of years before comforts like purified drinking water, mosquito repellant, or air-conditioning were invented. They stayed true to their own religion and own way of life, refusing to capitulate to invading foreigners, even as their families were being slaughtered for doing so. It’s hard not to admire them for that.”
“No one here is saying they don’t admire them,” Alex said, pulling another sheet of paper from his file. “We’re saying the exact opposite of that … that we think somewhere along the line, someone dropped the ball. Because while there is this photo of you and my dad playing pirates on the beach — and of course that reference to Coffin Island in the deed — nowhere in any of the paperwork for the Rector and Endicott Reef Key Luxury Homes and Real Estate Development is there one mention of human bones being removed and properly reinterred elsewhere.”
Mom looked troubled. “Well,” she said, rubbing at a spot of maple syrup that had spilled onto the counter. “I suppose it’s possible that Nate had them removed sometime after he and I broke up —”
“Really, Mom?” I said to her. “If he did it right, don’t you think there’d be a marker or a plaque wherever he had them laid to rest?”
She stared at the counter. “It’s been twenty years. There’ve been a lot of storms. It’s possible they simply washed out to sea.”
“It’s also possible they’re sitting in some Dumpster somewhere on the construction site. He’s probably already thrown them under a bulldozer and crushed them into powder, but in case he hasn’t, we need to go back and look.” I glanced at John. “This could be what’s causing the imbalance. One of the first things Mr. Smith ever said to me was that no life, if it was led by a decent person, should go unremembered. He was talking about you, and Coffin Night, but I think maybe we’ve just found out about a whole lot more bodies that were never properly buried.”
John nodded. “We’ll go back.”
Mom reached out to snatch my hand, her face draining once more of color.
“Pierce, no,” she cried. “You can’t. Didn’t you hear what your father and I said? Mr. Rector has filed charges against you for attacking Seth —” She looked up at John. “Both of you. You can’t go anywhere near that place.”
“Mom.” I squeezed her fingers. “Don’t you get it? Mr. Rector can’t hurt you anymore. He can’t hurt Uncle Chris, either. You have us.”
“You have me, too.”
We turned to see my father standing in the entrance to the dining room, his cell phone dangling from one hand, his expression bemused as he stared at my mom and me.
“But then, you’ve always had me.” He took the step down from the dining room into the living area, and crossed the room to put his arm around my mother. “I’m not entirely certain why you ever thought you didn’t. And if I overheard correctly, and it involves that Rector clown, then you not only have me, but you also have my .22 Magnum.”
“You see,” Mom said. “This is exactly why I never wanted to involve your father. He always overreacts.”
“I don’t think Dad’s overreacting in this particular case,” I said. I glanced up at my father. “How’d you do on the boats?”
“Gary can get them here in six hours,” Dad said, looking pleased for himself. His gaze fell on Alex. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded gruffly.
“Zack,” Mom said. “That’s Alex.” When Dad continued to look blank, she added, frustrated, “My brother’s son? Your nephew?”
“Oh,” Dad said. His manner softened somewhat. “How you doing?”
Alex looked at my father with something like wonder, taking in his business suit slacks, T-shirt, and unshaven face. “I’m fine. Nice to finally meet you, Uncle Zachary.”
It was only then that I realized why Alex seemed so astonished. It wasn’t my father’s peculiar state of dress. It was that this was the first time my father had ever visited Isla Huesos. Alex had never seen my father in person before, due to Dad’s extreme prejudice against his in-laws … which was somewhat understandable, when you factored Grandma into the equation.
“Call me Zack,” Dad said to Alex. “You know about all this Underworld business?”
“I do,” Alex said with a nod. “I’ve been there. These two” — he nodded first at me, then John — “brought me back to life after Seth Rector stuffed me in a coffin and I suffocated to death.”
“What?” Mom cried.
Dad, however, didn’t skip a beat. “No kiddi
ng. I’d love to hear more about that if we’ve got the time.”
“We don’t,” John growled. “Six hours isn’t fast enough, either. We need those ships now.”
My father eyed him. “Six hours is as fast as a two-hundred-twenty-five-foot-long ship built to accommodate twelve hundred passengers can travel … especially in rough seas, when they’ve only got two diesel engines with a top speed of” — he glanced down at his phone — “sixteen knots.”
John looked at me. “It isn’t going to be soon enough. Mr. Liu says some of the passengers have already begun to riot outside the castle.”
“Then take my dad’s advice,” I said, “and make your own fate. Do you know what I’m saying?”
He gazed down into my eyes, his expression filled with love, but also with uncertainty. “I already told you, the heaviest thing I’ve ever lifted is Frank.”
“I know,” I said, reaching for his hand. “But if you don’t do this, more people are going to die. People like Uncle Chris out there, and my mom.”
Dad looked up, alarmed. “What are you two talking about?”
I crossed the room to take my father’s hand. “Nothing,” I said. “We need a little favor from you, that’s all. It’s only going to take a second.”
“What is?” Dad protested as I steered him closer to where John was standing.
“Pierce,” Mom said. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing, Mom,” I said. “John just has to take Dad somewhere for a minute. They’ll be right back.”
“What do you mean, we’ll be right back?” Dad asked. “Where are we going? I don’t have my car, it’s with my driver back at the hotel. I’ll call him if you need to take a car somewhere, but —”
“John doesn’t need a car,” Alex said, with a smirk from where he was sitting at the kitchen counter. “He is the car.”
“Wait a minute,” Dad said, as I plucked his cell phone from his fingers and scrolled back to his last communication. “Here,” I said to John, showing him the attached photo. “Is that clear enough?”
John shrugged. “It better be,” he said, laying his hand on my father’s shoulder. “Hopefully we won’t end up on a dock in Hong Kong.” Then he laid a hand upon my shoulder, as well.
My father wasn’t the only one who instantly attempted to twist away from John’s grasp. Dad was the only one who wasn’t successful, though.
“No, John,” I said. “What if Grandma or some of her cronies show up while you’re gone? Someone has to stay to protect them.” I gestured towards my mother and Uncle Chris, now busily skimming the pool.
“What do I look like, a helpless kitten?” Alex complained. “I’m not going to let anything happen to them.”
John glowered at Alex. “How are you going to fight a Fury?”
Alex picked up a butter knife from the kitchen counter and began to dance around, jabbing the knife into the air.
“Like this,” Alex said. “See? I’ve got moves.”
Rolling my eyes, I took the whip from my waist, uncoiled it, then cracked it once, neatly striking the knife from Alex’s hand, disarming him.
“Ow!” Alex cried in indignation, grasping his wrist. “That really hurt. What did you do that for?”
“I’ve got moves, too,” I said, recoiling the whip.
“She always did have good aim,” my father said with admiration. “Remember the throwing stars, Debbie?”
“How could I forget?” Mom murmured. She was staring in shock at the butter knife, which had landed with a clinking sound at her feet. “You had to keep them locked up away from her.”
“That doesn’t prove anything,” John said. But I could see the grudging admiration in his face.
“It proves you should probably let go of me now,” my father said, referring to the iron grip John still had on his shoulder. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to make her angry, any more than it is you.”
John held on to my father more tightly. “No,” he said. “Sorry. We’re still going.” To me, he said, “If you’re going to stay here, lock the door and don’t answer it. Don’t let anyone inside, no matter who it is. And don’t go anywhere until I get back. Not anywhere, especially Reef Key. Do you understand, Pierce?”
I made a face. “No. Could you explain it again? Because I was thinking about going to Reef Key without you, and also letting any Fury who knocks inside.”
John ignored my sarcasm. “I don’t know how long this is going to take,” he said. “But I promise this time I’ll be back soon, Pierce.”
I crossed the room to stand beside him, laying a hand upon his arm. “You’d better be.”
His gray eyes seemed to burn through me. “If anything should go wrong —”
“It won’t,” I said firmly.
“Which it won’t,” he said. “But if it should, you know where to meet me, don’t you? Where we met the first night I saw you back in Isla Huesos —”
“In the cemetery.” In the cemetery sounded better than saying Next to your tomb.
He nodded. “Under our tree —”
Before he could utter another word, I rose up onto my toes to press my lips to his. He seemed surprised — surprised enough to release his hold on my father — but not unpleasantly so.
I hoped he could feel through the emotion of my kiss the words I was too embarrassed to say in front of my parents … words I felt I could never say enough: I love you, I love you, I love you.
He not only seemed to get the message, he didn’t seem at all embarrassed, since, as soon as our lips parted, he whispered, “I love you, too.”
I looked up at him and smiled, my heart so full of happiness, I was certain it was about to burst. My joy made no sense, of course. What did I have to feel joyful about? There was no future for us in this world, and the only one in which we could live was being pulled apart.
But he loved me, and that, at least, no one could destroy.
“Hello. Remember me? The dad. The dad is standing right here. Could the two of you please not do that in front of me?” My father sounded even crankier than usual. “Also, would someone mind explaining to me exactly what’s going on here?”
“Sorry, sir.” John dropped his hands from my waist and reached to grasp my father’s arm as I walked away from them. “Don’t worry. In a moment it will all become clear. Just close your eyes.”
Another burst of wind swept in from outside, causing the French door John had closed to crash open again with a bang. Flower petals and leaves Uncle Chris had yet to sweep up came swirling inside in mini vortexes. My mother yelped in alarm.
“What’s happening?” she asked anxiously. “What are they doing?”
“Don’t worry, Aunt Deb,” Alex said, reaching for a waffle. “You’ll get used to it.”
“I’ll be damned if I’m going to close my eyes,” my father said.
“We’re all going to be damned anyway,” John said, “if this doesn’t work out.”
One. Two. Three.
Blink.
They were gone.
“What avarice does is here made manifest
In the purgation of these souls converted,
And no more bitter pain the Mountain has.”
DANTE ALIGHIERI, Purgatorio, Canto XIX
Everything all right in here?” Uncle Chris stepped inside to ask. “I thought I heard you scream, Deb. There a palmetto bug in the trash compactor again?”
Mom was clutching the collar of her robe closed at her neck. All the color had drained from her face. She stood there shaking her head, staring at the spot where John and my father had been standing a second before.
“I … I don’t understand. Where did they go?”
“To get the boats, Mom,” I said.
“But how did they … they were standing right there. And then they … ”
“It’s called teleportation,” I said gently. “If John pictures a person or thing in his head, he can go to where that person or thing is. And if he’s touching someone, he can take
that person with him. But he can’t stay away from Isla Huesos or the Underworld for too long. If he does, he’ll begin to age and die.”
Uncle Chris looked at us. “Are you talking about World of Warcraft? Alex loves that game. Don’t you, Alex? How many points do you have? A billion?”
“That’s right, Dad,” Alex said. “A billion.”
I glared at Alex. This was stupid. He should tell his father the truth already. He’d suffered more than anyone because of it all — well, almost anyone. Uncle Chris hadn’t died.
Alex seemed to read my thoughts almost as easily as John had. Or maybe he was only reading my disapproving expression.
“Hey, Pierce,” Alex said, getting up from his counter stool and going to the refrigerator. “Remember when we played World of Warcraft and we hit the level where the guy was just an innocent pawn being used by all the much more evil characters?”
“I do not remember that level,” I said.
“Yeah, well, I do.” Alex opened the refrigerator, took out a carton of milk, and drank from it. “You insisted we tell him the truth, and he couldn’t handle it, and did something dumbly noble, and died. Don’t do that in this level.”
“Alex,” my mother said. “Please don’t drink milk straight from the carton.”
Uncle Chris saw the file Alex had stolen from Mr. Rector’s office sitting on the counter. “What’s this?” he said curiously, reaching for it.
“Don’t!” Alex and I both cried at the exact same time.
“It’s nothing,” Mom said. She quickly lifted the file. “It’s something of mine … for work.”
“Work?” Uncle Chris squinted down at the file in her arms. “It says Rector Realty on it. You work at the Marine Institute. What has the Marine Institute got to do with Rector Realty?”
“I’m, um, doing some research,” Mom said. “On Reef Key. Just a little private research of my own. In fact, I was about to head upstairs and get dressed and start my research right now on the computer.”
