Awaken

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.

23

“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.”

“That’s a good idea, Aunt Deb,” Alex said. “Want me to come help you?”

“No, thank you, Alex,” Mom said with some of her old acerbic dryness. “I’m quite capable of getting dressed and doing research on my own.”

“Really, Aunt Deb,” Alex said, following my mom as she backed out of the kitchen and down the hallway, towards the stairs. “I want to help.”

What Alex wanted, I knew, was not to let that file out of his sight. He wasn’t used to trusting adults — it wasn’t as if any had ever been there for him in the past — and it didn’t look as if he was ready to start now.

“Really, Alex,” I heard my mother say from the hallway. “I’m not going to do anything without your permission, and I’ll give it back when I’m done with it.”

Uncle Chris, looking a little anxious, watched them go.

“Piercey,” he said in a low voice, so they wouldn’t overhear. “Does Alex seem … different to you?”

“Different?” I asked. “In what way?”

“I don’t know,” Uncle Chris said. “He seems a little more … mature, or something. Almost overnight.”

Being murdered by your peers, then brought back from the dead, could certainly have that effect on you.

I didn’t mention this to Uncle Chris, however. All I said was, “I don’t know. I haven’t really noticed.”

I didn’t like lying to him. But he was Alex’s father and Alex didn’t want him knowing the truth, so I felt like I had to respect that.

“Well, I’ve noticed,” Uncle Chris said, reaching up to scratch his head beneath his Isla Huesos Bait and Tackle baseball cap. “I think it’s a good thing. Maybe that New Pathways program you two are in at school is working on him. Or maybe it’s you, being a good influence on him, Piercey. But I’m finally starting to get the feeling I don’t have to worry about him as much. You know?”

I swallowed. I couldn’t believe Uncle Chris and I were having this conversation.

“Uh,” I said. “I’m pretty sure it doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Uncle Chris said, grinning at me. “I was kind of suspicious of that boyfriend of yours at first, but I think maybe he’s a positive role model for Alexander.”

I tried not to glance at the burnt spot in the living room carpet. “Maybe. Or maybe Alex straightened up because he’s so worried about you, Uncle Chris, and that murder charge against you.”

“Oh, that,” Uncle Chris said with a shrug. “I didn’t do it, so I’m sure it will all get straightened out soon. It was nice of your mom to post my bail.”

His naive belief that the charges would be dropped and everything would work out because he was innocent was sort of astonishing for a man who’d spent so many years in prison. Granted, he’d spent those years in prison for a crime he truly had committed (although the penalty had been far too severe, especially for possession of a drug that was now legal in many states), but surely he must have met a lot of people in there who’d been convinced they were innocent. How could he have so much faith he’d be exonerated?

I guess that was just Uncle Chris. He was a truly positive person. No wonder my mom felt so bad about not coming forward and telling the truth about Mr. Rector. He was a slimebag who preyed on those who weren’t able to defend themselves.

Like the dead.

“Hey, what boats did your dad and that boyfriend of yours go to get?” Uncle Chris asked.

“Oh,” I said. “For, uh, John’s business. His boats got destroyed in the, er, storm, and my dad says he knows a guy who has some other boats John can use.”

“That’s nice,” Uncle Chris said. “I hope your mom and dad get back together. He makes Deb really happy. And I think that John fella makes you happy, too, am I right?” His eyes glinted at me teasingly.

I smiled back at him. “What would make you happy, Uncle Chris?” I asked.