pointed at the whip I’d looped through my sash. “Particularly
I glanced down at the whip at my waist, wondering what John was talking about. True, it hadn’t been very sportsmanlike of Alex to grab it — or any weapon — to use against John or any of the other residents of the Underworld, especially considering my cousin was here as a guest, even if he hadn’t known it at the time.
But whips weren’t particularly known for their lethality. It wasn’t as if Alex had stolen a knife from the kitchen, with which he could truly have harmed or even killed someone. To have inflicted a mortal wound with a whip, he’d have had to tie his victim down, then administer multiple lashes, during which time he most likely would have been caught and stopped by one of us. It was an odd weapon for the Fates to have given him, and an even odder one for John to have been so angry about.
“What were you going to do with it?” John asked, still pointing at the whip.
“I —” Alex ducked his head to look down at his sneakers, as if realizing he’d done something not only stupid but also embarrassing. “I … I don’t know. I just wanted to protect myself, and Pierce, too, after I found her.”
I saw from the way John’s expression softened a little that this had been the right thing to say — though Alex couldn’t tell, since his head was still ducked.
Poor Alex. It wasn’t completely his fault that he acted the way he did sometimes. He’d been raised by our grandmother since his father, my uncle Chris, had spent most of Alex’s life in prison for transporting drugs, and he barely knew his mom. She was in the “entertainment business,” the kind you had to be over eighteen to see on the Internet.
“Apologize for the way you spoke to her,” John said to Alex, “and perhaps I’ll be able to forgive you for stealing the weapon.”
I rolled my eyes at this lordly speech. I know John noticed because the corners of his mouth twitched, even though his gaze never left Alex, whose own gaze was still fixed on his shoes.
To my surprise, Alex lifted his head and looked me straight in the eye.
“I’m sorry, Pierce,” he said, sounding as if he truly might have been. “None of this is your fault, and I shouldn’t have blamed you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Ever since I woke up, I’ve felt … strange.”
I wasn’t sure it was true that none of this was my fault, actually. Maybe the stuff about Seth Rector wasn’t my fault. But certainly some of the horrible stuff that had started happening since I’d come to Isla Huesos was my fault, like our guidance counselor Jade getting murdered. That had happened because she’d been mistaken for me.
I didn’t feel pointing this out would be particularly helpful that moment, however.
“It’s all right,” I said soothingly. “You’re supposed to feel a little strange at first. It’s normal for an NDE.”
When I saw his look of confusion, I remembered I’d never explained to him about the exclusive club to which we both belonged.
“NDE,” I repeated. “Near death experience. That’s what they call it when you die, then come back to life.”
“Oh.” Alex looked a little less confused. He knew all about the “accident” in which I’d lost my life and become an NDE, though unlike him, I’d been revived by natural, not supernatural, means. “What about Kayla? You said she’s here. Is she an NDE, too?”
“No, Alex. She was there when the police caught us in the Rectors’ mausoleum, rescuing you. We brought her here to keep them from arresting her.”
Alex said, “Oh,” again and looked somber.
I thought it might be appropriate to give Alex a hug, but the last time I’d tried, he’d stiffened like the corpse he’d turned into a few hours later. The Cabrero family wasn’t particularly demonstrative, unless you counted murder.
“I … I’m sorry about the whip,” Alex said, more to John than to me. “But … ” He added this last part in a defensive rush. “ … I’m still going to try to get out of here first chance I get.”
“I’d expect nothing less from someone related to Pierce,” John said. His tone had grown warm again. “But until you do find a way to escape, you might as well make yourself useful. Have
Alex made a contemptuous face. “I live on a two-mile-by-four-mile island. Of course I’ve tied off —”
They were interrupted by another long blast from a marine horn. But this time it didn’t emanate from the boat that was churning towards the pier on which we stood. It came from farther out across the lake, somewhere deep inside the center of the murky gray fog that was bearing down on us as rapidly as the ferry.
“Is something wrong?” Chloe asked anxiously. She’d noticed the same thing I had … a look of anxiety that suddenly appeared on John’s face. Something was definitely wrong, at least judging by the way his eyes had narrowed — and his jaw tensed — as he stared out across the lake. But what was he seeing that the rest of us couldn’t?
“Captain Hayden!” Another set of footsteps sounded on the wooden dock, these much lighter than Alex’s had been — but louder, because their owner was wearing a pair of thick-heeled, silver-buckled shoes.
I turned to see Henry Day racing towards us, a metal object clutched in one hand. Following not far behind him — but at a much less rapid pace — was my friend Kayla, wearing a gown of flowing lavender silk, her long dark hair curling wildly about her face and bare shoulders. While Henry’s face was tight with worry, Kayla’s expression was one of annoyance, especially when she spotted Alex.
“Thanks a lot for ditching me, Cabrero,” she snarled at him.
“I didn’t ditch you,” Alex protested. “I didn’t even know you were here.”
Kayla dismissed him with a queenly sniff, then said to Henry, “I thought I told you to quit running. You’ll fall down in those stupid shoes someday and hurt yourself.” She looked at me and shook her head. “Seriously, chickie.” (Chickie was her nickname for me.) “How do you put up with these people?”
I smiled, pleased — but not really surprised — to see her back to her old self so quickly, even after everything she’d been through. If I had to use one word to describe Kayla, it would be
“Thanks, I’ve had a lot of practice,” I said.
“Captain,” Henry said. He cast Kayla and me a disapproving look. He was only ten years old physically, but he’d lived for more than a hundred and fifty without any sort of female influence, so he did not have a lot of patience for girls.
Henry thrust the object he’d been carrying at John.
It was a brass spyglass, one that I recognized from John’s bedroom, where he kept a number of nautical tools that had been scavenged from the sunken
John raised the spyglass to one eye, then stood peering out at the approaching ship. I turned to offer Kayla one of the glasses that hadn’t tumbled into the lake.
“Thirsty?”
“Oh, God, yes,” she said, taking the water gratefully. “Do you know what the awful-smelling stuff is in the pots that old man is brewing back there in the castle?”
I nodded. “Beer. Yes, I know, Mr. Graves has been trying to get his recipe right for quite a while.”
“He made me taste some,” Kayla said between sips of water. “I hate beer. But I’ve had worse, actually.” Her gaze moved past me to take in the beach, the dock, and finally the gigantic horse standing next to me. She slowly lowered the now empty water glass. “What the
“Oh, we’re not in hell,” Chloe informed her, sprightly. “We’re here waiting for the boat that’s going to take us to our final destination.”
Kayla’s gaze slid towards her. “Really,” she said, her pierced eyebrow lifting. “How nice for you.” Then she noticed Reed. “Well,” she said, her expression changing. “Hello.”
He grinned. “Hi. How are you today?”
Kayla’s smile was bright enough to light up the entire Underworld. “Doing much better now that I met you. I’m Kayla Rivera, who —”
“Sorry, she has to go now,” I said to Reed. I took Kayla by the arm and dragged her a few feet away. “Could you please not flirt with the dead people?” I hissed at her.
