“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 kidding. 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?”