“Not that guy.” Alex joined me at the dock railing, a disgusted look on his face. “I can’t stand that guy. This is all his fault.”
Uh-oh. This was not the most opportune time for Alex’s memory to be coming back … and not the most ideal tone for him to be taking around John.
“Alex,” John said mildly, his gaze flicking towards my cousin. “I could tell it was you from all the way across the beach. Pierce only gets that particular tone in her voice when you’re around. What are you doing here?”
He had to keep a firm hand on Alastor’s reins, so the muscles in his biceps swelled a little, causing the sleeves of his T-shirt to strain.
This was extremely distracting — at least to me — but I had other things to worry about. I was pretty sure a fight was about to break out between my cousin and my boyfriend, which was bad since John and I were still searching for solid ground between ourselves, kind of like the way Alastor was searching for solid ground in the sand beneath his hooves.
“Alex thought I needed rescuing,” I explained. “But we talked and got it all straightened out, so he’s good now.”
Unfortunately, John didn’t fall for this blatant lie.
“How did he get out of the castle? Typhon never would have let him past —” John broke off, his gaze going to my hip. “Where did that come from?”
I looked down. “Oh,” I said, remembering the whip. “Alex found it, but I —”
“You’re the dude from Coffin Fest,” Alex interrupted, stabbing his finger at John again. “I remember. And you were there when I woke up in the cemetery. You brought me here.” He said the word here like it was the worst place in the entire universe, which isn’t true, since obviously high school is. “Well, I want to go back. Now.”
John raised a single eyebrow … never a good sign.
“Don’t you think every single other person here wants the exact same thing?” he asked as thunder rumbled again in the distance, louder than before. John, when emotionally perturbed, could cause inclement weather conditions with his mind, but I was fairly certain the thunder we’d been hearing all day had been meteorological, not paranormal, in origin. “What makes you think you’re more important than they are?”
“I have unfinished business back in Isla Huesos,” Alex said. “Important business that’s a matter of life or death. You know what I’m talking about.”
“I do,” John said, reaching into the pocket of his jeans and bringing out one of the small tablets with which he and his crew stayed in touch while they worked. “Go back to the castle, Alex. When we’ve gotten these people boarded, you and I can discuss your unfinished business. But now is not a good time.”
If I were Alex, I’d have done as John advised. His voice had hardened from the warm caress it had been when he’d spoken to me into something that felt more like the sand being flung by the wind around us.
Alex, however, had never been one to take a hint, much less an order, and he definitely wasn’t about to now.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Alex said, in a mock apologetic tone. “Am I interfering with your busy cruise director activities? Far be it from me to keep the other passengers from their shuffleboard. I’m only talking about keeping my father out of jail.”
Fortunately, the marine horn gave another long, lonely blast to draw attention to the fact that the prow of an enormous ferry was bursting through the thick curtain of fog.
“Here it comes!” Chloe cried excitedly, pointing. “The boat! I see it!”
I saw it, too. So did John, though he lifted his gaze from his tablet’s screen only momentarily. The tablet was also where he received the information telling him onto which dock to sort the dead. Lived a life of selfish debauchery and sin? Step to the right. Lived a life of moral decency? Step to the left.
Or maybe it was the other way around. It was hard to remember when the people closest to you were fighting.
Who sent him this information — the Fates? The Lord from Chloe’s T-shirt? Aliens? That was as big a mystery as where the tablet had come from.
“Dude,” Alex yelled at John. “Did you hear me?”
This time John didn’t bother looking up from the screen. “As I believe I’ve told you before, Alex, my name is John, not Dude. Pierce, what do you know about tying off mooring lines?”
“Everything,” I said. I had no idea what he was talking about. “I tied one off for lunch yesterday.”
I saw the skin around John’s eyes crinkle as he studied the screen of his tablet, almost as if he might be trying to suppress a smile, despite the seriousness of the situation. John and I may not yet be back on solid ground with each other, but at least he was learning to lighten up a little … a promising sign, considering his profession — not to mention his past.
Sure enough, he was smiling as he looked up, tucking the tablet away. “Frank and Mr. Liu have their hands full at the moment over at the other dock. I’m going to need your help when that ship comes in.”
I was surprised. John had never asked for my help before, though Mr. Smith had assured me that all signs pointed to my being John’s chosen “consort,” which meant spouse or paramour of someone who ruled something.
John, having been born in the eighteen hundreds, would have preferred me to be his wife, even though I’d explained to him that these days, people who married at our age tended to end up on reality shows on MTV.
Then John had asked what MTV was.
“Where would she have learned to tie off a mooring line?” Alex asked before I could say anything. “She went to the most expensive private girls’ school in Connecticut. All they taught her there was how to fold doilies.”
Pointedly ignoring Alex, I said to John, “I’m sure if you show me, I’ll catch on.”
“Excellent.” John’s gaze on me was warm. “Then later perhaps you could show me how to fold doilies.”
John had made a little joke!
This wouldn’t have been a big deal for a normal guy, but it hadn’t been very long ago that the only way John could express himself was by hurling his fists. It was astonishing how well my efforts to civilize him were paying off.
Alex didn’t seem to appreciate my efforts, however.
“Are you kidding me with this?” he demanded, banging the dock railing again with his fist as he glared at John. “She’s not strong enough to handle the lines from a ship that size. And quit ignoring me. You’re letting me on that boat so I can go home and help my dad.”
“Alex,” I said, turning towards him. “I want to help your dad, too. But I already told you, that boat isn’t taking anyone back to Isla Huesos, and even if they were, you couldn’t —”
“Was I talking to you, Pierce?” Alex whirled on me to demand. “I don’t think so. Back off.”
Behind me, Chloe let out a little scream of alarm, then grabbed both my arms and huddled behind me, using my body as a sort of shield. From what, I wasn’t sure, until I looked up.
John had wheeled his horse around, urging him through the waves until he reached the end of the wooden pier. The next thing I knew, Alastor was clattering up the steps onto it. All the newly departed souls flattened themselves against the wooden railings on either side of the dock to make way for the foam-flecked animal and his rider, whose gray eyes were flashing bright as lightning.
“Oh, no,” Chloe said with a groan into my hair.
“It’s all right,” I said to her soothingly. “He promised never to hurt anyone.” Though judging from the livid expression on John’s face, it seemed as if he might have forgotten that promise he’d made so long ago that night by my mother’s pool. Perhaps my efforts at civilizing him were not going as well as I imagined.