Underworld (15 page)

I glanced up at John in astonishment. “How did you do that?”

“Sometimes people see only what they want to see,” he said, with a shrug.

I realized this was coming from the phantom of the Isla Huesos Cemetery. Mr. Smith had told me sightings of John Hayden going in and out of his crypt were so common, and had been happening for so long, he’d developed a reputation … so much so that they’d never needed to install security cameras in the cemetery. No one ever ventured into the cemetery after dark, except for me and, unfortunately, Jade … and her killers.

Still, just to be safe, I opened my bag, reaching inside for a hairband. I had my other dress to change into, if necessary. In the meantime, a quick braid and my jean jacket would have to do as a disguise.

“It’s still hard to imagine,” I muttered as I braided, holding my hairband in my mouth, “what you ever did to create all this.” By
all this
I was referring to the craziness of the street fair, the loud music, and the people and the costumes.

I never expected him actually to answer me, because I’d been asking the same question, in similar variations, for so long, and he’d never told me before.

To my utter astonishment, this time he did, so swiftly and in such a low voice I might have missed it if he hadn’t been standing so close by.

“I killed a man,” he said.

M
y hairband fell to the sidewalk. I knew I would never find it again. Too many people were passing by, drinking from the red cups that they were buying from a Captain Rob’s Rum stand nearby.

Of course I didn’t think I’d heard him correctly. Why would he have told me something so important now, so casually, in the middle of a
street fair
?

Before I could stop myself, I blurted out the first thing I thought.

“Just
one
?”

The look he gave me was shattering.

Given everything I knew about him, though, I’d
expected
him to have killed a man.

It was the fact that his having taken a single life had resulted in his banishment to the Underworld for all eternity that I found so astonishing.

“I had no idea,” he said, with a dry smile, “that you were so bloodthirsty, Pierce. Should we try to find you one of those pirate costumes?”

“It’s … it’s not that one man isn’t enough,” I stammered. I could hardly hear myself think with all the music. The Latin rhythms seemed to pulsate along with my heartbeat, which had quickened at the realization of my callous blunder. “It’s just that I’ve had to stop you from killing quite a few men before, in my presence. So I’m surprised —”

He saw that I was being jostled by the crowd in the street, and taking my hand, drew me towards the sidewalk until we stood beneath the low-hanging branches of a gumbo-limbo tree, away from the masses and the lights, where it was a bit darker and quieter. Hope had followed us, of course, and she sat in the gutter, contentedly pecking at an abandoned grilled corn on the cob.

“The man I killed was a ship captain,” John said. His voice had lost its hard edge, but his expression was remote, as if he were telling someone else’s story. “He was captain of the
Liberty
. I was his first mate.”

This was a little bit of a shock, but I said nothing, keeping my gaze on an orange tabby cat that had slunk out from behind the fence in front of which we were standing. The cat’s eyes glowed as it caught sight of Hope … then it caught my warning gaze, and slunk quickly off.

“We were sailing from Havana to Isla Huesos,” John went on. “From there we were to head back to England. Not far from Isla Huesos I discovered something … unsatisfactory with the course the captain had charted. I tried to discuss it with him privately, but he wouldn’t listen. Word about his plan got out, and some of the crew agreed with me. There was a mutiny. I’m sure you know what a mutiny is.”

“Yes,” I said. I’d seen a movie about a mutiny once. The crew of the ship had ganged up on the captain and taken command away from him, because they hadn’t liked the harsh and unfair way he was running things.

“Then you probably know that a mutiny is considered a serious offense,” John said. The festive music and screams of laughter in the background were at odds with the serious expression on his face. “On ships, when tried and found guilty, mutineers are dealt with swiftly … generally hanged, but sometimes set adrift.”

Just like that, I was back on board the creaking deck of the ship from my dream, watching John being cast about on those massive waves, unable to do a thing to help him, as the rain poured down upon us both.

My heart felt as if it were frozen inside my chest. My hands had gone suddenly cold as well, despite the warm temperature around us.

“When the men approached the captain and said they disagreed with his plan, things turned ugly, especially when I took their side. The captain … well, he was furious. He was the one who struck the first blow, though, Pierce, you’ve got to believe me.” His gaze was pleading. “I never meant to kill him.”

“Of course,” I murmured. “You were only protecting yourself.”

His gaze grew bitter. “Well, not everyone saw it that way,” he said. “It turned out there were more men on board who supported the captain’s plan — dangerous as it was — than didn’t. I insisted that since I’d been the main instigator, I was the only one deserving of punishment —”

“So they set you adrift,” I said, in a small voice, even though I already knew the answer.

He shrugged as if it were no big deal. Except I’d seen for myself, in my dream, how terrifying it had been.

“Mutineers — especially ones who murder their captain — don’t deserve a coffin, let alone a proper burial,” he said lightly. “But for some reason, people here on Isla Huesos seem to think that’s what I need in order to rest. So every year, this is what they do.” He raised a hand to indicate the festival.

I gazed up at his face, longing to be able to provide some kind of balm to soothe the wounds I saw there. Not literal wounds, but emotional wounds, ones he tried hard to hide.

“So you drowned to death,” I said softly. “Like me. That’s another thing we have in common, besides horrible family members.”

His lips twitched. “Technically, you froze to death before you drowned,” he pointed out. “And don’t forget your head wound. But yes, we do have that in common.”

I reached out to take his hand. It felt wonderfully warm and strong in mine.

“And after you drowned, when you woke up?” I asked.

“I was in the Underworld,” he said. “The one with which you’re familiar. Only I was alone. There was no manual, no guidebook telling me what to do. I had to learn it all by experience. Fortunately Mr. Graves, Mr. Liu, Frank, and Henry showed up a short time later. They’ve been a great help.”

“They were part of the … mutiny?” I asked carefully.

He nodded. “I wish to God they’d never gotten involved. But Henry overheard me trying to reason with the captain. He went running to Graves, and Graves enlisted Mr. Liu and Frank without my knowledge. So there was nothing to be done for it. They’re good men. They deserve a better fate than this.”

Even as he spoke the words, I saw a cloud as dark as any of the ones in the sky overhead pass across his face. I thought I knew what was troubling him, and took his hand in both of mine.

“The captain of the
Liberty
,” I said, thinking of what he’d said to my uncle about Bad People. “He must have been very bad.”

“He was the worst person I have ever known,” he said, without the slightest hesitation in his voice. His gaze had grown cold as his tone … but I knew that had nothing to do with me. It was from the memory of the man he’d killed.

Another chill swept over me.

“That’s what I thought,” I said. “Because otherwise someone like Mr. Graves wouldn’t have committed a crime as bad as mutiny. And when you died, you would have ended up being sent by someone like yourself to a place like where the Furies go … which is why they come back, because they hate it there so much. But instead, you ended up ruler of an underworld. So someone must think that what you did was pretty brave, and wanted to reward you.”

Slowly, I saw him come back to me from whatever dark place he’d been.

“It’s seemed more like a punishment than a reward most days …” he said, his tone one of bitter resignation. Then his gaze lifted to meet mine, and his voice changed. “… at least until I found you.”

The crackling heat in his eyes was nothing compared to the warmth that washed over me after he lowered his lips to mine. I didn’t resist, closing my eyes and allowing myself to relax for what seemed like the first time in days.

Killed a man. That’s all he’d done.

It wasn’t nothing, of course. Killing a man was still an appalling thing to do.

Yet it was hardly as deplorable a crime as he’d been leading me to believe he’d committed, with all his insistence that I’d hate him if I ever found out the truth. He hadn’t lit a bag full of kittens on fire, and then callously stood back and watched them burn alive. He’d merely led a mutiny at sea, and in doing so had killed his own captain … in self-defense.

Of course I only had John’s word to go on about this. What I ought to have done, I realized, was read the book Mr. Smith had given me. Not that I didn’t believe John, but it was always good to —

I opened my eyes, realizing something was wrong. He’d stopped kissing me.

“Here, miss. You dropped this,” said a surprisingly familiar, high-pitched voice at my elbow, and a second later, the hairband I’d let fall to the sidewalk was presented to me on an open palm.

When I looked down to see who was speaking, I was astonished to see it was Henry. Little Henry Day from the Underworld.

I stared at him in confusion, not understanding for a full five seconds or so what I was seeing. He was standing right next to me, wearing the exact same clothes in which I’d last seen him.

Except at Coffin Fest in Isla Huesos, he did not actually look out of place. He looked like every other boy there dressed as a nineteenth-century pirate … and there were quite a few of them. Their costumes were only not quite as authentic as Henry’s.

“What…?” I exclaimed, wonderingly. “How…?”

Frank, whose presence I somehow hadn’t noticed until that moment, spoke up behind him.

“Now
this
,” he said, tipping the red cup he held towards me, “is very good stuff. We’ve got to get Mr. Graves to learn how to make
this
.”

Mr. Liu, standing beside him, did not look so convinced. He wasn’t drinking. He was scanning the crowd with a critical gaze.

“Too many pirates,” he said disapprovingly. “I do not see the appeal in dressing like a pirate. And what have they done to the lighthouse?”

I whirled back towards John. “What are they doing here?” I asked, stunned. “I thought —”

“Hello,” John said to his crew, one of his dark eyebrows quirked up. “Kind of you to give us a moment to ourselves.”

“Didn’t want to disturb you,” Frank said. He’d purchased a deep-fried turkey leg to go with his beverage, and was gnawing on it. “You looked otherwise occupied.”

“Henry had other ideas,” Mr. Liu said, in his deep voice.

“This is yours, isn’t it?” Henry asked, shoving my hairband at me. “I saw you drop it.”

“Yes, it is, Henry, thank you so much,” I said, taking it from him. I turned my wondering eyes back to John.

“I thought,” John said quietly, “that after what happened at the cemetery sexton’s, it might be a good idea to seek backup. Isn’t that what they call it these days?”

“Yes,” I said. “Only I thought they can’t come here —”

“Not on their own, no,” John said. “While you were upstairs with your mother, and your uncle was on the telephone with your cousin, I went and got them, and brought them back here. Not that I wasn’t impressed by your bravery with Mike,” he added, with a sly smile. “But next time there may not be a flowerpot so handy. And Mr. Liu can be a very intimidating presence, when he chooses.”

Mr. Liu looked modest, though Frank objected, “What about me? I can be intimidating, too. Tell him, Miss Oliviera. I intimidated you, when you first saw me, didn’t I?”

“You didn’t,” Henry said. “Typhon did.”

I shook my head, too stunned to speak.

“They’ve been looking for your cousin,” John said, ignoring them. “Unsuccessfully so far, I’m sorry to report. Alex was in some duress in the video they saw on your phone, so it’s possible he is here, and they’ve walked right by him. He may look quite different.”

Remembering Alex’s dirt-and-tear-smeared face, I fervently hoped he
did
look quite different … and that we found him in time to make sure he stayed that way.

Realizing suddenly that a member of John’s crew was missing, I asked, “Where’s Mr. Graves?”

“Someone had to stay behind,” John said, in what I noted was a careful tone. “Mr. Graves volunteered. He’s never been fond of Isla Huesos.”

What John left unspoken was that Mr. Graves had
had
to stay behind — not because of his dislike of the island, or even because of his blindness (which hadn’t seemed to me to hamper his activities one bit), but because someone had to tend to the souls of the departed in John’s absence … and face the consequences if we did not return in a timely fashion.

I swallowed, remembering what Mr. Graves had said about pestilence.

“Thank you,” I murmured gratefully, slipping a hand into John’s.

“It’s too soon to thank me,” he said. “We haven’t found him. Mr. Liu, any sign of a coffin?”

“Not yet,” Mr. Liu replied, in his stoic manner. “But the farther down the street you go, the more people there are. That’s where the music is.”

“And the food,” Frank said, raising his turkey leg.

John glanced questioningly at me.

After bending to separate Hope from her ear of corn — she was vocal in her protest, but it was for her own good. The orange tabby had returned — I scooped my hair back into the elastic band, and said, “Let’s go.” I sounded much braver than I felt.

I needn’t have worried about anyone noticing John and me, however. Even though, as Mr. Liu had pointed out, there was a startling number of people dressed as pirates, all eyes seemed drawn to him, Henry, and Frank. Especially Frank. With his authentic tattoos and scars, all he was missing, really, to complete his ensemble was a parrot and an eye patch.

Maybe this was why the first person who actually did know me walked straight by before she finally noticed me … because she was busy staring at Frank.

“Kayla?” I asked cautiously, because I almost hadn’t recognized her, either. At school, we had a dress code. What Kayla had on definitely defied it. She was wearing a long white dress that flattered her dark skin tone, her waist cinched to an impossibly small size with a black velvet bustier that was pushing her sizeable breasts to gravity-defying heights. Over her bare shoulders she’d thrown a purple velvet cape that matched the purple streaks in her wildly curling black hair, and she’d glued rhinestone stars to the corners of her dramatically made-up dark eyes.

“Wait …” The girl stopped in her tracks as she blinked back at me. “No way.
Pierce?
Oh, my God,
chickie!
Gimme a hug!”

I pushed her arms down before she could throw them around me, not wanting to attract even more attention than she already had with her screams, then dragged her from the center of the street to an empty space between two booths, one selling more frozen fruit slices on a stick, the other selling T-shirts that said
I Survived Coffin Fest on the Island of Bones
.