Underworld (19 page)

Frank’s gaze went to Kayla, who was looking at him curiously. “Why not?” he asked. He’d wanted to show off how wealthy he was in front of her.

“Because people will ask too many questions about where he got it,” John said, perfectly understanding the situation. “And his family is under enough scrutiny.”

With a shrug, Frank let the coins fall back into his pocket.

“Wait.” Kayla had been watching the entire interlude with great interest, her dark eyes again glittering even more brightly than the jewels she’d glued beside them. “Are you guys really pirates?”

“No,” I said to her quickly. “They’re not. Did you drive here?”

She looked confused by the change of topic, then nodded. “My mom let me borrow her car for the night.”

“Good,” I said. “Will you drive him home?” I nodded at Alex.

“What?” Alex looked surprised. “I have my own car.”

“Get the keys from him,” I said to John, who nodded and, with Mr. Liu’s help, began to frisk a protesting Alex.

“Will you make sure Kayla gets Alex home all right, then gets to her own place safely?” I asked Frank.

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” Frank said, grinning at Kayla, who smiled flirtatiously back.

That made me a bit nervous, but I didn’t suppose I had any other choice, unless I had John transport him. And that might tip Alex’s mind, already on edge because of the magically appearing paella, even closer to madness.

“This is totally unfair,” Alex was saying as John found his keys, then pocketed them. “Pierce, if you do this, I’m calling the cops. I’ll tell them everything about you and your little gang, and then I’m going to collect that reward money your dad is offering —”

“Good luck with that,” I said flatly. “Dad canceled the reward. I don’t think anyone is looking for me anymore. If you did more than play
World of Warcraft
, you might know this.”

“And I have your phone,” John said, holding his face just inches from Alex’s. “Remember? You’re not calling anyone.”

Alex went pale, then looked back at me. “Pierce,” he said, his voice pleading. “Seriously. I’ll let the thing with Seth Rector’s dad go. I swear I will. Just make him give back my keys. And my phone. Please.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said. “I’m still pretty worried about you, though.” I looked at him imploringly. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. So promise you’ll drop this whole scheme of yours to get revenge on the Rectors for what they did to your dad. It’s not worth dying over. It really isn’t. I’m sure your dad would agree. He loves you. So do I, you know.”

He appeared surprised. Our family wasn’t particularly warm, or effusive with the
I love you
’s. Except for Uncle Chris, who’d come out of prison bursting with them. He’d even told the mail carrier that he loved him.

“I … I promise,” Alex said, looking uncomfortable. He looked even
more
uncomfortable — and held his body stiff as a post — when I walked up and hugged him a second later. But part of that could have been because of how wet and smelly I was, in my paella-covered dress, and not because Alex hadn’t been hugged very many times before in his life.

“Oh,” I said, laughing as I released him. “Yeah, sorry about that. I smell a little fishy. Is there a ladies’ room around here?”

“Sure,” Kayla said, smiling. “This is actually the back courtyard to a hotel. You can get into the ladies’ room through the back porch, over this way. I went in there earlier. It’s not bad. There’s only one stall, though, so you have to wait if there’s a line. At least there are chairs in the lobby, you can sit while you wait —”

“Pierce.” I felt a hand wrap around the arm Kayla wasn’t holding. I turned to find John staring down at me, a mystified expression on his face.
“Where are you going?”

Suddenly I remembered that I wasn’t just a normal high-school girl out with a friend, gossiping about normal high-school boys. Not that I’d
ever
been that. There was only one boy who’d ever held any interest for me. He was the protector of the dead.

His eyes, as he stared down at me, were full of unspoken questions … and fire.

Kayla didn’t notice the fire.

“Dude,” she said with a laugh that sounded unnaturally loud in the courtyard. The musicians were gone from the stage, though they hadn’t packed up their instruments for the night. They were seemingly taking a break. “Chill out. We’re going into the hotel over there so she can clean up in the ladies’ room.”

Kayla pointed at the wide veranda towards which we’d been headed. Hope, who’d apparently understood the situation better than John, had already found a perch out of the rain amidst the quaint gingerbread trim.

“Do you want to come along to check out the lobby to make sure Mr. Oliviera isn’t waiting there with a shotgun to kidnap her back?” Kayla asked, an amused lilt in her voice.

The laugh John gave probably seemed natural and easy enough to Kayla. But I could tell it was forced.

“Excellent idea,” he said, putting an arm around my neck.

I glanced in the direction his gaze seemed to be directed … not the back of the hotel, but the diamond around my neck. It had turned ebony. In fact, in the red glow of the party lanterns overhead, it was almost indistinguishable from the color of the fabric of my dress, aside from the food stains.

“Don’t worry,” Kayla was saying with her usual self-assurance as we walked. “I know how to take care of people,
Capitán
. I’ve been taking care of my mom for years now, ever since my dad walked out. It’s been just her and me … well, and my brother, but he’s a dirtbag. I’ll get Alex home safe and sound for you, chickie. No worries.”

This didn’t do much to dampen the flames in John’s eyes, but I saw him grin at her addressing him as “
capitán
.”

Before either of us had a chance to say anything, however, a blinding white light came from out of nowhere, filling my vision. When it disappeared again, I could see nothing at all … nothing but huge purple splotches. For a split second I didn’t know what happened, if it had been the muzzle flash from a gunshot or lightning or John teleporting me somewhere or what … all I knew was that John’s arm tightened around me reflexively.

It wasn’t until I heard a man’s voice whisper my name — like most whispers, it carried much farther than the person who’d uttered it had intended — that I knew.

“What? One picture. What can it hurt? Look how cute they are.”

A camera flash. That’s all it had been, a camera flash. No wonder I couldn’t see.

“Put that damned thing away,”
I heard another man say, in a shocked voice.

John’s arm left my shoulders. Then I felt his hand in the center of my back.

“Go,” he said urgently, and pushed me, stumbling, towards the darkness.

O
h, my God,” Kayla said as she collapsed into one of the overstuffed chairs in the hotel lobby into which she had pulled — and John had pushed — me. “Could your boyfriend be any more overprotective? That guy out there only wanted to take your picture because you’re a totally famous kidnapping victim. Well, not anymore, I guess. But you were up until a few hours ago.”

“John doesn’t want some random guy posting my photo all over the Internet,” I said defensively.

“Yeah, well, he seems to have made that
pretty
clear,” Kayla replied, nodding towards the veranda doors, through which we could hear the camera’s owner apologizing to John so profusely, it was a little embarrassing.

Fortunately, there wasn’t anyone else around to overhear us, except the nerdy-looking night clerk, and he’d only raised his gaze from his computer screen once, when Kayla pushed me around the corner past his desk, towards a door marked
Damas
. It was locked. Someone was inside.

“Kayla,” I said to her, as she pulled me down onto a couch across from the ladies’ room door. “I’m pretty sure the bathroom is for guests of the hotel only.”

“Well, there aren’t any guests because of the mandatory tourist evacuation on account of the storm, so what does that guy care? We’re not bothering anyone.” She took a compact mirror from the small bag she wore dangling from one shoulder, then checked her eyeliner. “So what’s the deal with Frank? Does he have a girlfriend?”

I hesitated. Even though the clerk was around the corner and out of sight, and the place seemed like the last one in the world a Fury might show up — amateur beachscapes, apparently painted by guests, lined the walls, and the lobby stank of too-perfumey potpourri — I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched.

This could have been because the large French doors to the back porch stood open to let in the night air, stirred by the blades of the large ceiling fans overhead. It was hard to see what was happening out in the courtyard, thanks to the fact that every light inside the hotel was burning. Everything beyond the veranda appeared to be a sea of darkness, despite the party lanterns.

Though I strained to catch a glimpse of John, all I could see was the occasional flash of what I could only assume was Henry’s once-white shirt. Every so often, however, a snatch of the boy’s laughter floated towards us.

This made me relax a little. If Henry was laughing, it was doubtful John was killing anyone. My diamond now glowed a vibrant purple, the color of the streaks in Kayla’s hair.

“Dude,” Kayla said, and punched me in the shoulder.
“Frank?”

“Ow.” I rubbed my arm. “That hurt.”

“Sorry,” Kayla said. But she didn’t look sorry. “Impulse control issues. What do you think I’m in New Pathways for, anyway? Be happy I didn’t hit you in the head with a fire extinguisher. So does he have a girlfriend, or not? I can’t imagine he doesn’t, a hottie like that.”

“Frank most definitely does not have a girlfriend,” I said. “Why should I be happy you didn’t hit me in the head with a fire extinguisher? You didn’t actually do that to someone, did you?”

Kayla, looking pleased to hear the information about Frank, reached into her bag for her lip gloss. “Yeah, I did,” she said, casually. “My older brother. He’s an addict.”

“Kayla,” I said, my eyes widening.

She shrugged at her own reflection. “He used to beat my mom up when she wouldn’t give him money for drugs. That’s why I understand all that stuff Alex was saying back there … his anger, anyway, about what the Rectors are doing, if it’s true. My mom tried everything with Julian. Rehab, wilderness camps, therapy. Sometimes I
wished
he’d get arrested, just so he’d leave Mom alone. The only thing that worked, in the end, was when I went at him with the fire extinguisher, because I came home one night and found him choking her on the kitchen floor.” Her grin was lopsided. “Now
I’m
the one stuck with the impulse control label. Go figure.”

“Oh, my God,” I said, my heart wrenching with pity for her. “Kayla, I had no idea.”

“It’s cool,” she said airily, but I could tell that it wasn’t … not really. “Julian moved out to Wyoming to find himself. And Mom’s engaged to one of the EMTs who was on the scene that night. He’s a good guy.” Kayla looked at me very seriously. “But I just want you to know, that stuff Alex said about Seth’s dad? I think it could be true. Not just twenty years ago, either, but
now
. My mom’s an emergency room nurse here — that’s why we moved to the Keys in the first place, she goes where the jobs are — and she is raking in the overtime, which should tell you something. Why are so many people on an island this small having to go to the ER all the time? There’s something wrong with this place — really, really wrong with it. And I’m not talking about this Coffin Night stuff. My mom says Police Chief Santos tries to keep it out of the papers so the tourists don’t see it, because that would be a major blow to the island’s primary source of income. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.”

I knew Kayla was right.

I also knew what was wrong with Isla Huesos had nothing to do with Seth Rector’s father possibly running a major crime operation. It had to do with the place being overrun with Furies and sitting on top of a big, fat underworld.

I couldn’t admit that out loud, though, because no one — not even Kayla — would believe me.

Instead I said, “Thank you for telling me all that, Kayla. It means a lot. Alex is lucky to have a friend like you, even if it seems like he doesn’t appreciate you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want him to do anything stupid, either, that might get himself into trouble, like …” She looked down at me. “Well, no offense, chickie, but like you.”

“Thanks,” I said, with a dry smile.

“Because Seth and his friends … they’re no angels, Pierce.” Kayla’s voice roughened. “Do you have any idea the kind of stuff they call me in the halls because of these?” She pointed at her chest.

Kayla’s air of self-confidence, I realized in that moment, was just that … an air, an act she put on like the costume she’d worn to Coffin Fest. But she had more reason to believe in herself than any of those stupid A-wingers.

“Kayla,” I said. “I hope you know you’re beautiful, inside and out. Anyone who can’t see that isn’t worth your time.”

“I hope you’re not referring to Frank,” she said. She held up her compact to give her hair one last finger-comb. “He better see how beautiful I am. And not just on the inside.” Then she looked at me and grinned. “I’m kidding. But I’m serious about the fact that if something bad were to happen to Seth and those guys, I wouldn’t mind. Any more than I’d mind if something bad were to happen to Seth’s dad, if it turns out what Alex is saying is true about him.” Her expression grew solemn. “But I don’t want to see Alex get hurt. So whatever you need me to do, chickie, just ask. He’s a dork, but he’s cute. Adorkable, I guess, is what he is.”

I smiled at her. “I agree,” I said. “Thanks, Kay —”

The door to the ladies’ room finally opened, and the person who’d been inside for so long came out. It was the singer who had been performing with the musicians on the stage outside. She was even more glamorous up close than she’d looked from far away….

“Hello, darlings,” she said, giving us both a gracious smile. “So sorry.” Then she glided past, her hips swinging provocatively beneath her tight dress, her perfume wafting in a soft cloud before her and after her.

“Wow,” Kayla said, when the singer was gone.

“That’s an understatement,” I said with a smile. I snatched up my book bag. “I’ll be right back.”

I hurried into the ladies’ room, locking the door behind me. As in the lobby, the décor was old-fashioned, with an emphasis on antique wood. There was even a small stained-glass window — in the design of a leaping dolphin — towards the top of the eight-foot ceiling that had been left partly opened.

I stuffed my soiled dress into the pedestal sink as soon as I’d stepped out of it, then turned on the tap. That’s how anxious I was to get the smell of paella off me.

Then I realized this made no sense. I was in such a rush to get back to John, however, I hadn’t really thought through what I was doing.

Oh, well. I had the white dress I’d taken from my closet with me in my bag. It had better not be too wrinkled.

I knelt down on the cool tiled floor, beginning to rifle through the things in my bag, so quickly that some of them spilled out. The dress
was
wrinkled, but not too badly. I put it on then reached for my hairbrush.

That’s when I saw it … the book Mr. Smith had loaned me on the history of Isla Huesos. It had fallen out of my bag and onto the tiles, open to a page of illustrations. One of them was a portrait of a man in a high collar and side whiskers whose name, according to the bold print underneath, was William Rector.

Rector?
Was there no escaping this family?

I laid aside the hairbrush and lifted the book, scanning the page opposite the illustration for the name Rector.

There it was. William Rector — surely Seth’s great-great-great-grandfather, as the resemblance was startling — had, according to
A History of the Isle of Bones
, run the most successful shipwreck salvage business on the island in the 1830s, all the way up until October 11, 1846, when he’d died in the Great Hurricane.

The importance of shipwreck salvage as an economic industry in Isla Huesos’s early history (which was why the high school’s mascot was a wrecker, not a coffin) could not be emphasized enough, the book explained.

The first captain of a salvage operation to reach a stranded vessel after it wrecked was awarded, by maritime law, half the value of whatever he and his crew were able to save of the ship’s cargo. This made salvaging an extremely profitable business to go into, especially since the strait between Isla Huesos and Cuba had been so highly trafficked back in the eighteen hundreds — thanks in part to the discovery of the Gulf Stream, a strong current from the tip of Florida that kicked whatever sailed on it all the way to Spain, like a slingshot — and the fact that the waters were so treacherously difficult to navigate due to the coral reef and unpredictable storms. There was often as many as a shipwreck a week off the shores of Isla Huesos … though some captains from those stranded ships complained they’d been run aground on purpose
by
salvagers (also known as wreckers), using all manner of tricks.

Of course no such thing was ever proven in the Isla Huesos courts. I imagined this was probably because all the judges and juries were related to the wreckers, while the captains and the companies they worked for were from the mainland. They were never going to get a fair trial, especially in a place sitting on top of an underworld.

It was just that the date, October 11, 1846. William Rector had died on October 11, 1846, in the same hurricane that had wiped out most of Isla Huesos. October 11, 1846, was also, according to Mr. Smith, the day of the last known sighting of the necklace I was wearing around my neck, on the cargo list of a merchant ship that had docked in Isla Huesos … but all of her cargo and crew went missing in the hurricane.

Including John.

My fingers shaking, I flipped to the back of the book Mr. Smith had given me … given me because, I now remembered, I’d mentioned the name of the ship on which John had been working at the time of his death: the
Liberty
.

There it was, listed in the book’s index. The
Liberty
. I flipped to the page on which the notation said the reference could be found.

The
Liberty
was one of over two dozen boats sunk in the port of Isla Huesos by the raging winds and floodwaters of the October hurricane of 1846, in which over a thousand lives were lost. Carrying a cargo of precious goods, tobacco, coffee, sugar, and cotton from Havana, the
Liberty
was bound for Portsmouth. The vessel was declared a total loss. No sign of it was ever recovered. Captain: Robert Hayden, Hayden and Sons.

It took me several seconds to make sense of what I was seeing … at least the part that said
Captain: Robert Hayden
. I didn’t much care about the rest.

Robert
Hayden
? The captain of the ship — the man John had said he’d killed — had the same last name as he did?

And the company they’d worked for …
Hayden and Sons
? What did that mean?

I tried to think of several different scenarios — anything except what I was fairly sure it had to mean.

“The captain of the
Liberty
,” I remembered saying to John. “He must have been very bad.”

“He was the worst person I’ve ever known,” John had replied, his voice like ice.

Oh, God. I closed the book, feeling suddenly so dizzy, I thought I might pass out. How could I have been so stupid? I’d been relieved —
relieved
— that all John had done was kill a man. I’d thought it could have been something so much worse.

But what was worse than killing your own father?

Killing your own granddaughter, I supposed. That was about it.

I felt shaky and sick, though I told myself I was being ridiculous. Nothing had changed. John was still the same person.

He was a person who had maybe — probably — killed his father. That’s all.

There was a knock on the door. “Pierce?” It was Kayla’s voice.

“Sorry,” I said, my own voice trembling. “I need another minute.”

“It’s all right,” Kayla said. “Take your time. I just wanted you to know that Frank and I are leaving to take Alex home. But John’s out here waiting for you.”

Great.

“Okay, thanks,” I said. “Bye.”

I probably should have opened the door and given her a hug. Who knew when — or if — I’d see her again.