Then it occurred to him: the other guy was likely under some kind of spell, too.
“We can help you,” Finn told Luowski.
Maybeck’s questioning look threatened Finn.
“Get out of here before I hurt you,” Luowski said, brandishing the knife.
“I’d listen if I were you.” The unnamed man spoke in a gravelly monotone. Definitely drugged, drunk, or under a spell.
“You’re not us,” Maybeck said.
Finn stepped back carefully. Maybeck matched him step for step, but reluctantly; he wanted a fight.
Finn said, “We need the USB drive, Greg. Its contents, at the very least. Make a duplicate. Who’s going to know?”
“I’ll know,” the man—Dixon—said. Finn could finally make out his full name tag.
“Who that matters is going to know?” Maybeck said, making sure to direct this at Dixon.
Luowski spoke in the same grinding whisper. “Get off the ship. All of you. Get off and stay off. I’m telling you: they mean business.”
“Better listen to him, boys.”
Finn felt gooseflesh ripple across his skin. He spoke directly to Greg, doing his best to ignore Dixon.
“Come to us. Anytime. Anywhere. We can help.”
“Someone will die,” Luowski said. “One of you—you’ll die.”
He blurted it out like he was divulging a secret. For a moment they all stood still as statues.
Then Finn stepped back until he reached the door to the promenade. He and Maybeck never took their eyes off the two men as they retreated. Luowski still held the bloody knife.
Someone will die, Finn thought.
One of you.
IT WAS SOMETHING OF a Keepers convention in stateroom 816. Finn and Maybeck shed their coveralls and joined the other Keepers—Willa, Philby, and Charlene—along with the hologram of Amanda and the real-life Storey Ming. Jess’s sputtering, sparking hologram lay on the bed, the leg wound sometimes bleeding, sometimes not, depending on her current state.
“What a mess,” Charlene said.
“Keep calm,” said Philby.
Finn tried to catch Amanda’s eye, but she wouldn’t look his way. To say they’d been more than friends for the past year was an understatement. It was something special, and they both knew it. But things had noticeably cooled off since Finn had accused her of leading the Overtakers into Typhoon Lagoon, a conflict that had left Finn’s mother under the Overtakers’ power. He’d been stupid. It had come out of his mouth all wrong. He wasn’t sure if Amanda would forgive him. The possibility of that loss left Finn with a sickening feeling in his gut. Only one thing had eclipsed this reaction: that moment when he’d looked at his mother behind the wheel in the Typhoon Lagoon parking lot and had seen his mother’s bright-green eyes.
She had been born with blue eyes.
That moment had been paralyzing. Terrifying.
Finn’s mother was somewhere on the ship now. If he’d been successful in threatening Tia Dalma, she’d be his mother, not some lady under a spell. Finn was itching to find her and make sure she was okay; itching to have Amanda relent and allow him back into her world; itching to get Jess taken care of so he could figure it all out.
But as leader, he knew he had to stay focused on the task at hand. He knew to put the needs of the group first and his own desires last, no matter how frustrating and painful.
“We need to fix her leg, make sure Amanda is returned first, and then get Jess safely back,” he said. “Philby, you need to get to the Radio Studio, so only Amanda goes on the first Return.”
“Why did you come, anyway?” Willa asked Amanda, somewhat accusingly. The question hushed the others.
“I told you, Wanda. Jess’s dream about Maleficent and the Evil Queen capturing Charlie—Charlene,” Amanda corrected, knowing Charlene only liked the boys to use her masculine nickname. “The bee suits. Her dreams, her visions—whatever—get all tangled. Wanda wanted us here as backup.”
“Let’s stay on point, please,” said Professor Philby. “What matters is right now.”
“Once she returns, Jess is going to be in some serious pain,” Charlene said. “Amanda, you’re going have to be ready for that. She may cry out.”
“Ice,” Willa said. “We can numb the wound here. When she returns, it’ll still be numb.”
“Numb or not,” Maybeck said, “that thing’s going to hurt.”
* * *
Amanda scratched and clawed at the darkness like she’d had a blanket tossed over her. Pulled herself up and out of a nightmare in which Finn tried to kiss her good-bye and she put her hand up to his face, stopping him like a traffic cop. Pulled at the fabric of her unconscious as it bunched at her feet, still allowing no light to penetrate. Just then, a sound. A thin electronic whine that she knew well but couldn’t place. No, wait! It was their roommate’s CD player, an ancient portable thing that the girl used to listen to “massage music” to help her sleep.