Meg Cabot - Awaken

“I thought you said the police are all in Seth Rector’s father’s pocket.” Kayla was sitting on top of the dining room table, swinging her legs beneath the long skirt of her purple gown.

“Maybe not all of them.” I paused as I dropped my mobile phone into my tote bag, thinking back to the assembly they’d had my first day of school. “Police Chief Santos seemed really determined to keep Coffin Night from happening.”

“Maybe because he wants to keep people out of the cemetery, the hub of Seth Rector’s drug empire,” Alex said. “The chief is probably getting kickbacks.”

“Or maybe,” Kayla said, “you watch way too much television.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Kayla,” Alex said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Did your dad spend most of your life in jail for a nonviolent crime he was probably tricked into committing by Seth Rector’s father, or was that my dad?”

“Jesus,” Reed said from the chair at the dining table where he’d been quietly sitting. “What kind of town do you people live in, anyway? Coffin Night? Drugs?” He looked at Chloe, huddled in a chair opposite his. “Did you know about any of this stuff?”

She shook her head, her eyes wide. “I’m homeschooled.”

“I agree with that young man,” Mr. Graves said, his head turned in the direction from which he’d heard Reed’s voice. “This has all gone too far. I understand that Miss Oliviera is anxious to get revenge for the captain’s tragic death —”

Or find Thanatos , I thought but didn’t add aloud. If he exists .

“— but the welfare of these people has to be our highest priority at the moment. And the sad truth of the matter is now that they’ve killed the captain, the Furies are no doubt gone for good —”

Thunder rumbled overhead. But it was only because of the growing storm outside, not John being witty, since when I glanced sharply towards the bed, I saw that John was still gone. As it had grown darker outside — not to mention colder and wetter — it had been thundering more often.

We’d also allowed more of the souls of the dead inside. I noticed a few of them start in alarm at the ominous sound.

My spirits lower than ever, I decided I didn’t want to argue anymore with Mr. Graves. I didn’t want to talk anymore. My eyes were hot and tired from all the crying I’d done, and my throat hurt, despite the amount of tea Mrs. Engle had foisted upon me to soothe the ache.

I feared nothing would ever soothe the ache, however. Especially since I’d come to the slow realization that, with John gone, so was the bond between us. Why was I even doing any of this? I was free to go back to my old life, before I’d ever known anything about magic diamond pendants, death deities, and the realm of the dead.

So there was nothing to keep me from picking up my bag, stepping back into my own world, and leaving all these people and their problems and complaints behind.

Yet for some reason, here I was still standing in the Underworld, arguing with old Mr. Graves like someone who still had a stake in this game.

“Look,” I said to the ship surgeon. “Remember what you said? Our responsibility must always be to do what’s best for the living. Right? Which means we need to get the dead to their final destinations before they start piling up down here. Otherwise, next thing we know, they’ll be overflowing into the streets of Isla Huesos, and we’ll have —”

Mr. Graves looked pained. “Pestilence.” He almost spat the word.

“Exactly. But if I can find a couple of boats and figure out a way to get them here, and maybe find this Thanatos guy, too — if he exists — and get him to let go of John … and while I’m at it, prove who killed Alex, and my counselor, Jade … well, you said it yourself: I’ve got to try. It’s my responsibility.”

“And how,” Mr. Graves asked, his sightless eyes wide, “do you plan on doing any one of those things?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” I said flatly. “I’ll just have to figure it out as I go along.”

“That,” Mr. Graves said, “is hardly reassuring.”

Even if I did flee to my mother’s house, the next time I saw my grandmother, I’d remember what she’d done. She’d never be punished for it.

I couldn’t live with that. Not that it would make any difference. Without John, my life would be as bleak and meaningless as one of those boring black-and-white movies they were always showing at the cinema art house back in Connecticut.

But innocent people, like my counselor, Jade, would still have been murdered, and someone needed to pay for that. And the people here in the Underworld still needed my help. I couldn’t abandon them, no matter how hopeless I felt. They were my responsibility now, the way they used to be John’s. They were the choice I’d made that night in his bed when he’d asked if I understood the consequences of what we were doing. I’d thought he’d meant the consequence of possibly creating a demon baby.

What he’d meant was this .

You couldn’t go back to your mom’s house and hide under the covers when you had a baby, pretending you couldn’t hear its cries. That big, fat, demanding baby was your responsibility now. You had to take care of it, for as long as it needed you, even when it wasn’t being cute and giggly, but when it was crying and hungry.

I should never have worried about having a demon baby as a result of making love with John in the Underworld: The Underworld itself is a demon baby.

I should have known there was a catch. In Greek myths, there was always a catch.

“Ready, Pierce?” Frank had come over, a heavy-looking sack hanging off one shoulder. Whatever was in the sack jingled faintly as he walked.

“Why does he get to go with you, and not me?” Kayla glared.

“Because I’m the … what’s it called? Oh, right. The muscle.” Frank had cleaned up the cut on his forehead, but he still resembled, with his long facial scar, black leather trousers, and multiple tattoos, a cross between a pirate and a biker from a motorcycle gang. In my opinion, Frank had been born in the wrong century.

Kayla whipped her head around to glare at me. “If you guys are going to kill Farah Endicott, I want to be there.”

“Why would anyone want to kill Farah Endicott?” Alex asked. “What’d she ever do to you? Seth Rector’s the one who murdered me. If anyone’s going to get popped, it’s him. And I should be the one who gets to do it.”

“You guys,” I said, dropping John’s tablet into the tote bag. I couldn’t keep carrying things around in my sash. Not only did it look unwieldy, it was uncomfortable.

And now that the Fates were gone, I couldn’t wish for a new gown with pockets. I couldn’t even bring myself to change into the only modern-day dress in my closet. That’s because it was the one John had asked me to wear on our first date … the one that had ended up being what I’d worn the night we’d … well, never mind. I’d never be able to wear that dress again.

“No one is getting popped,” I said firmly.

Mr. Graves agreed.

“Yes,” he said. “Please cease this talk of, er, popping people immediately. This is exactly why I said from the start of this that the captain wouldn’t approve of any of —”

“Mr. Graves,” I said to him. “I’ve got this.” I pulled my diamond from the bodice of my dress and showed it to Kayla. “Look. This kills Furies when I touch it to someone who’s possessed by one. It doesn’t kill people. And as far as I know, Farah Endicott is not possessed by a Fury.” Farah’s boyfriend, Seth, I wasn’t so sure about, so I didn’t mention him, since I didn’t want to rile up Alex any more than he already was.