“I thought I know meaning of ugly when I met Jimmy for first time.” He grinned in my direction. “But those … things got him beat, I'm sorry to say. It was the sight of their gray skin, and those black lines all over—that's what scared me so badly. And then the dark came over me, like the world had been sucked away with a snap of the fingers. It was … so strange.”

  A dark pall washed over Tanaka's face, something I never thought I would see. It made me want to cry and give up to see someone with such a cheerful demeanor suddenly look so dejected.

  “I don't remember much,” said Rayna. “The last thing I remember is hearing that terrible cry of the Ka again. I don't remember falling. Hooded One, what was it like for you?”

  Hood had been very quiet as well, which was saying a lot, considering he doesn't talk. His frayed robe hung from his body, looking sadder than usual. His faceless head jerked up at the mention of his name, and he stood and held up a wooden board he had taken to carrying around for messages. The paint from his finger washed clean from it pretty easily. Hood pointed his pinkie finger and placed it on the board, then revealed once again his otherworldly gift.

  He began to paint words with nothing but his finger.

  “IT WAS AS IF THE ONE CALLED RASPY HAD RETURNED.” He turned the board over. “I, TOO, FELL INTO DARKNESS.” He sat back down, and I realized he had his red ring, The Bender Ring, at his side for support. Hood and I had once traveled many miles, from a riverside mansion to a mountainside shack, in a matter of seconds by going through that ring. I would never forget the sensation of the rushing redness when we did it.

  Mom was sitting next to me, and when she began to speak, I could see that she had been crying. “Every time I think the horror cannot get any worse, something new happens. Those things were something out of a child's nightmare. My stomach turned at the sight of that veined skin, and the black eyes, the wings …” She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “I don't remember anything, really. Just fear and darkness coming over me.”

  “What about you, Rusty?” Dad asked.

  “I don't know,” he said. “For some reason I was worried about Jimmy. I knew he had his Gifts, but I just, I don't know, got really scared again that they were going to figure out a way past those Gifts and take him.” He looked at me. “Let's face it, Jimmy is the only one they really want. I had this surge of something, I don't know, fear or whatever, that they were just gonna scoop up my dweebish little brother and take off. Then I felt really tired. Then I fell.”

  “Did you just call me dweebish?” I asked. “What exactly does that mean, anyway?”

  “It means reeking little boys who run off and get special powers so their brothers can't beat the crud out of them anymore.”

  Everyone tried to laugh, but it was very weak. It was almost as lame as some of our courtesy laughs for Tanaka in the past.

  “Anyway, monkey-boy,” Rusty said, “what happened with you? Why didn't you pass out?”

  “Well, I did get this weird feeling like I wanted to go to sleep. But it happened way after you guys—I saw all of you fall down.”

  “Were you very scared?” asked Rayna. “As scared as we were?”

  I thought for a second. “No, not really. But remember, I have the Shield, and I've met up with these things over and over now. But I was scared a little, I guess, because the more people we gather, the more difficult it's going to be to do our little trick with hugging.” The Shield was my first gift, the one that protects me from anything and everything. When others are in direct contact with me, the Shield expands and protects them as well. It had helped my family more than once, but there was just no way we could have everyone on the yacht touching me at the same time.

  “I was more scared for you guys than for me,” I continued. “Why do you ask?”

  Rayna frowned. “I can't say for sure. I'm working on a theory somewhere in my head, but I don't want to talk about it until I have more time to think on it.”

  “Well,” Dad said, “we better get some rest; it's pretty late.” He looked at his watch. “We've kind of slacked off in having consistent lookouts while we sleep. I think we'd all agree that we can no longer afford to be careless with that. Everyone get in bed, and I'll take first watch. Then Joseph can take a turn in a few hours.”

  “That's fine, J.M.,” Joseph said, “but what are we going to do if they come again? Heck, when they come again.”

  Dad stood up. “Good point. Jimmy, I think I better turn this question over to you.” Dad walked over and put his hands on my shoulders and squeezed—that universal sign from dads that they love you. “But, I doubt they'll come again tonight. Let's all get some rest, and we'll come up with a plan of action tomorrow.”

  “What if they do come tonight, Dad?” Rusty asked.

  Dad smiled.

  “Run to Jimmy.”

  “Glad to know it's all up to me,” I said.

  “Come on, we'll be all right. It's not like we're a bunch of wimps, right? Except for that old geezer Tanaka sitting over there.”

  Tanaka stood up and roared his displeasure. “Mister Fincher-san, you ask your boy about that, neh?” Once, Tanaka had lifted me above his head and spun me around with barely any effort at all.

  “All right, all right, you win, Mr. Tanaka. Come on, let's go to bed. Those things aren't coming tonight, and if they do, Jimmy will get rid of them in a jiffy.”

  Dad would prove to be wrong on both counts.

  It was just past midnight, the soft drizzle of the unabated storm sending a quiet but constant echo of pitter-patter throughout the ship's quarters. Low clouds hung over the yacht like a dome of wet cotton, rebounding all sound, creating the strange sensation of being indoors. On the deck of the ship, the world was grim.

  Dad had felt certain that the adrenaline rush of the evening would keep him awake for hours. He sat in a lawn chair on the topmost deck, peering into the night with a feeling like he was all alone in the world. Although he would not quite admit it to himself, he knew that somewhere inside of him he was terrified that the Shadow Ka would return before morning, before we had the time and energy to devise a plan of defense. There were just so many of them.

  While we all slept below, Dad sat at his post, guardian of the fortress.

  Twenty minutes later, defying his fear, he fell asleep.

  Rusty and I shared a cabin, a simple room with a window, two small beds, a dresser and a closet. The gentle rocking of the boat had been pure misery for my stomach the first couple of weeks, but now it had become a soothing sensation, and mixed with the gentle rain, better than any sleeping pill.

  I was in the depths of slumber, having some bizarre dream about Superman asking me to take over for him while he went to visit his in-laws in Africa, when something woke me up.

  The sounds of the chains were descending upon us once again.

  The clanging thud of them clattering along the outside of my cabin was like dragging a string of bones across glass. The Ka were back, and they were up to something with those chains. Fear washed the sleep away like a high-powered fire hose on a single mote of dust. Half a second after I heard the grating sound of the chains, I was standing at the small round window, wide-awake. Condensation made it impossible to see anything but liquid drops of crystal, and I turned to run out the door.

  After a quick shove to wake Rusty up, I made for the hallway and the short stairs that led up to the main deck.

  Up above, everything had gone bonkers.

  The lights were out, so it was difficult to see anything but dark shapes and shifting shadows from the scant moonlight seeping through the overcast sky like an old werewolf movie. But the piercing sound of throaty roars and dragging chain links left no doubt that the Shadow Ka were back. And they were very busy.

  It was impossible to tell what they were doing, but they had an obvious air of intent. The chains. What was the deal with the chains?

  No one else was around, and I wondered who had been on watch. Dad should have awakened the next person by then, but I didn't see him or anyone else. I was torn. Should I begin defending us from the Ka, start shooting Ice at them like a crazed Jack Frost, or should I gather everyone and come up with a quick plan? Conflicting thoughts and confusion ran through my head, and I just sat there for several seconds.

  A Ka screamed near my head. The sound of a chain whipping through the air, and a gust of wind brushed my hair as the Ka flew past me. It didn't bother messing with me, knowing about the Shield. It landed several feet from me, and I could just see the outline of the human shape with wings attached, a long chain hanging around its neck. It looked at me and screamed again.

  Then it started wrapping the long chain around something, I couldn't tell what. At first I panicked, thinking it was my dad, but it wasn't a person. I looked around, straining my eyes. The Ka were everywhere, some flapping their wings, hovering to the sides of the ship, many more all over the ship itself. All of them were doing things with their chains, wrapping them, twisting them, tying them.

  I yelled out, asking if anyone else was up there. No answer.

  I ran back down the stairs. Rusty was standing at the doorway to our small cabin, looking terrified.

  “Jimmy, what's happening? What are they doing out there?”

  “I don't know. They're wrapping their chains around things, fastening and securing them. It doesn't make any sense.”

  “Is anyone else up there?” he asked.

  “Not that I can tell. Stay here, I'll try to get everybody together.”

  Rusty went and sat down on his bed, his face full of worry.

  I had just turned to run to the next door when Rusty yelped, a wail of surprise. I halted and popped my head back in our room.

  “Look!” Rusty yelled. He pointed at our small window, the one that looked out on the ocean, with no railings or walkways below it.

  Dad was out there, staring at us.

  Then he was gone.

  I ran to the window and looked out, but the glass was too thick, making peripheral views impossible. Dad was nowhere in sight. Then a dark shadow flashed past, then flew by again. Something sparkled as it went by the second time, and I was almost positive it was my dad's wedding ring. One of the Ka had my dad in its clutches.

  My stomach now turning with a sick sense of dread, I ran out of the room and started shouting. Behind me, Rusty was yelling, “They've got Dad! They've got Dad!”

  My family loved to accentuate the obvious.

  By now, others had appeared, and after a few moments of confusion, we were all gathered inside the Mess Hall. Dad was the only one missing, and Mom was a wreck. Captain Tinkles told us that he had tried to turn the lights on but nothing happened. They must have busted them while going about their strange task out there so everything would remain dark.

  Rayna took charge.

  “Jimmy, you go out there right now and get your dad. Don't worry about us; we'll figure things out. Go, go!”

  Wondering where my newfound courage of recent weeks had gone, I nodded and made for the door. Miyoko ran up to me.

  “Jimmy, I'll go with you.”

  “What?”

  “Come on!” She grabbed my elbow.

  I pulled it out of her grip. “Miyoko, are you crazy? Just stay here.”

  “Child of the Gifts, take her with you,” Tanaka said.

  I looked at him, waiting for his punch line, but none came. His face was set in stone. I turned back to Miyoko. She grabbed my hand this time.

  “I have yet to reveal something to you. Let's go.”

  She pulled me after her. As we went though the door, I asked her what she meant.

  “I am a member of the Alliance, Jimmy.” She stopped long enough to look at me. “We all have our own … talents.”

  She turned and ran, pulling me along once again. As we burst out into the open air, she yelled one more thing before the chaos began.

  “Just don't you dare let go of me!”

  It was still very dark, and the captain had been right. Not a light to be seen. We could see nothing but mist and shadow. But they were out there. We could hear them moving, and hear the echoing rattle of the chains.

  “What are we supposed to do? I can't see anything!”

  Miyoko did not reply, and I looked down at her face. I could barely make out her features, enough to see that her eyes were closed. She was mumbling something, and panic tickled my innards, remembering how everyone had fainted the last time we were in this situation.

  “Miyoko! Wake up!” I squeezed her hand.

  “Huh?” She squeezed back, but did not open her eyes. “Oh. No, no. It's not that. Just hold on for a minute.”

  The mumbling began again as I wondered what on the planet she was doing.

  “Okay,” she said after another few seconds. “Turn your head and close your eyes.”

  “Turn my—”

  “Just do it!”

  I looked the other way, into the darkness, and closed my eyes.

  When I was a kid (okay, when I was a little kid), my mom would always wake me up for school in stages. First, she would just open the door and call my name out. She knew that this would never work, but it started the process. Then, after about ten minutes, she would come in and shake me and tell me it was time to get up. Then, after another few minutes, she would turn on the lights. The blast of the lights through my eyelids always did the trick in jerking the sleep out of my brain.

  What happened right then was just like that.

  Only it was a hundred times worse.

  A piercing arrow of light shattered the darkness completely, and despite having my eyes closed, I felt sure that I was blinded forever.

  Miyoko was yelling.

  “Don't look at me! The light from my eyes will blind you! But now … but now you can see. Let's find your dad. Just DO NOT look into my eyes!”

  I opened mine, and for a few seconds, the world seemed to be a winter wonderland, white spots everywhere. Every sense in my body urged me to look at Miyoko, to see what this power of hers could be that lights up the universe, but I resisted. It reminded me of that place under the Pointing Finger, when I had to avoid looking at the rift behind me in order to obtain the Second Gift.

  My eyes adjusted, and I took it all in. Brilliant light permeated our surroundings, seeming to drive the mist and darkness away. The ship was loaded with Shadow Ka, their moist, gray, veined skin reflecting the light in distorted insanity. Most had their wings folded, and they waited, and watched. Many shielded their eyes, and some looked afraid, an emotion I had never seen on them before.

  I sprang into action, and looked for whichever beast held my dad in its gray clutches. Still holding Miyoko's hand, this time it was me who dragged her along. I could not let go of her, or else she'd lose the protection of the Shield, but I also wanted her behind me so that I would not look into the source of the blinding light. In my head, I imagined oval orbs of light where her eyes should be, blasting forth their luminescence like the spotlights so common at grand openings and car shows.

  The Ka did nothing as I ran around, completely indifferent to my search. It was unnerving to see them this way. I wondered what it was they awaited. Each one had a chain still around its neck, the ends dropping down tightly and wrapped around various parts of the ship-railings, beams, and parts of the actual structure.

  A thought began to form in my mind. Were they actually intending to …?

  My dad's voice broke my line of concentration.

  He was screaming my name, the volume increasing steadily, like he was falling from the sky … I looked up. A Shadow Ka was swooping down from above, my dad in its grip, its gray arms and legs holding him firmly. It swooped to within a few feet of me, then headed out to sea. A gale of wind from its passing blew in my face, carrying the reek of body odor and sewage filth. Forty or fifty feet from the yacht, with all the care of a man taking out his garbage, the Ka dumped my dad into the dark waters. The light from Miyoko's eyes revealed the ocean swallowing him whole.

  He did not come back up.

  I knew this was another trap, but I had no choice, absolutely no choice. Not knowing what else to do with Miyoko but take her along for her protection, I squeezed her hand, closed my eyes to avoid being blinded, leaned over toward her ear, and told her what we had to do. To my surprise, she didn't complain.

  We ran to the railing on that side of the boat, and we both climbed onto it, swinging our feet up and over until we were sitting on the topmost part, our feet dangling on the side toward the ocean. I told Miyoko to grab onto my neck.

  Then I called upon the Ice.

  With a thought, I pushed a stream of ice into the waters below me and then willed it to expand and continue outward in a wide path toward the place where my dad had fallen. The waters of the ocean intermingled with the misty air swirling into Ice, and in seconds the frozen walkway I'd envisioned had formed. Before the ship could drift away from the flat iceberg I'd created, Miyoko and I jumped onto the hard, frosty trail. It was a decent fall, but the Shield protected us, and a bounce or two later we were running down the icy trail, slipping and sliding the whole way. It took all my effort to not look into her eyes.

  We skidded to a stop at the end, and looked down, the worry for my dad increasing with every passing second. I imagined him encased in water, not breathing. Before I could blink an eye, Miyoko let go of my hand, and dove into the ocean, headfirst.

  I tried to stop her, but she was gone. For a frantic second, I hesitated, some fear of sharks and sea monsters bubbling up from nightmares past. Then, I followed her.

  But I went feet first like a scaredy-cat.

  The waters enveloped me like a blanket of slushy ice. It was freezing, and ripped the breath from my lungs. It didn't feel wet so much as it felt like cold, biting pinpricks of steel. Every control function in my body went into panic mode, and seemed to shut down. I felt a rising terror that I would never breathe again.

  When my eyes instinctively opened, seconds after the plunge, stinging pain shut them right up. I opened them again, just barely, squinting in an attempt to shield them from the salt and minerals in the water. It still hurt, but there was no choice but to endure it.