"Is this true?" Bill was saying.

"Hey . . ."

"Is that true?" he cried.

Alex yanked on the rope and screamed as it bit into his wrists, whipping his body once, twice, and then finally he was head over heels, wrapping his ankles around the rope. He let the rope dig into his ankles, some of the weight coming off his hands. He nearly screamed with relief as blood began to flow through his wrists again.

Elle put her hand on Bill's face. "Hey, this is all just the beginning."

"I threw away everything for you," he cried, pus.h.i.+ng her furiously. Elle fell back off the beam and sailed through the air.

Still hanging upside down, Alex heard Elle land in the water as he began to untie the knotted rope around his hands with his teeth. After a moment his hands came free and he grabbed the rope, letting his legs whip down until he hung by his hands, which were aching but getting their feeling back.

Elle climbed onto the dock, pointing at him. "Don't let him-"

And Steven smashed her in the back of the head with the bowl.

She leapt at Steven as Bill closed in and Alex swung once more. He let go and suddenly there was nothing but air. Alex took a hard gulp.

Then cold. He plunged deep, forcing the air from his lungs and sinking fast.

Alex's body sang with cold as he swam, finding the piers and sticking to them, not daring to come up until he had gone at least fifty yards.

When he emerged under the dock, he heard screaming, and a vampire battle royale. He climbed up on the dock and ran, not looking back to see who would win.

Chapter 28.

The Secheron marina was alive with Friday night activity, partiers and diners out walking up and down the giant pier. Alex followed the bright lights, his tux dripping wet, scanning for his next move. He was running out of time.

On the water, down the rippling black surface of the lake, Alex made out a large craft, a cruise s.h.i.+p that would have been small at sea but was ma.s.sive for even a long lake like Geneva. He could see the lights up and down its body. That was the cruise s.h.i.+p Allimarc. His friends were there, and Alex was on a dock with nothing but seafood and martinis at hand.

He needed a boat, something with power, but the clanging of the lines against the poles along the marina taunted him with nothing but sailboats. That would be nice any other day, even if he could remember the knots, but it wouldn't do now. Then he reached a watercraft rental shop, long lines of Jet Skis and Sea-Doos tied up. Closed?

No, maybe not-he heard keys jingling at a side door of a shack between two thin jetties where the craft were unlocked and rented. A man in white pants with a black T-s.h.i.+rt was locking up. Alex could rent one.

Alex started to move toward the man, reaching into his pockets for his wallet. But of course it was gone, because Nothing. Could ever be. Easy.

Beg for a Sea-Doo?

An attractive girl in a yachting cap came around the shack and put her arm on the rental manager, a girlfriend, probably. She was eager to get up the big pier to the restaurant.

"Hey!" Alex shouted, but the guy didn't hear him over the wind coming off the lake.

Just then another sound came, the chugging of one last craft, a yellow WaveRunner, with a pair of university-age kids on it, drunk and whipping wildly as they brought the craft toward the jetty. They were late, obviously.

The rental manager was talking to his girl and Alex ran up the pier, out to the edge, sliding on his slick shoes to a stop at the end of the thin pier. He waved at the pair.

"Had enough?" Alex shouted in French, smiling like an idiot. Come on. Give your WaveRunner to the nice boy in the tuxedo.

They came to a stop by the pier. "Don't we have to take it all the way?" the boy answered.

"No, no, it's okay," Alex said. He gestured for them to come alongside the ladder that went down from the end of the jetty. He dared to glance back at the manager, who had now stopped making time with the girl and was turning his attention up the jetty.

Alex offered his hand and the guy grabbed it, merrily climbing the ladder. He started shouting about what a great time he'd had, or something, all of it fast and Italian and Alex wasn't listening because he was reaching his hand for the girl. She grabbed it, laughed and shrieked, and fell back.

"Come on," he called as genially as he could. Come on, for the love of all that's holy, get your drunk a.s.s off the WaveRunner.

She took his hand once more and put a bare foot on the ladder. For a second he thought she was going to lose it again but she climbed this time, and as she found herself on the dock, Alex heard the manager calling. "Attendez!"

Alex jumped on the craft, feeling it slosh down into the water with his weight. He twisted the throttle and stood still.

It was off. The guy had taken out the key when he climbed off.

The manager was coming fast now.

"Hey, I need the key!" Alex shouted to the Italian, who looked confused for a second, with good reason. Alex waved his hand at the manager, then pointed at the enormous blue float in the guy's hand. Hanging off the float was a telephone cord and a large metal ignition key. "I gotta take it to him, gimme the key!"

The guy jauntily saluted and tossed Alex the key as the manager arrived, running full bore. Alex slapped the key into the ignition and turned it, feeling the motor rev to life, churning in the water.

"Don't worry," he shouted as he gunned the engine. Alex looked back as the jetty shrank in the distance, the manager's wails of protest disappearing in the wind. Water was roaring up from the rear of the watercraft, and he picked up speed, standing tall and leaning forward, the craft bouncing high on the waves.

Soon the darkness of the water gave way to a crazy quilt of colored reflection. Ahead of him loomed the ma.s.sive waterborne hulk where Ultravox was ready to make his final move.

Chapter 29.

Anyone on the promenade deck who cared to look might have picked out the bright yellow WaveRunner approaching at a steady clip, but no one did. As he got closer, Alex heard calypso music streaming from above. There were teens and adults on the deck, arm in arm, looking at one another more than at the dark water.

Alex came up along the starboard side, hugging the side of the s.h.i.+p, scanning the white metal for any kind of access. The water was churning and he had to keep about two yards away to avoid getting swamped and sucked under. The s.h.i.+p was not moving fast, but it was kicking up a dangerous spray.

The Allimarc was not as large as a typical cruise s.h.i.+p-it was more of a giant yacht-but for a landlocked (if enormous) lake, the s.h.i.+p made a fantastically opulent statement. It was clearly very new, and Alex felt certain it would be outfitted with every geegaw a self-impressed s.h.i.+p owner would want, from HD screens in every stateroom to marine compactors for recycling gla.s.s and aluminum waste down to handy little blocks, to water purifiers to bring in lake water for use in cooking. Like the cars they were driven in, the s.h.i.+p was a symbol of the power of the parents of these schools' students. The students themselves might be just kids, the s.h.i.+p was saying, but we the parents are powerful, even dangerous.

As he came around the curve of the hull he saw that the Allimarc had a rescue ladder near the prow, going all the way down under the waterline, cutting its own groove in the lake. Alex came up alongside, letting go of the WaveRunner, and grabbed on to the ladder. The WaveRunner whipped past his feet as he scrambled up. He heard a heavy, chunky sound as the yellow craft got caught up in the churn and disappeared beneath the s.h.i.+p, and Alex mentally apologized to the rental manager. The Polidorium could replace it.

Xylophone music accompanied him up the ladder. When he reached the top, he peered over the edge, keeping his head behind a huge life preserver and stanchion.

The deck at the prow was deserted. Alex scanned, seeing the lights of the bridge up above, and the tops of a few crewmen's heads. No static. He grabbed the side and climbed, dropping onto the deck. As he hit the boards his dress shoes slid and he tumbled, crying out briefly as he fell in a mound of thick blue rope.

Alex stood up, breathing, taking in the calypso music and the cold wind leaching body heat through his jacket. He was dripping water. Okay. Now what?

The music s.h.i.+fted to a more orchestral number-a live orchestra, he could tell. Alex slunk along the deck, sticking to the bulkhead. The promenade, where the air-seeking partygoers were gathered, was above-he had to stay close in, to avoid being seen.

A pair of adults came around a corner up ahead. Instinctively Alex waved and they waved back. He saw a door and ducked through it.

The jangling, oscillating chirps and trills of a casino drowned out any hint of the orchestra from the ballroom above. Alex moved through the darkened, smoky cave, waving off the stale cigarette smoke, past a few more adults enrapt by the charms of the slot machines. Amazing that some parents would come all this way to see their kids, but would probably spend the next six hours right here, tugging at the golden arm.

Alex exited the casino and found himself at the center of the s.h.i.+p, facing a huge stairwell with bra.s.s railings and gilt-edged rugs and thankfully a guide plaque on the wall. This was level 1, and the ballroom was on 3, one up from the promenade deck.

Soaking or not, he had to just go. Alex ran his hands through his wet hair, slicking it back.

Two flights up he found a sign: MINISTERS BALL AND BENEFIT. As if there were anything else going on.

A woman was speaking, and the voice sounded full but older, probably in her sixties.

". . . a tribute to these fine young people that they have weathered these events so well. Even now, a house is being refurbished where Glenarvon will continue its work. But that's not all: There is much more work to be done on the school's own grounds. This is why . . ."

Alex headed out onto the walk around the ballroom, taking his place next to some plants and peering in.

How was it going to work? In the woods, Elle had played Ultravox's voice, and that had been the cue. But how would they do it here? There was a PA system, of course. Should he go look for the PA?

In the ballroom the speech subsided, and Alex saw another staircase, leading up to a dining area. There was a crowd gathered up above, and he could see boys in tuxes and the girls in evening gowns. There was a woman, gray haired, elegant, in a head-to-toe sequined gown, standing next to a microphone with a stack of large, black index cards.

"And now the moment you've all been waiting for: our debuts," the woman said.

The attendees of the ball had gathered along the edges, and the woman began reading names.

"Miss Millicent Deveraux." Alex saw a stunning seventeen-year-old come forward, at the hand of a gentleman in a tux. He stepped forward and handed her off to her escort as the woman went into Miss Millicent's many swell-sounding accomplishments. Apparently wintered in the Alps, where she was teaching ice sculpture on the side. Did they make this stuff up?

Alex caught a glimmer of green in the waiting room above-Vienna. She was standing next to a man who must be Mr. Cazorla.

And there was Minhi-next to a tall, olive-skinned woman who looked like her, but with a pixie cut and a little more fullness. And now as he scanned he saw the rest-Ilsa behind them, Paul and Sid, waiting in the wings, and next to them a boy Paul was talking to. Javi, the RA from school. An escort in a pinch for Vienna. They both spoke Spanish. What luck.

The wet coat was bulky and annoying and he stripped it off, letting it fall at his feet, his lapel pin clacking on the boards.

The woman announced that each debutante would be met with a gift, a pen-a gleaming platinum Montblanc, in fact, commemorating the upcoming international meeting this ball was intended to kick off. Although of course Glenarvon was accepting offers of support, Alex figured that one of those pens could pay for most of the books in the library. What are you doing, Alex? You're here on a hunch. You should be here for real. You should be up there. The mission was a fake and Elle was just playing along when you stretched it out into a threat against the ball. You're as much a chump as the Merrills.

He thought all of this with a blistering honesty. No, wait. He thought that he thought that.

The man standing behind him had said it.

Alex felt static, finally, far away and m.u.f.fled.

"Let's take a walk, Alex," said Ultravox. "There's something you'll want to do."

Chapter 30.

Minhi received her Montblanc from Paul and held on to it as she took his hand and they stepped down the rest of the stairs.

They began to dance as the announcements went on, and she watched the crowd. Her mom was on the side, talking to Mr. Otranto, and she was nodding in a way Minhi had seen before: It was the serene look of a woman hearing a pitch. There were stations around the ballroom where people gathered for fun or for paying a lot of money. Not far from the bar near a side door, there was a table where Ms. Daughtry was taking pledges for the rebuilding of Glenarvon. The punch bowl (for the students) was on the other side of the room where a representative from the upcoming Ministers' Conference was working the same angle. Minhi's mom would stop at one or the other soon, probably just to shut Otranto up.

The orchestra segued into calypso again. Javi and Vienna came into view over Paul's shoulder, Vienna looking charming, smiling as any deb should, but not all the way to her eyes. "You have to admit, this is better than the cages down in the Scholomance," Paul said.

Minhi laughed. They were swaying, dancing about as much as Paul could manage. "And I got a pen," she said.

She dropped the pen into her tiny handbag before taking his hand again. That was better.

"What?" Paul asked, looking at her.

"Just . . . enjoying the music," she said. The dancing was to go on for a few numbers and then there would be a switch; the hostess would announce that they should each dance with their parents, which was charming except that Minhi was there with her mom and she wasn't sure if they could just sit it out or decide who should lead.

"d.a.m.n cell phone," she said aloud, not intending to.

"Yeah," Paul said as kindly as he could. He looked around. "You want me to get you some punch?"

She smiled. "Sure."

Paul gallantly bowed and she curtsied, and he was off, showing some measure of relief. None of this felt quite right.

For a moment she did listen to the music, the rhythmic xylophones and bongos thrumming in her head. She turned around and looked at Ms. Daughtry, who smiled back and waved.

Behind Ms. Daughtry she saw a glint of metal on the floor, s.h.i.+mmering like a jewel in a mound of dark cloth. She waited for Paul and studied the ballroom banners for a moment.

She shot her eyes back to the glint.

Minhi found herself walking toward it and coming around the open doorway, staring at the jewel. Her heart began to thump against her chest as she knelt, reaching out to touch a soaking tuxedo jacket that had been tossed on the floor, water streaming around it.

It was Alex's lapel pin.

Minhi stood up as the hostess started to announce the parental dance. She followed the stream of water with her eyes and began to run.

"You've done very well," said Ultravox, who still wore a peasant s.h.i.+rt and casual pants, no slave to fas.h.i.+on. Down in the bowels of the s.h.i.+p, in a hold about the size of a two-car garage, the man's voice echoed off metal walls as they strolled past pallets of cardboard and bins of gla.s.s and aluminum. They were walking through a hold where trash and recyclables would be processed, Alex dimly realized. Then the realization drifted away.

"You're probably wondering why I don't have an army," Ultravox said. "The Scholomance is so obsessed with making its point with droves of soldiers, but I find a little bit of leaders.h.i.+p can go a long way."

The vampire was just behind Alex and to the side. Alex started to break free of the voice, when Ultravox said again, "No, you don't want to raise your hands. You're tired of all that. Look what it's got you."