“But—”

“Nope.”

“Wait, what about—”

Lon pushed my hair back over my shoulder. “She said no. Did you not hear a word I said earlier? No means no. Period. End of discussion.”

Jupe groaned in frustration as the boat slowed, rocked, and then abruptly changed direction. “Whoa. Where are we going now?”

Lon glanced out the window. “Probably to the reef he was talking about. We were headed south before, so looks like west now. What’s the GPS say?”

Jupe jumped up from the sofa and read the screen by the door. “It says ‘System offline. Reconnect to network.’ ”

Oh.

“It’s probably fine,” I said. “The captain did mention he was having router issues.”

Kar Yee inspected her nails. “Sure, put your faith in the bigoted white man in charge. That always works out.”

The boat slowed again, then came to a stop. Seconds later, we heard uneven footfalls coming down the steps outside the cabin. The door swung open and Captain Christie and his million-dollar smile shuffled inside.

“My apologies, folks. We’re going to have to take a roundabout way to the reef. Might take an extra half hour or more. There’s a second storm cropping up south of us, and I can’t handle two. The first one’s already draining me.”

“How come you didn’t know about the second storm before now?” Jupe asked. “I thought sailors got storm warnings from the Coast Guard, or something.”

“We do. Only state-of-the-art equipment onboard the Baba Yaga. But Mother Nature is tetchy over water. Anyway, it’s nothing to worry about. Just don’t want to get trapped in the middle of two storms, little man.”

Jupe’s restraint was threadbare. I was pretty sure he was one more “little man” away from losing his shit.

“As long as we’re safe,” Lon said. “I don’t want to take chances with my family. I’d rather go back.”

“Rest assured, I’ve been piloting boats for thirty years. Never had an accident.”

“How’d you hurt your leg, then?” Jupe asked, his tone utterly accusatory.

“Shark got me.” The captain lifted knee-length shorts to reveal a crescent-shaped scar resembling a bite mark that stretched across his lower thigh.

“No way—really?”

The captain bellowed a laugh. “Nah, just messin’ with ya. No sharks in this area.”

“Yes there are. Great whites. I’ve seen one with my dad.” He turned to Lon. “Right?”

Lon nodded.

“Sharks don’t like storms, so you’re fine,” the captain said. “Everyone enjoying themselves so far? Sorry the Wi-Fi’s down. I’ll have it up again shortly, along with the satellite TV signal. Poker chips and cards in that cabinet there, if you’d like to play.”

“Who’s driving the boat?” Jupe asked.

“Got it idling, don’t you worry.”

“What if we drift into the cliffs?”

The captain’s smile dimmed; he wasn’t the only one losing his patience. “Do you see the shore?” the man said, pointing to the windows, where there was nothing but ocean and storm clouds. “We’re going away from the shore, not toward it, little man.”

That did it.

Lon recognized Jupe’s intentions a second before I did and loudly warned his son, “Don’t you dare!”

But it was too late.

Jupe had gritted his teeth and was already blurting out something that was more a general expression of frustration than a command: “Shut up and sit down, you . . .” Jupe paused, searching for words in the middle of using his knack, finally selecting what was in all probability the least offensive of the putdowns he was juggling. “Brainless idiot.”

A dazed look spread over the captain’s face. His mouth slackened. Shoulders went limp. Halo grew smaller. A moment later, he sank to the floor and sat.

The cabin was silent as we watched him, waiting to see what would happen. After a few seconds, I walked over to the man and waved my hand in his face. “Captain Christie? Can you hear me?”

No response. He just stared ahead with glazed-over eyes.

Lon squatted next to me and, in turns, shook the man’s shoulders and called out his name. When it was clear the captain wasn’t coming around, Lon muttered, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Jupe made a small noise, just as surprised as the rest of us. “Uh-oh.”

“Godammit,” Lon complained. “What the hell have you done to him?”

“Crap. I don’t know. He can’t literally be brainless . . . can he?”

“You’d bettertifu’d b sure as shit hope not. What did I tell you about using your knack?” Jupe gritted his teeth in embarrassment as Lon plowed on, not waiting for an answer. “I told you to ask permission and never use it on strangers.”

“He’s not a stranger. And I’m sorry, but he was being—”

“This is not a joke,” Lon barked. “You can’t go around using it without thinking.”

“Okay, okay,” Jupe said, scratching the side of his neck. “I’ll fix it. Give me a second.”

“Yes, you damn well will.”

“Hold on. Let’s think about this carefully,” I said, stepping between the two of them. “You didn’t ‘make’ him brainless, Jupe. You must’ve just tricked his mind into believing that he’s, well—”