The word exploded from Alan with such force that Esti reeled back. Nothing could have prepared her for the sight of him. The mottled skin on his face was deeply furrowed and cracked, alternately shiny and covered with thick, dark scales. His mouth twisted in rage, his eyes stabbing into her with horror at what she’d done. In the sickly yellow light he looked like he could have crawled out of a grave. He was terrifying.

“This.” His voice became an inhuman croak. “This is the payment my lady demands.”

Esti couldn’t help the scream that burst from her as he grabbed her arm. He yanked her close to him, his furious eyes piercing hers.

“Then go ahead and look.”

Icy fear crawled through her body. Wrenching her arm loose, she scrambled back in terror as he followed her across the grass.

“Get away from her!” A familiar voice broke the darkness, and someone hit Alan with such force, he ended up several feet away.

Aghast, Esti watched the two shadows struggle in the dim light. With one part of her mind, she understood that somehow Rafe had appeared. With another part, she realized he didn’t stand a chance. Alan attacked with unearthly rage until Rafe staggered back. Alan followed him, as deadly and wicked as a phantom.

“No,” Esti cried, leaping at them. “Alan, don’t.”

She was too late. Alan’s fist landed on Rafe, and he crumpled. Esti threw herself against Alan to stop his other fist. When a glancing blow caught her, she lurched backward, holding her jaw.

“Esti!” Alan’s voice filled with panic. “Beloved Esti, I didn’t mean to.”

She stumbled and fell to the grass, scrabbling back as he came after her. Several feet away she heard a dull groan, but Rafe didn’t move. She couldn’t hold back another scream as Alan’s hideous face loomed above her.

He became deathly still as she shrank from him. After a moment, he slumped to the grass, panting. “Oh, my lady is harsh.”

Esti pressed her hands against her ears, but it didn’t help. His tormented breath shredded her heart.

He looked back at Rafe, hatred growing in his eyes. As he began to rise, Esti grabbed his arm.

“No, please,” she whimpered. “Leave him alone.”

He sank to the grass again, and Esti made herself stare into his awful face. He slowly pulled away until she let go of him, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Gentle Esti,” he said woodenly, reaching into his pocket. “The queen of betrayal.”

Her eyes widened in horror when she saw the delicate chain sparkling in the dim light. She couldn’t move as he clasped it around her neck, the tiny frangipani pendant resting against her throat.

“If you remove this again,” he said, “I will know you despise me.” Picking up his mask from the ground, he silently stood and walked into the darkness.

Esti watched him, frozen, until he disappeared around the edge of the theater building. She wanted to curl up against the wall and die, but Rafe lay motionless in the grass, his dark face shiny with blood.

“Rafe. Oh my God.” She dropped down beside him, trying to soak up some of the blood with her shirt. “Are you okay?”

He opened one eye, then groaned and shut it again. His nose was bleeding, and his other eye had already swollen shut. Blood welled from a deep cut across his forehead, and more from a split in his lower lip.

“You’re bleeding.” Her voice broke in disbelief. “He hurt you.”

Rafe’s eye opened again. After a moment he sat up, breathing deeply and holding his head. “I heard you scream.”

Esti clenched her teeth, wincing at the ache in her jaw. She wouldn’t let herself cry. “What are you doing here?”

“Aurora called me at the restaurant a while ago.” Rafe spoke the words carefully, grimacing as he touched his fingers to his bleeding mouth. “She said the jumbee had smashed her rosemary and kidnapped you. She sounded drunk and nearly hysterical.” He stared at Esti, squinting against blood that dripped into his eyes from the gash in his forehead. “I saw it attack you.”

“No.” Her shirt was already soggy with sweat and blood, so she pulled the front of his T-shirt up and wiped his eyes as gently as she could. She could never explain. “I’m taking you to the emergency room.”

“Forget it. I’m not going there.” He pulled his shirt up to wipe more blood away. “I barely saw that thing before it decked me, but I can tell you right now, it wasn’t human. Where did it go?”

Esti shuddered in fear. “You’re bleeding really bad, and I think you need stitches. Where’s the hospital?”

“Not a chance.” Rafe grimaced. “I’m not going near that place.”

She couldn’t argue, and she had no idea where the hospital was. She’d take Rafe home. Aurora would know what to do. “Okay, we’re going to my house. We should hurry.”

“I can’t see anything. I think I got blood in my eyes.”

“I’ll help you to the car. Why don’t you let me drive?”

She hadn’t driven since she moved here, but Rafe didn’t argue. Her hands shook as she helped him get in the Jeep. She found a dirty beach towel he’d thrown on the floor, and gave it to him to staunch the blood. Somehow, she managed to make it up Bayrum Hill without stalling or driving on the wrong side of the road. She was trembling as she parked in the weeds past the driveway.

“Come on,” she said, helping him to the front door. When they stumbled in, however, her heart sank. Two empty wine bottles stood on the counter, and from the corner of her eye she could make out Aurora’s prone body on the couch. Esti closed her eyes for a desperate second, then led Rafe across the living room to her bedroom.

“In here,” she said. “I’ll get some ice for you.”

As soon as she helped him lie down, she rushed back out to the kitchen, pausing to kick off her wet shoes and yank the paperback book from the back of her jeans. The pages had warped, soggy with sweat and blood. Barely glancing at it, she tossed it on the kitchen table.

Her hands began shaking again as she piled ice cubes into a bag and wrapped it all in a wet towel. She hurried back to her room. Kneeling beside the bed, she pulled the bloody beach towel from Rafe’s forehead and dropped it on the floor. As she replaced it with the icepack, his hand came up to cover hers.

“Thanks, babe.”

Pressure burned behind her eyes, but she refused to cry. She couldn’t fall apart. Instead, she tried to clean his face with a washcloth. Blood seemed to be everywhere.

His fingers tightened on hers. “What happened down there? I always thought jumbees were a bunch of bull, but I just changed my mind.”

“No.” Esti closed her eyes, trying to forget Alan’s horrible face. She had no idea what to do now. She wanted someone to take care of her, but she’d done a thorough job of losing everyone who might be able to help her. Her dad was dead, Aurora was drunk, Rafe was bleeding, and Alan . . . God only knew.

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I can’t remember your parents’ phone number.”

Even after Rafe told her, she had to dial it twice, and when she heard a voice on the other end, she almost dropped the phone.

“Rodney?” She cleared her throat. “It’s Esti.”

“Esti, of course.” He sounded very interested, rather than surprised she would be calling late on a Sunday night.

She took a deep breath. “Rafe is at my place,” she said. “He’s been hurt.”

“What happened?” He became all business.

“He—someone beat him up.”

“He got in another fight?” Rodney’s voice hardened. “Chupse. Have you called the jandam?”

“I haven’t. Something cut his head open, though, and he’s bleeding pretty bad. I think he should go to the hospital, but—”

“No,” Rafe protested.

“No,” his dad said simultaneously. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes, and I’ll bring a doctor with me. Can he make it until we get there?”

“Yes,” she said, weak with relief. “Thank you.”

She closed her eyes as she hung up. After a moment, she felt Rafe’s hand on hers again.

“You’re great,” he said.

“No, I’m not.” She abruptly stood. “I’m horrible. This is all my fault—you and Alan and Aurora, and everything.” She hurried out before Rafe could reply. She didn’t want Rodney to see Aurora drunk in the living room.

Her mom opened her eyes as Esti pulled her up from the couch. “Esti,” she said blearily, trying to focus. “You’re here.”

“Yes, I’m home.”

“You’re a mess.” Aurora frowned at her, then closed her eyes and sagged into Esti’s arms. “A mess.”

“You have no idea,” Esti muttered, walking Aurora toward her bedroom. “Just sleep now, and we’ll talk in the morning.”

As soon as Esti got back out to the kitchen, she tucked the empty wine bottles deep in the trash can, piling plastic bags on top to hide them. When she heard a noise behind her, she spun around to see Rafe leaning against the doorway of her bedroom. He looked terrible, the ice pack he held against his forehead stained crimson.

“Why are you cleaning the kitchen?”

She blushed. “You need to stay in bed until your dad gets here. You lost a lot of blood.”

He squinted at her. “I always wanted a girlfriend who would put me in her bed and order me to stay there.”

Her blush deepened, and he shook his head.

“Yeah, just because your jumbee beat me up doesn’t mean you want me in your life.” He made his way to the couch and sat down.

Esti began to shiver again, and she followed Rafe across the living room. “I’m scared,” she whispered, sitting beside him. “I didn’t know he would hurt you like this. And I want . . .” She touched his swollen face, then helplessly leaned her head on his shoulder. “I do want you in my life.”

“Aw, babe.” As he pulled her against him, they both heard a noise at the front door.

“Inside! It’s Rodney Solomon.”

Rodney’s eyes widened in shock as she opened the door. Esti knew she must look awful, but she just waved him in. His eyes widened further when he saw Rafe. A very tall West Indian man followed Rafe’s dad, carrying a large black briefcase.

“Esti, this is Dr. Leroy Tyler.”

The doctor gave her a withering look that made her want to shrink into the floor, then crossed the room to kneel in front of Rafe.

A disgusted hiss burst from Dr. Tyler as he sucked his breath in through his teeth. “Chupse. When you gon grow up, Rafe?” He had a very deep voice, and Rafe grimaced as the doctor pulled the icepack away from his head. “Still fightin’ over girl dem.”

“Jumbee have attack her, mon.”

Dr. Tyler paused and gave Esti another look. “Jumbee? Bull nonsense you chat.”

“I ain’t chat no bull. No human have hit me.”

The doctor studied Esti thoroughly. He finally turned back to Rafe, and she leaned against the wall, light-headed. She sank to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees.

“You okay?” Rodney crouched beside her, staring at her.

“I’m all right.”

“Any of that blood yours?”

“Excuse me?”

He gestured at her. “Is the blood on you all from my son, or are you hurt?”

Esti closed her eyes. “I’m not hurt. Rafe got hit pretty hard.”

“If Esti hadn’t—” Rafe broke off. “Ouch! What you doin’?”

“Hold still, boy,” Dr. Tyler said. “You all mash up. You gon need a shot of anesthetic before I stitch you.”

Rafe’s dad was still staring at Esti when she opened her eyes, and she forced herself to her feet. “I’d better get cleaned up. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Esti caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she closed the bathroom door. Dirt and blood streaked her arms and face. Her hair was matted and sticky, with bits of grass in it. She dropped her filthy clothes on the floor and stepped into the shower before she could see any more. It seemed to take forever to rinse the blood from her skin and hair.

Rafe’s blood.

She closed her eyes and plunged beneath the pouring water. She knew she was taking a heavy toll on the rainwater cistern, but she couldn’t help it. By the time she walked back out in a clean tank top and jeans, Rafe had a large bandage on his forehead. His eye was swollen shut, his face puffy and discolored even through the darkness of his skin. He was deep in a heavily accented discussion with his dad and Dr. Tyler, but they broke off as she came into the living room.

She hesitated, then held out a T-shirt to Rafe. “This belonged to my dad,” she said. “I thought you might want something clean.”

He nodded and stood up, carefully peeling off his bloody shirt and dropping it on the floor. Esti watched him put on her dad’s T-shirt, then she turned away again. “I’ll let you guys talk.”

“We’re done.” Rafe caught her hand and sat back on the couch, drawing her against him. She winced as her jaw pressed on his shoulder.

Dr. Tyler’s eyes narrowed. “You have a bruise on your face. Were you involved in the fight?” His dialect disappeared as he addressed her directly.

“I fell and hit my chin,” she whispered.

Rafe stared at her chin for a moment, then tightened his arm around her as he looked back at the two older men. “I’m staying here tonight. Esti needs the company.”

His dad frowned. “You come home. You’re in bad shape.”

Rafe looked at Dr. Tyler. “Am I gonna die?”

“Not now.” The doctor laughed. “Long as you stay away from jumbee dem.”

“’Tis why I stay here.”

Rodney sighed. “Esti’s in high school, Rafe. You know what happened last time.”

“I sleep on de couch, mon.” Rafe glared at his dad.

Dr. Tyler laughed again. “It have no difference. De painkiller I had give he does come in ten minute; he out like a baby.”

“Where’s Aurora?” Rodney looked around. “I don’t think she’ll like it.”

Esti cringed. “My mom’s in bed. She has the flu.”

Dr. Tyler raised his eyebrows. “She’s so sick she could sleep through all this? Do you want me to take a look at her?”

“No! She’ll be fine by tomorrow.” Esti felt her cheeks redden as Dr. Tyler exchanged a knowing glance with Rafe’s dad.

“Okay.” Rodney stood up. He thrust his fist at Rafe, shaking his head. “You sleep on the couch, Rafe.”

Rafe reached up with his own fist and bumped knuckles with his dad, then with Dr. Tyler. “Thanks, Dr. Tyler. Thanks, Dad. I’ll call you.”

Esti shut the door behind them, then turned around.

Rafe looked exhausted. “You’re a lousy liar, babe.”

She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, nodding.

“He nailed you, didn’t he? That’s how you bruised your jaw.”

“It was my fault,” she said dully. “I got in his way so he would stop hitting you.”

After a moment she heard Rafe get up from the couch, then his arms were around her. “He is one serious badjohn. Should we call Ma Harris, since she’s the—”

“No!”

“Why not?” Rafe said in surprise.

Esti shook her head. “Not Ma Harris. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow. It’s a long story, and de painkiller does come in ten minute.”

“I fire coffee quick before you change your mind. Dr. Tyler gave me some good stuff. I feel great.”

“You’re not drinking coffee right now.” She hesitated, too embarrassed to look up at him. “And you’re not sleeping on this awful couch. Aurora’s already mad at me anyway.”

Rafe smoothed Esti’s hair back from her face. “She’s drunk, isn’t she?”

“That’s my fault too,” Esti whispered miserably. “What was that hissing sound Dr. Tyler made when he was disgusted and sucked on his teeth? That’s how I feel right now.”

Rafe chuckled. “Chupse.”

“Yeah. Chupse.” She leaned her head against his chest. “Come on, you need to go to bed.”

Five minutes later, Rafe was asleep on top of the covers, fully clothed. Esti sat on her bed watching him for a long time. Whenever a shudder went through her, she touched his hand, reassuring herself that he was real. She finally leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips, then stood and went out to the kitchen table. For a moment she stared down at the bedraggled paperback book she had stolen from Manchineel Cay.

Bringing Shakespeare into the American Audience. The last treatise her dad published before his death. It was only logical that Esti would find it on Alan’s bookshelves, of course, along with all the other books her dad had given him. She caressed the peculiar little notch at the top of the spine, aching inside and wondering if it was possible for two copies of a book to have the same defect.

She tried to smooth the book flat, but it had warped beyond repair. A large dark smear ruined the cover. Rafe’s blood. With a growing sense of fear, she finally sat down and opened it. Little doubt remained in her mind where Alan had gotten this copy of her dad’s book, but she still hoped she wouldn’t see the beloved inscription on the first page.

Sweet Esti, her father began. You’ve come so far. I’ve seen you hold an audience with your voice and with your passion, clothing your characters in the words Shakespeare has written . . . Although the ink had blurred in a couple of places, the words were still legible.

Closing the book with shaking hands, she held it against her chest. With slow deep breaths, she forced down the terror trickling in from the darkest corners of her mind. She hadn’t seen this book since the airlines lost her luggage. The day she and her mom moved to Cariba.