I feel Pierce's jealous frown on the back of my neck as we fly from West Marin Heights to the DOT Corporation barn where we are having our first press event planning session. Having 'disposed' of the real party planner, we are going with Cupid to meet with the mysterious boss himself! Apparently, this party is too important to hand off to underlings. But the closer we get to the barn, the tighter the knot in my stomach becomes. I am worried about two things: 1. Will our disguises be enough to convince the boss that we are human event planners (and not supernatural beings)? And 2. Will I be able to stop myself from throwing the evil boss into the merfolk tank with an electric eel, a box jelly, and a starving lionfish?

The afternoon sun is warm, the sky is a deep, show-off blue, and the few clouds look like frothy dollops of sea foam. A day like this should be for lounging on a rock in the ocean, watching the humans frolic on the sand, not bringing down a criminal mastermind. As we fly higher, the air chills my skin, especially as I'm clinging for dear life onto the ice sculpture that is Pierce Knightguard. But I endure the ... um ... hardship. Thank Poseidon, he can't read my mind right now. I may never let him drink my blood again!

But even as I think this, I know it's a lie. My blood is singing with the desire to become Pierce's lunch. Shut up, blood!

Pierce has barely spoken to me since Cupid planted that kiss on me in the cafeteria, though. I think he noticed that I kind of liked it and that I sort of tried to kiss Cupid back. But Cupid's got powers! Love powers! It's not like I go around throwing myself at random gods. (It doesn't help that Cupid's flying ahead of us and looking back over his shoulder every few minutes and smirking.)

"Ouch, you're crushing me, Waverly."

"That's because I'm not interested in falling. We're not over the ocean now. That's a forest. It's a long way down. There are very pointy treetops I'd like not to impale myself on."

Never anger a vampire poet boyfriend. Not because you're worried he might drink all your blood, but because the brooding is as annoying as sand-burn. Is it wrong that I'm thinking about impaling him on the pointy treetops? No, I suppose that wouldn't be a great plan. Maybe instead, I should hitch a ride with Cupid, though that probably wouldn't make my life any easier.

Cupid spins and dives toward the earth. Pierce, not to be outdone by Cupid's flying artistry, twists, and we plummet. I clutch my wig and scream. It's like the Undertow, the spinning roller coaster at the boardwalk, I try to tell myself. But myself argues back and says that there's very little probability of death on a rollercoaster. The ground is moving quickly toward us, a blur of sand-colored grasses and dirt road.

At the last moment, Pierce turns us right-side up, and we land hard on our feet. I glare at Pierce but decide not to say anything about his competitive stunt because we have a job to do. And if I'm being totally honest, I love that he is possessive of me. It makes my spine prickle, and my cheekbones ache because I grin whenever I think about his jealousy. I am a very bad mermaid.

"Why did we land in a field next to a road?" I ask. Before we started our hair-raising descent, I could see that the barn was still relatively far off, over the next knoll. Around us are brown hills, and the licorice smell of fennel floats on the light wind. Even though there's a breeze, my head is hot under the wig, and I haven't worn contacts in so long—since the last time Carla and I went to the boardwalk—that I keep wiping my eyes.

Cupid starts to answer me, but Pierce interrupts him, causing Cupid to stick out his tongue super immaturely. "We landed here because we obviously can't fly into the human enclave. The 'boss' can't know we're supernaturals; it'd blow the whole thing. We are just ordinary party planners here to rescue his event. We talked about this, Wave. Weren't you listening?"

"Sometimes I have a hard time concentrating," I say. What I don't say is: especially when you're around, because I don't want Pierce to know the effect he has on me. "So, he'll think we walked to the meeting at the barn?"

"Nope," Cupid says.

A couple of small cars drive past the field we are standing on. Then, suddenly, Pierce steps into the middle of the road, as something sleek and powerful looking, the color of fresh blood, approaches. As it screeches to a halt, dirt flies everywhere.

The window of the car goes down. "What the hell, you idiot?" says the driver, a white-haired human with an immense belly and a few curls of white hair peeking over the top of his Hawaiian shirt. His driver-side door flaps open like a gull's wing, and the man hops out. Cupid is eying the shirt with utter disgust.

"I need to borrow your vehicle," Pierce says smoothly, gazing deeply into the human's eyes. "Would that be all right with you?"

"Yeah, sure. No problem."

"I'll need it for about an hour. That all right?"

"Of course. I'll just sit right here on this nice soft rock and read the Wall Street Journal while I wait. You take all the time you need," says the man. His eyes have a faraway, glassy look, as if his consciousness is ebbing like a receding tide.

"Philistine!" Cupid grumbles. "Some people should not be allowed to wear Hawaiian print." He waves his hand. I look back, and the man is now shirtless. Cupid is serious about fashion.

"Pierce, can't you just do that vampire juju hypnosis thing on the boss?"

"I will try, Waverly, but it only works on the weak-minded. Remember that."

We climb inside the car which smells like polished metal and leather and sunbaked algae. The immediate problem is that there are only two seats, and there are three of us. Cupid has made it clear that gods do not drive human vehicles, so Pierce takes the driver's seat, forcing me to sit on Cupid's lap. Pierce is practically snarling at Cupid and drops his fangs. The car vibrates with unleashed power. "You picked the car, dude," Cupid says with a satisfied smirk.

Between the two seats, there's a silver stick with a ball on top. Pierce jiggles it, and there's a horrible scraping sound.

"You do know how to drive, right?" says Cupid.

"Of course. Piece of cake."

"How much have you driven?" I ask.

"I used to watch my parents. Why, Waverly, you're turning white as a vampire." He pulls my face to his and kisses me possessively. I'm squirming on Cupid's lap. "Just kidding. I had my license for a year when I was a human. But I've never driven a manual transmission."

"What is that?"

"Never mind." He moves the stick, and suddenly the car is screaming down the dirt road in a cloud of dust, heading for the evil lair.

Once we arrive at the barn which looms over us, blocking the sun, I scan the grounds for Cyril, the donkey, and his pals but can't see them anywhere. This makes me uneasy. Did the humans discover that Cyril helped me? Poseidon's beard, I hope he and the mares are okay.

Cupid knocks on the front door. I adjust my wig, which is styled in a short neck-exposing, shiny black bob with thick bangs. The contact lenses are blue, and Lily-Bella has dressed me in a low cut black tank with tight black leather pants and boots. While we wait for someone to come to the door, Cupid keeps looking over his shoulder with hooded eyes, as if he's checking me out, just to piss off Pierce.

Cupid looks so handsome in his dark gray pants and jacket and crisp white shirt, a pink Gerber daisy in the lapel. He looks like a male supermodel. Pierce, though, makes Cupid look like a blobfish in comparison. My vampire is in a dark blue suit with a skinny blue tie. His dark hair is perfectly mussed, and his bright blue eyes flash with promises of seduction. All of this, combined with those dimples that suck you in like tiny whirlpools with no escape, practically makes me melt even in the shadowed entrance to the barn. I squeeze his hand hard; I want him to know he's the only vampire, I mean man, for me.

Suddenly, the barn door slides open, and a tall pole-thin man with bushy straw-colored hair glares at us. He's wearing jeans, a black polo shirt, and a black jacket. The guy looks like a broom. I think I glimpse a gun barely hidden beneath his jacket.

"What d'you want?" It's the Black Sea guard from the other night. I recognize his voice.

"We're here about the press event," Cupid says smoothly.

"You don't look like the party planner," the guard says in his heavy accent.

"I'm her replacement. I work for her firm," Cupid says, presenting a business card that he must've pulled out of thin air. Gods! "She's become ... indisposed."

Earlier, Cupid had explained that he'd no problem 'convincing' the real party planner to leave town suddenly. He'd bragged that all it took was one arrow as she was pumping gas. The woman fell passionately in love with the next guy she saw—an accountant from a place called Akron, Ohio. Cupid said that the last time he saw them, they were "balancing their assets and working on their bottom line." I do not understand what he's talking about, but he had a lewd grin on his face as he explained the situation.

The security guard slides his thumb over the embossed card. "Follow me."

It's weird to be back in this building. All I want to do is go to the merfolk and set them free. I look up at Pierce, and he squeezes my shoulder. I shouldn't be nervous; after all, this time I'm accompanied by a super-hot flying vampire poet and a god. But I will not underestimate our foe. He has gotten this far by controlling one of the most formidable mermen in the Pacific—Brack Sharkweather. I must be on my guard.

I throw out my telepathic voice in the direction of the captive merfolk. "It's Waverly. Are you guys okay?"

"We've been better," answers Fitzwilliam.

"Do you want us to break you out today?"

"No, let's proceed with the plan. But Miss Fishwater?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful. The boss is not to be taken lightly. He is very powerful and astute. Be on your guard, and never allow yourself to be alone with him. Apparently, he has quite the sordid reputation with the ladies."

"Uh, thanks," I say. Now I'm totally freaked out, whereas before I was only mildly panicked.

We are ushered into a narrow office at the front of the barn with a long window overlooking the parking area.

"Bring them in, Igor," says an oily voice from the inner office. I recognize it immediately as the same one I heard on the yacht in the engine room. It makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. "Then wait out there. I'll call if I need you."

We walk through the doorway into the inner sanctum. It's dark and cave-like in here, and the air smells so sweet I can taste it in the back of my throat. There are no windows. There is, however, a long tank behind the desk filled with tropical fish. This is the only attempt at décor in the room.

The man behind a huge glass desk stands and looks down at us. He isn't at all what I imagined from his voice. He's tall, but also large, almost as big as my dad. He has long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, broad shoulders, and a square jaw. He has one green and one blue eye, and they seem to focus independently on things in his periphery. But it's the fact that he is extremely attractive that surprises me the most. There is a magnetism that exudes from him and buzzes through the room.

"Dirk Darkins." He holds out his hand for Cupid to shake.

The boss is named Dirk Darkins? That just screams 'I'm a violent lunatic who thrives on the suffering of others, and I practice my evil laugh in the mirror every morning before breakfasting on my favorite treat—human bones.'

"Peter Gibbons," Cupid says, shaking Dirk's hand. "And may I present my associates, Tim Molar and Kelly Spring?"

Dirk shakes Pierce's hand, then he clasps mine and holds it a little too long. He stares into my eyes, and I can't help feeling that he can see my actual eye color beneath the contacts. He's still holding my hand and gazing up and down my body. "Lovely," he says.

I don't look at Pierce, but I can tell he's glaring at Dirk and would prefer to eat him now and do away with the pleasantries.

"So, you're my new event planner?" The man narrows his eyes at Cupid, who maintains his smile.

"Yes, sir," says Cupid. "I've arranged parties for some of the biggest names in the world."

"I appreciate you stepping in at this late date. This event is momentous. There is no margin for error. Please take a seat."

We do. My black leather pants squeak against the leather chair.

"There will be no errors, Mr. Darkins. I have thoroughly read the file on your event and have a few suggestions for improvement."

Mr. Darkins places his hands on his desk and leans forward. "Yes?"

"From what I gathered from the file, you want to attract press from all over the world. I have a lot of contacts in Hollywood and the political arena and ..." Cupid lowers his voice. "I can even bring in some royals. Once word leaks of this, we will have no problem attracting the press from every important news organization on the planet."

"You seem very confident about this, Mr. Gibbons. You are this well-connected?"

"Oh, Mr. Darkins, you have no idea."

Even though Mr. Darkins is speaking to Cupid, he keeps staring at me. Does he know I'm a mermaid? I look at my lap to avoid eye contact.

"Well, what you're describing would be quite a feat."

Cupid chuckles. "It's no problem for me. As a matter of fact, I understand you are a Patty Cary fan?"

"How do you know this?" Mr. Darkins says, narrowing his mismatched eyes.

"It's in your file," Cupid says without missing a beat.

"I see. Well, yes. I am."

"Well, I think I can get her to appear at the event."

"You can get the most popular singer in the world to perform at a press event?"

"She owes me a little favor. I, uh, fixed her up with that English bloke she's engaged to. Anyway, I think you should pick her up at the airport in a limo and arrive at the event together; the press will go wild."

Darkins' eyes sparkle with what looks like greed. "Brilliant."

Cupid leans forward. "Oh, and one more thing."

"Yes?" Darkins says.

"As the event takes place on Halloween, I think the décor should be Halloween-chic."

Mr. Darkins frowns. I can tell he doesn't like this idea at all. "I don't think so, Mr. Gibbons."

"Think about it! You are introducing a product that is all about youth and beauty and overcoming the ravages of aging. What better way to do this than to show the transformation of the beast into the beauty? It will be marvelous."

Darkins' face darkens. My stomach twists. Is he going to back out of the whole deal? Maybe we have taken things too far.

Pierce scoots forward in his chair and gazes into Darkins' eyes. "I think you will love the décor once you see it."

"I don't think I will," insists Mr. Darkins, cracking his knuckles and staring at Pierce without blinking. "What are you?"

Holy crab! He knows!

Cupid sits back. "I am an expert in Halloween décor. Have you heard of the Haunted Ball?"

Darkins turns to him. "Yes, of course."

"That's why I brought in Mr. Molar," Cupid cuts in. "I assure you that this will be an explosive event that no one will ever forget."

Mr. Darkins leans back in his chair and puts his feet on the desk. "Well then, I suppose I have to defer to the experts. I will, however, require an escort for the party. Miss Spring?"

"What? I mean, yes?"

"You will do just fine."

Is he asking me to be his date? Gross! "But ..."

Darkins holds up his index finger as if that will shut me up. It does. "Here are my terms," he says silkily. "My guards will help you with the set-up and provide protection for our esteemed guests. This venue is a high-security risk. I assure you that my team is armed."

Oh, no! How will Fintan set up the explosives with guards watching his every move? I look at Pierce, telepathically urging him to say something, but he can't read my mind right now. Vampires! Always reading minds at the most embarrassing times and not when you're plotting a rescue mission!

"We can bring in our own security team, Mr. Darkins," Pierce says at last. "They are well-trained to deal with this type of event." Wait, does this mean he can read my mind?

"No need," says Mr. Darkins, folding his arms over his massive chest. "Now, let's see, what else? Oh, you will have an unlimited budget to create the Halloween event of the century. If I am pleased, you will receive double your fee. And Miss Spring shall be my date for the evening. She will accompany me in the limousine to pick up Miss Cary from the airport. Miss Spring will stay beside me all evening. I will not negotiate on this."

I grimace at Pierce, who is giving me a tiny shake of his head. What am I going to do? This will mean I'll have to be alone with Darkins in the back of a limousine. The way he looks at me makes me very uncomfortable. It's like I'm a seal, and he's a shark. But he's only a human.

True, but a human who could not be swayed by Pierce's powers, I remind myself. A human who is feared by many merfolk. A human who is destroying the bay.

But I am a powerful mermaid who has bested sharks, rescued a vampire, and occasionally conquered the quadratic formula. That makes me invincible, right? "Of course, Mr. Darkins. It would be a pleasure," I say through gritted teeth.

We've arrived back at school and have an entire hour before dinner. Pierce and I are alone in the fairy grove, lying next to one another in the meadow, looking up at the expanse of tangled tree limbs, while being serenaded by frogs from a nearby pond.

"You don't have to go with Darkins, Waverly," Pierce says for the four-millionth time. "We'll find another way.

"It's okay, Pierce. You'll be following from the air. And with that freaky vampire hearing of yours, you'll know what's going on inside the limo. Plus, I'm pretty strong, too, if you hadn't noticed."

"I know, my dearest shark-flinger." He presses a lingering kiss onto each of my palms. I shiver.

"You say the nicest things." I turn toward him and put my head on his cool, silent chest. He smells different in his suit. Like something from the jungle—exotic and prowling. He wraps an arm over me and pulls me even closer.

"Waverly, I cannot stand the thought of anything happening to you. I don't want you putting yourself at risk like this. That human scares me. There is something about him. Something ... I don't know what it is."

"Because you couldn't control him with your freaky vampire mind-control powers?"

"Waverly, my powers are not freaky."

Without thinking, I roll on top of him, startling not only him but also myself. What has gotten into me? It must be the outfit. And the hair. Being in disguise is kind of freeing. "Freaky in a good way." I lower my face to his and initiate a kiss that is not at all tentative. I kiss him like a girl who wears leather and has sexy black hair. And eel's meals is he kissing me back! I'm running my fingers through his silky dark hair.

"I think I like you in black hair and leather, Waverly," he murmurs against my lips.