“Where did Reo go?” I wondered aloud upon reaching the place where I left him—the main-entrance-lobby-whatever of the cruise ship. Many people roamed about, but I would’ve certainly spotted Reo if he were present. His neon beach shorts and pink shirt were like beacons.

After our hero-wannabe huddle, the assigned pairs went our separate ways. Deen pulled me aside for a second, muttering quick reminders to take care of myself and always text her where I was and immediately call her if there was trouble. She also told me not to go someplace I’d be alone with Reo. Some freaking parental advisory. Did she really think I suddenly liked him?

“Since we’re going investigating,” I had told Deen, “we’ll go to places with no one else around.”

“You know what I’m talking about,” she hissed before leaving with Everett to scout the fancy restaurants onboard.

The thought for Deen’s assignment was that the 2Ms’ clients wouldn’t have breakfast at the buffet like some plebeians. They’d be elsewhere more exclusive, eating gold-flaked pancakes and drinking hot chocolate topped with caviar. Something like that. I didn’t know what rich people had for breakfast because Deen rarely ate any. Dario instructed Deen to seek out possible customers of the 2Ms, socialize with them, and see if she could glean any useful information.

Deen looked the part for it. Plus, she had the money to spend. Poor Deen. She should be reimbursed by the Professor.

And Everett would supposedly pose as her boyfriend. Reo’s idea, of course. Deen didn’t respond to that suggestion, not even a nod or a shake of her head.

As for Reo and me, we’d be searching below deck—not sure what that meant since there were plenty of decks and plenty of below them. Probably everything past where passengers stayed? Like, we hadn’t yet visited the crew living quarters. The ship’s crew totaled over a thousand, according to a brochure I read. That was plenty of area to cover. Dario reasoned that if the 2Ms hid something, it’d be away from the passengers. Reo’s power was perfect for reaching off-limit places.

All good for me since I aimed to reach the engine room, and that was going to be ‘below deck,’ wasn’t it? Maybe not exactly the engine room. Someplace with lots of machines, judging from the pictures Big Marcy sent me.

If someone would challenge our snooping, Everett suggested that Reo pretend not to understand English. Probably a joke, thinking about it.

We’d better stick with our cover story—we were shooting a vlog. We could even interview the cruise ship employees if they knew ghost stories or spooky happenings on board. Reo was personable enough to pull it off. I doubted all of the cruise ship employees were in the loop about the 2Ms’ inhuman shenanigans. Maybe some innocent crew member witnessed something odd, like a band of passengers sneaking away in the bowels of the ship at odd hours.

If we did get kicked out of some areas, we could have a closer look using Reo’s fairy.

But before we started our mission, I told Reo I needed to return to my room because I had forgotten something. I didn’t have photogenic or photovoltaic or whatever memory to recall the stuff Big Marcy sent me after one look. Keeping Mommy Deen’s advice in mind, I told Reo to wait for me in the lobby.

“This must be him,” I said, feeling my phone vibrate. “No, dammit.”

It was Deen, checking up on me again. I thought for a moment to ignore her, but that’d make her nagging worse, so I replied that I was fine. Next, I checked the pictures I took of the maps and other pieces of paper from Big Marcy, trying to make heads or tails of them. And what was the significance of the number four-four-three-zero? I was never good with directions or clues, things that needed patience to decipher. The cruise ship was huge, like three football fields long. Even if I narrowed down the area where the small ships to Red Island could be hidden to somewhere near the water level, there were still a ton of places to search.

I chewed my tongue, beginning to think we’d never find it. I could barge into Big Marcy’s office again to directly ask him. Fuck what he said about secrecy.

Or maybe Reo might know where to look. Should I reveal these pictures to him?

Nah, he’d ask me where I got them. Though he usually messed around, he was intelligent—his fast quips and snide comments were proof. No matter what fake story I’d make, he’d be suspicious.

I looked around the lobby. Where could he have gone? I hated waiting for other people, especially if I had to stand in a crowded place. The least he could do was message me.

“Oh, he doesn’t have my number, duh,” I said, tapping my forehead with my phone. “Well, he still should’ve told me beforehand.”

After about five minutes, someone called out. “Erind! I’m back.” It was Reo in a new look.

He had his hair neatly tied in a ponytail, no longer covering his face. He also changed his clothes, donning a black shirt with what was probably a band’s name written across its front in barely legible letters and khaki shorts.

Noticing my stare, he explained, “I was too conspicuous in my previous getup.” Just as I suspected, he could think if he spared the effort. He waved at me as he walked back into the corridor he came from. “Come along, Erind, my new partner.”

My cheek twitched. He didn’t apologize for suddenly disappearing even if he had a valid reason. “Where to?” I asked.

“I’m thinking we start our ‘below deck’ investigations at the general bar for the crew,” he said. “It’s daytime, so there’d be scarcely anyone there. That’s a good thing. I’m hoping there’s someone from the night shift hanging out there we can talk to. They’ll be more open to spill suspicious beans if there’s no crowd.”

“General bar for the crew? There’s such a place here?” I asked, half-considering he was pulling my leg. “Like a bar for employees only? Passengers aren’t allowed?”

“You got it. Most… probably all cruise ships have a bar, or bars, exclusive for the crew. These people are stuck here for months on end. They’ll be out of their minds if not for booze.”

“I guess you’re right…”

“Beer and boats go together since ancient times. Vikings had ale and mead on their ships. When the British established their empire everywhere they could reach, their ships carried beer instead of water.” Reo shrugged. “To be fair, their reasons back then for having beer on board wasn’t for entertainment, like it is now. The crew bar is definitely for entertainment though.”

“Wow. You’re a history buff or something?” A crew bar? I didn’t even think of shit like this. Reo was actually a decent teammate. This must be why Dario got him into the group. It wouldn’t make sense if he was a whiny coward who’d back out when danger came.

“I did listen to some of my classes in college. Anyway, yeah—I found the crew bar yesterday after we ended our drinking session.”

“After drinking with us… you drunk with the crew? Were you okay?” Luckily my Domino self didn’t run into Reo yesterday night. That stupid girl might’ve been dragged into the crew bar and I would’ve missed meeting Big Marcy.

Reo gave me a sidelong wink with a smirk. “Regeneration powers, baby! An upside of this stupid thing.” He thumped his chest. Good to know his artificial Core was in the same location as Deen’s. “But if I can turn back time, I’d rather not accept this,” he said. “I miss getting wasted… among other normal human things.”

Mental note for future manipulation, I thought. I didn’t need Domino—I could extract stuff from people just fine. But it wasn’t yet the time to manipulate Reo.

I put on an uncomfortable face, and stammered like I was hesitantly changing back the topic, “Can pa-passengers enter the crew bar?”

“They didn’t kick me out, and that’s good enough,” he said. “Technically, yeah, I shouldn’t be there. The officers weren’t present that time—they have their own bar, but they sometimes mingled with the lower totem pole—so no one cared.” He leaned closer to me, stroking his chin. “And how can anyone reject this pretty face? Lots of cute girls on board and they can’t get enough of me.”

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Was he hitting on me? Or just messing around? In a snap, I internally debated whether to act intimidated, embarrassed or show no reaction. I continued looking uncomfortable while staying silent. After all, I was timid Erind.

“It helped that I couldn’t get drunk, while they were getting canned,” Reo said. A cabin stewardess passed us. Reo greeted her, and she smiled at him. “Must be hell to get stuck in here,” he said, looking over his shoulder to check her out as she walked in the opposite direction. “This whole ship is an actual hell if you think about it because there are legit monsters on board.”

“Yo-you planned this yesterday?” I asked, entering an empty elevator.

“Planned what?”

“Get close with the crew so we can investigate their living areas today?”

Reo blinked as he pressed a floor button. “I didn’t—” He snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “You got that right, Erind. I planned this. See how trustworthy I am? I didn’t even rely on my powers. Just going to waltz right in.”

And we did waltz right into the crew bar.

As Reo had predicted, it was mostly empty. Actually, it was closed, with a sign saying so hanging from the door, but it wasn’t locked, so in we went. Be confident, Reo told me. Four people were inside. Two guys were nursing a bottle, while a third was lying on a bench, busy playing a game on his phone.

“No passengers allowed here,” one of the Bottle Guys said. They wouldn’t know Reo because they were on a different shift compared to the crewmates he partied with yesterday.

The last person was a woman behind the counter, wiping glasses. She waved at Reo. “Heyo, Obe! Isn’t this too early for you?” Since she recognized him, the other employees invited us to their table.

Reo was ready with stories about the crazy things they did last night, enthralling the three guys who missed it. They moped about how they couldn’t join parties at the crew bar because of their shift unless they wanted to risk being absent the following day. Still, they did try it now and then.

“Just hell to pay,” said the guy on the bench, his eyes and fingers glued to his phone.

“Coffee for you and your girlfriend,” the lady said, giving us two cups. “Helps you with your hangover.”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” I timidly mumbled.

I wasn’t sure if she heard it because Reo simultaneously said in a loud voice, “I don’t have a hangover Sarah—it’s Sarah, right? With an ‘h’? Your blonde friend is the Sara without an ‘h’, right?”

“Yeah, I’m the ‘h’- Sarah,” she replied with a flirtatious wink. She did hear what I said. “And you got some alcohol tolerance there.” To her fellow employees, she explained, “Obe here just downed bottle after bottle last night. Won a contest outdrinking Terry, so Terry coughed up to pay for Obe’s tab.”

“Damn, you beat Terry?” said Bottle Guy Two.

The conversation continued, with Reo carrying it well as if he had politician blood in his veins. I did my specialty of camouflaging my existence. Like what choice did I have? If I wore an extroverted face, I’d clash with Reo. Only Sarah bothered talking to me, mostly to confirm that I wasn’t in a relationship with Reo. As minutes of mundane chatter passed, I started to suspect Reo had no intention of investigating anything.

Did this bastard just want to pass the time, dragging me with him?

I seethed in my seat. Hey, that rhymed.

Even if I could wiggle a smooth face transition, it was too late now with Reo hogging the spotlight. And it’d be awkward if I tried questioning these people out of the blue. I’d wait if there was an opening.

A few more minutes later, Reo wove in questions about weird happenings on board or rumors about passengers. I wasn’t sure if he was just gossiping or if he had laid the groundwork all along for sleuthing. Perhaps I judged him wrong.

“They say the gorgeous gal with Kirk Dickinson is his new girlfriend,” Sarah excitedly whispered, though no one was around to eavesdrop on us. She was talking about a famous actor. “They’re just not making it official yet because of his ongoing divorce in court.”

“Actors and divorces,” said another ship employee. “Like peanut butter and jelly.”

“They also say Dickinson’s girl is pregnant,” Sarah said. “It’s the cause of the divorce. Can’t see the baby bump yet, though.”

“Looks like Kirk…” Reo began, looking around the table with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “…got his dick in her.” The table erupted into laughter.

I allowed myself a chuckle. Predictable but still funny. If Everett delivered that line, it would’ve fallen flat. This bolstered my theory that people were either funny or not, and there was no changing that.

“I have something too,” Gaming Guy said, sitting up and finally stowing away his phone. “The hot McHunter daughter is here. Kenny says he helped her with luggage yesterday. He tried to take a picture proof, but chickened out.”

“Probably for the best,” said Sarah.

“There are other McHunters on board too,” continued Gaming Guy. “Confirmed. My friend was probably telling the truth.”

“He is,” I said, jumping into the opening. “I saw Raphaela Mchunter yesterday.” To be precise, Domino saw her. To be even more precise, Domino couldn’t see her well in the dim lights at the bar, but Jeffrey pointed her out. “Is Raphaela the hot McHunter you’re talking about?”

“Mother Core, hell, no! Not that old woman.” The Bottle Guys laughed.

“She’s not that old,” said Sarah. “Not like she’s a grandma or something. She looks good for her age, actually.”

“I guess, if someone is into that,” Gaming Guy said. “Many guys, many tastes. Anyway, I was talking about Yara McHunter.” My ears wiggled at the mention of the peculiar name. “Man, she’s fine like the sand in Bondi Beach.”

“She’s a McHunter, dude,” said Bottle Guy One. “You’re crazy enough to tap that?”

They talked about the Adumbrae drama the McHunters were wrapped in, and how the family fell from being the wealthiest and most powerful in La Esperanza to still being wealthy and powerful, though no longer the top after their patriarch was discovered to be an Adumbrae. Funny how that worked.

Raphaela McHunter… She was the woman who met Domino in the elevator. The illusion generated was a clone of her dead daughter. Raphaela, in turn, was the daughter of the Adumbrae McHunter, Raphael. It made me wonder if Domino had luck powers. She seemed to run into important people.

Speaking of important people, I asked for others connected to the McHunters. It wouldn’t be weird now that I had a foothold in the conversation. Might as well make this productive. The crew members were all too willing to continue yapping. Must be pretty boring here during the daytime, so they snatched the opportunity for some change of pace. Then I changed the topic again to not sound like we were actively investigating stuff.

“We’ll be at Catalina tomorrow, right?” I asked. “How do we get to shore?” It was a sensible question, one that I already knew the answer to.

“There’ll be smaller ships tendering passengers to somewhere near the town,” Sarah replied. “Catalina doesn’t have a large enough port to accommodate cruise ships.”

“Oh, that’s a bit of a hassle, isn’t it? I’m not too crazy about tendering. Waiting in line and all that.”

“It’s just for Catalina,” said Bottle Guy Two. “Even if they have the budget to build a huge port—and I’m sure they do—the shore’s too shallow for this ship to get near. It’d require a lot of dredging, and that’d destroy the beaches.”

I glanced at Reo, expecting a joke relating to destroying beaches. It was just right there for the picking. But he stayed silent. He must’ve sensed I was going somewhere with this, so he shut his mouth.

“Ensenada has a large port,” said Bottle Guy One, “so no issues there.”

“Don’t worry,” Sarah said. “The tender ships run continuously. There’ll be a line in the morning, when the bulk of the passengers come to shore, and the last trip is going to be packed. Just avoid those, and you’ll be fine.”

“Good to know,” I said. “And it looks like the weather’s going to be fine, so no problem with tendering. I hate it when they have to cancel stuff because of choppy waves. Even if nothing’s canceled, I still get seasick on small boats.”

“It’s all good this time of the year around Catalina,” Sarah replied. “You can get to shore, for sure.” I smiled at the rhyme. She went on, “When the ship’s anchored, it’s quite stable for when you board the tender ships. Unfortunately, nothing we can do about the rocking once you get on them.”

“How small are these boats?” I asked. “Is this ship going to use its lifeboats to get people ashore? Please say no. I had a cruise that did that, and I hated it. All cramped and stuffy and made me question if the lifeboat was really for preserving life.”

They all laughed, including Reo. But he was fake laughing, an inquisitive squint on his face. He was guessing where I was going with this.

“Catalina has its own tender ships,” said Sarah. “They are pretty roomy.”

“Oh, thank the Mother Core,” I said. “Maybe all cruise ships should carry large boats for tendering. But I’m not sure where they’ll be located. They can’t hang them from the sides like the lifeboats because they’d be too heavy. Maybe somewhere inside?”

“Like some filthy rich dude who has a small boat inside their megayachts?” said Reo. “This ship probably doesn’t have a space for that.” He looked at Sarah with a raised brow.

“I don’t think there’s any,” she replied, shrugging. “We have thousands of people on board. And there are restaurants, theaters, all that. Probably no more space.”

“They could hide a ship in the weird bulbous bow,” muttered Gaming Guy who returned to his game.

“Bulbous bow?” I repeated.

“You know that strange protrusion on the front end of the ship?” he said. “Ah, well you really can’t see it because it’s below the waterline. Which makes the bulbous bow of this ship weird since its quite large, extending above the waterline. You can put something there, I guess.”