Adam looks over at me for help, but I shrug my shoulders and turn away. Marina’s still figuring out just how angry she wants to be, and I’m not going to get in her way. Besides, I don’t think putting a little fear in our Mogadorian companion is such a bad thing.

I assume he’s just going to let the conversation die, but after a few minutes Adam speaks up. “Yesterday, for the first time I picked up a sword that’s been in my family for generations. I’d never been allowed to touch it before, only admire it from afar. It belonged to my father, General Andrakkus Sutekh. He was fighting Number Four—John. I drove that sword through my father’s back and killed him.”

Adam delivers this speech matter-of-factly, like he’s reading the news. I blink at him, then glance over my shoulder at Marina. She’s looking down at the floor, deep in thought. As the chill rising off her begins to die down, Dust picks himself up and goes over to her. The wolf rests his head in Marina’s lap.

“Cool story,” I say to Adam when it becomes painfully clear that someone needs to break the silence. “I’ve never known anyone who carried around a sword before.”

“Cool,” Adam repeats, frowning. “My point is, you don’t need to doubt my loyalty.”

“I’m sorry you had to do that to your father,” Marina says after a moment. “I didn’t know.”

“I’m not,” Adam replies brusquely. “But thanks for the sympathy.”

To break the tension, I start messing with some of the dials on the Skimmer’s console. “Does this thing have a freaking radio, or what? Are we just going to tell death stories the whole way?”

Adam is quick to readjust the dials right after me. I think I catch him smiling a little, probably relieved that the death-threat portion of the trip is over.

“There’s no radio,” he says. “I can hum some Mogadorian standards, if you’d like.”

“Oh, barf,” I reply, and Marina snickers in the backseat.

I realize Adam is giving me a funny look, his angular face more open than I’ve seen, that defensive stoicism he wears stripped away. For a moment, he almost looks comfortable being up here with two of his mortal enemies.

“What?” I ask, and he hurriedly looks away. I realize his mind was elsewhere.

“Nothing,” he says, almost wistful. “For a second there, you just reminded me of someone I used to know.”

The rest of the flight south is uneventful. I manage to doze off once or twice, although never for long. With Dust snuggled up against her, it seems like Marina is finally able to relax. Adam refrains from humming any Mogadorian anthems.

We’re flying over the tropical forest of Campeche, Mexico, just another hour away from the Loric Sanctuary supposedly hidden amid the ruins of an ancient Mayan city, when a red warning light begins to flash on the Skimmer’s translucent windshield. I only notice it when Adam tenses up.