Hemslock shakes his head. He is preternaturally calm. “She was right,” he muses. “It was just the sacrifice she got wrong. Once we go back—”

“Are you out of your mind?” Gries shouts. “Go back?”

“Yes,” Hemslock says, eyes gleaming. “I know how to take its power for our own. And I guarantee it’ll leave us alone once I’m done.”

It is unnerving to see more of the crew side with Hemslock than with Gries.

“You know you’re wrong,” Hemslock points out. He’s still wearing his guns, his bulletproof vest—he hasn’t let go of any of his firearms since they emerged from the cave. “You know the Diwata’s not going let us leave until it gets its pound of flesh.”

“You’re going to kill a lot of people by angering it.”

“It’s already angry. It’ll kill us anyway. That’s why we’re going to need him.” Hemslock points at me. “No offense, kid,” he says. “But we’re going to use you as bait.”

“What?” Chase cries.

I jump to my feet but stop in my tracks when Hemslock points a gun directly at my head. I look around at the rest of the crew for support, but their guilty faces look everywhere but at me. Only Melissa makes eye contact with me. She’s paralyzed with terror, terrified for my sake but unable to help.

“We’ve already discussed it,” Hemslock says calmly. “You’re our ticket to getting out of here alive. Seems like the god is sweet on you, so I’d wager the Diwata would be a lot friendlier if it knew you’d die if any of us did, right? Nothing personal. Shut your mouth and do as you’re told, and we’ll all make it out of here.”

“Hey man,” Hawaiian Shirt says nervously. “We didn’t discuss anything. You said that the kid’s going to be important, but none of us signed on for you to—”

“You’re an ass, Gerry. You saw what they did to Karl. You wanna wind up in one of those little tombs, too? You wanna play nice and let it stick you in a balete tree, too? Turn you into a corpse like the first one we found? We’re trapped here. We’re all targets. As long as it knows the kid is safe—”

“Not all of you are targets,” I interrupt.

“What the fuck did you say?”

“Not all of you are targets. But you are.”

Hemslock sets the barrel of the gun against my forehead, and the click of the safety catch being released is loud in my ears. “You’re really trying my patience.”

“Shit, man,” Straw Hat says, appalled. “You can’t do this—”

“Shut up!” Hemslock shouts. “I’ll do whatever the hell I want. I’m saving your sorry asses!”

“You are a target,” I say again, quietly. The cold metal of the gun makes me sweat, but I do not move, do not let him know I am as scared as the rest of his team. “And if you kill me, the situation will get worse. The guilty see their significant others, families, lost loves—the ones they’ve hurt the most. You see yours, too.”