As Owen lowered the seaplane onto the Keep’s narrow landing strip, Clay kept looking up at the strange line in the sky. It seemed like a warning, like one of those marks hoboes leave on farmhouse walls: Danger! Evil people here—stay away!
He was on the verge of telling Owen not to land after all when the plane hit the ground with such a jolt that Clay was certain it would break into pieces on the spot.
“Does this thing even have wheels?” Clay asked, his face pale.
“Sure, but, well, she prefers the water, no question,” admitted Owen.
As the plane taxied to a halt, Owen kept one hand on the steering wheel and pulled his shirt off with the other. By the time the propeller stopped spinning, he was transformed: He wore a navy-blue suit and dark sunglasses, his bald head was as shiny as a billiard ball, and he looked ready to guest star as a villainous billionaire on a crime show.
“Here, you’ll be needing this more than I will.” Owen removed a diving watch from his wrist and handed it to Clay.
“What does it do?” asked Clay, his throat dry. “Explode?”
“No. Just tells time.” Owen smiled. “Ready for nothing?”
“Yeah… definitely.” Forcing himself to move, Clay hoisted his backpack onto his shoulders and tugged the ski cap down around his head. He could feel a bead of sweat rolling down his back.
Owen nodded. “Let’s rock.”
With that, he opened the door, and they both jumped from the seaplane to the airstrip.