Chapter Ten

Xander sweeps up one of Lola’s bulletwood flowers from the pile on the ground and tucks it behind his ear. The delicate flower should render his appearance harmless, defenseless. But it achieves quite the opposite.

We stare at him, transfixed. Only Preston continues to yank off hunks of moo ping from the skewers with his teeth.

“For those of you who have yet to figure it out, this isn’t just your average remote island in the Gulf of Thailand,” Xander begins in a gravelly voice. “You are all the new test subjects in a very special experiment. In my years of research, I have found that people can do incredible things while under pressure. When the human spirit is shoved against a boulder, when it’s locked up and starved, that’s when our abilities flourish. That’s how a grandmother is able to lift a truck off a baby. That’s why dear Lola started shedding flowers when she had enough of the storm.”

His voice grows, amplifies. “You see, when the human body reaches its emotional limit, it unlocks supernatural powers—the very same abilities that have been long featured in Thai folktales.”

Mama’s knuckles bump against mine. Automatically, she reaches out and brushes my other hand, knowing that I would need the other touch for balance.

“By isolating you from civilization and allowing you scant resources, I am testing your human spirit,” Xander confides. “I am manufacturing a set of conditions that will break your abilities free.” He turns in a slow circle, his hands outstretched. “In return, all I ask is that you push yourself to your very limits. I want creativity. I want drama. I want inspiration.”

He stops. I’m not sure what he’s expecting. Some stunning display of human virtuosity? An elaborate scheme of self-sacrifice?

But we’re not some upper echelon of the human species here. We’re just passengers on a yacht that got hijacked.

And we’ve just been told that we’re trapped on a magical island.

My vision widens, as if I’m a spectator and this is happening to someone very far away. Numbly, I watch the cast of characters and their reactions as my hearing flattens to a thin, high keening.

Sylvie turns on Xander but is rebuffed by a pair of his guards. She walks away instead and punches a palm tree with her fists, over and over again. I can’t tell if she’s angry or if she thinks she can unlock an ability with bloody knuckles.

Elizabeth drifts over to stand with Lola and Rae, seeking comfort, showing solidarity. The two girls form a special group now, one in which the rest of us may soon become members.

Lola’s crying, on the verge of another freak-out. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but worms drop with alarming frequency from her lips. Bodin and Rae collect the worms, shoving them into the bamboo baskets that once contained my sticky rice. For what? To use as bait? To study the slimy creatures? I really don’t want to know.

Meanwhile, Eduardo has plopped onto the sand, his shoulders moving up and down as he tries to suck in enough air. His brother kneels by his side, helplessly patting him on the back.

For once, Kit is still. No sudden movements, no leaps or fake-outs. He’s wiping at his eyes, again and again, with one hand, while clinging with his other to Khun Anita’s fingers. In any other situation, I might think it was sweet. Here, I can’t feel anything beyond shock.

Preston continues to chow down on moo ping.

And that leaves me—and Mama.

She turns me with both shoulders, cupping me on either side of my face. The keening cuts out, letting in the roar of everyone’s voices yelling over one another.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” I say in a small voice. “I don’t know how we ended up here.”

“This wasn’t the vacation we were expecting,” she says, her tone ever calm, ever soothing, “but we are together. We will get through this.”

I nod because that’s what she wants. Not because I actually believe anything she’s saying.

Xander surveys us, his foot tapping impatiently, as though we’re taking too long with our emotions.

“Pathetic. Every last one of you.” He sniffs. “Let me break down the rules. For every person who unlocks a psychic ability, you will receive a reward, something that you desperately need. It could be food, or it could be something else that will make camp life easier. Two of you have achieved this feat so far—Elizabeth and Lola. Elizabeth’s ability to manufacture scent bought the lot of you this great feast. It will be cleared away in a few minutes by my trusted employees. Your second reward, as a result of Lola’s flowers and worms, will arrive tonight. Not food, unfortunately. The lot of you will not eat again until another one of you unlocks another psychic ability.

“If all twelve of you manage to unlock your abilities, then I will send you home, intact and whole,” he continues. “Your time on this island will be nothing but a nightmare, a memory that will fade, slowly but surely, over time.”

“And what if we don’t?” Preston calls out, his jaw still working away at the moo ping. He’s laid the empty bamboo skewers into piles of ten, and by my count, he’s devoured thirty skewers—and still going strong. “It’s not fair if I’m being held back by the ordinaries.”

Xander examines Preston with barely restrained delight. “I’ll tell you if you can eat a skewer of moo ping in a single bite,” he dares.

The captain raises his brows. Without another word, Preston shoves a skewer into his mouth—and then pulls it out clean.

“Very good,” Xander says. “My chef prepared the moo ping just the way you like it. Extra fatty, skip the toast squares. Did he do a satisfactory job?”

Preston nods reluctantly.

“Now, what if I told you to eat the skewer as well?” Xander taunts. “A little extra bamboo can’t hurt anyone.”

“I’d tell you which body parts you can shove these skewers up,” Preston growls.

The captain nods, satisfied. “I like it.” He turns to our group at large. “Now, to answer Preston’s question, if for three days in a row you fail to unlock the abilities of a new person, then all of you, sadly, will die.”

Die? Did he say die?

My heart plummets to the sand as a wail goes through the crowd. I’m not sure I can breathe. The world closes in on me, my vision blackening around the edges, my lungs in a vise, tightening, tightening.

I can’t die. Not like this. I’m supposed to be saying goodbye to Mama. Preparing her for a peaceful death. Not exiting this world with her. No. Just no. This cannot be real.

It cannot, cannot, cannot, cannot, cannot, cannot—

“Alaia!” Mama says, alarmed, as I sag into her. “Help me. Someone, help me.”

Strong arms wrap around me and lower me carefully to the ground. Bodin, I can tell. But it’s Mama who guides my head down between my legs. Mama who whispers, “Breathe. Just breathe,” into my ear.

Khun Anita pushes her way to the front. “We all die, huh? Now that’s a bummer. What if we decide we don’t want to play your sick game?”

Xander grins, as though expecting—and deriving triumph from—the question. “There’s no way off the island. You are well and truly cut off from civilization. As you have discovered, there is no other source of food.” He moves his shoulders carelessly. “If you don’t play my game, then you’re done. It makes no difference to me, really. I’ll just try again with a new group of subjects. And you’ll die knowing that you’ve achieved nothing but to doom more people to this fate.” He smiles nastily, spins on his heel, and starts to saunter off.

“You won’t get away with this.” I rasp, finding my voice, “The staff at the villa will look for us. When the authorities investigate the boat wreck, they won’t find our bodies. And they’ll wonder where we are.”

“On the contrary.” Xander turns, his melodic tone resurfacing. I hate it even more than his gravel voice. “The yacht disappeared off every radar fifty miles before the first bomb exploded, powered by the same abilities that made Malaysia Airlines Flight 370 disappear. We’re now tucked away on a remote, uninhabited island.” His smile spreads. “All you can see of our compound is a tiny shack, perched at the top of this rocky island. The authorities won’t even know where to start searching.”

He opens his mouth extra wide, showing me his discolored teeth. “You can rest assured. No one is coming for you.”