It looked for all the world like Air Force One, that massive plane the President flies in, but I looked, and there were no words anywhere to be seen on the aircraft. It was beige, and very big—but nothing else to distinguish it or make it unique. A door was open on the side closest to us, with a large, portable staircase leading to it from the ground. The intent was clear. We were supposed to get on that plane.

“What do you think, Jimmy?” Joseph asked.

“What's there to think? Let's start climbing.”

We walked the thirty or forty feet over to the plane, and as we did so, it became clear just how big the thing was. It towered over us, until it seemed it was the only thing we could see in all directions. When we made it to the foot of the staircase, I looked up. I remembered an old movie about an escalator that went to Heaven. It had seemed shorter than the steep mountain of stairs I was about to ascend.

I went first, with Joseph right behind me, step by step. The Shield could protect both of us, but Joseph had to be careful not to get too far away from me. Holding his hand would have actually been a good and safe idea, but neither one of us was going to be the first to suggest it, so it never materialized.

The steps were steep and hard, and we were only halfway when my calves began to ache. Step after step we climbed. I took a moment and peeked over the edge, and for a second I thought the plane had taken off with us attached. I couldn't believe how far away the ground was.

We made it to the open door, each trying to hide our heavy breathing from the other. I was going to say something, but realized it would give away how winded I was, so I just nodded my head, indicating I was going in. I stepped through the door into the plane.

A soft, warm heat enveloped us, and it was matched by the glowing, cozy feeling of the luxurious interior. Paneled wood and richly framed artwork covered the walls, and lush carpet supported our feet below. In front of us was a large room, bigger than any room in my own house, much less a flying aircraft.

Plush, leather couches and fancy high-backed chairs filled the room, with low tables scattered here and there. There was enough furniture to seat all of my cousins, and I had to look back through the open door to reassure myself that I didn't just step through some new kind of magic portal other than the Blackness. It seemed impossible that I was in the lap of luxury, inside an airplane.

We took it all in rather quickly and then noticed that we were not alone.

The man claiming to be my archenemy was sitting alone in a chair in the corner, his cane leaning against his knee, arms folded in his lap.

Custer Bleak. Raspy. Leader of the Shadow Ka.

It was almost indiscernible, but my heart skipped a beat when I realized that the man did indeed look like the Raspy I had met on several unfortunate occasions. He looked fifty or sixty years older, but I realized that it was him. He had looked old before. Now he looked really old.

But it was him.

He was sitting like a forlorn rest home occupant, awaiting his lonely death. He did not speak, but only stared with his cataract-laced eyes.

“We've come, just like you asked,” I said. I took a breath, waiting for his reply. When I received none, I summoned the courage from deep within.

“Surely you know I've received three of the Four Gifts. You know there is nothing you can do to me. Why have you called us here? Why would you try and trick us by offering help for my dad—when it's you and your monsters that caused it in the first place?”

Nothing.

“WHY!” A sudden urge to blast him with the Ice filled me, and he still hadn't even said anything.

A wracking cough exploded from his wrinkled mouth, and it went on for several seconds before he settled and went still. Then, after an eternity, he spoke.

“It matters not to me if you have received one, two, three, or all of them, boy. You must know by now that the Fourth Gift is the only one that will matter in the end. It is the only one that can make a difference. So spare me your brave rantings.”

His malicious words cleared the last cobwebs of uncertainty from the air, and there was no longer any doubt that Raspy sat before us.

“I don't get it,” said Joseph. “What purpose could this possibly serve, this whole charade of luring us here, to another one of your fancy lairs?”

“I have reined in my true self for a time,” he said. “I pulled my better existence inside until I was in a more manageable position to speak with you. You people cannot understand the exultant joy of being one with the Ka—or the pain and sacrifice of doing what I am doing. All just to speak with you.”

“Stop the mumbo-jumbo, please,” Joseph said, not trying to hide his disdain for the crusty old buzzard.

“Wise up, Joseph.” The man spat his words, revealing his evil nature and increasing my alarm. “Do not think I have forgotten your deeds in this tale. If it were not for your cowardice, you could have had a life far beyond your meager and dull imagination.”

Raspy stood, with a sudden change in his demeanor—faint but certain. A new strength filled him, and the cane dropped to the floor with a dull thud, no longer needed.

“Now listen to me, and no more petty word games. Jimmy, you have gone too far, and it is time to stop. I am prepared to make a deal with you, once, and then we will never speak again. There will be no bickering, no negotiation, no added terms. I will say this once, and you will give me your answer. Then you will leave my plane.”

A heavy knot formed in my throat. Raspy's words filled me with a fear I had not felt in quite some time. It was not the fear of death or pain, but the fear of ultimate defeat and loss of all hope.

“What is the deal?” I asked, hanging on the silence that bridged the gap between my question and his reply.

“You must bring me the Red Disk, and I will save your father.”

My blank stare was enough to show him I had no idea what he was talking about.

“You will bring me your father,” he continued, “and you must bring him right away for it to work. Then follow the instructions given to you by the Givers. You do not know this, but you will obtain a relic called the Red Disk. It is the key to finding the Dream Warden, a title you have no doubt heard by now.”

I nodded.

“When I have the Disk, your father will be returned to you, free forever from the Ka that grows within him, even now. You will bring me the Red Disk. I will save your father. Decide. Now.”

“Forget it,” Joseph said. “Forget it, Jimmy. Might as well call up the devil himself and make a deal. It'd be better than dealing with this thug. Come on.” He grabbed my elbow and pulled me toward the door.

“Decide. NOW!” Raspy screamed, losing all remnants of the voice that had created the name I knew him by. “This is your last chance!”

“Blast him and be done with it, Jimmy,” Joseph was furious. “Come on. Put an end to him once and for all.”

The sea of emotion and thoughts within my head were in a tailspin, but I mentally slammed a door, and filled myself with calm. There was no time to think, no time to pick the pros and cons apart. I reached within, to the center of whatever it is that provides guidance and intuition, and I made my decision.

“We will return in one hour,” I said.

“With my dad.” Without another word, I turned to leave, Joseph joining me—under protest. A sickly, demonic laugh trailed us all the way down the stairs, and only ceased when the taxi doors shut and we drove away.

I had the sickest feeling that I had just traded the world for my dad.