The next two hours were impossibly difficult. Joseph railed on me the whole drive back to the hotel, and then everyone else joined him when we reunited. Of course, Mom was the worst, almost delirious in her refusal to let me take Dad to Raspy. Weeping uncontrollably, she collapsed on him, holding him, swearing she would never let him go.

“Please, everyone, you must trust me!” Desperation fortified my voice. I reached down and grabbed Mom by the hand. “I can only use the Anything three more times, so if there is a way to heal Dad without using it, I mean to figure it out. If worse comes to worst, in the end, I will use it to save him. Trust me. How can it be any better to leave him here, developing more and more each day into … that.” I pointed down at his moist, gray skin, cobwebs of black covering him everywhere, the budding wings tilting him to one side at an awkward angle.

Discussion ensued; argument and debate heated the room. But in the end, I won.

And so I ended up in the back of a taxi, sitting next to a huddled mass hidden under a blanket, ready to deliver my own dad to the worst person I had ever known.

Our taxi driver said nothing about hamburgers or Britney Spears.

If I had thought it difficult walking up the portable staircase before, it was right near impossible dragging a two hundred pound man-beast up them. I held his legs and Joseph grabbed under his arms. We grunted and sweated and groaned, and thumped Dad's poor shadowy head on the steps more than once. Just before we were ready to call it quits and roll him back down the flight of stairs, we realized we were at the top.

Custer Bleak, otherwise known as Raspy, sat in the same chair, in the same corner.

“Put him on the couch.” He had gained back his calm and old-manliness since we'd left, and I wondered how long before he let himself turn back into a full-fledged Shadow Ka.

We flopped Dad onto the soft leather, and then took a moment to catch our breath.

“You have to give us some collateral—something that will ensure your end of the bargain,” Joseph said.

“I give you nothing,” Raspy said, his wrinkled grin revealing yellowish green teeth.

“I promise you this, Raspy,” I said, “If you fail to save my Dad, our whole world may lose in the end, but you will not be there to enjoy the victory.”

His harrowing, cackling laugh echoed off the wooden walls. “Why do you insist on using that name with me boy? Call me Custer Bleak, First Servant to the Stompers, and may you never forget it.” He pointed a gnarled finger to the door. “Now be gone, and don't return until I see the Red Disk in your hands.”

Disgusted, we turned to leave.

“One more thing,” Raspy said. “Do not make the mistake of thinking I will order my Ka to leave you alone on your quest. They will still hunt you and do everything in their power to stop you. If they succeed, I win. If they fail, and you obtain the Disk and return, I win. Pretty good odds, don't you think?”

With no response, I ran down the stairs, not wanting to be in his presence for one more second. We got in the taxi and left.

Back at the hotel, there was no helping the somber mood—the overwhelming gloom caused by recent events. Little was said, and every attempt at levity failed miserably. We retired for the evening in our respective rooms, thinking that our dreams could never be as bad as real life.

The next morning was dull and gray, no help at all to our dreary dispositions. We met for breakfast in the hotel restaurant and then reconvened in Mom's room, the bed strangely empty without my comatose Dad lying there, becoming.

“Now all we have to do is figure out where the stupid Northless Point is located,” I said. “And how in the world I'm going to find the Lady and the Red Disk and the Dream Warden and whatever the heck else in fifty-six minutes.”

It was obvious that everyone had grilled their brains thinking about the mysterious clue while we'd been gone, but silence was my only answer. It lingered like a bad neighbor for several minutes.

Then Mom broke the spell: “Piece of cake.”

“What?” I asked. “You think I can do everything I'm supposed to in fifty-six minutes?”

“No, no, that's not what I meant. I'm talking about the Giver's riddle—about the Northless Point. I think I beat Tanaka to the punch.” She smiled. We all remembered Tanaka's insistence that he would be the one to figure it out. But the look in Mom's eyes said it all—she would be the one to claim victory in his absence.

“I know where it is.”