The Shadow Crosser (The Storm Runner 3)

“We really have to hurry,” Brooks said.

Adrik sighed and said to Jazz, “I can tell you your future. You will open your own shop. You’re going to invent a flashlight that can kill demons, and you’re going to help save the world.”

Jazz beamed. “Like a lightsaber?”

“I just said you’d help save the world,” Adrik said, “and that’s what you focus on?”

Jazz went back to the wheel, still smiling. “A demon-killing flashlight is so much better!”

Rosie paced restlessly. The cool sea air seemed to be getting colder. I half wished that the 1987 version of Pacific or Mat would show up and offer us a hand, but I knew that was impossible.

“We’ll sneak up on the yacht’s stern,” Jazz said. “Check things out from a distance so you guys can decide how you’re going to get on.”

About ten minutes later, we had traveled so far across the ocean I could barely see the shore’s twinkling lights. A few hundred feet away, a massive yacht—as in mini cruise ship status—came into view. Someone waved orange batons from its deck as we heard a helicopter approach. Soon the copter hovered directly over the twins’ vessel.

“That must be Prince!” Jazz yelled over the sound of the whirring blades. “He’ll create a good diversion for you.”

Adrik craned his neck as if he could catch sight of the rock star and then started flapping his arms in the air and jumping up and down.

“Adrik!” Brooks scolded.

He scowled and sat back down. “Seriously? Prince is up there!” he said, pointing. “Like…you do know who that is, right?”

Rosie panted excitedly as Jazz slipped the boat into hold-on-for-dear-life gear. We raced over the water so fast my cheeks jiggled. I thought we would catch air, but Jazz had mad boating skills. Within two minutes, he had pulled Betty up to the yacht, just as the copter was touching down on the front helipad. Yeah, the yacht was that big.

Jazz was right. Everyone had rushed to the bow to meet Prince, so there was no security at the stern. No anyone.

“I’ll wait here,” he said. “You don’t have much time to sneak around. Just try and blend in like Luke and Solo did when they dressed as Stormtroopers aboard the Death Star.”

We pulled up our hoods and climbed up the ladder to the first deck. Rosie? She just turned to mist and reappeared up there.

“Guys,” Brooks said from beneath her hood, “avoid anyone who looks like Han or Skywalker.”

Everyone nodded.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Adrik said.

Just then, the crowd erupted in cheers and screams. Prince must have disembarked. Adrik started in that direction until Ren pulled him back. “Hey,” she said. “We’re not here for that.”

I could see Adrik struggling with the choice of seeing his rock idol or finishing the god rescue mission.

“At least you’ll get to hear him,” Ren offered.

I turned to Rosie, who was now cloaked in one of Ren’s shadows. “Okay, girl. Find those gods.”

Rosie took off down the narrow deck and ducked into a cabin. No, cabin isn’t right. It was more like a mini ballroom with two huge chandeliers, shiny marble floors, and a dozen tables topped with shimmery gold tablecloths. We breezed through, passing a few more rooms that were just as impressive until we came to a set of double doors. Inside was some kind of art gallery. The room was dimly lit and had framed artwork evenly spaced on the walls. Music reverberated from the bow, literally rocking the boat as the crowd screamed. Adrik looked miserable as he glanced toward the sound.

Rosie sniffed the room. Little waves of smoke curled from her nose and eyes. Small breathy grunts told us she was getting close. Then she stopped at the far wall, where a floor-to-ceiling canvas painted entirely in turquoise was

hung.

“The gods are in a painting?” Brooks whispered.

Ren’s eyes searched the place, freezing on something over my shoulder. “Uh-oh,” she murmured as four round shadows rose from her hands and flew toward the security cameras in each of the room’s corners.

“Crap!” I said.

“They had cameras back then?” Adrik said.