I rol ed my eyes. "Oh, thank you for protecting me from the painful truths of how much guys really eat when girls aren't looking."

He smiled down at me. "You should take me more seriously."

"You should take yourself less seriously," I retorted, standing my ground as he leaned into me.

He laughed. "Are you finished in the bathroom yet?"

"Makeup."

"Hurry."

I didn't. I took my sweet time applying liner and mascara over rosy pink shadow. The day was sunny, and I was in a freakishly good mood. I tried not to think about later in the day, when we'd be sailing out to drop the Enshi off the edge of the world.

"Are you serious?" I heard Wil shout from back in the room. I poked my head out. "There's nobody else?" He paused. "Al right, fine." Wil shut my phone and ran an angry hand through his hair.

"What's up?" I asked, sliding balm over my lips.

"Nathaniel found a fishing boat for us to rent," he replied, his voice annoyed. "The problem is that it won't be available until after five. No one else would let us take their boat out far enough. What are you doing in there? You're taking forever."

"Makeup!" I repeated, scowling. I put an unneeded extra layer of lip balm on just to annoy him.

"Aren't you concerned about how late we have to leave?"

"Wel , five isn't bad," I offered. "Sunset isn't until, what?

Seven?"

He frowned at me. "We have to sail almost eighty miles out to get to the Milwaukee Deep."

I shrugged. "So? What's that? An hour?"

"El ie, we aren't driving a car. This is a real y big, old deep-sea trawler. We'l be very lucky if it tops out at fifteen knots."

"I don't know what that means!"

"It's about seventeen miles an hour."

I didn't attempt to calculate since I couldn't even count the toes on my feet without getting confused. "Wil that get us there by six?"

"No, it's most likely going to take us over four and a half hours."

My jaw dropped. "We're going to be out there after dark?"

He let out a long breath. "That's what it's looking like."

"Can't we wait until tomorrow?" I asked hopeful y. He shook his head. "Our plane leaves at nine in the morning and we can't risk spending another day here."

"Great."

"I know."

I huffed. It would be okay, I told myself repeatedly. There was no way the demonic vir could know we were in Puerto Rico. We were safe. "Let's not worry about it. We'l be fine."

He gave me a quizzical look. "Since when did you become Miss Optimistic?"

"Since I got this hungry, so let's go."

Wil cal ed a cab to take us into Old San Juan. I was absolutely enchanted. The streets were ablaze in a rainbow of colors; every building was bright and unique in its own way. Arched windows gave onto wrought-iron balconies lined with planters ful of fragrant flowers spil ing over the edges. Every doorway was unique, ornately decorated and protected by beautiful iron gril work. I'd have to revisit again one day when I wasn't expecting to meet certain doom at sundown. We stopped at a little cafe and ate on the stone patio. Though it had a name I could never pronounce, I ordered a colorful salad with al sorts of surprises folded into the greens. Wil ordered some kind of chicken stew with rice and beans. It smel ed amazing, and I stole a few bites of it despite his protests. For a little while, to my surprise, I felt normal again. I liked the feeling. I enjoyed pretending to be a normal girl on vacation with a normal--although gorgeous--

guy in a beautiful town.

When we finished eating, we didn't immediately take a cab back to the motel. Instead, Wil insisted I have a good day. He seemed excessively concerned about whether I was enjoying myself, which didn't put me at ease at al --instead, I suspected that Wil thought this might be my last day. We walked through Old San Juan, making our way through the crowds that surrounded street musicians and artists, gazing up at the spectacular sights. We walked along a crowded beach and took a tour of Castil o San Cristobal before heading back.

When we pul ed up to the motel, Nathaniel was sitting in a chair outside the door. He stood when we climbed out of the cab and Wil paid the driver.

Nathaniel smiled. "Have a good day?"

"Yeah," I said with a grin. "It was nice." I tried to treasure how I felt at that moment, because I knew the feeling wasn't going to last.

We piled into the truck with the sarcophagus and the duffel bag ful of Nathaniel's weapons in back and drove to the Port of San Juan on the other side of town. I sat between Wil and Nathaniel and stared silently out the windshield, trying not to think about the worst thing that could happen that night. We drove past a seemingly endless line of cruise ships and ferries to the fishing boat docks. These vessels were much smal er than the big tourist ships, but they stil towered over me. The distinct smel s of salt water, fish, metal, and nylon nets assaulted my nose al at once. Ropes and wires were strung everywhere, and crewmen dodged among them fluidly, going about their chores. We stopped at a huge deepsea trawler with the name Elsa stamped in faded letters on the bow. A stout, greasy, balding man jogged heavily down the loading dock to greet us.

"Hola," he said, nodding to us, his beady eyes lingering on me.

"Hola, Jose," Nathaniel replied. "Sorry we're a little late."