My sister gasped and covered her mouth. "Did you just say fire-breathing lizard?"

"Yeah. Look, sis, I'm really tired," I said, and I was. I didn't think I could handle a long, drawn-out discussion about the sketch book, or how the monster in Africa specifically wanted to kill Will, or how Brandt died or how the knife knew Will's name. "We'll talk more later, if that's okay."

"Yes, of course. Go take a nap. Mom said supper was at six. She's making chicken lasagna."

"Sounds great," I said, yawning around the words, and went straight to bed without bothering to change out of my track pants and t-shirt. My nap didn't last long, though. Around four, my phone rang on my nightstand, startling me out of sleep.

"H'lo?" I said, not even looking at the caller ID first.

"Matt?"

I still had cobwebs of sleep sticking to my brain, so the voice didn't register. "Yeah? Who's this?"

"It's Millicent. I'm sorry to bother you, buta" Her voice was soft, like she was trying not to be overheard. She also sounded worried out of her mind.

I sat up fast. "Is everything okay?"

"NoaI need you to come over if you can."

Concern shot adrenaline through my veins; Will's housekeeper wouldn't call me unless it was serious. Wide awake now, I got up to look for my car keys. "What's going on?"

She sighed. "Will's telling his folks. About the mission. And it's not going well."

No doubt. I jogged down the stairs. "I'll be there in two minutes."

Chapter Twenty-Seven.

Movement in the window by the front door caught my eye and Millicent's worried face peered out at me from behind the curtains. I headed up the walk, slipping on an icy patch. I caught myself against the brick pillar on the porch and Millicent threw the door open to give me a hand. She was trembling.

"Everything okay?" I asked, freaked to see her so rattled.

"Not really. Family conflicts, like everything else in this house, tends to get overblown."

"Um, Millicent," I said, "Just what do you think I can do?"

Under the pretense of taking my coat, she whispered, "You, of all people, know exactly what he's going through right now." Her eyes narrowed. "And knowing you're here for him might be enough to keep me from saying or doing something I'll regret."

I had to admit, Millicent did look like she was seconds away from smiting someone. "Where is he?"

"They're in Mitch's study. He and Arianna are giving my poor boy all kinds of grief."

She led me through the entry and the formal living room to Mr. Cruessan's study. The heavy oak door was closed, but I could still hear Mr. Cruessan's raised voice.

"ahow dare you! For two years? What were you thinking? Son, how irresponsible can you possibly be?"

I hesitated outside the door. I'd never heard Will's dad ream him out like this. I'd seen him snark a few times when Will missed plays during games, but never this. A pit opened in my stomach, sucking out everything I thought I knew about Will's family.

"Probably best to go on in," Millicent said, giving me a little push. "Knocking only allows them to keep you out."

Good advice. If nothing else, I needed to break up the conversation before Mr. C got a full head of steam going. I wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans then pushed the door open. Mr. Cruessan was leaning against the front of his massive mahogany desk by the window. Will looked so much like him; matching scowls, dark hair and bunched up muscles. It was like seeing a time lapse photo of my best friend.

Mrs. Cruessan, projecting her blond ice queen vibe, sat in a nearby wingback chair, her arms tightly crossed. She glared at me, her eyes saying, "you did this."

Will, looking thoroughly miserable, sat on the couch facing Mr. Cruessan. He'd huddled down into the cushions, compacting himself into a hunched ball. As I crossed the carpet to sit next to him, glass crunched under my feet. Confused, I glanced around the room to see what was broken. The trophy case's glass front had been shattered. A stone paperweight lay on the floor next to it. Inside, all the football trophies, both Will's and his dad's, had been scattered by the impact.

Someone had been throwing a fit, and my guess was that it wasn't Will.

Angry now, I stood behind the couch and crossed my arms, glaring at Will's parents. I was the same height as Will's old man, and he couldn't lay a hand on me without my mom tearing him a new one in court. Armed with that reassuring knowledge, I lifted my chin and stared Mr. Cruessan down.

He snorted derisively. "You need to leave my house."

"Make me," I growled back.

Tink seemed to approve of my rage, and an electric calm hummed in my veins, telling me to brace for battle. A second voice, the spirit of Will's knife, nudged me too, asking me to do what Will couldn't. Begging me to smack this enemy down. I pushed against it gently, hoping they understood we were on thin ice.

Mr. Cruessan pulled himself upright and took a step toward me.

"Mitch," Mrs. Cruessan said. "He's not worth it."

"I don't know about that," he snapped. "He's the one who dragged Will into God knows what with the military." Mr. Cruessan rounded on Will. "And where are they, son? These military leaders you respect so much? Not here, helping explain the situation. These men want to drag you off to the four corners of the earth to investigate some hocus pocus, and they aren't even here!"

"I didn't call them because I thought I could explain it myself," Will said. "But I will if that's what you want. Colonel Black said he'd come."

"What I want is for you to think about this!" Mr. Cruessan yelled. A vein throbbed in his neck. "You've lied to us. They've put you in mortal danger time and time again, and for what?"

"To help people," Will muttered.

"By risking your life? Son, USC has been calling. So have Oregon and Arizona. I won't have you risk your lifea"or your futurea"for a fight that isn't ours."

"Dad, football isn't everything," Will said.

"Well, obviously it isn't to you." Mr. Cruessan pounded on his desk. "You're throwing away everything we've worked for so you can go have some grand adventure."

"It's not an adventure," I interjected. "We're saving innocent people from things you can't even imagine. Will was chosen to do this. He's critical to the mission."

"You stay out of this," he said. "Will, what about the car dealerships? Those are my legacy to you. If something happens to you, then what?"

"Dada""

"You heard your father," Mrs. Cruessan snapped. "We have your future to protect, your life. You're leaving thisaproject at once. End of story."

"You still don't get it!" Will shouted. "I have to do this."

"And what about us?" Mrs. Cruessan asked. "Did you stop to consider how worried we'd be every time you take off, wondering if this'll be the trip that kills our only child?"

Everything they said had more to do with how Will's status as knife-wielder affected them. The anger pulsing in my head finally went cap off.

"So the fact that Will's risking his life to save others doesn't make you proud?" I asked. "When my mom found out, she screamed at me for putting myself in harm's way without her knowledge. Then she screamed at my uncle for the same reason. Then she told me she knew it was a sacrifice we had to make, because if her son was the only person who could save thousands of lives, she had to put me in harm's way for the good of those people. There wasn't any of this *think about how we'd feel' crap in our discussion."

"Dude," Will said. "It's okay."

"No, it's not okay!" I said. "I had a team of people from the Army covering for me so my mom wouldn't find out. My own sister lied her face off to keep Mom in the dark. And she still found out. She saw me on CNN, for God's sake, and it nearly brought the world crashing down." I jabbed a finger at his parents. "All you had to do was sneak out when your parents weren't home or lie about field trips, once Millicent was in the know. And for two and a half years, it worked!"

Mr. and Mrs. Cruessan started yelling at me at the same time, some strange combination of fifty-cent words and swearing.

"Enough!" Millicent roared from the doorway.

We were all so shocked that everyone shut up at once. Bright pink spots flamed up on Millicent's wrinkled cheeks and her eyes bored holes into anyone stupid enough to look straight at her. My plan to keep her from blowing a gasket must not have worked.

"That's better," she said. "Mitch, you sit."

To my surprise, Mr. Cruessan took a seat in the other wingback chair next to Mrs. Cruessan. I glanced back at Millicent. Just who was the employer in this situation?

"I have something to say, and you best listen to me." Millicent smoothed her dress. "I've been with you since William was eight weeks old. He's as much my child as yours, given that I've practically raised him."

"Raised him?" Mrs. Cruessan snapped. "He's my son."

Millicent waved her off. "You want to start this argument? Fine. Tell me this: when's William's next dental appointment?"

After a stunned silence, Mrs. Cruessan closed her mouth and sank deeper into her chair.

"Yes, that's right. You don't even know when your son needs to go to the dentist next. I made the appointment, I put it on his calendar, I'm the one who will nag him to ensure he makes it to the dentist on time and I'm the one who will ask him if he had any cavities or not."

Millicent paused and pressed a fist to her lips, like she was trying to hold back tears. "I lost a son, once. A good boy who grew into a great young man. He went into the Marines to pay for college. We didn't have much money, and I was so proud of him for wanting to serve so he could make his own way. I'm still proud of himaeven though he died three years before I came here, in a helicopter accident."

Will sat up straighter. "I didn't know you had a sonayou never told me."

No one moved as Millicent wiped her eyes. "His name was William."

Will dropped his head into his hands. "Oh, God, Millicent. How could I not know that?"

"I never told you and you had no reason to ask. And that's okay, honey; it wasn't your burden. But that's why I just had to take this job. Another little William in my life, to take care of? I knew right away this was where I needed to be when your parents hired me," Millicent said. "I also understand, just like Matt's mother does, that you have a duty here. I lost one sonaand I'm willing to risk losing another one because I know you have to do this."

Will launched himself off the couch and threw his arms around Millicent. Engulfed by his hug, Millicent looked older, fragile, but it was clear to everyone, including Will's folks judging by their expressions, who his real mother was.

"I love you," Millicent said before pulling away from Will. She turned to his parents. "Now, why don't you two calm down and listen to your son for a while, try to see his side." She sighed. "Matt, I've got some leftover lemon cake in the kitchen. Let's go have a piece and see if we can't contact Colonel Black, just in case."

I'll admit it; I had to choke down a smug grin. Watching Millicent handle Will's parents was a thing of beauty. "Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, and Mitch," Millicent said over her shoulder as she ushered me out. "I'm not cleaning up that glass. You made the mess, you fix it."

Then she closed the door behind us. "Well, I probably better start packing."

"Why?" I asked as I trotted after her to the kitchen. I kept my ears tuned to the study, though, just in case the yelling started up again.

"I'm going to be fired in about an hour," Millicent said, but she smiled.

"I doubt that. Mr. and Mrs. C don't like being inconvenienced. Where would they find another Millicent on short notice? You're one of a kind, I'm pretty sure."

That made her laugh. "I'm glad you're here. It'll mean a lot to Will, too, once he's had a chance to calm down." Millicent patted my arm. "Now, let's get you something to eat. I know you and Will can't go more than three hours without food."

I'd had two pieces of heaven-sent lemon cake slathered in sugar glaze by the time Will appeared. Given the red eyes and slumped shoulders, I took it that things hadn't gone well.

"I drank all the milk," I said, by way of breaking the ice.

"Butthead." He shuffled to the fridge and grabbed a soda. "So, my parents are *thinking things over.'"

"Is that a good sign?" I hardly ever saw his folksaI had no idea how they worked. This whole situation still had me pissed off.

"Don't know. Don't care." Will landed heavily on the stool next to mine at the island. "I'll be eighteen in less than a year. I'm leaving the second I'm legal, sooner if they say no. I'll sue for emancipation if I have to."

"Dude, don't think like that yet. Maybe they'll come around."

Will shot me a dark glance and speared what was left of the lemon cakea"a quarter of a Bundt pan's wortha"with his fork. "I told them I'd compromise. If they let me stay on the team until we're done, whenever that is, I'll go to college to play football as planned, then play for the NFL and sell cars the rest of my life."

He didn't sound too thrilled about all that. Will was the only guy I knew who found the thought of playing professional football as a burden. But it also got right to the heart of who he was and what really mattered to him.

"What'd they say?" I asked.

"Mom looked offended that I'd put conditions on the future she picked out for me." Will crammed a big bite of cake in his mouth and swallowed it almost whole. "Dadait's funny. Dad looked like he might actually be considering it."

"Maybe he's starting to pull his head out of his ass," I said.

"Maybe he is," Mr. Cruessan said right behind me. "Or maybe he's realizing that he's been a crap father the last few years."

I swallowed back an apology as Will crammed another bite of cake into his mouth and glared at the island's granite countertop.

"Matt, I'd like to talk to my son alone for a while." Mr. Cruessan pulled up a stool on Will's other side. "Do you mind seeing yourself out?"

I stood and carried my plate to the sink. "Will, I'll be home if you need to come crash at my place later. Mom always says that the guest room is yours whenever you need it."

Will looked up at me. "Thanks, man."

When I got home, I paced around my room for an hour before Mom came upstairs, wondering where I was since I hadn't been sniffing around the kitchen for dinner. The second I saw her in the doorway, I went straight over and hugged her tight.

"As muchaas I enjoy the appreciationaI can't breathe, sweetheart," Mom gasped.

I let her go. "Sorry."

"I'm not," Mom said, smiling. She ran her hand over my hair, something she hadn't done since I was ten and got my first buzz cut. "What magnificent parenting thing did I do to warrant such a great hug?"