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the hallway, both hands covering her mouth.
    Nana spread her arms wide. “And you,” she said. “My hero.”
    Toria dropped her hands, revealing an ear-to-ear grin. She came running.
    Xander hiked himself up and went to the antechamber. “She’s okay, Dad,” he said. “The pull stopped. What’d you do?”
    Then he saw that his father was wearing what looked like a bulky bulletproof vest. He was hastily cinching a series of straps around the vest and tying knots in them.
    Xander’s guts suddenly felt hollow. He scanned the small room, quickly leaned through the door, and looked up and down the hall. “Dad?” He swallowed. It felt like a marble going down. “Dad, where’s Dae?”
    Dad glanced at him. “He went over.”
    â€œWhat? Why? On purpose?”
    Dad shook his head. “It was my fault. I was trying to get that creature through the portal. It grabbed him.” He snatched another item from the hooks. It appeared to be a pair of suspenders. He draped it over his neck.
    Xander grabbed his arm. “Dad, we’ll get him. He’s been over alone before.”
    Dad turned to him. “This time it’s different. It’s not even so much that he was pulled over, against his will. It’s . . . I don’t know, how it felt. It brought back a memory, a horrible memory.”
    â€œOf Mom? When she was taken?”
    â€œOf when my mother—Nana—was taken.” Dad wiped a hand over his face. “The light. My trying to do something and not being able to. Arms reaching out to me.” His frown deepened. “His eyes, Xander. They were so scared.”
    â€œDad, we can go get him together,” Xander said. “You and me, it’ll be better that way. We can—”
    â€œNo,” Dad said. “Not this time. Listen, if I don’t come back, don’t come after me. It’ll be too late.”
    â€œDon’t—?” Xander shook his head. “That’s crazy. You’d better believe I’m coming. For you and David? Come on!”
    Dad nodded toward something on the bench by the door, and Xander followed it with his eyes.
    â€œOh, no.”
    Dad picked it up. “Gotta go,” he said. He wrapped an arm around Xander. “I love you.” He crossed to the portal door and opened it.
    Light filled the room. Cold air blew in.
    â€œIt doesn’t matter,” Xander said. “If you’re not back in a half hour, I’m coming after you. You hear?”
    â€œDon’t,” Dad said, and stepped through.
    Xander watched him hit water. He went under, then resurfaced.
    â€œYou’d better come back!” Xander called.
    The door slammed closed. He stared at it for a long time, but he wasn’t seeing the door. He was seeing the item his father had picked up. It was a life buoy, a white ring for throwing to people in deep water. Pools had them. And ships, like the one from which this particular life buoy came—as indicated by the black-stenciled lettering on it: R.M.S. TITANIC.

CHAPTER

nine
    Edward King was on the deck of the ship, but he was also in the icy waters of the Atlantic Ocean. The ship was listing, angled like one of the arms on the letter V . Its bow was underwater, its stern high in the air. He was just below the intersection of water and ship. While the life vest from the antechamber kept him on the surface, the toes of his shoes skimmed the deck.
    The tragedy of the Titanic had always fascinated him—the arrogance of the ship’s designers and owners. Not arrogance— hubris , a word not taught enough in schools. It meant excessive pride or self-confidence. In Greek mythology, it resulted from scorning the gods, and the gods in turn unleashed their powers to bring the offenders down.
    He could not think of an event in modern history that better illustrated the concept. The owners called the Titanic “unsinkable.” They had been so