Haley curls up in Marty's chair and tells herself she doesn't need to start crying again.

Tears prickle at her eyes anyway.

She aches all over, her limbs heavy with more than just exhaustion. She'd fallen asleep on Marty at some point earlier, and she's not sure how long it was before he woke her up to offer her the counter potion for Marco's serum. It had worked, but she almost feels worse than before. She's not alone, and she's not scared of Marty, but she's scared that she's too late. That her wrong choices that led to all of this have led to her failing in her duty as the American Dragon.

Failing to help her brother.

Failing to help Jake when he needs it most. Needs her most.

How can she think he'll ever trust the magical world if she can't do the one thing she's supposed to be able to do? How can she think she'll ever be able to protect everyone in the United Sates if she can't even protect her own brother now?

"Is this your apartment?" she whispers in a desperate attempt to distract herself.

The building itself is nothing to look twice at, and she suspects it's magic, not the door lock, that makes it secure enough for Marty to trust being here at all. She can only see the living room and kitchen, but it's bare. She hadn't expected knickknacks stuffed into every available space, exactly, but she had expected something, maybe a deck of cards or some supplies from a joke shop finding a home on a bookshelf. Instead, this place lacks decoration, personal touches, and much for furniture besides the burnt orange armchair she's sitting on, a sagging couch with a flower pattern that was probably old when her parents were her age, a beat-up coffee table with as many questionable gouges as scratches and ring water stains, and a card table that has definitely seen better days if the dents in the foldable metal legs are anything to go by.

It's clean, though. This whole place is cleaner than she would have expected from Marty, although that's mostly because she'd assumed he'd be as messy as Fu can be when G doesn't get on his case. Still, there are no crumbs ground into the upholstery, wrappers tossed onto the floor, or dirty plates on the counter, and there's an artificial lemony scent in the air coming from…somewhere. An air freshener, presumably, because it doesn't quite smell like cleaning products.

Marty looks over at her from above the open fridge door. "More like a common stopping point a few of us share. It's safe. They know not to bother us right now."

Which means he'd told the others that he's here and doesn't want company, even if he hadn't specified that he already had company—or that she is his company, if he had.

Haley knows Fu has friends he could reliably crash with if need be, but she doesn't think he has anything like this.

"Okay." She doesn't know what else to say. She's already thanked him for helping her out of this mess, but it's not enough, and there's still so much she needs to do, and she's not sure how to do any of it, and she's—

"You eat mac 'n' cheese?"

Haley starts and stares as Marty holds up a box. She can't quite comprehend why he's asking something so mundane right now. "Yes?"

"Good, because the only other food in this place is apparently butter and saltine crackers. I can't even find a can of soup, and I know I bought some last time."

Marty starts to whistle, a haunting but somehow happy tune with which Haley's not familiar, and she doesn't protest as he prepares food she's not sure she'll be able to stomach.

She finds herself drifting again instead, but she's not sure how much time passes before she's able to wrench herself back to the present. Long enough that she can smell the food, but not so long that Marty has put something in front of her.

"Is Fu coming?" she asks as Marty walks over to her and hands her a bowl. It's hot enough that she rests it on her lap instead of holding it in her hands, though she keeps her left hand nearby to steady it if need be as her right takes hold of the fork and starts to stir the meal to cool it off.

"He will once he gets back to me," Marty says as he sits down on the couch amid a chorus of popping joints and more than one protesting squeak from the furniture. "He's gone to ground. Must be digging up something deep. Bigger than whatever you tripped into, I'd wager." He must catch her expression because he adds, "I put out feelers. Either he'll catch wind that I'm looking for him and contact me or someone else will sniff him out first and pass along my message. You'll be safe enough here in the meantime."

"But I can't stay here." It's not that she doesn't want to, but she can't. "My brother is in trouble."

Marty freezes, his spoon halfway to his mouth. "Your brother?"

The tears come again with a vengeance, welling up in her eyes but not falling, and she tries in vain to blink them away as a lump forms in her throat.

She nods.

Marty's spoon finds its way back into the bowl. "I wasn't aware you had a new addition to the family."

"He's not really new." The words come across strained, but they must be clear enough, because Marty sets what has to be his dinner onto the coffee table.

"You mean your older brother."

She nods again, and Marty buries his face in his hands.

It feels like an eternity passes before he looks up at her. "I'm sorry. I should have known."

Surprise chases away the clawing guilt and grief in her chest. "What?"

"I should have known," Marty repeats. "I was— I'd just gotten this gig. Bested the old reaper and beat out the other candidates and all that, but it's a process. I was still getting the hang of things. It's not uncommon for reaper territory to overlap when you're first assigned; it keeps you from being completely overwhelmed, and Carlos was really good to me before Jerry defeated him and he retired. I thought he'd looked after it. Your parents— Look, when it comes down to it, I didn't see any reason to question it, so I didn't."

Comprehension comes slowly, but it comes. Haley wipes at her eyes. "Jake's death should've been in your territory, but you never got assigned to it because that assignment never existed. He didn't die."

Marty lets out a slow breath. "More than that. I know there was at least one infant death that night, but I didn't handle any of them, so I'm not sure if there were more. Carlos took on a lot of those for me when I first started because kids hit hard, you know? It was his way of easing me in. So I'd assumed the death I'd heard vague rumblings about was your brother's, but I never confirmed that that infant belonged to the magical world. I thought, why rub salt in the wound? I wasn't going to ask for details I wouldn't be at liberty to share anyway."

"Is it—" Haley breaks off, biting her lip as she tries to figure out if she should even ask this question. "Is it usual, to hear about things like that?"

Marty shrugs. "It's not unusual. Dead men tell no tales to anyone but us reapers, but we're not free to repeat them to anyone except each other except in specific circumstances, so any information I give Fu that doesn't come from the rest of my network meets those circumstances. We're more likely to hear gossip about the victim of a violent crime than something like what happened to your brother—what we thought had happened, I mean—but anyone can be a victim, and souls with something to say don't have to tell their tales with words."

Haley doesn't know what to say to that, so she takes her first bite of food instead. It's chewier than she'd like, but despite being warm and tasty enough, it's hard to swallow it down and not have it stick in her throat. Marty reaches for his own bowl again but looks like he's eating more out of obligation than anything else. She waits until they've both had a few mouthfuls before putting down her fork and saying, "The Huntsclan stole him. That's what really happened."

Marty is still. His spoon is firmly in his bowl, but his fingers don't uncurl from the handle as he stares down at it. "He was born with the Mark of the Huntsclan?"

She nods, even though he's not looking at her.

"So he's the new dragon that's been spotted? The one you were looking for?"

"Mm-hmm."

Marty meets her eyes again. "And—I just want to be sure here—he's definitely your brother? Not a trick? Or another dragon your brother's age who believes he's your brother, even though he isn't?"

"Mom saw his scale pattern. It's really Jake." She doesn't think Huntsgirl had known what to look for even if she had gotten a clear look.

She doesn't think Huntsgirl would have shown Haley her face if she were thinking about anything other than getting Jake back to the Huntsclan.

"And you think the Huntsclan found out about him? That's why he's in trouble?"

Haley hesitates. "I…I don't know if they know. I think they might. When we left, we knew the Huntsclan would be looking for him, but that might just be because he went missing. It's— That doesn't matter. The point is, we split up, so I don't know where he is now. But it's not just the Huntsclan. The Dragon Council doesn't want to give him a chance, either!"

Marty's bowl goes back onto the coffee table, and Haley leans forwards to put hers there, too. She's feeling better already and is getting her energy back far faster than she'd thought she might—maybe Marty mixed something into the food to help?—so if Marty wants to keep having a serious conversation, she's ready for it.

He doesn't speak until she's settled back into her chair. His eyes burn into hers, and she swallows back trepidation that almost edges into fear. "Are you sure you want to defy the Council?"

She finds herself squirming before she can think to concentrate on being still. "I didn't say I was going to defy them."

"No? You're already not happy about whatever decision they've reached."

"Yes, but I just want to talk to them!"

"And if they decide not to amend their plan? What then?"

"I don't know," whispers Haley, but it's a poor lie, and she isn't foolish enough to think they don't both know it for what it is.

Marty doesn't call her on it, though. Instead, he pulls something from his pocket. A compass, she realizes as he turns it over in his hands. The one he'd come to get back from Jerry.

That compass is the reason he'd found her.

When he stops fiddling with it, it sits still in his hand, a golden weight of indescribable value.

"He's not in mortal peril, wherever he is," Marty says. "There's no guarantee that won't change, but right now— He's as safe as he can be in this situation, I guess."

A knot Haley hadn't known was tied around her lungs loosens. "He's safe?"

"As safe as he can be may not be safe," cautions Marty as he returns the compass to his pocket, "but he's safer than he would be if Huntsgirl had a spear at his throat. Or behind his left ear? Wherever that weak spot is supposed to be."

Haley isn't entirely sure if Marty's joking in a weak attempt to lighten the mood, so she ignores that. "She wouldn't. They're friends."

"Friends don't always stay friends when things like this happen."

"They would. She knows about him, and she helps him."

Marty hums but doesn't argue. Instead, he nods towards her bowl. "Eat up. I've got some calls to make."

"You can't tell anyone about him!"

"I can be discreet, kiddo. About all of this. I promise."

"No, just— Not yet? Please?"

He tilts his head at her. "Waiting won't make this easier. If the trail goes cold—"

"The Huntsclan is out right now," Haley cuts in, still not making a move to pick up her bowl. Now that she's gotten her second wind, she intends to make the best of it. "Fu won't be the only one who's dug in deeper than usual. I just— I'm worried about Jake, and I'm worried Gramps will get punished because I ran away, and I wish I could hug Mom and Dad right now, but— But I'm the American Dragon, and even if you don't think there's anything I can do right now to help my brother, he can't be my only concern."

She doesn't want to think about Jerry and Marco and Bananas B and Rekin and Seamus.

Not thinking about them is easier right now.

Besides, Marty probably made his calls about them when she fell asleep.

She doesn't want to ask, but Fu would have, and Marty…. Marty wouldn't leave it. She knows him well enough to know that. But she doesn't really want to know what happens, either.

She just wants to—to—

It's all gonna be okay, Haley-hoo. Her father's voice rings through her head, and she has to blink at the sudden sting of tears. We've got you.

Her breath is shaky when she lets it out, but the next breath goes in and out more smoothly.

She's not going to think about it.

She's got other things to think about.

Jake's safety really isn't her only other concern.

Marty sags back into his seat. "If this is you distracting yourself, you're allowed to take a break. You're allowed to worry and miss your family and everything else. You're allowed to be a kid. No one expects you to assume your full responsibilities—"

"The Huntsclan isn't just after Jake." She puts enough strength behind the words to keep them from wavering, but it comes out sharper than she'd intended. She takes another breath, trying to steady herself before saying, "You said they're looking for those skulls."

Marty scrubs a hand over his face. "I was going to go to Fu with this once I had hard evidence. What I've got is good enough to convince people to watch their backs, but it's hardly—"

"No. They're looking for the skulls. You know they are. What do they do?"

He sighs. "Until they're united, nothing worth worrying about. After they're united? Anything."

She frowns. "Magic doesn't work like that."

"This magic does. The Aztec Skulls can change reality itself. Do I know ten different stories about their origins? Yes. Do they matter? No, because all those stories agree on the same thing: whoever has 'em gets one wish and all the consequences that go with it, good and bad."

"You mean—anything? Anything anything? No matter how big of a wish?"

"The Huntsclan would use these to wipe magical creatures from existence," Marty says flatly. "No one needs to guess what they want. And these skulls could do it. There's a reason it's rumoured that uniting the skulls would spell certain doom for magical creatures."

The Huntsclan must have heard those same rumours, assuming they weren't the ones to start them.

"In these parts," Marty continues, eyeing her as if he's not sure she's fully comprehending the gravity of the situation, "the only suitable place to reunite them would be the Pantheon Building. One in each mouth of the twelve gargoyles up there, with the thirteenth skull to be held up as a focus for the magic. They can't be destroyed until they're united, so the next best thing is trying to keep them out of the hands of the Huntsclan. All that work doesn't have to fall to you."

Haley, who had been entertaining the wild idea of wishing that her brother had not been taken by the Huntsclan and had instead grown up with his family, happy and himself instead of withdrawn and guarded, swallows back the thought. It would be easy—I wish my brother had never been born with the Mark of the Huntsclan!—but she'd never be allowed to do something so reckless. Marty's right; they can't risk the skulls being united if they hold this much power.

A wish could be made in a few heartbeats, and that wish wouldn't necessarily be hers. If the Huntsclan were there, they wouldn't give her a few heartbeats to make that wish.

Still.

Marty hadn't been clear on whether or not someone else could make a second wish on the heels of the first or, if so, whether or not that second wish could contradict the first. Haley would dearly like to know those answers. Is it one wish for anyone present once the skulls are united, one wish each time they're united, or one wish, period? If the Huntsclan manages to unite the skulls but she finds out about it in time, is there a chance she could stop the destruction of all magical creatures even if they manage to make their wish first? Would she have time to do anything once that wish was made or would everything just…stop?

"So what's your plan?" she asks in a futile attempt to stop her mind from picturing scenarios where she did have time to make a wish. She could wish for the destruction of the Huntsclan, wish it had never existed in the first place, wish away all those truly loyal to its cause, wish that no one who is not part of the magical world knows of its existence, even if that would mean telling her dad again….

"Short of sweet talking the Pixie Post into throwing my parcel into the mouth of an active volcano? Cement and a nice ocean trip for some deep sea fishing, probably. Neither would solve the problem, but it'd slow down the Huntsclan."

"Let me take care of it." Her plan is only half-formed; it's hardly a plan at all. There's just enough of it there to know that it's a terrible idea, and the only bit that isn't terrible is securing a bit of leverage—if Marty will let her. "As a thank you. And because it is my job, and this is something I can do. I only need a backpack or a bag to carry it in for now."

Marty steeples his fingers and looks at her.

His eyes burn into her soul.

Had Fu's quip that one time about not being able to lie to Marty—to any grim reaper, presumably—been more serious than she'd thought?

"There's an Aztec sculpture in the zoo," Marty says eventually. "Jerry let something slip, so I plan to check it out. If it yields fruit, I'll take care of it."

Haley opens her mouth, thinks about what speaking might get her, and waits in silence instead.

Marty pulls the crystal skull from his pocket and sets it on the table between them. "These have guardians. If it's in one place for too long, you risk one of them sniffing out your hiding spot and either taking it back or setting up shop. If I'm right about the Huntsclan collecting the skulls, they'll be prepared for the guardians and will slaughter every shred of magic possible. Bathing the skulls in the blood of the guardians to increase their power is a gruesome thought, but it's one of the rumours out there, and if you're going to take this, you need to know exactly what the Huntsclan will do to get their hands on it. If it comes down to you or the skull, give them the skull."

Giving them the skull is exactly the sort of thing that would get her stripped of her title as the American Dragon, since it's the opposite of what she should do for the betterment of the magical world. Besides, if Marty's right about the Huntsclan using the skulls to destroy all magical creatures, she's not safer if they have it.

Granted, the Huntsclan getting the skull from her—freely or otherwise—is a not insignificant risk of her half-baked plan. Idea. Thought. Whatever it is.

"Promise me," adds Marty, and she can hear the weight of magic in his words.

If she concentrates, she can feel it in the air, too.

He's asking for a binding promise, and she doesn't think he'll let her touch the skull if she doesn't give her word. It's not as strong as an oath, so her own magic wouldn't stop her from acting against it any more than his would, but he'd know if she broke her promise. He'd know, so he'd be able to send her help, maybe even come himself and save her again if she needed it.

It's another safety measure, a way to protect her when she's being reckless in Fu's absence.

Haley smiles with a confidence she doesn't entirely feel and says, "I promise."