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inside job? Somebody at the Agency?”

The answer is obvious to me. “No. Hillerman was double-crossed. It’s Theo Coltrane, master of the Cleveland clan. Everything fits. The East Side horde needs a replacement for Henry Stadther, and Coltrane has access to Arael. Coltrane wants the Detroit territory, but so does his only remaining rival, Windsor, which is bigger and closer.”

Jay gets it. “So they decide to scratch each other’s backs. The bridge was two birds with one stone. Strike at Windsor, while also forcing the cargo ship to dock.”

“Jay, if they get to Arael…if they kill him, we’ve lost. They’ll find him a new body, and there’ll be no stopping them from taking over Detroit.”

When Bowler Hat’s speedboat cuts sharply, heading toward a marina, Jay freezes with indecision. He can either chase after the revenant or continue on to the cargo ship—we can’t do both. I feel bad. I know how much Jay wants to nail that bastard. I’m the one who set him free, told him to go fetch, to put me out of his thoughts, and yet here I am trying to pull him back, to force him another way.

I put my hand on his arm. “Jay. Arael’s a warmonger. He’ll destroy the city.”

He eases off the throttle, watching the speedboat. There’s still time to go after it. Honestly, I won’t push back if Jay makes that choice. In fact, I’ll be relieved. It’s by far the safer choice, and I could still reassure myself that I tried to do the right thing.

Jay sides with me. Throttling up, he takes us straight for the bulk carrier. We’re close enough now to see the muzzle flashes of automatic gunfire from the tower and on deck. It’s a war zone.

My head cranes back as we approach. I had no idea how high these things float above the waterline. The hull is a sixty-foot wall of smooth steel.

“How the hell do we get up there?”

Jay points ahead. Toward the back of the ship, I can barely make out a thin line running straight up from the water to the deck. When we finally reach it, I see that the thin line is a series of metal rungs.

Jay scrapes our boat along the mammoth hull, and then, without hesitation, jumps onto the rungs and begins climbing. I scramble to follow him, but the rocking boat makes me lose my balance. With an awkward leap, I barely manage to make the transfer. When this is over, I’ll be happy to never step foot on another boat.

We climb and climb, and the higher we go, the more this wall seems to tip back at an inverted angle. I feel like I’m trying to climb across a ceiling. We’re almost to the top when another explosion from the tower shakes the whole world. I cling to the rungs, gritting my teeth against the sting of frozen steel against my cheek.

At last, I pull myself over the lip of the deck and throw myself down next to Jay beside a series of enormous pipes. On the other side of the ship, next to the dock, a battle rages between the FBI’s Underworld Task Force and the alliance of East Side demons and Cleveland vampires. The agents have guns, but the enemy outnumbers them 3 to 1, and the vamps are fast, spreading out into flanking positions. The FBI will be overrun.

Jay checks his pistol, makes sure it’s loaded. “We’ve got to move Arael. Where’ve they got him?”

“First cargo hold. There’s a hatch in the control room across from the cafeteria.”

Jay moves out, running in a crouch, keeping his head down. I’m slow to follow. Everything’s happening so fast. My arms and legs are rubber from the ladder climb. My body shivers uncontrollably, and I’m not sure if it’s because of the cold, or the shock of my plunge from the bridge finally settling in. Closing my eyes, I suck in a breath and blow it out, trying to steady my racing heart.

I pick myself up and stumble after Jay, but I only get a handful of steps before I’m stopped by a terrible sight: Agent Hillerman is taking cover behind the corner of a cargo hold roof, and at her feet Russo lies flat on his back, clutching at his chest. He’s covered in blood. Hillerman fires at a group of demons, keeping them back, but she doesn’t see the tall thug sneaking up behind her.

I don’t stop to think. I sprint on pure adrenaline. The thug makes his move, lunging at Hillerman, but I intercept him at the last moment, throwing my shoulder into his chest. Crack! His head slams against the cargo bay, and he drops like a rag doll.

“Watch it!” Hillerman shouts, spinning to fire past my shoulder. I see a streak of movement, too fast to be human. The vampire both crashes into me and lifts me up into the air at the same time. We slam down on top of the cargo hold, and as he wrestles against my flailing limbs, I catch glimpses of Capra’s golden boy hair and leather jacket with popped collar. His supernaturally strong grip pins my arms. I have time to register the horrifying sight of his chin with the black stripe running down it before the revenant opens his mouth wide and buries his fangs in my neck, growling with satisfaction. The deep puncture seizes my nervous system, making my whole body go stiff as a board.

It’s over so quickly. I’m still opening my mouth to scream when he tears his mouth from my throat and shoves off from me, gone in a flash. My mouth hangs open, but no sound comes out.

There’s no pain. Not yet. There’s only a heavy and overwhelming dread, a realization that we can’t win this time. There’s too many of them, too many leaks in the dam—not enough fingers to plug the holes. Hillerman is retreating, Russo is badly injured, maybe dying, and Jay is going down into the cargo

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