Just then Patient One's arm shot out. He shoved my shoulder. "Go!"

My hands were still tight around the cage, and I ended up only bending forward. As I did, Coalhouse took a panicked, frightened shot. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Patient One arch backward and crash into the rear of the cage. My body seemed to burn with empathetic pain, pain so monumental that it caused me to sway and tasted like iron in my mouth.

Coalhouse shouted my name.

The pain didn't stop.

My ears ringing, my vision blurry, I looked to the side, to see that the right shoulder of my dress was swiftly turning into a mora.s.s of blood. Slowly, I let go of the cage and reached over, grabbing whatever material my numb fingers could grip and pulling it downward. The soaked fabric of my dress and corset cover smeared red down my upper arm, trickled red onto my corset, the strap of my chemise.

It was just a flesh wound. The bullet had grazed me, leaving a surprisingly short furrow in my skin. It was raw and red and bleeding, the edges of it singed. But more than that ...

It'd obliterated Bram's bite marks.

It was that realization that caused me to fly at Coalhouse in a sudden seething rage and push him back with a soul-deep scream. Pet.i.te as I was, I caught him off guard as he was staring at me in horror. The gun went tumbling from his hand.

As I struck him again and again, ignoring the agony in my shoulder, I could hear someone pounding on the other side of the door, my father's voice. Behind me, I could hear Patient One yelling. He wasn't dead. Logic told me to run for the door, open it, let the showdown begin.

My heart, confused as it was, aggrieved as it was, told me otherwise.

Coalhouse was my friend and they might kill him for this. They wouldn't ask questions if he tried to leave with Patient One, or if he tried to leave both of us behind b.l.o.o.d.y-they might just kill him.

Bram had to talk to him. To both of them. Something was dreadfully, deeply wrong. This wasn't the Coalhouse I knew. Maybe he'd gotten into trouble, maybe somebody was forcing him to do this.

"Please stop!" I finally heard him begging. "I didn't mean to! I'm so sorry!"

I did stop, my fingers gripping into his clothing. I fought back my tears. "What have you done?"

"What ... Nora, please, the blood ... I'm so sorry ... I never miss ... I thought he was attacking you ..."

The smell. I staggered back, looking up at the dead boy. Coalhouse had obviously lost his mind, but he was still apologizing to me. We needed to make the boat safe, sort this out. I couldn't just run away.

"I have to help you surrender," I said shakily, "Or we have to call Bram."

"No. I won't, Nora. Not unless I kill P One first."

He looked to his gun again, and I raced for it, picking it up before he could do anything. I opened it and dumped the bullets into my hand, making sure to get the chambered one. Realizing what I was doing, he shouted and tried to grab me, but I tossed the handful of bullets down the length of the room before he could. I could hear them pinging off the metal shingles, bouncing for what seemed an eternity. I took a quick inventory of the equipment in the room-computers, digital disks-and realized with relief that if there were any pens or long instruments, I didn't know of them.

"d.a.m.n it, Nora!" Coalhouse yelled. "If he dies, people will be safe!"

I forced myself to take another step closer, the open gun held in front of me. "Could you really look a sane zombie in the eyes and shoot him?"

"Yes." He sounded despondent. "I knew I couldn't get him off the boat. I was just going to kill him. And I'm sorry for that."

This was better. He was talking. Showing more empathy. I swallowed hard to overcome a wave of pain. "Let me call Bram, a-"

"No!" His expression crumpled. "Not him. I was trying so hard to be him ..."

That at least made sense. A twisted sort of sense. As I looked back at Patient One to make sure he was okay, I realized that I needed to get Coalhouse off the boat entirely, away from everyone. Maybe then he would open up, tell me more. The only way to get him and Patient One out of the fire, at this point, was to shove them aside and sit in it myself. I'd promised Bram I wouldn't do anything stupid, but Coalhouse, P One-they both needed me.

The idea that came to me for doing this was large and horrible and almost laughable. "I'm your only way out, then."

Coalhouse blinked. "What?"

"Did you think you'd shoot him and they'd arrest you?"

Coalhouse nodded. "Yes. I was prepared to face that. Surrender. Figured I'd get someone to tell the Changed he was dead."

Clapping one hand over my throbbing shoulder to stanch the blood, I pointed with the gun at the door. "Well, I don't think you thought your cunning plan all the way through," I said, using a fatherism. "There's only one way off this ship, and that's the way you came. You locked the guards out, but they'll be closing in behind you. You sealed yourself in your own tomb. You did a crazy thing-the sort of thing a zombie losing his mind does. And now there's blood." I gestured. "My blood is on you."

Coalhouse stared at me. I'd just hit a whole h.e.l.l of a lot of nails on the head.

"They're trying to arrest zombies, true. But what did Bram say? That last time the army was ready to kill? The scene you're making right now, they might kill you. You hurt me, even just knock me out-I can't help you talk your way out of this. And if you go for those bullets, I will fight you, and you will have no choice but to knock me out."

For a moment he looked almost offended. "I would never hurt you ..." He gripped his head. "Oh G.o.d, what have I done?"

I took a breath and tried it. "But if you take me as a hostage, they won't."

"I can't do that!" he protested.

"You'll have to," I said. "Put the gun to my head and march me out. If you want to live, that is. They won't risk shooting me."

"What?" he barked, voice desperate. "Why?"

"Because you're my friend. I want you to live. And you're not thinking straight."

"Stop saying that!"

"You're not!" I screamed, thrusting the gun at him. "You want me to lie to you? You either stay here and let me talk you to safety, or you take me with you to get off the boat. Either way, you're not killing P One." Coalhouse swore. "Make your decision!"

He took the gun, his fingers trembling. "Fine." He looked at me. "But I'm not going without him."

"You can't."

"I have to, Nora."

He was huge. I'd disarmed myself. I had nothing to threaten him with. And I'd gotten him this far. Before he could come up with another mad idea for eliminating Patient One, before he could go bullet-hunting, I capitulated and said, "We go together, then."

He nodded, and moved toward Patient One's cage. The zombie within appeared to be fine-he was so physically ruined that I couldn't even tell where he'd been hit. Coalhouse used the gun to smash the lock. Pulling the zombie free, he produced a large handkerchief from his pocket and twisted it into a makeshift rope, using it to bind P One's wrists behind him.

As he did, I steadied myself. It wasn't like I hadn't been in danger before. "Let me take my phone."

"h.e.l.l no." He turned around and aimed the empty gun at me. "Go."

Blast. Nodding, I moved to the door and unlocked it. Showtime.

Outside was chaos. Guards were flanking the door, their weapons trained on us; several of them aimed upward when they saw me. The scientists were hugging the far wall, and cried out when it became clear to them what was going on.

"There's a hostage! Hold your fire!"

Dad and Salvez rushed forward, and Ben held them back. "NoNo! Oh my G.o.d, what happened?"

"I'm okay, Papa," I told him, my voice shaking just when I didn't want it to. "It's okay. We're doing this for a reason."

"What are you doing?" Salvez asked Coalhouse, barely able to utter the words, his voice strangely airy. "What are you ... you're not ..."

"I'm okay, Dr. Salvez," I said. "Just let him go." I put my hands up and walked forward, Coalhouse close behind me. He dragged Patient One along by his wrists. "Don't try to stop him. You'll hurt someone."

"No one come any closer!" Coalhouse bellowed, his voice huge in the belly of the ship. "You hear me? I'll let P One go if I have to!"

Looking at my father, I said, "I love you. I'll be all right." I knew they'd come after us the minute we left. I wasn't throwing myself off a cliff, not entirely.

I hoped.

But my little plan worked. Gerard had taught me well. h.e.l.l, Wolfe had taught me well. With a lot of yelling, a lot of angry motions, Coalhouse managed to force me ahead of him and off the ship. Once we were on the dock he turned me around, making sure no one would try to take him out from behind. Then it was through the busy barricade, which parted like the Red Sea to let us pa.s.s, its members crying out at the sight of us. A lightning storm of flashes went off. Apparently I was going to be on the news again. I should just embrace it. Start an Aethernet site.

A broken-down carriage awaited us at the end of the barricade. Coalhouse pushed both me and the patient into the backseat, launched himself into the front, and took off down the dock at a terrifying pace. The minute we hit the surface streets I heard sirens, saw flashing lights out of every window, like holographic insects descending on a fallen carca.s.s.

"You make one move, Nora ..." He trailed off, concentrating on driving. He hadn't secured me. I supposed that's what he was thinking of.

"I won't. I want to help you." I reached out and squeezed Patient One's sticky hand. It was disgusting, but I barely felt it. The man looked at me, and I saw fear in his eyes. I didn't want him to lash out.

But neither could I let him go off, go free.

"The death that is died for others," I reminded him as I slid my fingers away from his and put both hands over my shoulder to show Coalhouse I wasn't going to try anything.

Still, I had to hope that death wouldn't end up being my own.

30.

BRAM.

"Got everything set?"

"Have I ever let you down?" Ren turned away from his computers and set his hands on his lap, like an obedient schoolboy. "What else would you like to put on the Renny-do list-build a large hadron collider?"

"Cute." I held out my hand. "Info."

"No paper. For once, I will not contribute to the demise of what remains of the rain forest." He picked up a digidiary from his desk. It was connected to one of his computers by a wire, which he pulled out. "Digital is the way to go, my friend."

I knew now was not the time to argue, so I took the thing from him and opened it. I'd been using one as a journal for years, at Dearly's behest. That function'd been fairly easy to get the hang of. "Fine. You've got thirty seconds, Professor Merriweather."

"I've set it all up. All you have to do is press the magical little b.u.t.tons. On the launch screen you'll see icons for maps, links to his personal information, his school records-"

"You got Allister's school records? Well done."

"C minus in Cla.s.sical Logic. Suddenly so much makes sense."

Finding the map icon, I thumbed my way in. "Says here his family has five houses? Which one is he at, then?"

"Current whereabouts I can't do. Well ..." He paused, and fiddled with his gla.s.ses. "I could technically do it. But it'd be difficult. And highly illegal."

"Has that ever stopped you before?"

"Yes. I'm not a black hat." I knew Ren was capable of hacking, I just honestly wasn't sure what that "hacking" entailed. I'd known him to get past things called firewalls, into systems protected by pa.s.swords. Like, apparently, the grading system at Michael's school. "Granted, at this point my inevitable stint in prison would be exceedingly brief."

"Could you do it?"

"He's New Victorian. He's got an embedded ID chip." I nodded; that's what I'd been thinking. "Most efficient method of tracking him would involve breaking into the government ID database. It's been compromised before. But I'm not going to be able to do that in the next five minutes ... honestly, I'd rather not try. Too risky."

"Might not be so simple to find him after all," I said, disappointed. Because I was going after him. Mink's warning had been for the weekend, and I figured as long as Nora remained on the Erika, she'd be safe. Which meant this was my best opportunity to corner Michael and figure out what kind of game he was playing.

Alone. It was time.

"Now, I could try security cameras."

"Come again?"

He twirled a finger in the air. "New Victoria is filled with security cameras. I was saying, if I had a general idea where he was, I could infiltrate the camera networks, perform surveillance."

"Ren ..." I was torn between the desire to hug him and the need to throttle him. "Why didn't you say this before? We could use that to find the masks!"

"No, we couldn't." He lowered his hand. "I physically cannot watch every single camera in New London."

"Yeah, but like you said, if we had some idea ..."

"Which we won't have until we get more attacks in the database, figure out if there are any patterns. Which is why I'm glad we're canva.s.sing."

"Yeah, but so far we're not having any luck with that. Coalhouse said they might clear out, and maybe they have. Once we have enough bodies on our side, though, we'll make a personal visit to the Changed. At least get Laura and Dog out of there." Giving up, I snapped the diary shut. "Looks like it's going to have to be old-fashioned footwork for now, then."

And footwork it was. Only the Rolls remained at the house, and unwilling to take it, I hopped the trolley to the surface and got off near the Morgue. Opening the digidiary again, I decided my best bet would probably be the richer areas of town. I wasn't expecting to run into Michael on the street, but maybe something I saw or heard would push me in the right direction. I'd have to catch an omnibus there, most likely.

It was then that I heard someone beeping. Glancing up, I saw an old, tatty carriage drawing up beside a wrought-iron parking meter. I wasn't sure if its driver wanted me, not until the window was lowered and the pigtailed girl from Ratcatcher's crew leaned out.

"Hey!" she shouted. Her voice was even more girlish than Nora's-she sounded like a five-year-old who'd been nursing a helium tank. "Get in. We need to talk."

A tad weirded out, I took a look around. I couldn't see anyone preparing for an ambush. And admittedly, getting to the bottom of the Ratcatcher thing appealed to me. Sliding my fingertips over the pistol at my waist, I decided to go for it, and crossed the sidewalk, hopping into the driver's side. The instant I got the door shut, the girl took off.

"I'm Bai," she said, keeping her eyes on the road but only one hand on the steering wheel. She fished around inside her worn boy's private school jacket-at least, that's what it looked like, with a crest on the pocket-and pulled out three letters with broken black wax seals. "Ronnie's niece."

"Bram."