Then Sarren raised his hand and pointed a long, bony finger into the air, at something along the side of the ship. I flicked a glance at where he was pointing, and gripped the railing hard enough to feel it bend beneath my fingers.

A metal pole hung over the edge of the barge, away from the side of the ship. A net swung from that pole, dangling over the foaming water. Inside, two small, terrified faces peered out at me, and my stomach dropped.

“Caleb!” Zeke surged forward, looking like he might jump the railing, his horrified gaze on the net swinging precariously over open water. “Bethany! Hang on! I’ll be right there!”

A faint scream came from the kid’s direction, Caleb’s highpitched voice crying out for Zeke. I could see both children now, tied back-to-back with heavy chain, their faces streaked with tears. Eight-year-old Bethany, golden-haired, fragile and shy, but who had still survived the entire nightmare-filled journey to Eden. And Caleb, six years old, resilient beyond his age, and the only person in the entire group who had never been afraid of me because I was a vampire.

Horrified, I looked back at Sarren, and he gave me a wide, evil smile, fingering a rope that had been tied to the railing.

The rope stretched back toward the barge, pulled taut up the side of the ship and toward the metal pole. Everything inside me went cold.

Don’t, I thought desperately. For Zeke, for Caleb and Bethany, and everyone else caught in Sarren’s ruthless sights. For the love of God, if you have some sliver of humanity left in you, any at al , don’t do it.

Sarren raised his left arm—the arm I’d sliced off with my katana the last time we met, severing it just above the elbow.

A viciously curved blade had replaced the forearm, attached to his elbow with metal clamps and straps. Sarren smiled at me over the edge of the weapon, holding my gaze, then brought it slashing down toward the railing. The rope snapped, and the kids screamed as the net plummeted into the foaming water like a stone and sank from view.

“No!” Zeke gave a strangled, desperate cry and glanced back at me. His face was tortured, eyes bright with anguish.

He knew we had to stop Sarren. He knew that if Requiem hit land, everything would be over. But he was still Zeke.

The Zeke who protected his own, who refused to leave anyone behind, who loved his people fiercely and would give his life to keep them safe. If Caleb and Bethany died, even if we saved the world, Zeke would never forgive himself.

“Go,” I told him, and he spun, leaped the rails, and dove into the frigid water without hesitation. Surfacing, he struck out for the place where the net had sunk below the surface, fighting waves and current and the foaming wake of the barge.

I watched him, the boat carrying us swiftly away, until a wave broke over the lean, bright form cutting through the water, and Zeke was lost from sight.

I swallowed the sudden terror that I’d never see him again and turned back to the barge. Jackal pushed the boat faster, and we closed the distance, the waves bouncing us so hard I felt the deck rattle when we came down.

“Get around it,” Kanin told Jackal, who nodded grimly and spun the wheel. The boat angled off and began following the sides of the great ship. “The pilothouse is at the front.

We need to steer this thing away from land.”

A scream interrupted him. I looked up just in time to see a rabid fling itself from the top of the barge and land on deck.

It gave a shriek and lunged toward Jackal, but Kanin intercepted it, driving his blade deep into the side of its neck and ripping it out the front. The rabid’s head toppled backward, and Kanin kicked the monster over the railings, into the lake.

“Shit!” Jackal yanked the wheel, and the boat veered away from the side. Chilled, I looked up the barge to see a huge horde of rabids swarming the platform, shrieking and hissing and tearing at themselves. They weren’t locked away in a hold or in cages; they were loose on the deck. And already infected.

We passed the open platform, the rabids screaming and hissing at us from the edge, and drew alongside the front of the barge. Waves tossed the boat, the foaming wake of the huge ship plowing through the water, but Jackal maneuvered us until we were just a few feet from the wall. A set of rusty metal rungs were welded to the side, leading to the top of the deck Kanin turned to me.

“Let’s go.”

He leaped from the edge onto the ladder, shimmied up the side, and vanished over the rails. I followed, flinging myself over the water, grabbing the rungs as I came down.

Turning, I searched for Jackal, expecting to see him right behind me. He still stood at the helm, his lean body hunched over the wheel, almost leaning against it. I swallowed hard.

In all the time I’d known him, he had never shown signs of pain or weakness, until now.

“Jackal!” My voice carried weakly over the waves. My brother didn’t move, and my fear increased. Sarren was on the other side of the barge, and there was a horde of screaming, infected rabids between us, but I knew he’d show up soon enough. “Come on! Jump! Before Sarren gets here.”

Jackal raised his head, eyes gleaming, gave me a strained smile. Black veins crawled up his throat and jaw, and the skin on one cheek was beginning to darken.

“Yeah, about that.” His voice made my stomach sink. It was tense, tight with agony, but resolved. Like he had just come to a conclusion, and knew we weren’t going to like what came next. “Sorry, sister. But you’re going to have to fight this one without me.”

“You can’t be serious! You’re going to leave now? ” I gaped at him, not knowing whether to be stunned, furious or terrified I would never see him again, because he’d be dead soon.

“After everything we did to get here? When you know what Requiem will do once it hits land? You’re still going to bail?”

He smirked, and the boat veered away. “It’s what I’m best at,” he called without an inkling of remorse. I stared after him, disbelieving, and he grinned. “Don’t worry, sister, I’m sure you and the old man will be able to beat Sarren on your own. But I can’t fight Sarren like this, and I’ve survived this long by knowing when the odds aren’t in my favor. So I’m afraid I’m going to have to fold.”

“You can’t run from this, you idiot! You’re infected with Requiem! Where are you going to go?”

“Don’t worry, sister.” Jackal’s smirk was more of a grimace.

“What do I keep telling you? I always come out on top. You just worry about beating Sarren. Kick him in the teeth a few times for me, would you? I’d appreciate it.”

“Jackal…” Desperate, I stared at him, wishing I knew what to say to stop this. “You won’t survive. If we lose, if Sarren wins, everyone will die.”

Jackal gave me a wry, humorless smile. “Then I’ll see you both in hell,” he called, and sped off, pulling ahead of the barge and vanishing into the black. Numb, I stared after the boat until it was lost to the waves, as Jackal disappeared into the unknown once more, then I scurried up the ladder.

Kanin waited for me on top, saying nothing as I climbed over the railing to join him at the edge of the barge. We stood on the front deck, the wind whipping at our clothes as the huge vessel sliced unerringly through the water. Several yards away, the pilothouse rose into the air, and beyond that, the deck dropped away to the huge floating platform that made up the rest of the barge. Long metal containers were scattered across the platform, creating a labyrinth of aisles and corridors, and also a walkway the rabids couldn’t reach from below. Of course, one wrong move or slip meant you would fall to a grisly death. A pair of containers had been stacked together and shoved against the wall closest to the pilothouse, preventing the monsters from climbing onto the front deck.