“What is this?” she asked.

“Westerners would call her a revenant.”

“Animated corpse.”

“If I command her to seek a person, she will walk for miles until her legs fall apart—and when that happens, she’ll crawl. Her hands will scrabble across dry desert, long after her head has fallen in a ditch. I bound her spirit to her bones, and she can do nothing but obey my commands.”

She. That thing was a she.

“Behold,” he said with breathless excitement. “This is the kind of power I wield.”

Aida stared at the corpse in horror. “Put her to rest, for the love of God. You’ve proven your point, and I can’t stand the sight of her.”

“She is alive now. I can’t kill her.”

“You’ve created an immortal creature?”

“I didn’t say immortal. She can die again, in a manner of speaking.”

“How?”

He inhaled deeply, ignoring her question. “Besides, this girl is special. Today I will pack her up and let her loose on her husband.”

Aida held one exhalation of cold breath for several beats.

“Who is her husband?” she finally asked in a small voice.

Yip smiled very slowly.

It can’t be—no, no, no . . .

“Take heart,” Yip said. “I am not arranging for Mr. Magnusson’s death because of his respect for my people. I’m just pushing forward what would naturally occur in the future—Mr. Magnusson has the burden of too much death by his own hand, and his mind is weak like his father’s.”

Dear lord. Winter wasn’t crazy, but Yip was. A very rationalized, polite insanity, but crazy nonetheless. Aida stared at him, both horrified and feeling pity for the man.

Yip gestured toward the coffin. “Now that you’ve seen my power, what is your decision?”

“If I declined your offer?”

“Do you know how to swim?”

Aida started to shake her head in answer until realization sunk in.

“That is the best way. Your spirit will travel fast—very little chance of it staying here as a ghost if you’ve drowned in the Bay. And no one will grieve you, which is a small blessing. I will simply send word to your future employer in New Orleans that you’ve changed your mind, and no one will even know you’re gone.” He smiled at her as if he were a kindly old lawyer, breaking tough news about a judge’s decision.

A loud noise coming from somewhere on the ship made her jump.

Then again. A sharp bang!

The report of a gun.

Doctor Yip blanched. His men carried no guns.

Aida knew someone who did.

More shots were fired in quick succession, and suddenly gunfire reverberated inside the belly of the ship. It sounded like a battlefield lay beyond the walls of the dining room. Not single shots anymore, but the distinct rat-a-tat-tat of machine guns. Muffled shouting followed. The teardrop crystals in the chandelier clinked; the boards beneath her feet vibrated.

“Tai! Get out there and see what’s going on!” Yip yelled at the big man as he rushed to close the casket top.

While he pulled it down, Tai swung both doors open. A shot exploded. The big man stumbled backward. Movement in the dim doorway took the shape of an even bigger man whose arm lashed out to shove Tai. His teetering form crashed to the floor. He did not get up.

The gunman who’d shot Tai stormed into the ship’s dining room holding someone else in front of him like a shield, a handgun pressed to the side of his head. When he walked the hostage into the light of the first lantern, Aida, with a start, recognized the man being held at gunpoint.

Ju’s thug. The man she’d burned with incense.

The gun fired. Flesh and bone exploded. Ju’s thug dropped to the floor.

The gunman kicked him away and stepped into the light.

Splattered in blood, Winter strode into the room like a furious titan.

Aida cried out in relief, but a strong arm wrapped around her shoulders and yanked her sideways. Yip crushed her back to his chest and pinned her there. “Mr. Magnusson,” his voice called near her ear as he shoved her forward. “I had plans to visit you at your house later tonight. I have men there watching your sister.”

“I know. They’re all dead.”

“Ah.” Yip’s grip tightened. “And I see I miscalculated the depth of your allegiance to the spirit medium. Is it really worth damning your soul further to take more innocent lives on this ship?”

“Winter—” Aida started.

Yip slapped his bare hand on her mouth. Ghostly breath, now stoppered there, shifted paths and streamed from her nostrils in quick pants.

“I couldn’t care less about her,” Winter said.

Aida’s chest tightened. Surely he was bluffing.

“Your actions betray you,” Yip said.

“She’s leaving the city tomorrow. It was a fling. She was giving it up for free—just a skirt, nothing more.”

Aida’s throat constricted. Anger and hurt welled up in equal parts.

“Then why have you come for her?” the herbalist asked.

“I didn’t even know she was here.”

It couldn’t be true—no! Why did he send the lancet? She struggled to throw Yip off, but he only held her tighter. After huffing several strained breaths near her ear, he snapped at Winter. “You mean to tell me that you brought death into my house—that you’re killing my workers—because of a few ghosts I sent your way? I don’t believe that.”

Winter’s face was stone. Lantern light cast shadows over his eyes, making his scar stand out in sharp relief. His mouth was the same immovable grim line he’d worn when she first met him, as if he’d never learned how to smile. “I’m here to look out for my business and take back what you’ve stolen from my associates.”

Aida’s pulse pounded in her temples as panic shot through her limbs. Did he mean it? Her heart didn’t believe it, but her mind pulled at the loose thread of their fight. The way he’d shouted at her. The way he’d ignored her for days before the fight. Maybe he’d only sent the lancet as a token—maybe it was his way of telling her she was on her own.

She searched his face for some sign of hope but found none. Her confidence unraveled.

“I wasn’t aware you had any associates,” Yip said.

“You’d be surprised how quickly the dollar will make friends of rivals.”

“If you are that intent on saving your business, then go ahead and shoot the girl.”

“I’d rather shoot you. Let her go and face me like a man.” Winter took another step. His nostrils flared. A brief flash of repulsion crossed his face. He smelled the corpse. His eyes finally flicked to the coffin. Hesitation chinked his steely exterior—Aida could see it. Yip saw it, too.

“Before you shoot anyone, why don’t we see if another woman might change your mind?”

All of Yip’s muscles seized. He barked out a rough command. Aida struggled against him, trying to get away. His grip changed from firm to bruising. Pain sliced down her arm as his fingernails jabbed hard enough to break skin.

The coffin lid creaked open, blocking her view of Winter.

A gunshot cracked. Shellacked wood splintered.

Yip reacted immediately, dragging her backward as he circled around the coffin like a clock—a ticking second hand trying to outpace Winter’s steady minute hand. She attempted to slow Yip by biting the meat of the palm gagging her mouth. Yip stomped on her toes. Pain radiated through her foot as tears streamed down her face. He dragged her farther and shouted another command.

They stopped at the head of the coffin.

Winter aimed a gun at her from the coffin’s foot.

Their gazes locked. She saw nothing in his eyes—nothing at all!

The corpse’s head lifted. Winter’s focus shifted. She watched horror dawn over his face as he looked upon the rotting body of his dead wife.

“No introductions are necessary,” Yip shouted to Winter. “True love never dies, yes?”

The body crawled out of the coffin, sloshing viscous dark fluid as it stood with creaking bones. Her dress was plastered to her limbs, indistinguishable from the pieces of embalmed skin clinging to her arms. Most of her flesh was gone around her upper legs.

A grotesque nightmare.

Yip gave her another command. Her head twisted toward her former husband.

Aida heard Winter make a pained noise. He aimed his gun at the walking corpse.

“You killed her once,” Yip shouted near her ear. “Will you again? I called her spirit from the beyond. The body is crude, but it holds her, truly. She is alive, for all intents and purposes. And she still loves you, even from the grave. Would you really kill her with your own hands?”

Aida stared at Winter, hoping he wasn’t falling for this insane man’s words. He’d contradicted himself so many times, even she didn’t know what was true. He’d said the revenant wasn’t immortal. It was just a spirit occupying a dead body . . . nothing more than what she did when she channeled, only the spirit didn’t have a live shell to occupy.

Winter hesitated, unsure, whispering, “Paulina?”

The broken sound of his voice was like a shock of cold water over Aida’s nerves. Twisting in Yip’s arms, she sloppily hiked her dress up and snatched the lancet from her garter. Yip shouted some threat in her ear, but she wasn’t listening. Four quick twists and the lancet cap bounced on the floor.

Reaching behind her, she stabbed the blade into the only place on Yip she could properly reach: his right hip.

“A-a-ah!” he yelped as his hand released her mouth.

Not a serious wound, but enough to free her.

His grip around her shoulders sagged. She spun around and hit him again, slashing his bicep. He screamed in Cantonese and lunged for her, grasping at air when she jumped.