Conrad and I were having a spirited discussion on Vance’s boat. We weren’t mad. We didn’t even disagree with each other, but we were two panicked people who found it easier to raise our voices than pretend that everything was hunky-dory.

Vance, our bastion of calm, decided to stay out of it. He kept his mind on the business of steering the boat and getting us further away from the crashing and snapping sounds we could still occasionally hear over the sound of the motor.

Kappa and Scaredy stayed by him.

“It’s going to destroy the swamp!” I cried.

“It is the swamp!” Conrad growled through grit teeth.

“What about the lurkers? At best, their home will be destroyed. At worst, some of them get killed.”

“They knew enough to get out of the way when they saw it coming!”

I jabbed a rigid finger at Scaredy. His top fin retracted.

“Most of them knew enough to get out of the way,” Conrad amended.

“That thing isn’t quiet!” I yelled. “People are going to come, even if they aren’t supposed to. And what if it leaves the swamp? It’ll destroy Fort Rive! People will die. We have to stop it!”

“Do you know how to stop a swamp, Emerra?” Conrad yelled back. “That thing took seven rounds to the chest without noticing! My best hit wouldn’t slow it down. And even if I managed to tear an arm off without getting turned into wolf-jelly, I don’t think that’d stop it! And you don’t think so either. Hell! Knowing our luck, it’ll probably reach down and reattach the arm! You can’t win a fight against a walking pile of mud and plants.”

“If it was nothing but mud and plants it wouldn’t be walking around! It’s magic.”

“Even worse! We’re not magicians! If we’re going to do this, we need help.”

“No one’s going to be able to get here fast enough!”

We both paused to catch our breath.

“What about Big Jacky?” I said in a quieter voice.

“No good,” Conrad grumbled. “Even if he wanted to help—which is no guarantee—that thing isn’t alive. He won’t be able to do anything.”

I rubbed my eyes with my thumb and index finger. Conrad was right. Technically, it wasn’t born, so it wasn’t alive, so it couldn’t die. It was out of Jacky’s jurisdiction.

I was still going to do my best to kill it.

“We’ll get a hold of Iset,” Conrad said. “She can tell us if there are any magicians—” He stopped when he saw me shaking my head.

“She already told me,” I said. “There are no magicians in Fort Rive.”

“Then we’re screwed!” Conrad huffed, then raised his head to look at me. “What about the lamp? It’s supposed to disperse magic.”

My fingers tightened around the rim of the bowl. “I don’t think that’ll work.” I flushed when I heard the completely unwarranted confidence in my statement. “I-I mean…maybe? Maybe the lamp can help? But…right now…I think the pendant is the problem. Unless we get rid of it or disperse most of the magic, I don’t think the lamp will do enough.”

Conrad eyed me. “How much of this do you know, and how much of this are you guessing?”

My stupid magical eyes teared up. I bit my lips and shook my head. Then I shrugged.

Who knew? Not me.

“Where’s the pendant?” Conrad asked.

I blinked back the last of the stubborn tears. “It’s buried in its chest.”

Conrad raised a hand to his head and rubbed his brow ridge with the kind of force that would break a lesser man’s bones. “Great.”

Vance suddenly broke his easy-going silence. “Would it matter to you that there’s somebody in the yurt?”

When Conrad and I looked at him, he nodded toward the bow. We turned. The yurt was only ten yards away. All of its windows were glowing with a mellow orange light.

Vance went on, “If you need help, they might help. And it’s the only place I know that has anything to do with the Torr. I figure they might know something about magic.”

“Who’s supposed to be in there?” Conrad asked.

“This time of night? Nobody. But it’s probably that Kohler boy or Miss Davids.”

Ayla? Yes, I did want her help. Maybe there’d be something in the yurt we could use. If not, we could truss her up and offer her as a probably-not-a-virgin sacrifice to the colossus.

Conrad glanced at me, then nodded to Vance.

Vance drove his boat up on the bank, beside the boat that Ayla and Brodie used. I wrapped the lamp in a blanket, left it under the front bench, and begged Vance to keep an eye on it. Conrad, Kappa, and I jumped out and ran around the edge of the building.

Brodie Kohler was sitting on the front steps with a cup of coffee in his hands. His shoulders were low, his face was solemn and still, and he gazed over the swamp. He might have been seeing everything or nothing. When he heard us, he looked around. His eyes widened only slightly when he saw us; his sadness was too heavy for his expression to change easily.

“It’s you,” he said.

He probably recognized Conrad. My clothes were so coated in mud, I could almost pass as a mini-version of the swamp colossus.

“Is Ayla in there?” I gasped.

Brodie’s frown deepened. “No. Ayla’s gone.”

“She left?” I yelled.

She wasn’t supposed to leave! She was a suspect in an ongoing murder investigation, and she had to report to the Torr for breaking her contract! The woman had debts to pay.

Brodie leaned away from my outburst. “She—she’s still in Fort Rive. For now. But she called me today. The job’s over. She said she’d collect my key tomorrow.” He stared at the reflection of the yurt’s window lights shining off his coffee. “This is my last day in the swamp. I thought I’d try to enjoy it.”

I felt a twinge of sorrow when I heard the pain in his voice. Unfortunately, there were more urgent things to attend to.

Conrad knew it too.

“Is that door open?” he demanded.

“Yes,” Brodie said warily.

Conrad stepped over him and went into the yurt. Brodie stood up so Kappa and I could rush past him. He came in to find me and Conrad trashing the yurt, trying to find anything that might help us.

“Is something happening?” Brodie asked.

“Kappa,” I ordered, “tell him.”

I’m not sure how much of Kappa’s story Brodie understood. When I turned from one area of the room to another, I caught a glimpse of Kappa, standing on his webbed toes, arms raised as high as they would go, stomping around the yurt, gnashing his teeth and going “rawr-rawr-rawr!”

Conrad and I finished searching at the same time.

“Anything?” he asked me.

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“They have a radio, and those little brass weights you put at the edge of the room.” I waved my index finger around my head in a circle. “You know, the curtain.”

Conrad huffed in frustration, then turned to Brodie. “Get on the radio—”

“The radio doesn’t work after dark,” Brodie said. “Is there really a monster—”

“Why doesn’t your radio work?”

“We don’t know. Ayla never figured it out. About this monster—”

“Is there anything in this yurt that works with magic?”

“I mean, yeah. I guess. Some stuff. I’m not supposed to touch the brass weights.”

Conrad actually growled. I grabbed the back of his shirt and leaned my arm on him to politely remind him that, while I sympathized, growling was not one of the vocalizations he was supposed to use around people who weren’t familiar with him.

My hand was shaking. I checked myself. Oh. I was shivering. Wet clothes, cool night. That made sense.

Conrad looked over his shoulder at me, then looked down.

“What were you hoping to find?” Brodie asked.

“Tools,” Conrad said in a low, defeated voice. “The more powerful, the better. We need a magician. But there are no magicians.”

An idea wafted into my head, bringing with it a bright and beautiful glimmer. The glimmer was a tiny little thing, but it was growing by the second.

My hand tightened around Conrad’s shirt. “Bourdin.”

“What?” Brodie said.

Oh! That glimmer was really glowing now! I laughed and danced out from behind the wolfman. “Gilles Bourdin! Our hero! Our villain! The cause of at least half our problems!”

“Bourdin?” Brodie said, “Isn’t he—”

“He’s the madman of the swamp! He’ll eat your bones, brother!” I whirled around and sat back on my heels in front of Kappa. “Do you remember that creepy old cabin where we had to spend the night? The one with the attic and all those shiny things that I told you not to touch?”

Kappa nodded.

“We went from there to this yurt. Can you take me back to the cabin?”

My giddy elation must have been contagious. A grin broke over Kappa’s face. He nodded again.

I stood up and turned to Conrad. “I’ll get you the best tool I can find! Can you keep that thing away from Fort Rive until we get back?”

“I can try,” Conrad said.

“And the motel? And Lurkerberg?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“You’re fantastic, Conrad! You’re the best guardian ever!”

“Take the boat. Get back to me as quick as you can.”

Brodie stumbled forward. “What can I do to help?”

“Stay out of trouble,” Conrad said as he headed toward the door.

Kappa and I followed him.

“I want to help!” Brodie called.

Conrad opened the door and started down the stairs while calling over his shoulder, “This isn’t your problem.”

Brodie paused long enough to grab the lantern off the over-head hook. “It’s my swamp.”

Conrad stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Conrad, Kappa, and I all turned to look up at Brodie. He was standing on the top step, leaning forward, one hand on the railing. He held the lantern down by his chest, so the light cast deep shadows across his face, making him look years older than he was.

“If it’s my swamp, it’s my problem,” he said. “I want to help.”

A soft breeze rustled the plants around us, breaking the silence that had followed his admittedly impressive declaration. The flurry of whispers made it feel as if the plants were convening to discuss his resolve. I didn’t need to hear the discussion. I could see the resolve in his eyes.

I said to Conrad, “He can drive the second boat.”

“He’s a limited initiate,” Conrad said. “He’s not supposed to know about any of this.”

“Same with Vance. You didn’t mind using his boat.”

Conrad glared at me, then said to Brodie, “This isn’t a joke, Kohler. You could get killed.”

“I don’t care,” Brodie insisted. Because he was human, his voice shook as he said it.

“Let’s go,” Conrad said.

We all went down to the boats. Vance had stayed on his bench, but he’d turned to watch the swamp behind him.

“Anything out there?” Conrad called.

“Oh, it’s catching up,” Vance murmured.

“Where’s Scaredy?” I asked.

Without looking around, Vance said, “You mean the lurker? He left.”

My stomach lurched.

My second thoughts pointed out that it was probably better that way—that he would be safer if he wasn’t with us, that I had Kappa to help me find the cabin, and that one little lurker wasn’t likely to make a difference in a battle against a colossus.

But my first thought was that we’d been abandoned. And it hurt.

“We’ve got a plan!” I announced to Vance.

He turned to me.

I put it to him: “Would you rather drive me over to a madman’s cabin or help Conrad distract the magic swamp monster?”

Vance considered Brodie and Conrad. They were pulling the second boat down the bank.

“Something that big could snap a boat like this in two,” Vance said. “Kohler’s young enough to run. I’ll let him do the distracting.” He turned to me and Kappa. “You our guide this evening, Blue Boy?”

Kappa hopped into the boat. “Yes!”

“Kick us off, Miss Cole.”

I grabbed the front of the boat, ground my sneakers into the mud, and pushed. It scooted an inch.

Conrad reached over from the side and used one hand to push it into the water. As it drifted out, Conrad put his hand on my shoulder and looked in my eyes.

“Don’t get lost, zombie-girl,” he said.

Most of my euphoria had faded, but there was enough left to manage a grin. “Are you kidding? I have Kappa. We’re going to be fine.”

“Kappa!” Kappa yelled while bouncing on the bottom of the boat.

Oh, geez! The boat had already floated several feet away.

I ran two steps toward it before turning and pointing at Conrad. “Hey, wolf-boy! No wolf-jelly!”

I finished splashing over to the boat and heaved myself inside while Vance ripped the motor to life.

“All right, Blue Boy,” he called over the motor. “Which way?”

Kappa pointed. His finger was steady and certain.

The minutes stretched out into what felt like decades as we sailed through the water. Kappa stayed at the front of the boat, crawling or scooting from corner to corner to point, and yawping to let us know if he thought Vance wasn’t turning quick enough. I sat back on the bench, taking in the heady scent of the swamp as it was pressed into my lungs by the rush of air. I squeezed my first two fingers, forced myself to let them go, then caught myself squeezing them again a few seconds later.

When we came into the large clearing where the cabin brooded, Vance cut the motor and let us drift toward the boardwalk.

“Huh,” he grunted.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Place like that is either haunted, or it wants to be haunted. Either way, it’ll try to kill you while you’re there.”

“It’s not that bad,” I said, mostly to convince myself. “It beats sleeping with the alligators.”

“What alligators?” Vance stood up, grabbed the pole, and started pushing us closer to the dilapidated porch.

I scanned the clearing. Ever since the colossus had risen from its swampy bed, the magic suspended in the air had changed from an impenetrable fog to a fading mist and the clouds had cleared, allowing me to see by starlight. The only movements were the ripples caused by our boat. The only noise was the water. The silence made my ears feel like two vacuums.

“I heard the quiet all the way back in my cabin,” Vance said. “Knew something was wrong. Then the little knock at my door.” He shook his head. “I hope you can fix this, Miss Cole.”

I couldn’t answer. There was too much tension between my hope and my fear.

After the boat drifted to a stop, I jumped onto the boardwalk. One of the boards cracked beneath my foot.

I remembered Vance’s comment about the cabin trying to kill me. But a buckling board?

Come on, Sauvage, that’s weak-sauce compared to what you’ve been throwing at me.

The board snapped. My leg scraped down the next board and plunged into the cold water.

Never mind! I’m sorry! I thought as loud as I could.

I pulled my leg back up and scooted cabin-ward. The boards under my knees creaked but didn’t break. I looked up at Vance.

“Would you like to come in?” I asked.

“Nope.”

I sighed. “Kappa?”

He lowered his head below the rim of the boat and tucked his top fin down.

“I can’t blame you,” I said.

I stood up on shaky legs. Vance was holding out a flashlight. I took it, thanked him, and turned to the cabin. When I saw its grim and jagged shape, my hand tightened around the handle of the flashlight.

For a moment, I caught myself wishing that I had my packmate with me—but the whole reason I was there was to get a tool to help him take down the colossus. Until I got back, he and Brodie were stuck trying to bait a soggy, bad-tempered wrecking ball away from town.

I took a deep breath and walked toward the gaping front door.

When I was inside, I crossed over to the back wall. I had to hold the flashlight with my teeth while I crept up the ladder. I pushed the trapdoor aside and pulled myself into the attic.

Everything was the same. A dusty shrine to one man’s optimism. He had left behind a hidden attic full of relics and a cult full of people who were waiting for him to come back.

“Sorry, Mr. Bourdin,” I whispered to the attic, “but needs must.” I thought for a second, then added, “And don’t leave your magic jewelry with a bunch of lunatics.”

The books were no good. I was pretty sure that I couldn’t read them, and I was certain that I didn’t have time to.

Everything else was an option.

The flashlight beam bounced around the room as I raked my eyes over every item.

I couldn’t take them all. We were looking for one good tool that might be able to help. But I wasn’t a magician. I was barely a Torr initiate! I had zero idea what any of them did.

“Emerra, you are one hundred percent, American-raised, prime idiot.”

I mentally vowed, once again, to have Iset tutor me.

A goblet, a censer—would either of those work? And work how?

Shape made a difference. I remembered that. Something about how the magical whatzits was in line with their mundane use. So we could…hold the magic? Contain it?

Not useful.

What about the cross?

It’s an angry mud ball, Emerra! Not a vampire!

My heart rate picked up. While I was in here, basking in my ignorance, Conrad and Brodie were out there fighting!

The golden rod might have been a magic wand, but I had a feeling that Conrad wouldn’t find that any more useful than I did.

“Dispersing magic, dispersing magic,” I whispered, “we’ve got to break it up!”

Silver! Magic shed right off it! That was kind of like breaking it up, right?

Not silver, Emerra. Blessed silver. They’re different.

My racing mind jerked to a stop.

In the lull, I heard how ragged my breathing had become. I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe slowly. With eyelids still shut, I turned off the flashlight.

I opened my eyes in the darkness and saw the silver sword shining faintly when there was no light to make it shine.

“Perfect!”

I jammed the flashlight in my pocket, grabbed the sword’s hilt, ran over to the trap door, and dropped the sword through the hole. It made a satisfying thunk and stuck upright in the wood. I used the top three rungs of the ladder, then jumped. My ankle rolled when the board beneath me cracked and gave by an inch.

I grabbed the sword before it could fall and ran for the boat.

Vance had the motor going by the time I got there.

I sat down on one of the benches, shivering as the cold wind whipped at my clothes. Kappa guided Vance back to the channel that would take us to the yurt, then he crawled over to me and sniffed at the sword in my lap.

Vance motioned to it with his head. “Will that help?”

I looked down. The blade was shining brighter now that it was outside. The patches of mist looked like a pale white glow in the reflection. “It had better.”