Moonlight sliced in through the gaps between the columns, painting the inside of the boathouse a soft silver and letting me see that it was like a museum unto itself. No paintings decorated the interior, but each of the marble columns had been carved with intricate designs of fish, birds, and flowers, all of which peeped out at me from among the curling clutches of the museum’s briar rune. Several statues also stood inside, although I could clearly see only the one closest to me. An old man with his pants rolled up to his knees, hefting a spear as if he were about to lean forward, toss it into the river, and stab a fish.

Maybe it was the sly grin on the fisherman’s face, but the statue reminded me of Fletcher.

Thinking about my mentor calmed me, and once again, I let the cold, black rage well up out of the deepest part of my soul and seep through me, until there was nothing left but my dark desire to kill Clementine.

I looked away from the statue and took another step forward.

“That’s far enough,” Clementine called out.

A second later, a soft click sounded. I tensed, expecting a burst of orange gunfire to erupt from the shadows, but lights blazed on instead. I squinted and blinked rapidly, trying to get my vision to adjust to the sudden brightness.

Just like the rotunda, the boathouse was shaped like a giant circle. Alternating columns and statues ringed the path that ran all the way around the outer rim. Two more walkways cut through the interior, one going from left to right and the other running front to back, creating a capital T in the middle of the circle. Water ran between each one of the two main paths, forming three large pools, while metal gates set into the walkways could be hoisted up to let the boats move from one pool to another and then out into the river itself. Short metal poles had been pounded into the marble paths at intervals, and red, white, and blue paddleboats bobbed silently up and down on the river. The currents made the boats’ fiberglass hulls bump into the stone docking stations, causing the ropes that secured them to creak faintly, almost like there were crickets nesting inside them.

I was standing on the main path, with Clementine about twenty feet in front of me. The other two giants were about twenty feet behind her in the very center of the boathouse, where the two walkways met. Opal was on the far right, having flipped a light switch on one of the columns, while Dixon hovered off to the left, one hand clenched around Eva’s arm. All of the giants had guns.

My eyes met Eva’s, and she drew in a surprised gasp. Shock filled her pale face. For a moment, I wondered why, and then I remembered—she thought I was dead.