Jackin’ Jill took a close interest in the gradual shift of power. Pugsy was far too busy luxuriating in extravagance to notice it, and although Jill could have sown the seeds of his suspicion, she didn’t. Pugsy’s life before Mary’s arrival had been one of decadent excess, but Mary’s superior administrative abilities had made life better for all the Afterlights of Chicago—especially Pugsy. Even the leather armchair that served as his throne was gone, replaced by a gold embroidered settee that a pharaoh might have once used. It was a gift presented to him by Mary as a show of her loyalty to their partnership.

Mary had traded the finest baubles of her own collection for the settee, and yet she had given it away to Pugsy, claiming his armchair for herself. Jill found this very impressive, because she knew exactly what Mary was doing. Pugsy’s comfort was worth any cost, because the more comfortable he was, the less he’d be looking in Mary’s direction. Jill dreamed that the next partnership would be between her and Mary—that together they would become the most powerful force in Everlost.

On this particular day, Jill carried two fresh sleeping Interlights to the incubator, both thrown over her shoulder like a hunter’s kills. The incubator wasn’t kept under tight guard anymore. Mary had declared that all Afterlights should be able to see this glorious place, as if it were a hospital nursery. After depositing the sleeping Interlights, Jill went to tell Mary that the incubator was now brimming with almost a hundred and seventy hibernating souls. She found Mary in the Hindenburg’s Starboard Promenade, talking to another Afterlight—but not just any Afterlight. This one was a handsome skinjacker. A skinjacker by the name of Milos.

Jill tried to hide her shock, but couldn’t. She had left Milos and his two miserable cohorts at the hands of an angry mob, and had assumed the mob had sent them on a long, slow trip to the center of the earth. She should have realized that Milos would have found a way out of it. He was so smooth—too smooth. Even now he looked at Jill with the suave hint of a gloat, and a grin that hid what must have been hatred, for how could he not hate her after what she had done to him?

“Jill!” said Mary. “I’m glad you’re here.” She was either oblivious or pretending to be. She was smooth too.

“He’s a liar!” Jill blurted out. “Don’t listen to a word Milos says. If you have any sense you’ll get him off your ship right now!”

Mary showed no signs of heeding her. “What an odd thing to say—I thought you two were friends. At least that’s what Milos said.”