Zephyr didn’t have Sea Sprite’s gusto, but she got us out of there.

Soon as we turned the corner, Daniel was up and dragging Poppy into the rear. Her heels left a red trail along the foredeck.

“Is it bad?” I called as they went by.

He gestured to Hannah to help lay Poppy out on a side seat. “What’s it look like?”

Hannah bent over Poppy’s bloody thigh. “Through muscle. Don’t think it hit bone. There’s an exit wound. It’ll bleed some.”

“Got to get her home soon,” Daniel called to me. “Head down Broadway and . . .”

“Getting shallow over there. This boat has . . .”

“. . . stop at 32nd.”

I turned to him. “Stop?”

“Just do it!”

Hannah set her bow aside to haul off Poppy’s T-shirt and tear it into strips, handing them to Daniel to bind her up. Poppy’s freckled face was pale and her lips pulled in tight, but she insisted she could sit upright once the bandaging was done. To my surprise, Hannah stayed by her, supporting her weight against the boat’s motion.

At 32nd and Broadway, though we were surely in the sniper’s range if he’d changed position and got lucky, I slowed, eased Zephyr into reverse to cut our momentum, and let her drift. I was on autopilot, confused to numbness. Easier just to follow orders. The music still blared uptown, overlaid now by shooting, furious shouting, and battle whoops. I squinted up Broadway, looking for angry Adders piling into their boats to come after us. But what boats? Besides Zephyr and some dinghies, I hadn’t seen any.

“Where are their boats?”

“Cut loose after the Stormies left.” Daniel’s mouth curved, but it was hardly a smile. “Rousseau should send someone to round them up.”

He moved to the starboard side, wiped his hands on his jeans, and fished out his phone. He tapped in a lengthy sequence, then another. Messaging Julian while he still had signal?

“Better work.” He tapped a few more times. “ ’Cause it’s all I got. Glim, get ready to light-speed out of here.” He hesitated, shut his eyes briefly, then touched the screen once more, gazing expectantly across town.

The flash reached us an instant before the deafening boom, as the upper stories of Macy’s exploded into 35th Street. A second blast was closer to Broadway. A third fractured the grand old 34th Street façade. A fourth collapsed it. The fireball swallowed the block. Black smoke ballooned skyward. The concussion echoed on and on.

My fists drifted up to pin my open mouth. My brain balked.

“Yes! Yes!” Poppy found a secret well of energy. “Take that, you motherfuckers!”

“Go!” Daniel yelled. “Now!”