Deb was pounding me on the hip, trying to get my attention. How long had I been floating here, seething? I nodded hard and knocked her fist away. Hands trembling, I grabbed Butcher’s Small Favor, a book I’d brought along as a last resort. I ripped open the book’s magic, focusing on a scene with Queen Mab. I channeled Mab’s power into the water closest to the ships and drained the heat from the ocean.

Waves froze with a sound like giant bones snapping again and again. Frost spread over the hulls. The ice cracked and reformed as the Kagan came to a halt. The cold spread to touch the other two ships, locking them together in an expanding iceberg.

I closed the book. That much power had charred the pages enough to render it useless for at least a decade, but it had done the job. None of these ships were going anywhere until they freed themselves.

Already men were firing their weapons into the ice, trying to crack it away. I had to give them credit for professionalism. This couldn’t have been a threat they’d trained for, but they hadn’t hesitated to improvise, splitting their forces between vampires, sirens, and my own magic.

I flew toward the Kagan, keeping my distance from the disturbingly large front cannon. We landed on the aft deck behind a pair of men who were securing an unconscious siren to a rescue stretcher. Everyone wore ear protection, so I didn’t worry about being quiet.

Deb hopped off my back, but gripped my hand in hers so we wouldn’t get separated. Her skin was cool and damp, with a texture that reminded me of flaking paint.

I had no way of freeing the siren without being discovered, but I was able to place a tracking dot on her leg with the same book and magic I’d used on Deb a few days before. I clenched my fist as I watched the men quickly and efficiently pass their prisoner down a narrow set of stairs into the body of the ship.

I’d studied the ship’s layout in Vegas. The bridge was near the front of the upper deck, directly below the radar. Windows provided a hundred-and-eighty-degree view. According to Charles’ instructions, we needed to reach the Command Information Center.

He hadn’t been optimistic about our chances.

“Good luck with that. The CIC is one of the most secure rooms on the whole damn ship. Invisibility won’t get you through those doors or let you hack into the computers.”

We approached the bridge and waited. The sirens’ song would make radio communication difficult, meaning someone would have to relay orders directly. It wasn’t long until one of the deck crew came running. He pounded three times on the door.