I was going to find that someone. From there, I would work my way outward until I’d found everyone who’d orchestrated these killings, everyone who’d signed off on using magic to spread terror and hate and death. And I would show them that magic could also bring justice.

Caught up in that thought, I almost got left outside when Deb and Commander Hill squeezed through the doorway into the CIC. I hurried after them, yanking my jacket behind me so it didn’t get caught in the door.

Once inside, Hill tugged off his hearing protection and looked around. I followed suit. This was even more cramped than the bridge, with rows of computers and radar screens showing the status of various parts of the Kagan.

“Report,” barked Hill. “Where’d that ice come from?”

“Nothing on radar, sir,” said one of the crewmen.

A woman wearing a headset and microphone added, “The reports I’m getting suggest the ice hit us first, then spread to the Czerneda and the Independence. Tracing the path of the spread backward puts the source off our port bow.”

“Order one of the gunners to rake that area. Probably too late, but we might get lucky and startle up whoever’s hiding out there.”

“What kind of vampire freezes the fucking ocean or chops the nose off a ship?” asked the man who’d spoken first.

“Belay that, Sitterson,” snapped Hill. “Glue your eyes to that radar and find me the rest of those sirens.”

“Aye-aye, sir!” Sitterson flushed and turned back to his screens.

“Lynch, any change in our orders?”

“No, sir,” said the woman in the headset. She glanced at the man beside her, both of them clearly confused as to what their commander was doing here, and both of them just as clearly unwilling to ask.

“Get me the printout.”

“Sir?” asked another man, this one squeezed into the far corner of the room.

“We’re up against creatures who can mess with your thoughts, Lucas. Any one of us could be affected, and I want to be damn sure we complete our mission as ordered.”

“Aye-aye, sir!” Lucas squeezed past his crewmates and handed over a folder.

A light flashed at Sitterson’s station. He leaned closer. “Looks like electrical damage, sir.”

He spun around too quickly for me to get out of the way. His chair struck my knee, making me stumble. Nobody else seemed to notice, but Sitterson scowled and reached out. His hand caught my sleeve. “Shit! We’ve got an intruder!”

Sitterson lunged out of his chair and crashed into me, knocking us both into the crewman at the next station. His hands found my shirt, then my throat, and he slammed me against the floor. My head struck the metal deck. My vision flashed.

Deb came up behind Sitterson and peeled him away, tossing him to the floor like he was a dirty outfit ready for the laundry.