But Donnally’s father pulled him along, stopping only when they reached the railing. “You must go. We’ll come back for you, but for now, you need to get as far from this ship as you can. Head for the Gem. Find your sister.”

In the distance, a deathly crooning pushed through the air, growing closer and louder. The crew of the Ghost had lost all pretense of quiet now. They’d become a different kind of machine right before Donnally’s eyes, one that sounded like bullets snapping into chambers.

“Tagg!” called Agnes. “We’re out of time.”

Suddenly, Donnally was pressed against his father’s chest. “Find your sister,” he repeated, squeezing the boy more tightly than ever before. “Find your sister and live.”

Before he knew it, Donnally was over the side of the ship and tucked into the boat waiting below. There were eight children already aboard. Astra, Derry, Lucero, and Jam sat silently, their eyes pinned to the hull of the Ghost, while the others searched the darkness for the approaching ship. Ares and Lucero, oldest and strongest of the small group, took up oars, and soon their small boat was cutting a shallow path through the water, heading for the same small island as Caledonia and Pisces.

For a few precious moments, there was nothing but that steady wail of the ghost funnel and Astra’s sniffles. Time felt like a vise around their little vessel. Donnally kept his eyes on the dark outline of the island just ahead, wishing they could stay locked in this moment indefinitely. Then, a flare of light. The terrible cry turned into a deafening roar.

Donnally couldn’t help himself. He turned to watch as the Bullet ship closed in on the Ghost.

Red dripped down the nose of the Bullet ship like a bloody gash. Men swung in harnesses, armed with magnetic bombs and roaring with fury. Spikes studded the ship’s perimeter like thorns, bodies in many stages of decay impaled on each one.

Every muscle in Donnally’s body clenched. The little boat was moving faster now, assisted by the wake of the Bullet ship. Behind him, Donnally could hear Ares calling a rhythm to Lucero, keeping their oars synchronized.

In the next minute, the Ghost was in flames, and the children knew speed would not save them.

There was a small but bright part of Donnally’s mind that was as calm and distant as a star. It was the part of him that marveled at how quickly the Bullet ship subdued the Ghost. The seeming chaos of their fury was only an illusion. In reality, they were an expertly conducted choir, striking the deadliest of notes at precisely the right moment. After their magnetic bombs weakened the Ghost and forced half the crew belowdecks, the attacking Bullets easily bested those who remained topside. Donnally watched the battle unfurl with sense and strategy, and slowly, his body began to still.

“Stroke!” cried Ares.