ONCE SHE GOT the hang of the mirror’s perspective, Alice realized that the point of view—presumably Esau’s—was flying through the air, well above the Gideon and moving at a terrific speed. Now and then other creatures came into view alongside for a few moments before dropping back. Alice recognized some of them, the flying fish-like things the apprentices had battled at the broken bridge, and some of the huge bat-moths. There were others as well, strange monsters glimpsed too briefly to get an idea of their form, momentary flashes of brilliantly colored wings, taloned limbs, or writhing, squid-like tentacles. The mirror’s view remained locked frustratingly forward, where the ship was growing larger.

The Gideon was a handsome single-funnel steamer, smartly painted in gray, blue, and red, with cheerful yellow stripes on the hull. Electric lights burned on its rails and from the top of the funnel, rocking only slightly in the calm sea. As Esau approached, more lights came on, all along the boxy superstructure. The crew had sighted the approaching Reader and his accompanying minions, but they had no idea what to do—the ship’s wake kicked up higher as it increased speed, and the white-jacketed crewmen on deck lined the rail, staring in disbelief at the monsters approaching from the sky.

They were soon joined by the passengers, alerted by the shouting that something was amiss. A couple of dozen men and women in their sleepwear stumbled up from belowdecks, and started shouting—Alice was surprised to find she could hear them through the mirror—demanding to know what was going on. Then a young woman caught sight of what was coming, and her scream cut through the babble. Everyone looked up and was immediately transfixed, eyes wide in wonder or terror. One woman fainted dead away into the arms of the man beside her, and a little girl, younger than Alice, began to cry.

Only one man didn’t seem surprised. A lump formed in Alice’s throat as she recognized her father, pushing his way through the crowd to the rail. Even in his nightshirt, he looked calmer and more in control than the uniformed crewmen. The wind of the ship’s passage tugged at his hair, and his sleeves flapped wildly.

Esau descended until he was level with the rail, hovering over the ocean a few yards from the ship. Above him, his escorting creatures spread out, flapping over the deck of the ship, mostly invisible except as silhouettes against the stars or the funnel lights.

“Hello, Mr. Creighton,” he said. His voice sounded cracked and ancient, but at the same time shot through with power. It was the voice of an Old Testament prophet laying down the Law. “You should have considered my offer.”

“Damn your offer,” Alice’s father said. “It doesn’t matter how many monsters you bring with you, the answer’s still the same.”