I was almost giddy as I charged up the steps. I needed only a few moments on deck to see where we had sailed, to find the location of Copeland’s gate, to learn the secret my father died for. Quite an accomplishment, I thought, for a woman working on so little sleep. But before I reached the door, I saw the figure huddled atop the steps. Her dress was white, just like mine, but by the way she pressed her clenched fists over her eyes, I could see she was not as comfortable in the world of shadows.

Juliette Copeland—you are far from home.

Her eyes snapped open. Dark tears stained her cheeks. “Help,” she said silently, and I smiled as best I could. I gestured for her to wait, and she shook with fear, pressing her back to the bulkhead like a drowning rat.

I tried the bulkhead door. Locked, and far beyond the capacity of my little pick. Answers would have to wait.

I offered Juliette my hand and led her back to my cabin, closing the door as the engines awoke. The lights went out again, and we were alone in the brilliant white. She leaned on my shoulder. I held her in my arms, and we closed our eyes, and I did not feel so afraid. Like turning off an electric lamp, the white flashed to black, and the lights came back on, and the world was sane again.

“What,” she said, her voice near cracking, “what hell was that?”

“Passage. Safe passage through a city of death.”

“And it’s brought us where?”

“I look forward to finding out. What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said about fathers and their secrets. I went back to the office and took a hard look at Papa’s datebook.”

“What did you find?”

“There were six Sundays this year, six days when there was no work to be done at the office, but Papa didn’t come home.”

“That sounds quite typical of our fathers.”

“That’s what I thought. But I glanced at those pages, and on each one was written ‘Pier 51.’ Jane Street. I found the ship, I snuck aboard—”

“You found the ship? You mean you saw it when you walked up?”

“No. Not at first. The pier was empty, like a great black gap, but when I turned my head I saw something flickering out of the corner of my eye. I walked toward it—I thought I was going to walk straight into the river—and just before I fell off the pier, my hand found metal, and the ship took shape before my eyes. It was . . . peculiar.”

“Do you have any idea where we’ve gone?”

“I was rather too preoccupied with hiding. The men who run this ship are frightful. The state of their uniforms is disgraceful, and the stench! It’s absurd.”