I had tried. At least, I think I had. Juliette was correct. That night, it could only be light or dark.

I walked up the gangway. I had nearly reached her when I fired the gun. It bucked in my hand, and the bullet might have flown straight had it not been for the long burn across my palm. Instead, it went wide, and the gun fell out of my grip.

Before it hit the ground, I was on my knee reaching for it. If I hadn’t moved so quickly—if I hadn’t expected to drop it, if I hadn’t been so in touch with my natural clumsiness—Juliette’s bullet would have pierced my heart. Instead, it passed just over the nape of my neck. I did not breathe. That could wait for later.

One bullet left.

To hell with it. I let the gun alone.

My fingers touched the deck, and I shoved off like a track runner. Before she could fire a second shot, I had my arms around her waist. My momentum carried us to the prow, and over the railing, and down toward the river.

The icy Hudson washed away the smoke and the blood. Juliette’s fingers dug into my throat, my eye. I let go of her, drew my arm back, and bashed my elbow into her face. We moved slowly, our blows deadened by the weight of the water. Neither of us could hurt the other, but the river was stronger than us both. My lungs caught fire.

I kicked her as hard as I could, and her grip on my throat loosened. I brought my elbow down on her nose, and her blood dyed the water pink.

The edges of my vision grew dim.

I brought my elbow down again. She stiffened around me, holding as tight as she could.

We sank. The light of the burning ship faded, and down on the river’s bottom, the shadows swirled. How many dead sailors were waiting there to drag us down? How many vanished souls?

From the mud of the river, or the hungry shadows, or the panicking depths of my dying brain, I heard a woman’s voice. I’d never heard it before, but I recognized it like I would my own.

“My name is Alice,” she said. “Help me.”

I hit Juliette one more time. She went limp and sank away. It was dark at the bottom of the river, but not so dark that I couldn’t see the shadows swirling to greet her. Noise carries beautifully in water, even oily river water, and I heard her choking scream like it was coming from my own mouth. The noise twisted through the shadows, growing sharper, stronger, more painful, until it wasn’t Juliette’s voice and it wasn’t mine, until it was the final, unfinished scream of Alice Pearl.