He nodded and I stepped back. The Dracul ungrabbed and lifted away.

The nose turned and in seconds it was a hundred metres off, rising into the night sky on a muted chatter. As the noise faded, I turned my attention back to the woman at my feet. Brasil was bent over her, peeling back an eyelid.

“Doesn’t seem to be in too bad shape,” he muttered as I knelt beside him.

“She’s running a light fever, but her breathing’s okay. I’ve got gear below I can check her out with better.”

I put the back of my hand against her cheek. Under the film of spray from the maelstrom, it was hot and papery, the way it had been back in the Uncleared. And for all Brasil’s informed medical opinion, her breathing didn’t sound all that good to me either.

Yeah, well, this is a man who favours recreational virals over drugs. Guess light fever’s a relative term, eh Micky?

Micky? What happened to Kovacs?

Kovacs is back there, crawling up Aiura Harlan’s crack. That’s what happened to Kovacs.

The bright anger, glinting.

“How about we get her below,” suggested Sierra Tres.

“Yeah,” said Isa unkindly. “She looks like shit, man.”

I held down a sudden, irrational flare of dislike. “Isa, what’s the news from Koi’s end?”

“Uh.” She shrugged. “Last time I checked, fine, they were moving—”

“Last time you checked? What the fuck is that, Isa? How long ago was that?”

“I don’t know, I was watching the radar for you!” Her voice rose with hurt. “Saw you were coming in, I thought—”

“How fucking long, Isa?”

She bit her lip and stared back at me. “Not long, alright!”

“You st—” I clenched a fist at my side. Summoned calm. It wasn’t her fault, none of this was her fault. “Isa, I need you to go down and get on the comset right now. Please. Call in, check with Koi that everything’s okay. Tell him we’re done here, we’re on our way out.”

“Okay.” The hurt was still in her face and tone. “I’m going.”

I watched her go, sighed and helped Brasil and Tres lift Sylvie Oshima’s limp, overheated body. Her head lolled back and I had to shift one hand up quickly to support it. The mane of grey hair seemed to twitch in places as it hung, damp with spray, but it was a feeble movement. I looked down into the pale and flushed face and felt my jaw tighten with frustration. Isa was right, she did look like shit. Not what you thought of when you imagined the flashing-eyed, lithe-limbed combat heroine of the Unsettlement.

Not what you’d expect when men like Koi talked of a woken and vengeful ghost.

I don’t know, she’s well on her way to the ghost part.

Ha fucking ha.