Vondra’s scream ended with a wet, crackling pop.

  The fire died. The dress collapsed. Ash hit the cold morgue tiles.

  The entire ship shuddered. A tremor ran from the keel to the smokestacks.

  The wail tore through the Wistaria’s bones. Metal groaned—a deep, bass note of protest. Somewhere deep in the hull, something snapped.

  Damon dropped.

  Frankie lunged forward. Caught him before his head cracked against the floor. The amber glow in his eyes vanished. The light died. His pupils were normal again. Brown. Human. Confused.

  “Damon?” Frankie’s voice cracked. Her hands gripped his shoulders.

  He blinked. Once. Twice. His mouth opened, working soundlessly. His chest heaved—rapid, panicked breaths.

  “Frankie?” He barely spoke. “What happened?”

  Frankie smiled. “It’s okay. It’s over now. You’re with me.”

  She felt his heart hammering against his ribs. Sweat soaked through his shirt.

  The ship groaned again. Louder. A deep, grinding roar. Dust rained down from the overhead lights.

  “We have to go,” Frankie said. She hauled him up. “Can you walk?”

  Damon nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

  She wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Dragged him toward the morgue doors. They stumbled into the corridor.

  Two figures skidded around the corner. Flashlights swung.

  “Frankie! Damon!”

  Ted and Dee Dee. Soaked. Breathless. Terrified.

  “We heard screaming,” Ted said. He rushed forward to take Damon’s other side. “We were fighting off the crew near the galley, and then they just… stopped.”

  “Vondra is dead,” Frankie said. “But the ship is breaking.”

  The floor tilted. Dee Dee grabbed a rusted pipe to stay upright. “The ship is coming apart!”

  “The deck,” Frankie said. “We have to get to the Sea Dawg. Through the ballroom.”

  They ran.

  The group burst through the double doors into the grand ballroom.

  She didn’t recognize the room. Walls buckled. Floor plates warped upward. Water gushed from a burst pipe overhead, spraying them as they sprinted.

  The floor buckled. Pipes burst. But the ghosts didn’t move.

  Across the ruined dance floor, Captain Silver stood frozen. His twisted, waterlogged features had softened. The anger drained from his face. Relief. Wonder. His mouth opened, forming words she couldn’t hear. Thank you.

  Around him, the other spirits stood motionless. The screaming stopped. The hunting stopped. Their contorted faces smoothed. Rage melted away.

  One woman in a torn evening gown touched her throat, fingers passing through pale skin. The wound was still there. But the rage wasn’t.

  A man in a ship’s uniform turned to another beside him. They clasped hands.

  The ship lurched again. Frankie slammed against a pillar.

  “Don’t stop!” Dee Dee said. Her sneakers slid on the slick floor. “We have to move!”

  Ted hauled Damon up. Tightened his grip. “Come on, man. Stay with me.”

  Damon stumbled. His legs held. Barely. His weight sagged against Ted.

  “Go!” Frankie said.

  The ballroom doors at the far end slammed open. Metal screeching against metal. The corridor beyond buckled. Water was cold. Ocean cold.

  The ship was falling apart. Not sinking. Unraveling.

  Frankie’s sandals splashed through ankle-deep water. The walls creaked. Rust flaked off in sheets, revealing holes eaten through to the ocean beyond.

  Another lurch. Frankie slammed into the wall. Pain shot through her shoulder.

  Damon grunted.

  “Stairs!” Dee Dee pointed.

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  The stairwell was already half-flooded. They splashed through. Two steps at a time. The railing shook under Frankie’s hand. The metal was slick with grime and seawater.

  Above them, the ceiling cracked open. Seawater poured through. A waterfall hitting the stairs.

  “Faster!” Frankie said.

  Her legs burned. Her lungs burned. She grabbed the back of Damon’s shirt. Helped Ted haul him up the last few steps.

  They burst onto the main deck.

  The fog was gone.

  The sky above was dark, but the horizon glowed faintly. Pre-dawn light bleeding through in purple and gold. The ocean stretched endlessly. No mist. Stars faded overhead.

  Fifty feet away, the Sea Dawg bobbed against the Wistaria’s tilting hull. The little fishing boat looked small next to the massive liner.

  “There!” Frankie pointed.

  The Wistaria screamed.

  Metal shrieked. The deck beneath them buckled. A jagged crack opened between Frankie’s feet. Widening. Frankie’s stomach dropped as the ship tilted hard to starboard.

  They ran. Slipping. Stumbling. The incline steepened. Gravity pulled them sideways. Frankie ran at an angle. Feet pounding against wood and metal.

  Dee Dee reached the railing first. She grabbed the rope they’d tied to the Sea Dawg. Yanked. The smaller boat swung closer. Crashed against the liner’s hull. Thud.

  “Jump!” Dee Dee said.

  Ted went first. Dragging Damon. They hit the Sea Dawg’s deck hard. Rolling. Damon groaned. Curled onto his side. Ted scrambled up. Reached back.

  Dee Dee leaped next. Landed on her feet. Knees buckled. Caught herself against the mast.

  Frankie turned.

  The ballroom doors hung open behind her. Inside, pale shapes stood in the ruin. Captain Silver. The crew. The passengers.

  They weren’t attacking. They weren’t screaming. They were watching.

  Waiting.

  Captain Silver raised one hand. A slow salute. Behind him, the others raised their hands. A farewell.

  Frankie’s throat tightened. She lifted her hand. Palm out.

  The ship groaned one last time.

  She jumped.

  The gap yawned beneath her. Suspended over dark water.

  Her feet hit the deck. Pain shot up her shins. She stayed upright.

  Ted was already sawing through the rope with his pocketknife. The blade worked frantically through wet fibers. Snap. The Sea Dawg drifted away.

  Frankie spun around.

  The liner tilted further. The bow lifted out of the water. For a moment, the entire ship hung suspended. Huge. Rusted. Crumbling. Water poured from wounds in its hull.

  Standing along the railing were hundreds of spirits.

  Men in uniforms. Women in gowns. Children holding their parents’ hands. Families clustered together.

  Camella stood at the center. She glowed with soft blue light. She raised one hand. Fingers spread. A goodbye. Her face was peaceful.

  Frankie raised her hand in return.

  The Wistaria plunged.

  Water exploded upward. The roar was deafening. Metal screaming. Water rushing. Air hissing.

  Waves rolled out. The Sea Dawg pitched hard to port. Then starboard.

  Frankie grabbed the railing. Dee Dee clutched the mast. Ted wrapped one arm around Damon, the other around a cleat.

  The waves settled.

  Silence.

  The ocean was calm again. Dark water. Still. Endless.

  Above them, the sky shifted. Black to purple to pale blue. Sunlight broke across the horizon.

  Hovering over the spot where the Wistaria had been, the spirits lingered.

  Faint now. Barely visible in the growing light. Captain Silver stood tall. His uniform no longer waterlogged. The rot was gone.

  No more anger. No more pain.

  Camella stood at the front. She smiled. A genuine smile. The weight of decades lifted from her shoulders.

  She waved.

  One by one, the spirits faded. Like morning mist burning away. They didn’t scream. Didn’t cry. They simply… let go.

  Captain Silver saluted one final time. Dissolved into light.

  The crew followed. The passengers.

  Camella was the last. Her blue light flickered. Dimmed. She blew a kiss toward the Sea Dawg.

  And then she was gone.

  Frankie blinked hard. Forcing the tears away. They came anyway. Hot tracks down her salt-crusted cheeks.

  Damon shifted beside her. He sat up. Groaning. His face was pale. Bruised. A cut above his eyebrow oozed blood. But his eyes were clear.

  “I thought I lost you,” he whispered.

  “I’m here,” Frankie said. Her voice was hoarse.

  Damon leaned his head against her shoulder. His weight was warm. Real. Solid.

  Frankie wrapped one arm around him. Pulled him close. He smelled like seawater and sweat.

  Dee Dee sat cross-legged on the deck. Glasses crooked. She pulled them off. Wiped them on her soaked shirt. “We survived.”

  Ted laughed. A shaky sound. “We are the luckiest idiots alive.”

  He stood. Stumbled to the wheel. Started the engine. It coughed once. Sputtered. Roared to life.

  The sound was beautiful. Ordinary. Safe.

  “No more boat trips,” Ted said. He gripped the wheel. “I swear to god. No more boats.”

  “Agreed,” Dee Dee said.

  “Agreed,” Damon murmured against Frankie’s shoulder.

  Frankie smiled. It hurt, but she smiled.

  The Sea Dawg turned. Heading toward shore. The sun rose higher. Gold spilled across the water.

  The fog was gone. The ship was gone. The curse was gone.

  They were free.

  Behind them, the ocean was empty. Just dark water and brightening sky. No spirits. No ship.

  She tightened her grip on Damon. He was breathing. Warm. Alive.

  They sailed for home.