We'd made it into the air and off Orin hours ago, and this ranked pretty high on my relief scale.

I sat against the wall opposite the Vicious room, staring at the closed door, as I plucked the iron from my tongue and placed it in my pocket. The room was located near the end of the dining room hallway near a hanging light. A few steps to my left stretched another hallway that led to the infirmary and Mase. Ellison had said he would be fine, that the bullet just skimmed his shoulder. Good thing Captain Glenn knew how to shoot. But Ellison also said that traces of the drug She still lit him up. Mase had said he’d been clean ever since Captain Glenn hired him, but a short trip to Orin had brought his sobriety to a crushing end, through no fault of his own. I should’ve castrated Parker when I had the chance.

Ellison had also looked over my bumps and bruises, too, though for once in my life, my bones and organs felt safely tucked inside. Always a good feeling. Other than the bandage around my wrist where I’d cut myself to test Poh and a bump on the back of my head, I was fine physically, but my mind kept straying to Mase.

As I shifted to stand to check on him again, the florescent light above hanging from twin cables rocked back and forth. I froze, waiting for it to flicker and buzz, for the cold burst of air that signaled a ghostly presence was near. But I didn’t feel cold, not even in my corset—on sale due to the rip in the side, now held together with a safety pin—that left my arms and shoulders bared.

This ship was no longer haunted, at least not with angry spirits. The haunting had been focused in this hallway and inside the Vicious room. The swinging light didn’t quite catch the off-centered letters stenciled across the door: VICIO. Someone had scratched the last two letters out in an attempt to hide the Vicious ship’s true history. Two hundred years ago, it had been used to steal away Saelis females and bleed them of their parasites, the same parasites swimming through my blood, to power the Ringers’ space-bending rings. Once the Saelis females were no longer useful, they were hanged from the ceiling and had haunted this ship and its crew until their secret was revealed.

So, now that they had passed through to the other side, now that Red was gone as of this morning, what had caused the invisible breeze? Not an air vent. One rattled farther up the hallway, but there wasn’t one near the lights.

I pushed to my feet, my hair cascading to my elbows and the embedded chains clinking together. I loved that song, a harmony between chains and hair, once so comforting and...me.

As I headed around the corner toward the infirmary, movement to my left caught my eye. A dark figure rushed around the next corner at the very end of the hallway.

"Ellison?" I called, and the words echoed back and forth. Silence met all of them.

She’d mentioned she hadn’t been feeling well, which was why she’d chosen to stay on the ship this morning. Maybe she was…trying to outrun her stomach flu? Or maybe it was Poh prowling her new home to get a sense of where everything was. In a hurry. Or maybe it had to do with the greasy feeling in the engine room, the same place Red had tried to warn me about. I hadn’t told anyone about that yet since we’d had a bit of a crazy morning.

I let out a slow breath and strode down the hallway after the figure. When I rounded the same corner it had, an empty, dark hallway stretched in front of me. To my left, down the hallway I’d just come, the light that hung from the ceiling rocked back and forth once again, harder this time.

A familiar dread settled in the pit of my stomach, but I refused to let it linger. There weren't any ghosts on this ship. I’d cleared countless Saelis out. Even Red, though I hadn’t wanted to. Besides, the air didn’t feel like winter like it had when ghosts had crept through the ship’s halls. Still, my fingers twitched over the iron in my pockets, an involuntary reaction to standing alone at a titanium crossroads, one that ended with a swaying light and a dark hallway that had swallowed…something.

"Poh?" I called.

I crept through the gloom toward the nearest door and rapped against it with my knuckles, hoping to draw something else out other than a series of more knocks that broke up and down the walls. There were more doors farther down, but I didn't have my phone on me to light the way. And ghosts or no, I had a lifetime supply of fear of the dark.

So, I went back the way I came, but a familiar tug slowed my steps, prickling a shiver across my shoulder blades. I wasn't alone in these hallways. I'd had my fair share of that feeling before, especially on this ship. Someone was here with me, watching.

I hoofed it back to the dining room. Below the light that had stopped swaying, I rounded the corner past the Vicious room and toward the safe haven of iron on the periodic table map in my head.

Inside the dining room, a brand new wooden table sat in the center. I frowned as I skirted past it. We’d had wood before in here, and it had been reduced to lethal splinters. I actually quite liked our gurney table, which probably revealed more about my mental state than I should’ve probably been comfortable with.

Randolph came through the double doors of the kitchen with a stack of plates and stopped when he saw me. His already flushed cheeks brightened when his gaze snagged on my corset. He quickly looked away toward the Esmerelda the Space Vixen poster hanging on the wall, then almost threw the stack of plates over his shoulder in his rush to cover his face.

“My eyes!” he said. “I don’t know where to put them!”

I snorted, even though my heart went out to him, the poor guy. “This is me embracing who I am, but since I’m your apprentice, I’ll cover up if you want.”

He blinked at the new table as if he’d decided that was the safest spot to put his eyes. “This is just as much your kitchen as it is mine. For you, I like it. For a chef's apprentice, you need a hairnet. Hair and chains don't make good garnishes.”

“I can live with that.” I took the plates from him with a smile, set them on the table, then shoved through the kitchen doors for a hairnet.

Randolph followed. “I like it.”

I grinned over my shoulder while shuffling through random drawers. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

He tilted his head toward the back of the kitchen. “They're in the stasis pantry, second shelf from the top behind the wax paper. You're welcome.”

“I love you, Randolph,” I said and I meant it. I turned in time to see his bulbous nose brighten and a wobbly smile leap across his face.

"Yeah, well, you can prove it by helping me sort out lunch. The meat vendor gave me a cup of au jaus. If I wanted to drink my sandwich, I’d put it in a blender. We marinate. No au jaus ever."

I frowned on my way past him toward the stasis pantry. "I have no idea what you’re saying, but bless you, I guess."

He threw back his head and laughed.

We set to work on a marinated lunch while Randolph took several swigs from his newly filled silver flask. No more hot sauce for him. Seeing him with his alcohol once again hollowed out my stomach. We'd leaned on each other so much these last few weeks, both of us fighting our addictions. Armed with just a few drops of hot sauce, together we could’ve taken on anything. Now that he’d imbibed, my teeth practically itched with a craving for iron.

While I spread the plates around our new table, the smell of tender beef and vegetables soaked in broth wafting from the kitchen, Mase wandered in with Ellison on his heels. Just his presence charged my heart into a frenzy.

He wore his coat draped over one shoulder, his chest bared with a thick bandage taped to his other shoulder. His serious case of bedhead made me grin. His mysterious eyes widened while they roamed across the girls my corset barely contained and down to my leather-clad legs. He prowled toward me, the tip of his tongue flashing across his upper lip.

"Wow," he growled. "This is…wow.”

“You’re vertical already?” I asked. “How are you feeling?”

Ellison sighed. “Probably like he shouldn’t be vertical. He listens about as well as you do.”

Mase held up the hand on his uninjured side, a devious grin curling his mouth. “I had to insist on seeing my fugitive college girl.”

Ellison stepped around him to stand next to me. “Well, if you want to see the rest of her besides her chest, her eyes are right up here.” She pointed, almost poking me in the face.

“Thanks, Ellison,” I muttered.

“You’re welcome,” she said, her gray gaze narrowed at Mase.

He chuckled and leaned against the wall. “I like those too. Really, the whole package walked out of my dreams. But still”—he gave me another appreciative once-over—“it’s nice to see my girl sailing.”

“Sailing?” Ellison shook her head at me, her long, dark braid wriggling over one shoulder, then turned her sharp gaze on Mase. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry. I haven’t turned my back on humanity yet,” I said. “What Mase meant was that maybe we’re wrong about sail’s definition. Maybe when you say it into your ship’s telecom, it doesn’t mean you’re rejecting humanity, siding with the Saelis, and signaling for a space taxi from your boy toy, Josh.”

“Boy toy.” Ellison crossed her arms and closed her eyes. “This is fun.”

“Maybe it means letting the past stay there so you can be true to who you are for the future,” I continued.

“And you’ve accepted who you are?” she asked, her voice tight, likely because she couldn’t accept it. She’d pumped me full of parasites to addict me to iron and shield me from ghosts, after all.

But I knew where those doubts of hers stemmed from, and most of them were completely unselfish. She’d always been fanatical about my safety, even going so far as to addict herself to iron by injecting herself with the same parasites to see if it was safe enough for me. I honestly didn’t know what she wouldn’t do for me, and that was a little terrifying.

I nodded. “I’m not hiding anymore behind my iron wall.” If that was even still an option. I hadn’t told Ellison about the ghost on Orin I couldn’t pass through me, but Mase and I traded a quick glance. He’d seen the whole thing.

But Ellison never missed anything when it came to me and likely caught that shared knowledge. Her face softened as she looked at me. “Just be careful, Absidy. I’ll give you two a minute—a minute—and then we’re heading back to the infirmary, Mase.”

As soon as she disappeared into the kitchen, Mase wrapped me closer to him with one arm, his hand sliding over my curves that had once been buried and tucked into baggy cotton instead of leather.

“Rebel.” The word feathered across my ear, and I shuddered underneath his touch. His fingers crept under the waistband of my leather pants, and a low chuckle vibrated his chest. “A rebel without any underwear. My favorite kind.”

“In memory of you,” I reminded him. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

“Sorry.” He kissed the corner of my mouth. “Can you repeat it? I’m having a hard time focusing.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Amazing,” he murmured and kissed the other corner of my mouth.

I pulled away slightly and pushed my thumb into the cleft on his chin so he’d look at me. “The truth, Mase.”

Randolph had already fallen back on his addictions with vigor; I hoped Mase didn’t feel the need to do the same. I knew the effects of alcohol addiction from Ellison’s medical books, but this drug She was a different animal altogether.

Mase sighed. “It was rough, even just that little bit. It was like the devil had come for a visit inside my skin. The living and breathing devil. The captain’s a good shot, but some of it’s still inside.”

I shook my head, hating every single word he’d just said, my chains and hair rubbing against his arms.

“Your turn.” He took a few strands in his palm and let them glide absently through his fingers while his beautiful gaze searched mine. "What happened back there, Absidy? With the ghost?"

I shook my head. “I wish I knew.”

“Was it these chains repelling it?”

“I don’t think so. Ghosts can’t sense me when I’m breathing in iron, but when I’m not, they’ve never acted like the fashion police. They’ve never cared before what I wore or if I had chains in my hair.”

“No.” A worry line narrowed the space between his eyebrows. “I don’t suppose they would.”

"Maybe it was just a fluke," I said, shrugging, but the level of conviction in my voice likely couldn't fool anyone.

He took my hand in his but soon traded his concern for a wicked grin. "Dare you to reach in my coat pocket."

I laughed. "You don't need to use weird pick-up lines on me, Mase." I leaned in to inhale his musky, spicy smell and to graze my upper lip across his stubbled chin. "I'm already yours."

He closed his eyes briefly with a smile. "I said coat pocket, not pants pocket, pervert. Now go on and reach in there."

A present? I wriggled my fingers in the air, a nervous flutter dancing through my chest, and plunged my hand toward his pocket with no idea what I might find.

"Slowly," he barked. "It will bite."

"Is it alive?" I tiptoed my fingertips inside.

A long, thin shaft of metal cooled my skin. Something clinked together like chains, and I brought the items out. An ice pick—a shiny silver one looped to a beautiful, delicate chain necklace.

A brilliant grin split across my face as I looked up at him. "My favorite weapon!"

He tipped my chin up with his thumb and kissed me gently. "Merry Christmas."

I jerked away with a gasp. I’d completely forgotten about the whole gift exchange thing.

"And look..." He dug in his pocket for another, similar chain and two small plastic tips. “These are covers for the ice picks so you don’t accidentally slice yourself open. I was always worried that would happen. And when you snap the ice pick off the chain, the broken ends automatically join back together again. So, this one is for your old ice pick. But this one…” He took the newer one and clasped it around my neck. "This one is from me."

"Mase..." I gazed down at the lethally sharp ice pick dangling down my metal corset while the backs of my eyes scorched. It was within easy reach of stabbing all kinds of things, and it was absolutely perfect.

He pushed one of the plastic covers onto the tip and dropped the other in my palm. "Now you have an ice pick for both hands, my fugitive college girl."

My heart pinched at his thoughtfulness. He was always looking out for me. And what had I gone shopping for on Orin? A Mind-I, new hair, and iron, all for me. Sweet Feozva, for someone trying to save humanity, I was doing a shit job of being a human, let alone someone who deserved Mase's affection.

I blinked up at him. "I didn't get you anything because I'm a selfish dick. I'm so sorry."

"A selfish dick, huh?" He gathered me in his one good arm and hugged me to him. "Then I guess I love selfish dicks. Not sure what that says about me."

"I'll make it up to you," I said, melting into him.

“You don’t have to,” he murmured. “You’re all I need.”

I kissed him gently, my chest swelling with warmth, and then grinned up at him. “Now, both my ice picks will be in easy reach, and I'll never be without them. I can’t wait for some stabby fun.”

“Okay. Well, it’s been nice knowing you.” He pulled away, his blue and silver eyes shining with amusement.

I hooked a finger into his belt loop and dragged him right back. “I love you.”

He touched his forehead to mine and smiled. “I love you too.”

Ellison cleared her throat loudly behind the double doors of the kitchen. “All body parts should be tucked and stored away in three, two, one.” The door opened, and a gray eyeball peeked through before she barged in. “Let’s go, M—”

The ship heaved underneath our feet. The walls vibrated so hard my teeth clattered together, and our new table shivered across the floor. The three of us stared at each other a second before Mase dove for the door.

“That felt like we’ve been hit,” Mase said and disappeared into the hallway.

“Mase, wait,” Ellison called after him and followed.

I lunged toward the kitchen to see if Randolph was all right. A bubbling, steaming pan on the stove had slopped some of its contents onto the floor, and Randolph stumbled away from it.

“You okay?” I asked.

He waved vaguely on his way to the dining room even though there were towels in the second drawer next to the microwave. Did he have any idea of what was happening around him? He must’ve been sloshed out of his mind.

I grabbed a towel from the drawer and wiped the mess up. When I straightened, something floated on top of the garlic-butter concoction in the pan like thick grains of salt wedged together in a circle, gradually sinking into the bubbles surrounding it. I took the ladle on the stove, scooped whatever it was out into a smaller bowl, then blew on it until I could stick my fingers in without burning myself to see what it was.

A loud bang sounded from the stasis pantry, like metal on metal.

“Randolph!” I shouted, but he’d gone into the dining room, not the pantry.

I walked with the bowl toward the back of the kitchen where a sliver of the eerie blue stasis light slanted onto the floor. I toed the door open farther, and it swung inward silently. Inside were rows of shelves lined with carefully arranged food. But nothing to explain the noise. Only a little, open pill bottle on the edge of the nearest shelf.

I blinked at the empty room, a tremble in my hand splashing some of the butter up the sides of the bowl. I rubbed my fingertips together. Not just butter, but something jagged and coarse. Almost like pills crushed in a hurry.

And added to the food all of us were about to eat.