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But my child will not suffer the same fate.

Yvette twisted the ring on her finger and swallowed hard as she put her hands on her middle. Six-months pregnant. Four months a widow. The men and women who met in the underground rooms of bars and the hidden walls in stables gave her this job because they were certain a pregnant woman would stand less chance of being seen as a threat—and maybe because they felt guilty that Yvette had lost all of her family. Having relatives in America and having met them in London before the war, she spoke English well, and her papers had not been confiscated yet.

Her ticket was one-way for many reasons.

But ships crossing the Atlantic didn’t have wonderful odds of arriving. U-boats were ruthless, blowing up cargo ships, passenger ships, and warships alike.

But it was nothing like what they were doing to Paris and London. To Europe.

Dead in the water. Dead on the ground.

Her hand balled into a fist above the place where her son or daughter kicked.

Well. We are going to try. We are brave French stock, you and I.

“Here, mother, let me help you.”

Yvette turned, ready to strike, when a young, thin man took her elbow.

“Don’t be scared. You’re among friends,” he whispered, and marched with her onboard, muddling her into a crowd of children and a hulking, silent figure in an elegantly cut suit.

“I must find a Mr. John Whitehall,” Yvette told her unwitting assistant.

“Your husband?”

“One of our family friends.”

Something passed between them. A knowing look under polite eyes.

“I will let you know if I find him. I’m sure he will spot a woman as lovely as you and rush to your side, madam.” The young man doffed his hat and left with the pack of children and the silent man in gray. He turned back with a bow. “I am Mr. Sloane, Arthur Sloane, if you need assistance while we make this crossing.”

“Yvette LaFontaine. A pleasure.”

REGINALD LIKED THEchildren. They were not afraid of him, surprisingly. Maybe they understood better than the rest of the world the true definition of “monster.” The little ones clung to him, knowing he would keep them safe. When they cuddled close, trusting him, he felt something deep inside stirring. Aplace where a soul ought to be. Something grew. When he passed the mirrors in the single cabin they all shared, he was startled to see how his face and form were changing. Every day with the little humans brought him closer to a human appearance.

In the middle of the night on May 11th, or perhaps it was the morning of May 12th, he woke up with a harsh cry, that empty inner pit suddenly searing with pain. Perhaps it was not so empty, after all.

“What is it?” Arthur Sloane, whose true name was Arthur Solomon, sat up as well.

“My creator... My life-giver... Something has happened. But I... I am not unmade?” Reginald whispered, hands patting his solid arms and rock-like torso.

Arthur chewed his lip for a minute, then whispered, eyes skirting over the children. “You won’t be unmade. There were six of us who helped make you. All of us have the final words to end your animation, Mr. Gray.”

“Call me Reginald.”

“Of course. I’m sorry. How about Reggie? I like that.”

“I like that, too.”

“I am one who had a hand in making you, however small. That’s why they sent me with you, and they sent Jacob Cohen far out into the country, to Yorkshire. What you felt... I am afraid it means the worst has happened to one of our number.” Arthur patted a sleeping head beside him on the floor. “But we carry on.”

“We carry on.” Reginald nodded. It was a solid motto. He liked it.

The next morning, wires hummed across Europe and the Atlantic, letting the world know that London had been bombed yet again, and the Great Synagogue of London had been destroyed. Reginald and Arthur did not yet know which of their number had been in the secret rooms below, but that was theonly explanation for the searing pain in Reginald’s chest. To distract himself, the golem tried to remember the words of his primary creator, the old rabbi with the long white beard and lively eyes.

Protect the innocent. Prevent destruction. Above all, protect our children.

“You must tell the captain to change course and sail toward Halifax, not New York. We are in danger on this path.”