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“Roma!” she screamed. “Roma, get down!”

Roma whirled around, his eyes wide. He acted immediately, throwing himself away from the monster as it thundered upon the wharf, avoiding a clump of insects as they fell upon the ground and ran along Paul’s shoes before dispersing. Paul did not need to move. He was immune.

Juliette supposed that was why he was not at all worried when the monster dove into the water.

A loud, loud splash echoed through the near silent Bund.

She shouldn’t have asked Roma to get to the river first. She should have switched roles with him.

“Roma, run!” she screamed, sprinting as fast as she could. “It’s going to—”

An eruption. Just as Juliette finally arrived by the wharf, the water burst with spots of black, rocketing ten feet into the air before descending upon the ports. The insects skittered far and wide, finding every nook to burrow into, every surface to latch upon. There was no time to take cover. They rained down—on Paul, on Juliette, on Roma.

Juliette had never been so disgusted in her entire life. Hundreds of legs were crawling over her, burrowing into the lines of her clothes and taking bites of her pores as they tested where to land. Her skin had never itched to this extent; she had never experienced such repugnance that she wanted to throw up at the sensation.

But the insects, even as they landed upon her, slid off within seconds. The insects rained from the water then glided right off the arms that Juliette and Paul had thrown into the air, for the vaccine ran blue in their veins, fending off the attack.

The last of the eruption hit the ground. The air cleared. The insects skittered outward on the pavement.

Juliette, gasping, lowered her arms.

“Roma,” she cried.

Thirty-Six

Roma’s hands launched to his throat.

Thirty-Seven

The madness would not have come so quickly upon ordinary victims, who received only one insect to begin the infection. One would turn to ten over time, and ten to a hundred, until enough had multiplied within the victim to take control. But Roma—Roma was receiving them all at once, and at once they were overriding his nerves, driving him to gouge for blood.

Juliette furiously brushed the few stubborn insects off her arms and steadied her grip on her pistol. There was only one way to save him, only one way to put a stop to this all. She ran up to the end of the wharf and searched for the monster, thinking of nothing except finding the blasted thing and—

She should have paid more attention to the danger behind.

Her head slammed into the wooden boards of the wharf.

“I really cannot let you do that, Juliette.” Paul grunted. “Why don’t we just…?”

Before Juliette could get her bearings, could even think to get back up and aim again, Paul kicked her hard in the stomach. Juliette fell off the main wharf, her whole body slamming onto the smaller platform below, which floated right above water. Her lu

ngs rattled. With laborious effort, she tried to raise her weapon, tried to push past her spinning head, but then Paul jumped and landed on his feet beside her and kicked the gun out of her hands with a pitiful flop.

“I’m sorry, Juliette.”

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and stuck her head into the water.

Juliette nearly gasped, except opening her mouth meant swallowing the dirty river water, so she kept her lips pinched tightly together. She struggled to writhe out of Paul’s grip, forcing herself to keep her eyes open even as the water swirled with the horrendous black of swimming insects. Paul’s grip was far stronger than his lanky frame would let on. His fingers upon her head were a steel claw.

“This is for the best.” Juliette could barely hear him though he was kneeling by her side. Her ears were blocked with water, with merciless insects. “I don’t want to hurt you, but you’ve given me no choice. I tried to save you, Juliette. I really tried.”

Juliette bucked and kicked, harder and harder to no avail. She should have shot Paul when she had the chance. He was not only trying to kill her now, but he was trying to kill her slowly, so she would die with the knowledge that Roma had been within saving. So she would die with the knowledge that she had failed. Roma was strong, but he couldn’t stay in control forever.

Perhaps he had succumbed, digging his fingers into his neck. Perhaps he was already dead.

Her struggling was useless. Paul’s blue vial had saved her from a death to the madness. Now Paul had decided that she was to be discarded anyway, into a watery grave.

The blue vial, Juliette suddenly remembered. Paul had had another in his coat pocket. And if he had a blue vial in there, was there a chance that he kept around another syringe too?