Simon turned the wheel, and it was surprisingly hard to move. Brockmann stood in the back, not helping but also not keeping him from opening the door. Finally, the mechanism made a loud sound of iron hitting on iron as the lock snapped open and the door slid open. Wind blew into Simon’s face. The red of the emergency lights filled the room, and Simon saw the plastic restraints lay on the ground, cut apart when Anna had rubbed them against an especially sharp corner of the controls. A plate was missing on the wall, and a gaping hole was in its place.

“Dammit,” Brockmann hissed and stepped into the small room. Simon looked at the walls—Anna had smeared away some of the signs there. She’d fought it.

“Don’t move!” The voice came from behind, and Simon turned to see Anna. Wet from the rain outside and holding a gun pointed at Brockmann, she trembled from exhaustion. She’d climbed out of her prison and around the bridge to enter it through the door to the outer balcony. Simon raised his hands.

“We have a plan,” Simon said. “And we need your help.”

“Good, I have a plan, too,” Anna said and stepped forward. “It begins with both of you putting your guns to the ground.”

“Why not shoot us right away?” Brockmann asked.

“Good question,” Anna said and stared at him. Brockmann smiled—very unlike him. Before Simon realized it, Brockmann gave him a shove, and he stumbled into the firing lane. Brockmann drew his own gun and brought it up, pointing it at Anna. Simon looked at him and then at Anna and stumbled aside.

“Wait! Both of you,” Simon yelled.

“She’s been taken by it,” Brockmann said. “Can’t you see it?”

“Why are we still alive then?” Simon asked.

“Indeed, why?” Brockmann asked. “Does it need more food? Do you want to bring us down to your new master?”

“I will go down and blow this thing to bits. That is what I’ll do,” Anna hissed. “It isn’t me, Simon. He is the one under its control. He overpowered me down there and locked me in the room with those . . . whispers!”

“You attacked me!” Brockmann hissed.

“No, I didn’t. I got myself back under control, and then you attacked me. When you saw those writings I saw how you changed,” Anna yelled. “Put your gun down, or I swear I’m gonna shoot you!”

“Then we both die,” Brockmann said, cocking his revolver.

“Okay, from what I see, you’ve both completely lost it,” Simon said and drew his own gun slowly. “Listen, we have to work together. We can’t—”

“He killed Paul!” Anna yelled.

“I did nothing of that sort,” Brockmann yelled back.

“You slit his throat—”

“No, you had the knife! You took it from the kitchen.” Brockmann stepped to the side, and Anna mirrored his movements.

“Who took it from me, hm?”

Simon gasped. Paul was dead? It must have happened while he talked to Michelle; it was the only time when he wouldn’t have heard it. Brockmann would have had time to go down there, but how long had Anna been on the loose? Truth was, it could have been either of them.

“Listen, you put your guns down now. Both of you,” Simon said, raising his own gun, pointing at Brockmann and then at Anna. “Or whoever shoots first, I shoot. At this distance, even I can’t miss.” They both seemed unimpressed by his threat.

Anna grimaced for a moment, and he saw her tilt her head. Brockmann stared at her.

“No,” Simon yelled. Brockmann gave him a knowing glance.

“Simon, he isn’t himself,” Anna insisted, but at that moment, she tilted her head uncontrollably, spasming. Simon looked at her.

“You hear them, don’t you? The whispers,” Simon asked.

Anna stared at him, and Simon realized his partner would shoot her. He turned to Brockmann and aimed at his head.

“Don’t even think about it,” Simon hissed.

Brockmann grunted.

“Anna,” Simon said sternly. “No idea where you got that gun from, but I want you to put it down now. You’re not entirely in control of yourself anymore. Please, put down the gun. I have him,” Simon said.

“You got me?” Brockmann asked.

“Yes, I got you, and you won’t shoot her or I will shoot you. Is that clear enough for you? Nobody will be shot here, or both of you die.”

“Simon, I—” Anna dropped her gun and stepped back.

“Fight it, Anna,” Simon said, glancing at her. It was the moment Brockmann needed to turn and aim his gun at Simon’s head. Anna wanted to leap forward to grab her gun again, but Brockmann raised a hand with his index finger rising up.

“I wouldn’t do that if you don’t want to see this go bad for both of you,” Brockmann hissed. Anna froze.

“Brockmann, listen. You aren’t yourself either. It’s me, Simon.”

“You have a gun aimed at my head. Believe me, I am perfectly clear right now.”

“Listen to him,” Anna said to Brockmann. “I know how it feels. I feel it too. We can’t trust our own thoughts.”

Brockmann didn’t react at all. He kept on staring at Simon.

“I don’t fear death,” he said to Simon. “You know that.”

Simon swallowed. “Neither do I, but I realized in Berlin that I won’t get old in this job. Better you than some tentacled monster or giant worm,” Simon replied.

Brockmann smiled—again. He never smiled. This wasn’t the Brockmann Simon knew.

“I don’t believe you,” Brockmann hissed.

“And I don’t believe you,” Simon said back. “Because if we kill each other, Anna remains. Anna, there are explosives on board. Find them and blow the ship up.”

Simon saw something in Brockmann’s face. Concern? Fear?

“Simon, she got into your head. It’s me,” Brockmann said. It was something Brockmann would never say.

Anna was holding her ears now and stumbling back. Simon could only see her from the corner of his eyes as he didn’t dare look fully away from his partner—or whatever was it that stood in front of him.

“It got you, didn’t it? Down there? Like it got Michelle.” Simon smiled sadly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you.”

“Nothing got me, Simon.”

“I can only imagine how it must have felt for you. Losing control. But I know you’re still fighting it because you haven’t killed me.” Simon sighed. “Put down your gun.”

“I told you I am trained—”

“Nobody is trained to resist that. It used your fears—” Simon saw Anna collapse.

“I’m not afraid of anything.”

“You are the most afraid man I know,” Simon sadly remarked.

“I fear nothing!”

“You fear your failing health. You fear irrelevance and change. And people. You’re afraid to trust them, of emotional attachment . . . of losing them. You are the most fearful man I know. You just got so used to your fears that you don’t recognize them anymore. Put down the gun.”

His partner looked at him, and Simon saw something change. Brockmann would have been angry about his words, but he wasn’t. Yet, for a second, Simon saw him again—the true Brockmann.

“What if I don’t? You’re gonna shoot me?”

“The shoulder perhaps,” Simon said. “At this distance, even I can’t miss.”

Brockmann’s eyes became slits, and that was the moment Anna acted. She grabbed her gun, and Brockmann swung around and fired at her. He missed, and sparks flew from the controls behind her with the impact.

Simon pushed himself forward as hard as he could against Brockmann’s trained body, and the older man lost his balance, stumbling back. He brought the gun around and fired at Simon as he took cover behind the hatch’s door. Anna fired at Brockmann, but Simon couldn’t hear any shots anymore. His ears were peeping. He grabbed the door and swung it closed as hard as he could. Anna fired a shot that pinged against the door; Simon ignored it and grabbed the wheel.

He tried to turn it, but someone was holding it from the other side—someone or something.

“Anna, I need your help!” Simon gasped as Brockmann pressed against the door. He blocked it with his foot, but he wouldn’t be able to hold it for long.

Anna ran to his side, grabbed the metal wheel, and slowly, it began to turn. Against both of them, Brockmann stood no chance. It finally was free, and Simon turned it until the lock clacked into the closed position. Then he slid down the door and looked at Anna.

“It won’t hold him for long.,” he whispered.

“I know,” Anna said and offered him her hand. “I don’t know how long I’ve got. We need to act quickly,” she said, and Simon saw how pale she was.

“It calls me,” she finally said. “It offers me something. A way out. I think we both know what happens when I can’t resist the offer anymore.”

Simon nodded and sighed. “I can imagine.”

She helped him up, and Simon quickly went back to the corridor. He grabbed Anna’s backpack as she stood in the corridor and stared at the end of it. Simon stepped out and looked in the same direction.

“Did you leave the door open?” she asked just as Simon saw the door to Michelle’s holding area.

“I tied her up!”

Anna turned to him and shook her head. “Not tight enough, it seems.”

Simon went into the cabin to make sure she wasn’t still hiding inside. The bed was full of blood, and a thumb lay on top. Michelle had cut it off, probably using the cable to do so. It’s not very sharp, though, Simon thought. The pain had to be excruciating. But she didn’t care about pain because the thing that had taken over her mind didn’t care. They were all dead to it anyway.

“We’ve got to go,” Anna said.

Simon nodded and followed her as they made their way down the metal stairs, her flashlight leading the way. From above, Simon heard metallic sounds—no doubt the thing that used to be Brockmann making its way back onto the bridge.

****

In the darkness below, Simon lost his orientation as Anna quickly took stairs down and ran through corridors. Finally, she closed a large door behind them and leaned back.

“Where are we?” Simon asked as his flashlight flickered.

“Lower levels. Near the machinery.” Anna tried to catch her breath and slid down the metal wall. Simon did the same on the opposite side.

“Turn it off. We need to save battery. Our replacements are up there,” she said, and Simon nodded.

She was right; the backpacks were up there with Brockmann. He shut down his flashlight and closed his eyes for a moment.

“We have to kill him. You know that, don’t you?” Anna asked.

“No, we need to get rid of this thing.”

“He won’t let us.”

“If he wanted us dead, we would be dead by now. No, I think he’s still fighting it. Maybe not even consciously. I imagine whatever this thing is, there are easier minds to dominate than Brockmann’s.” Simon said and looked at the ground.

“We can’t rely on him winning that fight.”

“Listen, we try to make it out of here alive—all of us. Okay? We are the Nocturne Society. There aren’t many of us, and we don’t give up on each other lightly. Let’s just try to avoid him and get to that thing.” Simon got up.

“There are only two entries from the aft part of this area, and we’ve got one sealed.” Anna nodded to the metal hatch. “If we take a detour and he tries to intercept us, we’ve got a pretty good chance to never meet him again.” Anna looked at Simon. “As long as you’re silent.”

Simon nodded. “Got it.”

They only got a few steps into the corridor when Anna stopped again. Simon tensed right away.

“You hear it?” he asked. Anna turned in the dark and nodded.

“He whispers to me now, too. I can make out his voice. He’s joined the choir,” Anna said. “Don’t you hear it?”

“I don’t listen. I can still keep it at bay.”

“That won’t last long. Simon, I don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I’ll make it to the cargo bay.” Anna stopped, and he could see the glimmer of her eyes in the dark. How had they lost control so quickly?

“You’re saying the law student has to save the day?” Simon laughed. Anna raised her hand to tell him to keep his voice down.

“I’m sorry. I want to believe I’m stronger, but that is a risk to our mission. Like Brockmann became one.” Anna leaned forward and breathed in.

“Distract him. He seriously dislikes you, so I guess that shouldn’t be a problem. Given the chance, he’ll come after you.” Simon sighed and closed his eyes in the dark.

“What will you do?”

“This thing goes back to the bottom of the sea. Only question is, do we go with it?” Simon looked up at Anna and smirked like an injured wolf. “If I have to, I will sink the ship.”

“Like the German submarine did,” Anna whispered.

“Exactly like that. Where is the cargo area?”

“Just straight down the line until you reach a T-junction, then turn left.”

“Okay.” Simon began walking, then turned around. “He didn’t try to kill me. I could see that. Not sure how he feels about you, all jokes aside.”

“I know.” Anna sighed and went in the opposite direction.

****

Simon stumbled in the corridor, and his light flickered again. It did this now every few seconds, and he used it as sparingly as possible. He saw a body on the ground, and though he knew he had no time, he took a quick look. It was Captain Rohn.

He had a long gash in his stomach and had bled out. In his hand, he still held a cigarette, the ash now a grotesquely long worm. Cigarette? Quickly, Simon knelt next to the man and searched his pockets. The hollow eyes stared at him as he found a lighter and put it into his pocket.

“I’m sorry about this.” Simon sighed and turned the flashlight off.

“Darkness, your old friend,” a voice in the dark said, and Simon smiled. He knew who it was, and he also knew that she wasn’t really there.

“We spend a lot of time together, but I wouldn’t exactly call us friends.”.

“You know Anna can’t stop him, don’t you?” the female voice asked.

“You picked a strange moment to appear.” Simon sighed and kept on searching the captain’s body. He found his gun—a small stub-nosed revolver. Turning his flashlight on again, he saw that only one bullet was left in the chamber. He had kept that for himself, Simon assumed.

He pushed the gun into his pocket, picked up his own, and was about to get up when he remembered something Michelle had said. Anton wanted to look for the captain because only he had the keys to the explosives. Had that been a lie too? He doubted it. It sounded more like a truth she used to mask the lies—like Anton looking for him, or Anton even being around when truth was, she’d probably eaten him by then.

“Good idea,” the girl whispered in the dark, and Simon began rifling through the captain’s belt and jacket. In his inner pocket, he found the keys—a whole ring of them—and took them out. Then he grabbed the captain and dragged him into the closest room. It seemed to be some sort of sleeping area with double beds lined up. Simon looked up, thinking he saw movement there in the dark. The light wandered over the beds, but there was nothing. He sighed and went back to the corridor.

Nasat nasat priomin. Nasat defire. Achpach. Achpach.

Simon felt the voice hit him like an electrical strike. It took him a moment to understand it wasn’t in his head—not yet. Raising his gun, he pointed the flashlight and saw the pale figure vanish through a door.

“Nasat nasat priomin. Nasat defire. Achpach. Achpach.”

The female whisper slowly became something else; a melody peeled free under the words, a chant. Simon felt Michelle’s grin in the dark. He put the keys away and stepped forward to the door she had vanished through. It was a metal hatch. The flashlight flickered again, yet it was enough to see her naked body cowering in the dark, her features almost unrecognizable as she grinned broadly, blood dripping from her mouth.

Whose blood?

Simon aimed at her.

“Oh, c’mon, little Simon. Show us what a tough guy you are!” The creature—he had no other word for this version of Michelle—hissed at him, no longer remotely close to Michelle’s voice.

Simon knew he should answer this by pulling the trigger; instead, he grabbed the door, and he saw her eyes widen in surprise. She charged towards him, using all four limbs like a primate. Too late. He had the door shut and pressed the lock down, trapping her on the other side. Michelle slammed her head against the bull’s eye window, and Simon saw the blood smear against it. She moved her lips, but through the door, Simon couldn’t hear a word.

Nasat nasat priomin. Nasat defire. Achpach. Achpach.

Not as if he didn’t know what she said, right? Shaking his head, Simon quickly took his earphones out of his jeans and put them in.

“That was a good idea, Michelle,” he whispered. His mobile was turned off, so he turned it back on—he might need the light from it anyway if the flashlight completely died. The earphones connected with the device, and he went to the music app.

Nasat nasat priomin. Nasat defire. Achpach. Achpach.

The voice in his head suddenly sounded a lot like Brockmann’s. He picked the first playlist he found and pressed play.

Nasat nasat . . .

The words faded out as the applause of a live concert rushed into his ears. He turned the volume up and smiled. It helped—for now, at least.

He looked back to the bull’s eye, and Michelle was gone. She would try to find another way to intercept him before he reached his goal. He wasn’t so sure he could afford to not kill her the next time. The thought was uncomfortable, but Simon had nobody else to rely on. Brockmann and Anna were out of the picture now, Paul was dead, and Michelle was mentally so far gone that she could have lived on the damned moon. So, it was just him.

He walked down the corridor again.