A pathetic wolf call alerted me to Shayna’s presence. Her blade came down, severing the croc’s head in one clean strike. “Go, Ceel!” she urged.

I didn’t hesitate and ran full-out to the long dark hall. I expected to encounter another of Dilip’s protectors. I didn’t expect to find Taran. My feet skidded to a halt, meeting her blank expression as she stared at me. She rubbed at the center of her chest. It was her only movement, a surprising feat given a giant crocodile had her zombie limb clenched between its teeth like a drumstick. Both seemed unaware of what was happening.

The corners of her mouth lifted right before she raised her deformed limb with the crocodile still attached. Taran didn’t possess super-strength, but her arm seemed to. The creature’s stiff body was parallel to the floor, appearing frozen.

Nothing could have prepared me for what Taran did next. The creature detonated in a wash of blue and white flames, shooting away from us and taking out the back wall. Charred bits of croc peppered a trail to the giant hole Taran had made with its body. She shook out her unmarred zombie arm and cracked the knuckles of her hand. “Don’t you have some dipshit to find?” she asked.

Her tone was strangely hollow. But she was safe. And she was right.

I started toward the exit Taran had created until I caught Dilip’s sweaty and panic-filled aroma cutting through the smell of fried croc. He’d disappeared into the ladies’ room without us knowing.

The door smacked hard against the wall as I rushed in. The window facing the water was shattered, drops of Dilip’s blood smeared along the edges. My feet propelled me forward and I dove straight through, landing in a roll and rising into an immediate run in the direction I heard a motor catch.

This wasn’t a car. It was a boat. But it led in the same direction as Dilip’s scent. I swore and ran along the dock, barely leaping into the back of the speeding yacht in time. I couldn’t swim. And of course, this was my bad guy’s means of transportation.

My landing, while rushed, was quiet. I sniffed the air for any more of Dilip’s guards. I scented magic—old and earthy. Likely, it belonged to Shah. It poked at me, trying to figure me out. My tigress found it curious. I could feel her sit back within me, waiting for it to react so she could respond in turn. While she was alert and ready, she didn’t seem on edge.

Shah didn’t mean me harm for the moment. That didn’t mean I was safe.

I crossed the yacht and carefully climbed the steps leading to the upper deck. Dilip was steering, his back to me. He mumbled, distracted. I rose carefully and advanced, trying to stay silent as the strong current of air whipped my hair behind me and slapped against my exposed skin.

The engine purred softly, but the wind and the splash of waves were loud where I stood. And yet I heard Dilip as his mumbles grew more audible. Not that I was loving what he had to say.

“You will kill anyone who tries to harm me. You hear me, Shah? You will kill anyone who harms me. I own you. You piece of shit. I own you!”

Lights flashed across the panel that curved around Dilip. I jerked as “Magic Carpet Ride” blasted over the speaker system. Shah was definitely in the house. I perked up, and so did my tigress, trying to ready myself for what came next as I closed in.

Dilip screamed when I was mere feet from him. He smacked at his belly, his cries becoming agonized and frightened. I thought Shah was tearing him open and mangling his flesh. But Shah had his own brand of torture, and it seemed this rock was done being used.

Dilip whipped around, his face bleached with terror. Beneath the skin of his belly a face appeared, singing along to Steppenwolf’s classic.

Okay. Yet another thing that gave me pause.

Dilip’s belly button had stretched across the length of his stomach to become a mouth, cheerily lip-syncing to the lyrics while a nose protruded from his sternum and his nipples morphed into rather animated and gleeful eyes.

As I watched, Dilip’s chest hair crawled to form an Afro above the nipple eyes.

“Close your eyes, girl. Look inside, girl…” Dilip’s stomach merrily sang.

I looked at Dilip’s face—his other one—as I tried to swallow the bile burning its way through my throat. “Wow. That’s quite a dilemma you have here,” I managed. “Um. What say you stop this whole world domination thing you have going on so maybe Shah will give you your life back?”

Dilip answered with a high-pitched hysterical laugh that didn’t belong on someone with that much chest hair. In the meantime, we were about to crash into an island at full velocity.

I shoved him aside and cut the steering wheel left, spinning the damn thing until the boat wound in crazy circles. Meanwhile, “Magic Carpet Ride” continued to blast through the speakers and apparently Dilip’s stomach.

“Why don’t you tell your dreams to me…”

This was a whole new brand of crazy I hadn’t expected. Between my haphazard steering, the music, and the impromptu karaoke concert, Dilip’s cries grew more hysterical. Maybe he wasn’t a fan of the song. Or it could have simply been the whole there’s-a-face-on-my-stomach thing scaring the shit out him.

The way things stood, I couldn’t help him even if I tried. Anyone who claimed sailing a boat was easy probably never had a guy with a freaky lip-syncing belly standing next to her.

By the grace of everything good, I managed to straighten the boat. I played with the fancy buttons and levers until the motor seemed to die or I somehow broke it while I tried my best to keep sight of Dilip. He may have been a shrieking hysterical human, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t kill me.

Near as I could see, he was hunched in the corner, laughing, then crying, then laughing again as the yacht slowed to drift with the current. It didn’t seem like much time had passed from when my hands first seized control to when we eased to rock along the water, but it was plenty of time for Dilip to act.

I gasped when I abandoned the wheel and saw what he’d been up to.

He’d acquired a fishing knife and had made quick use of it. His warped smile met my face even though he continued to stab himself in the stomach. If he was in pain, he didn’t show it. Maybe only the first few stabs had hurt, or maybe he felt nothing at all.

He sat with his legs outstretched in a “V” while his body fluids pooled around him. The punctures in his belly were vicious and angry, and bits of bowel poked through his damaged skin to shine against the moonlight. But even that wouldn’t erase his disturbing grin.