There's a tension in the atmosphere tonight, heightening Nathan's senses, intensifying his experience of the world as he knows it. Rolling waves and the roaring of Patch Booker's motorboat hit him like a solid wall of sound. Sea salt hangs thick in the air. The stars are impossibly bright and so is the light spilling from the Mary Smith, glaring and hurting his eyes. He's got a gun and a dangerous plan on his mind; he's alert and on edge, so high-strung a single touch could make him jump out of his skin.

"You don't play by the rules," Patch says, voice grating in Nathan's ears. "You brought in outsiders. Didn't expect that from you."

"Shut up, Patch," Nathan replies. "Remember I'm armed and you've got your back turned to me."

It's a quarter past nine and Nathan, Veronika and Jinx steadily approach the yacht Derek holds Jamie in. Nathan glances at his bag; the book within will be his saviour, his doom or both. Veronika's next to him, staring straight ahead, looking a little seasick. Or maybe she's just worried about their plan, their simple-yet-solid plan that may or may not work.

Only Jinx looks somewhat relaxed, comfortably stretched out and regarding the ocean with fascination. I never knew, she says, that there could be so much water in one place.

"The cat talks," Patch mutters under his breath. His peanut-sized brain can't comprehend this knowledge. "The cat talks. Damn creepy beast."

The creepy beast, Jinx replies, has sharp claws. Would you like it if they damaged your other eye?

"No, Ma'am," Patch hastily replies, and Nathan almost smiles. The first thing he noticed upon meeting Patch in the harbour was that he wore his eyepatch over his right eye instead of his decidedly unscarred left one. Nathan inquired about this and Patch begrudgingly confessed Jamie briefly chose violence and went straight for the eyes.

Honestly, good. Nathan imagines this incident cured Patch of his little celebrity crush once and for all. An oddly satisfying thought.

They reach the yacht and, for a fleeting moment while Patch moors his boat at the appropriate platform, everything feels too real. Nathan swallows his nerves, though, gathers his wits as he waits for Patch to finish up. When the bastard is done, Nathan walks up to him, slinging an arm around his shoulders in a way that's less bro hug and more I'm trying to crush you to death to establish dominance. He makes sure Patch can see he still has a gun.

"This doesn't end here," Nathan tells him. "Jinx will watch your boat. You're coming with us. If Derek has Jamie for a hostage, you will do for me."

Veronika sends him a confused, warning look, because Patch Booker isn't part of the plan they concocted. Nathan doesn't care. Patch is a piece of shit, the source of a whole bunch of trouble, and Nathan never even got to beat him up for it properly. This is vengeance, nothing more. Patch can do with some well-deserved fear for his life. If Veronika objects, that's nothing to Nathan.

Leaving Jinx behind, the trio makes its way onto the yacht, Nathan still keeping Patch and his weapon close. He navigates corridors on distant memory—through luxurious lounges, past a swimming pool and unoccupied staterooms towards the main staircase, passing occasional crew members turning convenient blind eyes; these people work for a mobster and know to stay out of illicit business for their own safety.

Nathan's been on this ship before with Derek and the Bookers, one or two years ago—a gesture of goodwill on Derek's part, celebrating so many years of working together, dear friends, please enjoy yourselves. But Nathan hadn't enjoyed himself much, for the music was too loud and there were too many strangers and Derek was there, so he spent the whole evening drinking cocktails until he felt numb and could go home again.

Patch says Derek waits for them on the main deck. When Nathan reaches it, the main saloon is exactly as he remembers it: dimmed orange lights illuminate an assortment of seating areas, a jazz song plays in the background. Derek leans against a bar, sipping whiskey and eyeing Nathan's entrance with unabashed satisfaction. The fucker slowly saunters over to a large table in the middle of the room, around which five old men in suits sit playing poker, joined by Eva and–

Wait, what?

Jamie's playing poker.

With the Mafia.

Nathan doesn't even know why he keeps being surprised by the shit she gets up to. At this point, he should probably start seeing this kind of thing coming.

Jamie's noticed him and regards him with a look he can't make sense of; there's relief in it, but also something troubled, as if she's lost control of a situation that was all hers before. With an apologetic smile to her fellow players, she lays her cards down on the table. "Gentlemen, I think my game ends here."

Nathan swears the Mafiosi look disappointed. Jesus fuck. He missed something here.

"Nathan. I'm glad you came." Derek places his hands on the back of Jamie's chair as though trying to trap her. Jamie leans forward and away from him immediately, as if she'd much rather be buried alive than risk touching Derek's skin. Nathan considers shooting Derek on the spot, but that would be a tad rash and risky.

"I came." He glares at Derek, tightening his grip on Patch. "And I've got a hostage, too. Want to swap?"

Derek chuckles loudly, as if this is the funniest thing he's heard in a while. "Interesting. Very interesting. Here I am, thinking you'd come groveling and hand me the book like I asked. Instead, you turn on Patch and bring a friend I never knew you had." He grins at Veronika. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

Veronika doesn't reply. Nathan stares at Jamie, trying to unravel what she's thinking. Because she has a role to play in his and Veronika's plan; she just doesn't know it yet. He'll need to fill her in when phase one's complete, but shit, that could get difficult depending on how she reacts to what's to come. If anyone is endlessly unpredictable, it's Jamie Carrera, and that unpredictability may work against them as much as it may work in their favour.

Derek realises Veronika won't answer him and moves on like he never asked, utterly pleased with himself. "Surprising, but still predictable, Nathan. You came like I said you would. But surely you remember our deal..." He pulls a handgun from where he'd concealed it, holding it close to Jamie's head. "...A grimoire for a lady. A grimoire, not Patch. Keep him, for all I care. If you want to shoot him, be my guest."

Patch winces and Eva's expression sours, her lips pressing into a thin line. Nathan releases Patch from his grip, pushing him away roughly. He wanted to scare him, never expecting Derek to agree to a hostage swap, anyway. And though the thought of beating Patch to the point of hospitalization still sounds pleasantly cathartic to Nathan, shooting him would be going too far.

A grimoire for a lady. Slowly, Nathan takes his book out of its bag, holding it up for Derek to see. "Here it is," he says, briefly studying the delight in Derek's eyes.

That delight is short-lived.

Before Derek can say anything, Nathan speaks: Icelandic words, ones he memorized. He needs to utter the spell correctly and hold the book to channel its power, but he doesn't need to open it and read to use its magic. Nathan has used the fire spell more than any other, so the phrase comes out smoothly.

Derek's gun bursts into flames and all hell breaks loose.

Derek shrieks, drops his fiery weapon, races for the jacuzzi in the corner and shoves his fire-scarred hand into the water on instinct. A chorus of baffled shouts and swears leave the Mafiosi, who jump from their seats as if stung. Patch yelps in surprise and Nathan shoves the grimoire into Veronika's hands, yelling 'go!', which Veronika does and now phase one is officially kicked off, and he needs Jamie, fuck, he needs to talk to Jamie, who–

Oh, Christ.

Nathan's never sure what's going on in Jamie's head—in fact, he doesn't even know to what extent Jamie knows what's happening in there—but he knows this one thing: the moment the room is reduced to screaming chaos and magic fire, she bolts. She ducks under the table and hits her head on it in the process, but picks herself up real fast and sprints off in a mad dash to wherever the fuck she thinks she's going. She's probably acting on impulse, having decided running and hiding make for the best course of action.

Nathan can't fault her for thinking so, but they have to talk, so he curses and sprints away from the uproar and right after her through the corridor. He moves as fast as his legs will go, pushing his body to its limits. "Jamie!" He struggles to keep up—how fucking fast is this girl? "Stop! We need to talk!"

Jamie recognizes his voice and—thank god—slows down, stops, turns to face him. Nathan almost crashes into her, but stops in time, and then they're facing each other in what must be the strangest reunion in both of their lives. They can't stay in this corridor and risk being seen, though, so Nathan throws open the door closest to them and promptly pulls Jamie inside with him.

It's a spacious bathroom. Very classy.

"So do you always drag girls into bathrooms with you or am I just special?" Jamie asks, and Nathan laughs, because he's tense and it's kind of funny and he's actually really happy to see her again.

"Are you okay?" He has to ask, even though they need to be fast.

"Oh, I'm having a time. Jury's still out on if it's a good one." Jamie gives him a weak smile. "But I did win money and learned how to swear in Italian."

Nathan nods. "Okay, okay, good. But listen closely, we don't have much time. I need you to get to Jinx on Patch's motorboat, at the docking platform on the lower deck, as fast as you can. There's a flare gun in the boat and you have to fire it, do you understand? This ship is going to sink."

Jamie takes this all in. "Motorboat," she repeats, "lower deck, flare gun... This ship is going to sink?"

"Veronika will do it," Nathan explains, "in four minutes. The spell you found in church, remember? Once she uses it, the ocean will slowly start swallowing this whole yacht. We need that chaos, but if we don't send out a distress signal, there might be unnecessary casualties."

It seems to get through to Jamie, though she does look a little overwhelmed. "We're sinking ships," she says with something of a nervous giggle. "Alright. Having a real hot girl summer here, I guess."

"It's April."

"It's whatever the hell I want it to be. But if we have four minutes, I'll be off."

"Be careful. I mean it."

"No worries. I maxed out my immunity stats." Jamie grins, and Nathan doesn't have a single clue what she even means, but she's already making for the door, opening it, and then–

Shit.

Jamie stumbles back into the bathroom, muttering cazzo, which must be Italian. When Nathan sees what prevents her leaving, his breath hitches in his throat.

"I don't think Derek would appreciate it if you fled," Eva Booker says, standing in the doorway, a gun in her hands.