“I said, ‘Men are like fish,’ Roman Wolfe. ‘The great ones devour the small.’” She stops in front of me as my chin drops so that I can see her. “And which are we?” “You are the madness he creates. You are the great fish. But Calder”—she shivers—“he’s the ocean, and he’ll swallow everyone whole. This is the last time I will speak his name. Because to say it calls to evil. But you are wrong. Death isn’t waiting for Calder. It’s listening for his instruction.”
