A dozen Kevins and Kathys—all concealed behind hard light illusions, compliments of Ed—rushed into the food court forming a rough horseshoe behind us. Although they were decked out in their regular battle rattle, each one also carried heavy-duty UV flashlights that I’d bought through the Kiosk Network. Most of the legends surrounding vampires were a bunch of horseshit. They could backstroke through a swimming pool of garlic sauce, cross running water without batting an eye, and didn’t give two shits about crosses.

  But, according to a few sources who’d had dealings with the Syndicate, the stories had gotten a couple of things right. Wooden stakes dealt critical piercing damage, and they didn’t handle sunlight particularly well.

  That wasn’t much of an issue in the Backrooms since genuine sunlight was next to nonexistent, but there were ways around that little hiccup.

  The lights blazed to life, holding the fledging Vampires at bay as their skin began to smolder, curls of acrid smoke trailing up. But it wasn’t an instant death sentence. Especially not for a vamp as powerful as Theo.

  For him, it was a minor inconvenience that slowed down Health Regen.

  Still, I would take any advantage I could get.

  I thrust both hands forward and black rifts split the air, disgorging my Necromarshalls. Drumbo, Uncle Sam, Synthia Lynx, Rudolpho the Grippledip, and what was left of Krampus—his gruesome torso perched on top of the metallic arachnoid legs of a VRD security golem, They shambled forward in a frenzy, ready to smash, blast, and generally eviscerate anything that got in their way.

  Harper shot away from the table, then activated the boundary formation flags she’d set up before the meeting. The flags were rare Artifacts, and although they didn’t do any direct damage, they did increase Healing and Mana Regen for all allies and boosted damage to enemies inside the area of effect.

  One of the Go-Go dancers vomited a thick stream of boiling blood directly at the healer, but Harper managed to pop Warranty Void if Broken seconds before the spell landed. An impenetrable opalescent dome formed around her and the column of blood splattered harmlessly against the surface before pooling on the food court floor.

  Croc surged forward in a flowing mass of tentacles and claws, belly maw snapping as the mimic closed the distance with the Go-Go dancer on the right.

  Off to my left, Ed appeared from behind a flawless hard light illusion, then leveled his magical Colt 1911 and started putting rounds down range with mechanical precision. One of the ghouls dropped in a spray of blood as bullets peppered its chest and punched through its throat. More rounds kneecapped another ghoul, leaving it crawling along the floor as it howled and screeched.

  But Ed’s assault didn’t go unchallenged for long.

  The Go-Go dancer to Theo’s left lifted off the ground, leathery bat wings unfurling from her back. Her crimson eyes blazed with malice as a thick pool of blood congealed beneath Ed’s feet. A massive tentacle surged upward, wrapping around him like a constrictor and squeezing hard enough to make his ribs creak. Ed jammed the muzzle of his Colt against the writhing appendage and fired several rounds point-blank, but the thing only tightened its grip.

  Ed’s Parrot, Woodstock, took wing, wheeling around in a circle before opening her beak and spewing a blazing hot column of fire as though she were a miniature dragon.

  Ed was in trouble, but unfortunately, I had my own problems to deal with.

  Theo lunged across the table like a rabid animal, black talons bursting from the tips of his fingers as his jaw unhinged and split down the middle, folding outward to reveal a toothy maw and a writhing tongue, dripping with thick strands of saliva. His face twisted and morphed—ribbed bat ears jutting from the sides of his skull, his nose collapsing into two narrow slits beneath a pair of bloody-red eyes set deep in a bony brow.

  “Sweet baby Jesus!” I swore as I activated Frostfang Spire.

  Jagged spears of ice erupted from the table and skewered him through one leg. He hissed, thrashing, dark blood dripping down the icy spikes. Then, with a wet pop, his body burst apart into a mass of glittering sewer rats. The swarm poured around my barricade before reassembling on the far side—Theo suddenly back in all his disco-suited glory, not a hair of that immaculate afro out of place.

  I triggered Hydro Fracking Blast and a jet of hyper-pressurized water punched through Theo’s chest, leaving a fist-sized hole in its wake. His body snapped backward, but the wound sealed almost instantly, muscles knitting, bone reforming. His health bar barely flickered. Theo’s grin widened. He cupped his hand, and blood poured from the hole in his chest, swirling into a dense, pulsing orb that throbbed like a heart.

  Then he hurled it straight at my face.

  My danger sense screamed and I triggered Neural Slipstream, phasing out of reality as time slowed around me. The fetid blood bolt ripped straight through my ghostly form and splattered against a nearby column with an acidic hiss as it ate through plaster and concrete.

  I backpedaled then cast Stainslayer Maelstrom directly above the three Black Harbor emissaries. A churning blue cloud formed at a sluggish pace before fat drops of super bleach began to pour down in a sheet. The liquid splattered across the vampires, sizzling and popping on contact. The smell was sharp—chemical, caustic, and eye-wateringly potent. Like a thousand laundromats all burning down at once.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Skin melted away in wet sheets, muscle sloughing from bone like wax under a blowtorch. For a few glorious seconds, I thought it would be enough.

  It wasn’t.

  As Neural Slipstream finally lapsed, and time hurried to catch back up all at once, Theo straightened, still smoking, but very much alive. The burn wounds bubbled and closed, new flesh crawling over charred ruin. His eyes gleamed through the steam, hungry and unbothered.

  The Go-Go dancer still on the ground, effortlessly slipped past Croc’s grasping tentacles, then shot forward, moving unnaturally fast. She must’ve had some sort of movement enhancing ability, and paired with the roller skates, she was like greased lightning.

  Temp swung her Dark Solstice Cleaver, aiming to decapitate the Go-Go girl, but the vamp pirouetted like a ballerina, and dropped low, avoiding the attack by inches.

  “No one gets away from me that easily, you crushed velvet whore,” Temperance snarled, casting Ghost Leash. A spectral tether of green light erupted from Temp’s chest, latching onto the fleeing Go-Go dancer. Temp leapt into the air and reeled herself forward, sword already swinging.

  I tore my eyes away and summoned a swarm of tools from my belt, propelling them toward the encroaching wave of ghouls, stampeding toward us without a whiff of survival instinct. My demolition screwdriver punched into a flabby throat, my hammer bludgeoned skulls and broke outstretched arms, while the rest of my tools opened gashes and gouged out eyes. I doubted that would be enough to kill the undead corpse-eaters, but it should keep ’em busy and buy us a little breathing room.

  Meanwhile, I unleashed another jet of pressurized water, splitting it into three beams using Hydrokinesis. The first drilled through Theo’s stomach, the second blasted a hole the size of my fist right through his mouth, and the third sheared through one of his arms, amputating the limb just above the elbow.

  The severed arm dropped with a spray of sludgy blood, somersaulting through the air before landing with a wet thwap on the floor.

  I was half expecting Theo to drop dead, but his health was still above seventy percent, and I was horrified to see that his wounds were already closing, despite the presence of the UV lights. The amputated arm withered away to a dried husk, quickly crumbling to ash, while fresh blood surged from the stump, forming a replacement limb in a matter of seconds.

  Holy shit.

  Theo wasn’t joking when he said that vampires were durable. Jakob could regrow limbs too, but it could take days or even weeks.

  The vampire reached out with a single talon and slashed open the wrist on his freshly regrown arm; blood poured from the wound then ran neatly into his hand, forming into a glossy red sword. He shot toward me, the sword blazing in a savage overhead arc.

  I wicked ambient moisture from the air and flash froze it into an icy sword of my own.

  After seeing how much better Harper had gotten in melee combat after training with Temp, I’d started taking lessons with her in my off time. In a straight up fight, Temp still kicked my ass around the block nine out of ten times, but I was getting better.

  I hoped that would be enough.

  I narrowly managed to turn Theo’s strike with the flat of my ice blade before he could cut me in two, but the impact rattled my teeth, and the force of the blow sent a web of fractures skittering across the ice sword’s translucent edge. Theo was fast. Too fast. Before I could even reset my stance, he was already back in motion, a blur of white silk and red eyes, his blood-forged weapon flashing like liquid lightning.

  He pressed the attack, slashing in tight, controlled arcs that blurred together into a single murderous rhythm. Every movement had purpose. Every strike flowed seamlessly into the next—a flurry of slashes, thrusts, and parries. He didn’t fight with mindless fury. Instead, he moved like someone who’d spent decades transforming violence into a dance.

  I fell into the sword forms Temp had drilled into my head, blocking, pivoting, redirecting his blows through instinct more than thought. Step. Deflect. Counter. But Theo was relentless. His blade hammered against mine, sending up a shower of sparks and frost, each clash louder than the last, until the air itself seemed to hum from the vibration.

  My ice sword groaned under the pressure, hairline cracks spidering down its length. I continued to cycle Mana, reinforcing the blade, but I wouldn’t be able to keep this up for much longer. Although I was stronger than any normal human had any right to be, close combat wasn’t my specialty. Ranged magic was at the heart of my build, and I needed distance to work my spells.

  I ducked a horizontal sweep that would’ve taken my head clean off, then countered with a low slash that caught him across the thigh. His blood hissed against the blade, but he didn’t even flinch. He just smiled, teeth glinting like knives, and lunged forward again.

  His next strike came from above.

  I met it with both hands on the hilt, my boots digging into the linoleum as I caught the blow. My knees damn near buckled from the force, but I managed to stay upright. For a second, we were locked in place—two blades grinding against each other, his strength bearing down on me like a collapsing building.

  “Don’t tell me that’s all you got,” he snarled. “I was expecting more from the Discount Dan.”

  “I’m just getting warmed up,” I grunted, shoving him back with everything I had before twisting my blade sideways, redirecting the crushing force. The move threw him slightly off-balance, just enough for me to step in close and drive an elbow into his jaw. Bone cracked—though whether it was his face or my elbow I couldn’t say—and he staggered back by half a step.

  The tiny gap was all I needed.

  I dropped one hand from my weapon then thrust it forward and unleashed a wave of telekinetic power. Invisible force erupted like a shockwave, strong enough to flip cars and shatter glass.

  Theo barely moved.

  Although Psychic Sovereignty was a powerful tool, it still had a massive weakness. It worked like a dream for inanimate objects, but an enemy with sufficiently high Grit could shrug off the spell without batting an eyelash.

  Apparently, Theo had a lot of Grit.

  “Cute trick,” Theo snickered, “but you wanna dance with the Syndicate, you’d better bring your A-game.”

  He lunged, overextending himself just a hair. I bolted left and attempted a clumsy counterassault, but the shithead sidestepped the blow and caught me with a platform shoe to the chest that hit like a sledgehammer.

  The kick lifted me off my feet and sent me crashing into a nearby table. My ribs screamed and the following shockwave hit harder than the kick itself, vibrating through my chest like an electric current. My heart skipped a beat, and my muscles seized up all at once. The room swam in and out of focus and darkness crept in on the edges of my vision as I lay on the floor, stunned and completely defenseless.

  “End of the line, youngblood,” he said with a wolfish smile.

  Then he charged, ready to skewer me like shish kebab.