We slowly made our way toward the exit. Kettle, the idle baronet, seemed to be in a daze. Handcuffs weren’t new to him, but this was the first time they’d been slapped on for a murder charge. Not that I cared about his feelings – my own worries were plenty.

  “John, I need to stay and help the girls,” I said, trying not to turn around but barely watching where I was going, my gaze flickering toward the balcony.

  “They don’t need your help – they need a whipping!” Sunset hissed quietly but with fervor. “Kate will take care of them, assuming she’s got a shred of sense left.”

  “And if she decides to double down and paint them as accomplices instead?”

  “She’s already done that. Staying here longer will only put the girls in more danger.”

  “That’s exactly why I must…” My words were cut off by the sight of a hulking figure in an expensive suit ahead of us.

  “Ah, bloody hell…” Sunset muttered just as August Fairburn greeted us with excessive cheer.

  “Gentlemen, what a group! Simon, you’re moving up in the world. Usually, it takes less effort to drag you into a cell!”

  But it wasn’t the loudmouth who caught my attention. He was like a purebred dog that barked a lot but rarely bit. The real danger was the mass of muscle and magic looming behind him. Bolaji, the fucking Lengai.

  “August,” the baronet replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “feeling particularly bold today, aren’t we? What brought it on? The handcuffs or the ape standing behind you?”

  “Oh, it speaks!” Fairburn feigned amazement. “Not all the brains pickled away, I see. Careful not to puke all over the cell, will you? Good day, gentlemen. Bolaji,” he called, taking a few steps to the side, though the black man stayed put, narrowing his eyes dangerously.

  “Ape?” Bolaji repeated.

  "Yes," Simon spat out, his voice trembling with nervous defiance. "Big, dumb, and black-assed – just like you!"

  Oh, I could argue over who the real dumb was here, but the time for talking ended the moment the fool finished his insult. Bolaji struck with his right arm, launching it forward like a battering ram. Sunset and I dove in opposite directions simultaneously. I rolled out of the attack line, pulling out my pistol in one motion, but the warlock wasn’t aiming for me. His target was Simon, and that blow would’ve knocked the baronet out cold – if not for Roger’s inhuman reflexes.

  The shifter lunged forward, intercepting the warlock’s massive fist, though he couldn’t fully stop its momentum. The blow connected anyway, smashing into Simon’s face and twisting his nose to one side. Kettle stumbled backward into Yan’s chest and only managed to stay upright because of it. Everyone involved cursed in their own colorful ways.

  “You black-assed bastard!” Kettle roared, wiping the blood streaming from his smashed lips with his sleeve. Using Yan’s chest for leverage, he pushed himself off and thrust his cuffed hands forward. In an instant, a burst of crackling lightning erupted from his palms. Roger tried to intervene again, reaching out, but half the bolts eagerly latched onto him while the other half slammed into Bolaji’s chest.

  Roger’s body convulsed as the shocks rippled through him, causing the pistol in his other hand to discharge. The enchanted bullet tore through the air like a fiery comet, embedding itself in the floor and scattering a shower of burning splinters across the nearby brawlers.

  Bolaji took the blast full-on. His white shirt charred black instantly, his jacket caught fire, and the warlock let out a feral roar. He conjured a long spear from thin air, its blade broad and leaf-shaped, and aimed to drive it straight into Simon’s chest.

  “Stop!” Sunset, Fairburn, and I shouted in unison, but only the shifters acted. Yan yanked the baronet backward by his collar, dragging him out of harm’s way, while his smaller brother latched onto the spear just below the blade, forcing it to veer off course.

  The tables around us emptied in an instant.

  Now relatively out of danger, Simon resumed his antics – in other words, firing off more lightning. The distance between him and Bolaji was only a couple of meters now, but the spread of the bolts had widened. They forked and scattered in a broad arc, and with Bolaji being as massive as he was, none of the energy went to waste. The fiery tendrils shredded his expensive suit, turning it into smoldering rags.

  Bolaji roared again, wrenching his spear free and shoving Roger in front of him like a shield. Simon ceased his assault, trying to step aside for a clear shot, but Yan held him firmly by the collar. That was until he took two quick blows to the backs of his knees, delivered by Gratch’s vampires. Twisting Yan’s arms behind his back, the bloodsuckers shoved his face hard against the floor. But holding him was another matter entirely. Yan roared like a bear, his body partially shifting as he assumed its form. With an explosive twist of his wrists, he broke free from the vampires’ grip and drove their hands to the floor… or rather, through the floor. The enraged grizzly rose to his feet, two bloodsuckers dangling helplessly in his grasp. With a powerful swing, he hurled one of them into the floorboards, the crash reverberating along with the sound of snapping ribs. The second vampire was flung into another attacker, sending them both sprawling.

  Sunset was shouting profanities, ordering everyone to drop to the ground. I stood there, frozen, my gun wavering between one threat and another. It was easy for Harry to say, don’t get involved, but a vampire knocked down by Yan landed right beside me. I had no idea if he meant to attack me, but I didn’t wait to find out – I pulled the trigger. The fire apple tore clean through his right collarbone. I fired again, this time into the left, to keep his hands from flailing.

  One of the vampires made it to Simon, slashing through the chain of his handcuffs with a short blade. But before the bloodsucker could retreat, Yan’s kick sent him flying.

  Bolaji raised his spear into the air and spun it like a propeller, trying to shake off Roger, who clung stubbornly to it. Out of nowhere, Nina appeared directly in front of the black warlock. The tiny figure in yellow struck him with a burst of blood and death magic, but Bolaji was quick to counter. He caught the spear with his right hand and summoned a long, oval shield with his left – woven from what looked like leather and vines. It held against the magic effortlessly.

  Then Bolaji swung his spear downward – Roger still clinging to it – and aimed the badger shifter straight at the vampire woman. Roger tucked his body mid-air and crashed into Nina feet first, sending her flying through a path of overturned tables and chairs.

  Bolaji let out a frustrated roar, but it was drowned out by the enraged bellow of the grizzly bear now buried under a heap of vampires – and, apparently, security guards. At least one of them, a wolf-shifter, had his jaws clamped onto Yan’s wrist.

  Roger was distracted by his brother’s plight. Bolaji yanked the spear back, its tip now pointed at the badger’s chest, and thrust upward, aiming for the smaller shifter’s head. But Roger refused to play along. Instead of letting go, Roger braced his left hand against the shaft of the spear for leverage, then jammed the barrel of his pistol onto the tip of the blade. The maneuver gave him just enough stability for a brief moment as Bolaji’s strength lifted him into the air again. Suspended at the spear’s full extension, Roger twisted his body, pulled the pistol off the blade’s tip, and fired a shot aimed squarely at Bolaji’s head. The black warlock raised his shield, deflecting the fiery bullet into the ceiling.

  “Ho!” Bolaji exclaimed, clearly pleased with the outcome. Even this seemed to amuse him.

  Roger hung suspended in mid-air, the spear’s tip a hair’s breadth from his chest. Then a blast of compressed air shot from the spear, throwing the badger backward. He flew across the room, crashing into a massive crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

  The hall was plunged into near-darkness as the chandelier shattered, its crystal fragments scattering like glittering shards across the floor. But the dimness was short-lived. A stream of fire erupted from Bolaji’s spear, its searing light illuminating the room as it engulfed Roger, who remained entangled in the twisted metal frame of the chandelier. The flames danced wildly, casting chaotic shadows across the walls, while the sound of crackling fire and falling glass filled the air.

  As soon as Bolaji rid himself of Roger, Simon launched another attack, but this time, his lightning bolts were drawn into the warlock’s shield, leaving no scorch marks or damage whatsoever.

  Meanwhile, the vampires and a pair of shifters had wrestled Yan to the ground. Sunset pulled out his revolver and shot one of the attackers cleanly off the pile. Without thinking, I fired at another, my bullet finding its mark.

  Behind the wolf savaging the bear’s arm, a petite figure emerged – Ellie, her face partially transformed in shift. Without a moment’s hesitation, she delivered a sharp, calculated kick, driving her heel into the wolf’s head. I could only hope she hadn’t killed him. The wolf’s body went limp, and Yan flung it off his arm with a violent motion, nearly striking Ellie in the process as he mistook her for yet another attacker.

  Bolaji lunged toward Simon, advancing behind his shield and raising the spear for another strike. Before he could bring it down, Nina reappeared, this time behind the warlock. Her shredded yellow dress hung in tatters as she drove her claws into his back, right where his kidneys should have been.

  Bolaji let out a howl of pain, his defenses momentarily dropping. Simon seized the opportunity, rushing forward with bolts of lightning aimed directly at the warlock’s face. His fingers nearly grazed Bolaji’s head, but then Kate tore Nina from the warlock’s back.

  The two women – one in red, the other in yellow – became a whirlwind of clawing, biting, and tearing. Jewelry flew, hair was ripped out, clothing shredded, and teeth sank into exposed flesh. They were consumed entirely by their battle, leaving their children to leap into the fray, eager to defend their mothers.

  With no one holding him down now, Yan was finally free. But with no other targets for his rage, he turned on Ellie instead. Thankfully, the Goat was much faster than he was, dodging his every swing with ease – for now.

  High above, Roger, tangled in the chandelier, was no longer burning, though he looked worse for wear. Spotting his brother attacking Ellie, he raised his pistol. How he hadn’t dropped it yet, I couldn’t tell.

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  “STOP, YOU IDIOTS!” I screamed. But what did I expect? No one was listening, not even Sunset, who had given up on reason and was stringing together a tirade of curses so elaborate it somehow combined the Crown, mothers, a brothel, and a noose.

  From the balcony, Finella, forced to watch the chaos unfold, fired back at Roger. A bright yellow beam severed the chain holding the chandelier. With a deafening crash, Roger and the massive crystal fixture plummeted to the floor below.

  At the last moment, Bolaji deflected Simon’s hands with his shield and jabbed the baronet in the stomach with the spear’s tip. A golden flash erupted as Simon’s amulet shield activated. The spear didn’t pierce him, but it sent him sprawling onto the floor. Bolaji pressed his boot against Simon’s stomach, forcing him to curl up like a pretzel, and raised the spear for another strike.

  The blade began to glow with the dark red energy of molten magma, and I realized the next strike would be Simon’s last.

  Damn it!

  Three quick shots. Three fiery bullets hurtled toward the spear. I’m a decent marksman – Grandfather made sure of that – but hitting the blade itself was a shot from the realm of fantasy. Not that it mattered; I missed anyway. The first two bullets whizzed past the wide steel tip, and the third struck the shaft. A normal spear would’ve snapped in half, but the warlock’s weapon merely shuddered, and the blow missed Simon’s head by inches. Instead, the long leaf-shaped blade drove deep into the floorboards.

  Acting on reflex, Simon grabbed Bolaji’s leg and sent a surge of lightning into it. Bolaji roared again and retaliated with a sharp blow from his shield, slamming it against Simon’s already broken nose.

  Yan finally snapped out of his battle rage, realizing that the suspect he was guarding had almost been sent to the other side. Letting out an outraged roar, he turned his fury toward the warlock. Bolaji raised his spear once more, now imbued with the flowing power of water, but he didn’t get the chance to strike.

  The bear’s massive paw crashed down on Bolaji, forcing him to raise his shield. To my surprise, the warlock and the bear were roughly the same size – and even more shockingly, their strength was evenly matched. Bolaji shoved Yan back and drove the spear into his chest. The tip pierced through muscle but lodged against bone. Yan roared again, this time in pain.

  That agonized roar seemed to jolt Roger back into action. The chandelier’s rings began to rattle and clink with crystal as they shifted. From the shards of glass emerged Roger’s scorched, bloodied face, his orange eyes burning like embers. His pistol rose with him, trailing a fiery plume as he fired.

  The enchanted bullet struck Bolaji square in the head, causing him to stagger.

  There was no flash, no visible shield, no sign of magical wards or amulets activating. And yet, Bolaji didn’t fall. For a moment, his spear and shield drooped as he shook his head. Then he steadied himself and prepared to attack again.

  How?! How the hell is he still standing?

  Bolaji struck the spear’s shaft against the floor, and the air filled with the deafening sound of hundreds of drums. The vibrations weren’t just heard – they were felt, as if my head had become one of those drums.

  The warlock swung at Yan again. The bear managed to intercept with his paw, but the spear pierced clean through it and became lodged in his hand. With his other paw, Yan grabbed the shield.

  By now, Roger had disentangled himself from the chandelier. He fired another shot before jumping to help his brother.

  Meanwhile, the Nina-Kate whirlwind of violence had transformed into a full-on brawl of vampires. Gratch bloodsucking boys overwhelmed the Lindemann girls, with Nina herself gaining the upper hand over Kate. For some reason, Simon dove into the fray, delivering generous doses of lightning to Kate’s fighters.

  Damn it! The fight had long since crossed the point of no return and now threatened to spiral into a full-blown massacre. The drums tore at my nerves and spirit, and my strength was draining fast. Meanwhile, Bolaji only seemed to grow stronger. Even together, the Kilworth brothers couldn’t slow him down.

  “Fin! Ellie!” I shouted. “We’re leaving! John!”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Sunset shot back, reloading his revolver with almost gleeful precision. “Our witness is right over there!”

  “We’re leaving!” I barked, grabbing the detective by the collar. I didn’t give a damn about the witness – not when John and the girls were in danger.

  Suddenly, the entire hall was engulfed in mist.

  “Police Special Squad! Cease fighting immediately!” boomed a commanding voice, cutting through even the pounding drums. “Face down on the floor!”

  “Do it!” Sunset ordered. “Now!”

  I quickly shoved my face to the floor. The last thing I wanted was to argue with the Kilworths’ colleagues – especially when they were angry. And they would be angry once they saw the state of their men.

  “Fin, Ellie, do it!” I barked at the girls. You never knew what to expect from those... women.

  “I said STOP!” the voice ordered again. “Silence the drums!”

  The drums ceased, and suddenly it was easier to breathe. But the sounds of clashing steel, hissing vampires, crackling flames, and surging lightning still broke through the mist.

  “Suppression,” commanded a calm voice.

  The sound of two submachine guns easily drowned out the chaos of the brawl, forcing anyone still standing to drop to the floor. Everyone except Bolaji. Through the haze of mist, I could see the glint of his spear.

  “Listen here, blackface,” barked the voice again. “We are the PSS! Police Special Squad, in case you missed the memo. I represent the law. If you don’t put down that spear, we’ll shove it so far up your arse. And just to make sure, we’ll twist it three times for good measure!"

  “Try it!” Bolaji roared in defiance.

  “Execute pattern eighteen.”

  The mist swirled violently as a gust of wind tore through the room. The crackle of submachine gun fire filled the air, followed by the flash of ice, a burst of swampy sludge, and the echo of two heavy strikes.

  “Stop!” came the same commanding voice. “Either you surrender now, or we’ll take you down for good.”

  “I surrender!” Bolaji growled angrily.

  “Restrain him.”

  “Bertram,” Sunset called out. “Can we get up yet?”

  “Not just yet,” replied the unit commander. “Let’s secure the big guy first…”

  “John, the girls…” I whispered, but the unfamiliar Bertram overheard me.

  “That one with you, Sunset?”

  “Yes, be so kind,” the detective replied.

  “Just a couple more minutes. Now, listen up, gentlemen,” Bertram addressed the room, his tone sharp and unyielding. “I’m lifting the mist, but that doesn’t mean you’re free to resume your brawl. Even if your opponent ends up within arm’s reach, I strongly advise against making any sudden moves. Our guns are loaded with armor-piercing rounds capable of cutting through a wide range of shields, and the boys have orders to aim for the head. Got it? Good.”

  The mist began to dissipate, revealing the destruction left in the wake of the battle. The only ones still standing were the men in black vests marked with the crown, the letters PSS, and their police-issue helmets. Their arsenal was a mix of weapons: four Thompsons, an army-grade pump-action shotgun, a frost-enchanted axe, a versatile staff, and a pair of magical rods. And that was just the visible gear – each fighter seemed armed for an entire war.

  I didn’t notice at first, but Bolaji, now covered in frost, was still standing. However, his lower half was submerged in a makeshift sandpit that had replaced part of the floor. Two operatives shackled his wrists with heavy-looking cuffs, etched with seals and equipped with energy reservoirs. Only after restraining him did they pull him free and immediately lead him away.

  “Ladies!” Bertram’s voice rang out again. A tall man with graying temples and neatly trimmed mustache stepped forward, exuding quiet authority. “Care to let each other go? While I’m still being polite?”

  “That bitch started it!” snapped Nina.

  Kate, unable to retort with her fangs buried in Nina’s shoulder, yanked them out with a wet pop.

  “You’re the bitch!” Kate hissed. “Trying to steal your lover right out from under the cops’ noses!”

  “Ladies!” Bertram barked, his eyes flashing with a shifter’s golden glow. “I don’t care. Someone else will deal with this mess. Now separate. Quickly!”

  The vampire women grudgingly obeyed. Kate released Nina’s hair and arm, while Nina withdrew her claws and fingers, which had been embedded under Kate’s ribs all the way to the palm.

  “Stand up,” Bertram commanded.

  The vampires complied once again, albeit reluctantly. Nina’s lace lingerie-clad backside was on full display, her lower dress having been torn away in the fight. Kate, on the other hand, had lost the upper half of her dress, exposing an impressive bust marred only by four puncture wounds beneath her ribs.

  “Do you need blood?” Bertram asked.

  “I’ll manage!” Kate barked, more out of pride than practicality. The officer didn’t press the issue.

  “Shackle their hands, cover them with tablecloths, and get them out of here,” Bertram ordered. “Dick, blood!”

  The man with the shotgun pulled a flask from his belt and tossed it to the commander. Bertram crouched beside a vampire I’d shot earlier, the one with the twin gaping wounds in his chest. Helping the bloodsucker sit up, Bertram unscrewed the flask himself and pressed it to the man’s trembling lips.

  “Get up, detective,” Bertram said, taking the flask back and tossing it to his subordinate. “That’s enough for you,” he told the vampire, before adding, “Take this around – someone else might need it.”

  Sunset got to his feet, brushing off his pants. I gave him a questioning look. He gestured toward the commander, who nodded, granting me permission to stand as well.

  “You don’t go easy on my guys, Sunset,” the shifter remarked, glancing at the Kilworth brothers. A petite girl in a PSS vest hovered around them, treating their wounds both inside and out with a mix of potions and ointments.

  “Well, I did request a squad right away!” John retorted indignantly. “You know how these bureaucrats are.”

  “I do. That’s why we were patrolling nearby instead of sitting at the base.”

  “Thanks,” Sunset said. “You made it just in time.”

  “What started all this?”

  “That idiot over there,” John said, pointing at the baronet. “He called the black guy an ape.”

  “What’s his type?”

  “Lightning sorcerer.”

  “Mind if we have a little chat with him?” the officer asked.

  “Be my guest, just make sure he’s in a state to answer questions afterward.”

  “You wound me. We’ll be gentle.”

  Bertram snapped his fingers and gestured at Simon. Two operatives grabbed the baronet unceremoniously and dragged him toward the exit. I asked for leniency for the girls, and they let us go, though John stayed behind to speak with the club owner. It turned out that the PSS had saved us just in time – the bouncers had been on the verge of grabbing enchanted ammo for their guns.

  I didn’t make a fuss, but I did promise the girls that I’d report everything to their families. Another scolding wouldn’t hurt them.

  Pointless.

  The girls threw a fit, accusing me of ingratitude and every earthly sin imaginable. I was saved by John, who put his foot down and sent the heroines home in a police car.

  “That went poorly,” I muttered.

  “They’ll survive,” Sunset said dismissively.

  “I wasn’t talking about the girls.”

  “Then you’re even more wrong!” Sunset argued. “Everything turned out great! Nina and Simon will be much easier to deal with now. And as for Bolaji, we’ve got a reason to keep him behind bars while you sort things out with the Fairburns.”

  “Speaking of which, where’s August? I didn’t see him in the fight.”

  “He left for home – right at the beginning.”