Knuckles and I watched as Harry calmly allowed the handcuffs to be snapped on his wrists and Sir Samuel was escorted out of the restaurant. Everything seemed to be going smoothly until I noticed a female figure striding purposefully toward us. Beneath the wide-brimmed hat, gloves, and oversized sunglasses, she could only be a vampire.

  I rolled down the window, and she disappeared. Of course—Harry had clearly invested more in his car than I had in mine. I wanted anti-illusion windows too! Forced to rely on my Third Eye, I peered through the veil of air and fog magic concealing her. The vampire noticed my gaze, hesitated for a moment, then slowed her pace and glanced around nervously.

  “I see you, yes, I see you,” I said. Only a few metres separated us, so I didn’t need to shout. “Drop the glamour. It won’t work on them.” I gestured toward the PSS team, who were being joined by regular constables. “What do you want?”

  “We were tailing Wimbush.”

  “And?”

  “He slipped out the back door.”

  “Damn it! Where is he now?”

  “Trying to catch a cab across the street.”

  “Get in,” I barked at the vampire. Then, over my shoulder, “Knuckles!”

  Clint started the engine and sped off before the vampire even had time to shut the door.

  “Right,” she directed. “Then left. Another left. There he is!”

  Patrick Wimbush was standing on the pavement, talking to a man I didn’t recognise—no, wait. I did recognise him. Nina’s boy.

  Knuckles swerved sharply into the oncoming lane, braking hard to block the taxi’s path.

  “Oi!” the cabbie yelped, startled and indignant. His tone, however, lacked true venom—likely due to the imposing gleam of the Royal.

  Sparrow grabbed the submachine gun resting by his side and reached for the door. I stopped him with a quick grab.

  “Not here. Too many people around.”

  I was the first to step out. Straightening my jacket with deliberate nonchalance, I cast a casual glance at Patrick.

  “Mr Wimbush,” I said, “what a pleasant surprise.”

  “Well, hello, Uncle...” Knuckles muttered darkly as he rounded the other side of the car.

  Wimbush glanced frantically at the taxi, now pinned in place by the Royal, before bolting. The vampire’s predatory instincts flared at the man’s sharp movement, and he seized him by the collar of his jacket. But with remarkable agility, the target slipped free effortlessly, not even breaking his stride.

  “Stop, thief!” I shouted, breaking into a sprint after him. Knuckles was already ahead of me, his shorter legs a blur as he pulled ahead by several lengths. His speed over short distances was impressive—an invaluable skill in the city’s cramped alleys.

  A gentleman ahead of us extended his cane at just the right moment, tangling it in Wimbush’s legs. With a spectacular tumble, the man went sprawling across the pavement.

  “Thank you!” I called out, and the gentleman tipped his hat before stepping aside.

  Knuckles reached Wimbush first, catching him mid-stagger as he tried to rise. Without a word, Clint struck him across the head with one of his weighted knuckles. A burst of ethereal light flared, and Wimbush crumpled to the ground.

  “You didn’t kill him, did you?” I asked, alarmed.

  “Nope. Sir Harry made sure they wouldn’t kill.”

  “What?”

  Clint raised his fists, revealing the enchanted steel knuckle dusters fitted with large energy reservoirs near the thumbs. The intricate symbols and figures etched into the metal were so fine they blurred into an incomprehensible tapestry—a masterpiece of craftsmanship.

  “They’re loaded with armour-piercing charges and shields. Just a simple stunner—“ Clint explained, gesturing at Wimbush’s unconscious form. “Even works against ghosts, if you need it.” He sounded thoroughly pleased with himself.

  That wasn’t fair, was it? He got a charmed submachine gun and knuckles better than half the battle rods I’d seen, while I couldn’t even get Harry to enchant me a decent ring!

  A taxi screeched to a halt nearby, its tyres squealing as the passenger door swung open.

  “Duncan!” Knuckles shouted, pointing behind me.

  I barely had time to turn before pain exploded in the back of my head. The cufflinks saved me from blacking out completely, but darkness threatened to overtake my vision, and I dropped to one knee, instinctively raising the ring’s shield to defend against the next strike.

  My attacker cursed and struck again. Through the shimmering barrier of the shield, I caught a glimpse of Nina’s son, wielding a swamp-enchanted baton. Sickly green magic oozed across the ether-steel weave of the shield and seeped through as a clinging mist.

  A strong hand grabbed my shoulder and yanked me into the cab. I failed to hold the shield steady, and the vampire’s next blow glanced off, causing him to stumble. Knuckles seized the opportunity, landing a brutal punch to the creature’s jaw. It was a perfect hit—just like one I’d received from him during sparring once, though, back then, he hadn’t been armed with knuckle dusters. Thank God for that.

  The vampire’s jaw shattered on impact. Splinters of teeth and bone, along with bits of skin and tongue, sprayed across the street in a grotesque fountain. Knuckles, on autopilot, followed through with a blow to the temple, and the vampire’s head burst like a melon, scattering its brains across the road.

  The cab screeched into motion. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the familiar vampire woman shove a foul-smelling rag into my face. The noise in my head grew louder, my vision blurred, and I struggled to fend her off. The cufflinks poured their blood magic into my body, but they offered little protection against the swamp magic saturating the rag.

  This was a fight I couldn’t win. Darkness slowly enveloped me, pulling me into its embrace.

  “Wake up, Duncan,” a pleasant female voice coaxed.

  A delicate hand patted my cheek. I forced my eyes open to find Nina leaning over me.

  What in God’s name was happening? And why did my head feel like it was about to split open?

  I clutched my head with both hands, fragments of memory clawing their way back. We’d gone after Wimbush... Wimbush, Knuckles, knuckle dusters, jaw, brains... The sequence of events snapped back into place.

  I pressed my palms to my eyes and let out a soft groan. Thinking hurt. I was lying down, but I wasn’t tied up. Not that it mattered—what could I possibly do against master vampire? Still, my rings were missing. I tucked my elbows close to my sides. The holster under my left arm was empty.

  It was time to get up and take stock of my surroundings.

  I sat up. My satchel with its potions and the Brick were gone too. The room was small: bare stone walls, no windows, a single bed, and a magical lamp affixed to the wall.

  “You’re a bold woman, Nina,” I said. “Did Lindemann’s lesson with Valentine teach you nothing?”

  “A brave boy,” she replied with a soft laugh. “Oh no, I learned his lesson well.”

  “Did you? I’m not so sure. Care to repeat it for me?”

  “The strong always prevail.”

  “Not quite the moral I had in mind,” I said, “but even by your logic, there’s a flaw, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Nina laughed again, giving me a condescending pat on the cheek.

  “You’re just not seeing the bigger picture, my dear boy. Come, I’ll show you.”

  She headed for the door, and I rose to follow her. At least they weren’t beating me. And I wasn’t about to provoke them—I’d need my strength intact for when the right moment came.

  “Did you set us up with Wimbush?” I asked.

  “Of course. Fairburn and Chapman needed a scuffle as a pretext to throw Harry in jail. I was merely helping them along. And you... you’re my personal prize.”

  She doesn’t know about Sir Samuel. That’ll be a surprise.

  “Was it your lad who killed Kate’s sister?”

  “Oh no, not at all. That was the Archmaker. Though, to be fair, I knew it would happen.”

  We stepped out into a corridor as bare as the room, ending in an open staircase. It resembled the underground dungeons of the Lindemanns.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Keeping me in a nest’s basement isn’t your best idea,” I said, trusting my instincts.

  Nina turned and gifted me another patronising smile.

  “Such a clever boy. It’s almost a shame to kill you.”

  “Let me go,” I suggested.

  “So you can have Sledgehammer and Blind Fire here within the hour, along with the entire Special Squad? No, their time hasn’t come yet.”

  “Wait,” I said, incredulous. “You seriously think you can handle them?”

  “Don’t believe me?” she said, her tone light. “Remember how easily Vixley snared me by luring me onto prepared ground?”

  “Vixley had strong, experienced fighters,” I countered. “And you’ve lost yours.”

  “About experience, I beg to differ,” Nina said, a faint smile on her lips. “Some of my boys are three, even four times older than him. And strength…”

  Footsteps echoed from the stairwell, and my attention wavered. The same vampire girl who had knocked me out in the taxi was descending, carrying a teenage girl slung over her shoulder. Judging by the skinny backside in a dress and the small shoes, she couldn’t have been more than fifteen. The vampire hesitated, clearly unsure of herself.

  “Don’t just stand there like a post,” Nina said coolly.

  “Sorry, Mother,” the vampire replied.

  Mother. Damn it, why hadn’t I thought of that? Lucas had sons—why wouldn’t Nina have daughters?

  The vampire woman shuffled awkwardly to the nearest door, opened it, and the sound of a child’s wailing spilled into the corridor. My fists clenched involuntarily. In my mind, I had already condemned this family to extinction. I just needed to find a way out.

  “Don’t do anything stupid, Duncan,” Nina said, watching impassively as the vampire dumped the girl into the room. “Hey! Watch it! Are you trying to break her neck? Be gentler!”

  “Children? Seriously?” I asked, my voice taut. “You’re dead.”

  “Not any children, Duncan,” she replied. “These are the kin of Special Squad fighters.”

  “This is war, Nina.”

  “A war I intend to win,” she said confidently. Too confidently. Her tone sent a chill down my spine. There was a madness there, the kind that could masquerade as brilliance. But I heard it—the blood flowing down Farnell streets through her voice.

  The vampire woman pushed open the nearest door and gestured invitingly. Inside was a torture chamber. At least, the oval iron cabinet lined with steel spikes against the far wall looked a lot like the infamous Iron Maiden, and the spiked chair didn’t seem like a place anyone would willingly sit.

  So much for being thankful they weren’t beating me.

  Nina smiled, her eyes alight with curiosity as she watched my reaction. Running wasn’t an option. I knew how fast a vampire master could be. And I had no illusions about torture. They’d break me, and then they’d use me for whatever they wanted. The question was how much damage I’d inflict on the people I cared about before they let me die.

  Maybe I should end it now? The Iron Maiden was open. If I threw myself hard enough against one of the spikes, it would pierce my frontal bone for sure.

  Damn it, I don’t want to die! I hadn’t even done anything worth remembering. What had I achieved for my family or my clan?

  Still, the room was full of objects I could use as weapons. On the table over there, for instance… I took a couple of steps forward, still undecided—toward the spikes and death or the table with its sharp and pointed tools?

  “What’s prepared for me?” I asked, scanning the parts of the room I couldn’t see from the corridor. My eyes immediately fell on an arch carved into the stone wall. A dark-haired man was using a rod to inscribe its reflection on the floor.

  “It is, what you think,” Nina said, confirming my guess.

  “I’m not finished yet,” said Gregor Chapman, lifting his head. His face was a younger copy of the Chief Justice’s.

  “So, he’s the one who’s supposed to solve your problems?” I asked. “Not worried he’ll bail on you once he’s had his fill?”

  “Not at all,” Nina replied. “We’ll take turns using it.”

  “Children…” I muttered, realisation dawning.

  “Elegant, isn’t it?” Nina said with relish. “Can you imagine the power, the pleasure, and the profit I’ll gain from this vengeance? Not even a schemer like Lucas could dream of such a thing.”

  “Why children?” I asked. “Why not use the fighters? They’d have more energy anyway.”

  “Not only children,” Chapman interjected, his tone clinical, as though discussing the workings of a machine. “Using gifted individuals who haven’t reached full power yields a higher ritual efficiency. Their energy hasn’t stabilised yet, making it easier to extract. You, for instance, are an excellent candidate.”

  “Just to clarify,” I said, fixing him with a look. “Was it you whose tooth I knocked out? That’s been stuck in my head for ages.”

  Chapman forced a weary smile.

  “Hilarious,” he said. Then, turning to Nina, he added, “He doesn’t need to be intact.” The Archmaker gestured toward the torture devices. “You can have your fun for now.”

  On the table lay an exquisite poker with two sharp spikes curved at perfect right angles. I could picture them smashing through the Archmaker’s skull and embedding themselves in his brain. It would’ve been ideal—if only Chapman didn’t have a full arsenal of enchanted trinkets. Rings, pins, and likely a few charms hanging on a chain beneath his shirt.

  It was impossible. I couldn’t kill him.

  “What do you think, Duncan?” Nina asked, echoing Chapman’s gesture. “Shall we have some fun?”

  “I doubt,” I said, “that I have any choice.” Then, with forced resolve, I strode past the table and headed for the Iron Maiden.

  Simon had returned from the grave to ruin my life. Of course, the conditions had been special: a sea of ether and emotions, the agony of dying chimeras, and his sheer will to live, combined with the hatred he harboured for me, his murderer. Did I hate Nina and the Archmaker? Absolutely. But I doubted my hatred would be enough to bring me back, and it wasn’t my way, anyway. I had to return—not for myself, but for the children.

  These ones I couldn’t save. That thought burned in my chest like a brand of shame. I had to come back to stop those two from continuing their atrocities. I opened my Third Eye, gathering ether into a tight knot of energy that made the skin above my brow itch and tingle. If a spike drove through this point, maybe, just maybe, my chances of returning would be higher.

  I gripped the open door of the Maiden, selecting the straightest spike on its back panel. I lined myself up, braced my feet against the floor, and leaned back.

  “If you don’t mind,” I said to Nina, “I quite like the Maiden.”

  Muscles taut, fingers gripping the spikes so hard they crunched, the will to live screaming in my chest, I hurled myself forward. The world jerked violently, and darkness consumed me, as if someone had turned off the lights… then flipped them back on. My head throbbed. My neck ached. Nina leaned over me, a smug smile on her face.

  “That would’ve been such a waste of a valuable resource,” she said.

  Something warm trickled into my eye. I blinked and wiped it away with my hand. Blood. Almost got it. If only I’d talked less, Nina might not have had time to pull me back.

  The vampire hauled me to my feet by the collar.

  “Weakling,” Chapman muttered, still working.

  “This won’t do,” Nina said sharply. Then, to the Archmaker, “How much longer?”

  “Fifteen minutes,” he replied without looking up.

  “Perfect.”

  Nina grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled me close. Her lips crashed against mine, and her tongue slid into my mouth. The move caught me off guard, but it was… pleasant. The pain vanished instantly, replaced by a riot in my body. My hands moved on their own, resting on the firm curve of her backside.

  Stop! Duncan Magnus Kinkaid, have you lost your bloody mind?

  Nina broke the kiss and glanced down at my hands on her arse, smirking as she patted my cheek.

  “Excellent!” she said. “Now sit in the chair and wait until I tell you otherwise.”

  Her words spilled from her lips in a greenish haze of blood magic, thickly laced with the darkness that defined a vampire’s core. The same darkness that clung to Kate’s black lips. Nina’s lips weren’t black, and Kate never used blood magic in her words, but the wicked cow was unmistakably trying to crush me with compulsion! And yet, the urge to sit wasn’t absolute. Harry’s protection was working! I could’ve laughed in her face right then and there. Instead, I walked toward the chair.

  The spikes were short and blunt, designed to press into the skin rather than pierce it—no doubt to keep the prisoner from bleeding out too quickly. I clenched my teeth and lowered myself onto the seat, leaning back against the spiked backrest and resting my arms on the studded armrests. The iron bit into my flesh, but my face betrayed no reaction.

  The anger in my blood dulled the pain—for now. But it wouldn’t last. Soon, the discomfort would grow into true agony. And I had at least fifteen minutes of this to endure.

  “Impressive,” said the Archmaker. “How long will it hold?”

  “Three hours, give or take.”

  “Maybe we should tie him up instead?”

  “Do you doubt me, boy?!” Nina snapped, her voice sharp with indignation.

  “It didn’t work on me, granny.”

  “But a tenth of that was enough for your little brother,” the vampire shot back, smirking.

  “Stop calling that piece of shit my brother!”

  “As you wish,” Nina said with a laugh. “I’m still open to negotiating for his life. You yourself said you’d only get scraps of power from him.”

  “This isn’t about power. Would you give up revenge?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Then stop stalling and bring him here. I’ve waited long enough.”

  “Why not start with this one?” Nina nodded toward me.

  “No! Stop dodging. We had an agreement!”

  “And I’ll keep my promise,” Nina said, her tone soothing but insincere. “It’s just… I poured a lot of effort into Kinkaid. Pulling off another subjugation trick right now would be much harder.”

  “Weren’t you the one who said a tenth would be enough for him?”

  “Fine, fine. I’ll go,” Nina said, raising her hands in mock surrender.

  She left, and Gregor returned to his work, methodically inscribing runes and symbols into the void of the Arch.

  The spikes beneath me began to sear into my skin. I wanted desperately to shift my weight, but every slight movement magnified the pain tenfold. I couldn’t afford to move. Not while there was even the faintest chance of ruining the Archmaker’s plans.

  I wasn’t Harry Smith. My knowledge of enchantments barely extended to crafting average-quality magical ammunition. But I knew enough to understand that the Arch was a nexus of symbols, chains, and elements—and if I could decipher its logic, I might find a way to sabotage it.

  I focused, despite the fire spreading through my body, straining to follow the intricate patterns and connections etched into the Arch.

  Gregor paused his work to glare at me suspiciously. Then he grabbed a different rod, carving a hole into the stone floor at the Arch’s centre. Into the cavity, he placed a large blood reservoir, sealing it back in with another quick spell.

  The remaining reservoirs—twenty or more by my count—he positioned in pre-marked slots without concealing them. There was a method to this madness, though I couldn’t yet decipher its purpose.

  Most of the reservoirs radiated death magic, with a strong presence of ether and blood, followed by mist and ice. Each element seemed accounted for, though I noticed one stone missing from the pattern.

  Gregor rummaged through his backpack, frowning when he came up empty.

  “Nina!” he shouted. “Anyone! Hey!”

  Muttering a curse, he shot me one last distrustful glance before leaving the room.

  This was it. The chance I’d been waiting for.

  I launched myself from the chair like a coiled spring, but my battered body rebelled. Pain detonated through my limbs, and a series of spasms sent me crashing to the floor.

  I prayed the Archmaker hadn’t heard the thud of my fall.