Something came whistling through the air and struck the doorframe above my head; glass exploded and I was showered by splinters and a noxious-smelling liquid. Even with the intense stink of cordite in the air, I could identify the smell. Garlic oil.

Freaks.

They still thought they were fighting vampires. Suddenly I understood why they had sent so many. They were that afraid of the Red Knights. Maybe they’d found Krystos and his crew and thought that a Red Knight had taken out the whole team, so this time they sent two teams.

“Reloading!” I heard Violin yell.

I rolled onto my back and fired six shots downrange past where she crouched. I saw one figure fall and others scatter. As Violin slapped the magazine into place I heard feet crunch on glass, and I twisted out of the way as bullets chopped into the floor where I had been lying. I fired as I rolled away, sloppily but continually, and someone screamed.

But then several of them opened up at once and I had to throw myself behind the wall and curl into a ball to save my eyes from the glass and tile splinters that filled the air like a swarm of hornets.

Ghost kept barking, furious and frustrated.

Men began pouring into the building, running past me, unaware of the figure curled in the corner, hidden by smoke. They aimed their guns at the sound of the barks and I came up onto one knee and fired, hitting two of them and causing the others to skid to a stop. They realized their mistake and turned, but then Ghost hit them from the other side. He was among them like a white demon, and instantly it was all screams and blood. Guns were useless that close and already too late.

Beyond the melee I saw Violin rise up from behind the counter and kill three men in two seconds, her weapon switched to semiautomatic for accuracy and ammunition conservation. I’d only spotted two extra mags on her rig, and she had to be near the end of the second. I swapped out my own and slapped my last one into place; but as I came to my feet I pulled another fragmentation grenade and lobbed it outside. Just as it cleared the doorway there was a figure there and the grenade burst against the man’s chest, tearing him apart but effectively screening the knot of shooters behind him. I faded to one side and fired, but even as I pulled the trigger I saw three men fall. One flew backward from my bullet, but two more dropped with that distinctive rag-doll sprawl of men who had taken headshots.

Then a voice yelled in my earbud.

“No fire from the house. Friendlies on nine, twelve, and three.”

I knew that voice.

Top.

I tapped my earbud and yelled. “Echo! Echo! Echo! Be advised, friendly taking fire in front of store. Friendly is female and inside.”