The noise was deafening. Blades clanged, and guttural grunts and groans echoed in the room as vampires and daywalkers alike called on every ounce of their strength to defeat their enemy. But amidst the chaos, amidst the brutality and the carnage, Lisa remained true to Ruby until the woman had her fill.

Ruby pulled away, fully healed and fully recharged. She sat up and drew in a deep breath. “Thanks.”

“Thank me later,” Lisa said, taking Ruby’s hand to help her to her feet. “We have a fight to win.”

The two women returned to the battle just as Bennett pierced the heart of another, and as he became of a pile of powder on the floor, the eleven remaining members of Napoleon’s coven retreated to the far side of the room.

Angelique moved closer to Bennett. “Are they giving up?”

The screech of a hinge in need of oil broke the silence, and the women raised their eyes. With Ivan leading the way, over twenty of Napoleon’s coven emerged from behind a bedroom door and gathered like a pack of crazed wolves at the top of the stairs. Their swords reflected the chandelier’s light, for the blades had yet to be coated in crimson. They were all fresh for a fight. Bennett and the others, however, were not.

Even though Bennett’s spine remained straight and rigid, the weight of hopelessness pressed down on her, and when her eyes settled on the other women, she fought to pull in her next breath. Daggers and swords had found them all, arms and legs oozing blood from wounds yet to heal, and while they stood defiantly with katanas gripped in their fists, Bennett could see the mask of despair on their faces. She mentally shook her head, and when Bennett took her next breath, it was an easy one. None would give up, of that she was sure, and none would have to. Napoleon didn’t want them. He wanted her.

Bennett took a step, preparing to set down her swords when the vampires at the top of the stairs parted like the Red Sea. Napoleon appeared, wearing a snug burgundy velvet suit, and the lace of his flouncy white shirt protruded from the sleeves of his jacket several inches. On his head was a steampunk top hat complete with goggles, and hanging down from under the brim like melted strands of mozzarella was his stringy carrot hair.

Napoleon looked out upon the carnage below him and smirked. “Well, isn’t this a frightful mess. You do know that you and your bitch squad are going to have to lick this all up. That is…if I let any of them live.” Napoleon’s smirk turned into a scowl when he saw Lisa, and he leaned toward Ivan. “I thought you said you killed her.”

“I-I did, boss. Sliced her like a haddock from stem to stern.”