“You’re going to have to do that in person,” Moloch said, and moved. He crashed into Skulduggery, sending him hurtling off his feet. Caelan came forward and Moloch threw him across the room, then he grabbed Valkyrie.

“By killing those Infected,” he snarled, “you did us a favour. Thanks for that. But I can’t let that crime go unpunished.”

She raised her arm, but he was already pushing her and she cried out as she fell into the hole. She twisted as she fell, hands out against the darkness, dropping through another hole in the next apartment. She felt pressure on her palms as the floor rushed to meet her and she pushed against the air. Her descent slowed and she got her feet under her, landing in a crouch.

Dim light drifted from low-wattage bulbs, illuminating faded wallpaper, ratty carpet and not much else. She’d fallen from the thirteenth floor, through the twelfth, and now she was in the eleventh. Moloch had already closed the trapdoor above her, sealing her in. Valkyrie focused and tested the air, feeling movement around her. She was not alone.

She stepped back against the wall, saw a gap that had been knocked out of it and slipped through. There was another gap ahead, and through the murk she saw yet another beyond that. Every apartment on this floor was clumsily linked together, and by the looks of it, every door and window was bricked over.

No, she told herself, not every door. There would be one door, undoubtedly steel and locked from the other side, that allowed the last vampire standing to get out of here.

She just had to find it.

There was a snarl, somewhere to her left. A flurry of movement and a man darted into the light, and she pushed at the air and caught him just as he jumped at her. She spun, gripping the shadows and punching them into the chest of the woman coming up behind her. Then she ran.

She jumped through a hole in the next wall, straight into the arms of another Infected. His mouth was open, sharpened teeth diving for her throat. She slammed her forehead into his face and he howled in pain and dropped her. She staggered, dazed, knocking against a small table. Her hand found a lamp and she swung it into his head. The light exploded and darkness swarmed around them, but she was already pushing by him.

There were three Infected waiting for her. She clicked her fingers and set fire to a sofa, then sent it hurtling towards them. The Infected dodged out of the way and she ran by, through a door into a dark kitchen, out through the wall, tripping over herself and stumbling into the next apartment’s bedroom.