Before the Wanderers realize that they can’t eat him, I run the razor quickly across a scarred patch of my forearm free of any tattoos. I’ve spilled a lot of blood from that spot, to the point where I almost don’t feel it anymore. Almost.

Blood wells thick and fast from the wound and before any of it can spill to the ground I fling my arm out wide, spattering my blood into Quetzalcoatl’s flames, where it sizzles like butter on a hot pan, and set off my spell, pumping some of my own life energy into him.

Everything changes in a heartbeat. The bright orange of his flames goes a dim, dusky blood-red. I fall to my knees, hoping I haven’t lost too much of myself. I don’t know what doing that will translate to. Shorter lifespan, maybe? I’ve done it once before and it didn’t kill me, but it sure as hell wasn’t fun.

The Wanderers know they can feed on the life in my blood, and they know that they’d really rather feed on the life of Quetzalcoatl. And now I’ve mixed the two. As far as the ghosts are concerned, they might as well be the same thing.

They fall upon him with the speed of lightning, tearing holes through his burning form, totally ignoring me. He counters by burning as many ghosts as possible. He’ll win, eventually. I don’t plan on being here when he does.

I run at Sastre, straight razor in my hand. Her back is to me. I can take her down and get the lighter, which is right there on a table next to her. I slip back to the other side at the last second, the sound of the living world—the clanging of metal on metal, cursing, yelling—loud in my ears. Dark grays and blues give way to vibrant blacks and flashes of orange sparks.

And take a back kick to my forehead. The force of it drops me to the ground, but my momentum carries me forward, sliding past her and across the floor, a few feet away from Gabriela. I try to roll under one of the conveyor belts, or stand up, or do fucking anything that isn’t lie here on the floor with a concussion. I won’t be down for long, my tattoos will see to that, but you get your bell rung, you’re not doing much of anything right away.

Gabriela isn’t quite as surprised as I am, and she recovers quickly. While Sastre’s attention is split, Gabriela slashes out with the machete. It should take her head off, but at the last moment it bounces off a shield. Sastre looks as surprised as Gabriela, but not for long.