“No. There are windows in front of me.” Then I had no time for words, because the scrape and slap of hands and feet was way too close. I slashed my knife through the air and the thing yelped and rolled away, only to be replaced by another, who used its friend as a springboard to jump on me. I plunged my knife up, hitting something hard, and then soft. Bone and gut. The Mazikin landed at my feet, shrieking.

I kicked it out of the way and tugged at Malachi’s belt to let him know he could take a step back, closer to the windows that were our best chance of escape. All the Mazikin started to hoot and shriek, and against my shoulder blades I felt Malachi’s muscles flex as he wielded his staff with deadly efficiency. The emergency lights in the warehouse all flicked on at once, controlled by the female Mazikin in the hallway. She snarled something in the Mazikin language and pointed at us. “Take them!” she screamed.

I crouched as Malachi’s staff whirled over my head and then pulled my second blade. Slashing out with a knife in each hand, I inched forward as the Mazikin descended. With vicious stabs and slices, I protected Malachi’s back as he sent one Mazikin after another flying with fierce blows from his staff. Two young men with a maniacal glint in their eyes ran at us from the side, and I threw myself out of the way to give Malachi room. His boot smashed into the face of one while he jabbed his staff into the other’s throat, and they both fell to the floor, where I finished them without hesitation, with the brutal descent of my blades through vital organs, unwilling to let them rise again and attack.

Something slammed on my back right as I ripped my blade out of a Mazikin’s neck, sending me down on top of him. From above me, I heard Malachi shout, and then his legs were on either side of mine, shielding me. Another Mazikin dropped, and another stumbled out of my reach. The pipe I’d been clocked with rolled away with a clatter. Malachi called my name, and even though my ears were ringing, I still picked up the note of desperation in his voice.

“I’m fine!” I yelled, though my back and ribs were radiating hot waves of pain. My arms were buzzing. I had dropped one of the knives. Instead of reaching for another, I lunged and grabbed the pipe, and then bashed an oncoming white-haired Mazikin across the knees with it. Malachi nailed her hard in the head with his staff, knocking her out cold. And when she fell just a few feet away, I recognized her. Harriet. I guess her bat hadn’t protected her after all, and neither had I.