The smell didn’t dissipate. Vaporlock reached for her, stepping into the light to do so. Mollie gasped.

Dried blood caked his fingernails, but it was still wet where it coated his hands up to the wrists. His mouth, too. Oh, God, flakes of blackened blood peppered the grease around his lips and coated his teeth like he was some kind of goth-vampire wannabe. But Mollie knew it wasn’t makeup. He’d done somebody, done them messy, and very recently.

“Oh, Jesus. What … what have you done?”

He lunged. She tried to sidestep through the portal but the wooziness turned her legs to jelly. She stumbled. They went down in a heap. The portal disappeared. The wind died. Vaporlock crawled atop her. She held her breath. He took a fistful of her hair and slammed her head against the floor. The blow caused her to inhale; she got a lungful of fumes. The room spun. She felt herself sliding into darkness. He pulled her head back for another bash. Soft, soft, make the floor something soft—Blacking out, she struggled to envision one last portal pair. They splashed down in the People’s Paradise of Africa, or whatever it was called these days.

The last time she’d created a portal on this spot, it had opened on a yacht. The boat was long gone, though, so they both went into the drink. The plunge caught Vaporlock by surprise. He released her and kicked to the surface. Her burning lungs forced her to surface, too. She took a deep breath; it still made her head spin again. The crazy motherfucker was still too close. He treaded water a few feet away, spluttering as though he’d swallowed a mouthful. Good. I hope some fucked-up parasite lays eggs in your esophagus, you shitbag.

Mollie opened a return portal. A deluge flushed her back to the gaming floor in Talas. She staggered to her feet amid flapping fish and a smattering of dockside jetsam. The carpet squelched underfoot. The momentary gust of African humidity carried a mélange of outboard fuel and cold medicine. Mollie rolled her eyes. Like a draining bathtub, the portal had sucked Vaporlock back, too. She’d meant to leave him with the crocodiles.

She scanned the room for something hefty. She settled on a ten-foot leather sofa in the corner. She dropped it on Vaporlock’s head as he staggered to his feet. He made an oof sound but didn’t get up.

Voices and footsteps approached; the splash had made a ruckus. Mollie stepped into her Bismarck apartment. There she changed out of her sodden clothing and leaned against the bathroom counter until she stopped shaking. She might have caved his head in. She was okay with that, all things considered. But what the hell had come over him in the first place? It’s like he was somebody else entirely.

She plucked a beer bottle from the refrigerator in Idaho. Downed it. Wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. She waited for the burp, then returned to Talas.