I dropped my magic shield and grasped the four undead minds. The minds of their navigators tried to hold on, but I tore them away from their navigators. The effort hurt, but it was the most efficient way. I grasped the four undead minds and squeezed. Four skulls exploded, spilling the red mist of their blood onto the pale floor. Someone gasped. I kept walking, crushing the undead minds in front of me like peanut shells crunching under my boot. My magic churned and boiled around me. If it had a voice, it would be roaring.

The bloodsuckers leaped at me from the trenches and fell back, broken and twisted. The trenches ran with red. The stench of undead blood saturated the air. I felt the navigators bailing, disconnecting half a second before I reached for their undead.

The last vampire fell onto the floor. I stepped over it and kept walking.

A woman leaped onto the walkway from the trenches. She had a strong, harsh face and dark hair, and wore dark brown leather with a dagger on her waist and a katana in her hands. Hibla.

In my mind I saw Aunt B snarling in pain and Hibla’s sword severing her neck.

Hey, Aunt B, look what I found. I smiled. I couldn’t help myself. There was nothing holding me back and there were so many things we needed to discuss. I had a score to settle and if I lived, I would tell Aunt B’s gravestone all about it. Hell, if I could, I’d bring her Hibla’s head.

Hibla bared her teeth. She was some sort of shapeshifter. She claimed to be a jackal but nothing that came out of her mouth could be believed. Enhanced strength, supernatural speed, and judging by the way she held her sword, a great deal of training.

On my list of people to kill, Hugh occupied spot number two and Hibla took up spot number three. My father wasn’t willing to throw away Hugh, but Hibla was expendable. He wanted a demonstration of what I could do with the sword, and he must’ve known I couldn’t resist this bait. Very well. I would oblige.

Hibla raised her katana.

I charged. She struck from above, and I caught her blade with Sarrat. She pushed, trying to bring my sword down. Shapeshifter strength. How fun. The pressure of Hibla’s katana ground on Sarrat. I dropped my guard, she jerked her sword up to cleave my neck, and I sliced across her chest. My blade came away bloody. The blood soaked into the pale bone-metal. Thin tendrils of smoke rose from Sarrat, which was fed by my rage. My sword was furious and hungry.

Hibla stumbled back, her eyes wide. Hurts, doesn’t it?