“He says, ‘The situation is under control.’”

“Tell him, no, it’s not. You can’t contain it now. What happens when the metamorphosis is complete?”

“He says, ‘Your concern is duly noted.’”

Argh. “Asshole.”

The undead opened his mouth and paused as the navigator caught himself. “Should I . . . ?”

“No,” another navigator told him. “You shouldn’t.”

A caravan of black SUVs clogged the street leading to the Casino. The SUVs pulled up in a semicircle around the Mole Hole and disgorged Ghastek and a flock of journeymen. I recognized two Masters of the Dead: Toakase Kakau, a dark-eyed woman of Tongan descent, and Ryan Kelly, a large Caucasian man who looked the corporate shark in every way, except for a very long purple mohawk.

The journeymen and the Masters of the Dead thinned out, forming a loose ring around the Mole Hole. A journeywoman next to Ghastek raised a large horn to her lips and blew a sharp note.

Vampires dashed into the crater. A journeyman could pilot one; a Master of the Dead could control two or in Ghastek’s case three. There were about twenty people around the Mole Hole and probably thirty vampires below. Each was marked with a bright smear of fluorescent paint in a dozen colors, some with a cross, some with a ring. Something really weird was going on.

The vampires swarmed Lago, climbing up his legs to his chest and stomach. He roared, throwing them around. They landed on the ground, some on their feet, some in a broken heap. The scales were up to his waist now. His feet began to glow. The glass under him would melt before long.

Ghastek raised his hand. The horn screamed in response.

In my mind, the dull red smears of magic that were the thirty vampires in the Mole Hole turned bright red.

Dear God. They had turned the vampires loose.

An unpiloted vampire went into an instant rage. It would slaughter until nothing with a pulse remained. If the PAD found out, nobody would be arrested. They would shoot everyone here out of principle. This was insane. Now I understood the paint—they’d marked the bloodsuckers so they could quickly grab them again without getting confused.

The undead tore into the giant. He roared, frantically trying to knock them off. Flesh flew as they ripped, clawed, and burrowed into his body. The vampires piled on, maddened by bloodlust.

A minute passed. The giant was still standing.

Another . . .

Two vampires dropped down, their bodies engorged with blood. Lago stomped on them.

“Steady,” Ghastek said.

The giant careened, rolling his shoulders in, as if trying to gather himself into a ball. The vampires nearly covered him now.

Magic exploded like a clap of thunder. With a deafening howl, Lago jerked upright, his arms straight out. The vampires fell off, knocked aside by an enormous force.

“Acquire!” Ghastek snapped.

The horn screeched again, frantic. The navigators grabbed the minds of their vampires.