Jesse looks toward the cabin. The shorter Fiend has healed enough to sit. He spies Jesse, struggles to his feet, and stumbles to the trail. Defying dizziness and pain, Jesse grabs the taller Fiend’s blade. He tilts the man’s head back to expose his throat and begins to saw. Blood spurts, slicking the handle of the knife. Jesse tightens his grip and keeps cutting. Soon all that’s keeping the head attached is the spine. Jesse wedges the knife between two vertebrae, bears down, and twists the head free. He’s startled when the man turns to ash. He knew it would happen, but he’s never dusted a rover before.

The shorter Fiend is coming quickly up the trail. Jesse dashes the last fifty feet to level ground and turns with the dusted biker’s knife in his hand. The shorter Fiend plows into him like a bull before he can get set. He goes flying and lands hard but pops up ready to fight. The Fiend spits as he approaches. He’s smaller than the dusted one, but beefier and has a bigger knife. He tosses it in the air and catches it by the handle, showing off. There’s a grin on his face, but his eyes are rage-fueled furnaces.

“Greetings, brother,” he says, sarcastic. “How long have you been tailing us?”

“I’ve never seen you before,” Jesse says.

“Bullshit.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Were you stealing the kid to feed on, or were you trying to save it?”

“Does it matter?”

“No. No it doesn’t.”

Everything inside Jesse wants to run, but he goes into a crouch and cocks his knife arm. The Fiend charges, aiming to bowl him over again. Jesse drops and rolls out of his path. As he passes, Jesse slashes one of his calves to the bone. The man stumbles but regains his balance. He shuffles sideways, circling Jesse, stalling while the wound mends. Jesse turns to keep him in front of him.

He spots an opening, darts in, feints right, goes left, and stabs the Fiend in the side. The Fiend strikes at the same time, jabbing his knife into Jesse’s upper back, the blade puncturing one of Jesse’s lungs. Jesse lurches out of reach, coughing blood. The Fiend limps toward him, but Jesse can’t work up the momentum to run. Every time he moves, it’s like he’s being stabbed again.

He waves his knife. The Fiend slaps it away and raises his own blade. Jesse bows his head to await the strike, but it doesn’t come. The Fiend grunts, and Jesse looks up to see that Edgar—twice as big as the biker and twice as strong—has him in a chokehold.

“Don’t let go,” Jesse says.