“You think you have a chance?” she asked. “Against me, yeah, of course you do. But him? This is Dexter Vex we’re talking about. One of the Dead Men. And with that Remnant he’s stronger and faster and doesn’t possess one shred of pity. If I were you, I’d get back on my bike and I’d ride away. Fast.”

“I like you,” said Foe. “Despite it all, I like you. You’re in a no-win situation that you’re treating like a fair fight. You’ve got guts. But I have a vampire.”

Something moved in the corner of her eye and then Samuel was on her, his body crushing her broken hand. She cried out and he snarled and launched her into the air. She landed and rolled, shrieking in pain as she got to her feet, but Samuel was there again to grab her.

“Beat her to a pulp,” Foe said, walking to the minivan. “I’m going to kill her family.”

Samuel hit her and Valkyrie dropped to one knee, her head swimming. Her jacket absorbed most of the kick that followed, but it still sent her tumbling. Holding her broken hand close to her chest, she whipped the shock stick from her back and leaped up. Samuel ducked under her first swipe and leaned back to avoid the second. Then he grabbed her wrist and twisted and the stick fell and his fist ploughed into her exposed belly and she staggered back, whooping and gasping.

Through teary eyes, she saw Foe reach the minivan.

Samuel grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. She twisted and fell and got up as he pulled her from one side of the road to the other. With her right hand, she tried pushing the air. She tried clicking her fingers. Nothing worked. The magic was inside her, it was bubbling and boiling and churning, but nothing was happening, nothing was working, nothing was—

White lightning danced from the tips of her fingers and Samuel jerked away.

Valkyrie scrambled backwards. Her hand. Her right hand was glowing.

Samuel doubled over. His snarls turned guttural. He straightened up suddenly, talons tearing into his clothes and skin, shredding it from the vampire’s body beneath. White skin like alabaster. Bald. Big black eyes. The vampire sprang at her, claws ready for ripping, fangs ready for tearing. Valkyrie fell on to her back, her glowing hand held up, and it was through her hand that she poured her magic.

Lightning burst from her fingers. It caught the vampire in mid-air, snapping it back like it had hit a wall. It fell to the road as a charred, smoking carcass.

“What did you do?”

She looked round. Foe came forward, staring at the vampire’s corpse, his face slack.

“What did you do?” he asked again. There was something in his face. Something Valkyrie recognised. Anger, of course. Surprise. Confusion.

But also fear.