Then the pombero’s face appeared above his, and Vince bit his own lip, hard. If he was about to die, he wanted to stare death in the face.

The pombero panted, sweat beading his face.

“Er...” he said.

“What do you want?”

“I didn’t mean to...” Vince’s attacker drew back, allowing Vince to sit up.

It was ridiculous, and Vince almost laughed. He’d run fearing attack, terrified that the pursuing Kin wanted to run him down and eat him to refuel and recharge itself after having been feasted upon by Grace. The scars were obvious, the more recent wound on his calf still weeping and wet.

“What do you want?”

“The backpack,” the pombero said.

“What backpack?” Vince risked the ruse, emboldened by his would-be attacker’s apparent reticence. Maybe he had run because Vince had run. But he needed the backpack for something—or someone—and that could only be Mallian. Vince was surprised it had taken the Nephilim this long.

“I’m not what you think I am,” the pombero said.

Vince stood. The pombero allowed it, but it was also very clear that this pursuit was over. If Vince made to flee, he’d be brought down again, and harder this time. Any doubts in his attacker’s words were not reflected in his appearance. He was strong, solid, and ready.

“I don’t think you’re anything,” Vince said. “And I’m no threat to you. Not like her.” He nodded down at the man’s leg.

“The backpack.”

“I don’t know—”

The punch was so fast that Vince didn’t see it coming. A powerhouse blow to the face, it crunched his nose and sent him reeling, tripping over his own feet to fall onto his back. His eyes watered, nose cold and filled with white-hot pain.

“I’ll torture you,” the man said.

Vince could only gasp.

“I’ll peel you. Hands first, then arms. I’ll wear your skin as a coat.”

“You don’t know what you’re—”

“Human,” the pombero growled, and in that sound Vince heard no trace of humanity. This was a Kin through and through, whether he’d once been a denier or not.

“Even if Mallian gets that rucksack, it’s no use to him.”

“Where is it?”

“I don’t know. I lost it when I was first shut in here. I’ve been looking for it ever since.”

“I don’t believe you,” the pombero said. “I always know when a human is lying.”

“How?”

“Their lips move. Now take me to it, or I start peeling.”

Vince considered his options. It didn’t take very long, because there were none. “This way,” he said. They’d reach his cave in ten minutes. In that time, he had to come up with a plan.

* * *