King was pinned against the back wall of the room, a golem charging toward him using one of the large cats as a club. Two more cats lay dead on the floor. Alexander was still clutched tight in the arms of a golem, whose continually crushing arms were now wearing down the ancient man. Queen lay on the floor, not far away, blood covering her face where a large stone fragment tossed by Bishop’s grenade had struck her. She was down, but still conscious.

And the Ridleys, all three of them, stood at the center of the room, speaking the ancient language like conductors, orchestrating the actions of the nine remaining golems.

A new golem, whose face looked more like a demon than any living thing, turned toward Bishop.

Unless something drastic happened, there would be no escape for any of them. Knowing he couldn’t kill Ridley with the weapon in his hand, Bishop dropped it and ran into the chamber. With killing Ridley impossible he hoped to distract the man enough to dull his control on the golems, or at the very least, turn their attention to him alone, giving the others a chance to escape.

As he leaped past Queen, she saw his hand reach into his shirt and pull out the crystal hidden beneath—the crystal that kept him from becoming an unstoppable killing machine. “Bishop, don’t!” she shouted.

But it was too late. He’d already yanked the crystal loose and tossed it to her. A moment later, his raging wail turned all eyes on him.

Ridley’s eyes widened as he instantly recognized the mania in Bishop’s face as the curse he had created. Bishop, now a regen, charged straight for his maker.

Chapter Eighty-Three

EIGHTY-TWO

CAINAN, SEEING BISHOP running toward Ridley, but not fully comprehending the rage in his eyes, moved to defend his creator. Being a golem, he felt no pain. Being modeled after Ridley, his size was formidable. But against a regen Bishop, he didn’t stand a chance.

Bishop struck the clay-man like a vampire linebacker. His hands dug into Cainan’s shoulders while his jaws clamped down on the man’s throat, tearing out a chunk where the man’s jugular should have been. With a mouthful of flesh turning to clay in his mouth, Bishop reached down and swiped a hand across Cainan’s belly. It spilled open, dropping organs that turned to clay as they fell.

As Cainan’s body began to lose its form, Bishop swiped into it again, tearing it in half. It fell to the floor as two large clumps of wet clay.

Bishop’s eyes locked on the man’s duplicate, staring at him with wide eyes. He lunged.

The man ran.