Ned lunged, hurling himself after her. He huffed a breath as he passed Usher.

Someone struck him with lightning, and he felt it burn into his side. His stored children crawled to fill that void, some to be resources, others to dismantle, others to build something to replace. It was faster than healing on his own.

Captain Claw looked at him as he charged, giving the attack away. He used a swipe of his claw to help maneuver himself out of the way as Spawner leaped in.

She twisted, leaning against the wall with one hand, one foot on the ground, reaching out with one hand and using her power.

The power washed over Spawner, and it did only superficial damage. At the same time, her hand broke in two, a metal pipe jutting from where the armbones would be corroding visibly under the power’s influence. Flesh blackened and cracked.

Her other hand—she wasn’t using it, he saw.

She slammed the metal spike into his throat, and it penetrated. Black blood oozed out. She used her power, and Usher’s protection ensured it did nothing to him, while at the same time destroying more of her arm. The pipe broke off, and blood weeped from the socket.

“So weak you can’t take me one-on-one,” she said. She smiled. “You embarrass all of us.”

He punched his claw into her abdomen. One of his children crawled from his arm to his hand, into the open wound.

He preferred his rebuttal.

She used her power, aiming it at him, but she didn’t do it to hurt him. It was to propel herself backwards, arms spread, into the darkness just below their little platform.

He leaped down, striking out, and he hit nothing.

He’d have to find the source of this nuisance. She had one of his children inside her stomach, and it would devour her as twenty of his children had taken the Black Lamb to pieces.

He would find the darkness creator, and then he would pick off the rest.

Another common ground of Ned and Bradley was that they hadn’t been good with women. Ingenue was a spark, a stirring for the soul. She evoked the worst parts of him, then embraced those parts, and that was an intoxicating feeling.

He wanted to impress, like a schoolboy on the schoolyard wanted to win over the pretty girls. He wanted to be his best self.

Leister was dispatching two. Usher hung back, tinker gun in hand, and picked off someone from the very back lines of the enemy group. Claw was already engaged in a one-against-three skirmish. Two of those three were injured.

This was Valkyrie’s last stand, and Valkyrie wasn’t even here.

He waited until he had fully regenerated the damage to his throat, and then he roared.

The roar was undercut by a sharp whistle from above.

“The ladder,” Ingenue said, her voice audible only because he had advanced hearing.