“So, boys, are you going to take the client to my precinct yourselves, or do you want to switch him over?” Sunset asked. “We had two squads involved in this mess, and there are just enough of us to keep them from being stuck together – otherwise, they might strangle each other to death.”

“I’d prefer to stick with Cooper,” I said. “Harry worked on him. Bullets bounce off like they’re made of rubber.”

“You’ll be riding in a police car,” the detective inspector said curtly.

The constables refused to transport someone else’s catch, so I was transferred to the car they put Knuckles in, while Simon was moved into another vehicle. All our weapons and belongings were stuffed into a battered bag and handed over to the detective, while the cars were driven to the parking lot of the nearest police station. Sunset clearly wanted to ask a few questions, but he wasn’t planning to do it in the middle of the street.

The number of police cars decreased as many policemen left, following orders they’d received over the phone. At the nearest police booth, the line was so busy that the receiver never even had a chance to rest between calls – there was even a small queue forming. Sunset wasn’t happy with the situation; he pushed his way to the front of the line, skipped ahead, and called the central office directly. He demanded that all remaining officers be assigned to his convoy.

What was left amounted to three patrol cars and a couple of grumpy detectives from distant precincts. It felt like an eternity before Sunset managed to organize the crowd into a proper convoy. The sirens flared, the lights started flashing, and the column sped off toward Pubset, blatantly ignoring traffic lights.

I leaned back and relaxed. Things were working out just fine for me. Sure, quietly killing Simon would have been better and much more reliable, but there was no way he could escape from this crowd. All I needed was to ask Sunset to tighten security around him. He could survive until morning, and by then, my folks would surely arrive.

I’d be happy to see Uncle Bryce, but most likely, it would be Evan – unless my cousin was busy.

My mood improved.

Then came a series of pops. The police car jolted and shook, as if it had veered off the asphalt onto uneven cobblestones, but there was no crashing noise. It was as if all the sounds had been muffled. Even the siren sounded no louder than the buzz of a mosquito.

The cop at the wheel slammed on the brakes, and the cars in front and behind us followed suit, forcing the convoy to a halt. The constables opened their doors and jumped out, weapons drawn.

“… down on the ground!” the sounds returned, accompanied by the shouts of police officers. But then those same men dropped to the ground, screaming and choking in pain.

Beside me, Knuckles jerked up, slammed his head into the ceiling, and doubled over in agony. His eyes turned bloodshot, and bloody tears streamed down his face.

Outside, a couple of shots rang out, followed by the hum and explosion of a fireball.

My driver slumped in his seat. I quickly checked his pulse – still there, no need to worry. I had to get out and find a weapon, but the back seat was separated from the front by iron bars, and there were no handles on the inside of the doors.

Twisting around in my seat, I braced my back against the unconscious guy and slammed my heel into the window. I doubt anyone heard the crash over the roar of gunfire. The glass shattered into large shards, leaving a few jagged teeth at the bottom. I quickly knocked those out with my heel, swung my legs out, and grabbed onto the roof to pull myself up.

But I didn’t make it.

Someone grabbed my leg and yanked me out of the car, throwing me onto the dirty asphalt.

The first thing I noticed was the incredibly thick layer of dust. Then I saw the wheels with tattered pieces of tires still clinging to the rims. It wasn’t dust—it was powder. Those bastards had cast a death spell under the vehicles. But I didn’t have time to process this fact before rough hands grabbed me again.

I was hauled up by the collar and forced onto my feet.

A vampire with bloodshot eyes bared his fangs and reached for my neck.

“Stop!”

A white spark hit the vampire in the temple, making his head jerk and his fangs retreat. The hair and skin around the impact crumbled to ash, exposing pink tissue underneath.

“What did I tell you, you piece of trash?”

The vampire didn’t answer. Another shot followed, his head jerked again, and his body slumped lifelessly to the ground.

I caught sight of Sunset diving back behind the door of his car and quickly followed his lead.

“Detective!” a familiar voice roared. “You’re not immortal!”

A white spark of death struck the door, scorching the paint and turning it into flaky husks.

“Neither are you, Noah,” John shot back without flinching.

I picked up a revolver that had fallen from the hand of a constable lying nearby.

“The problem, John,” Noah continued, “is that you still have to prove it was me. Tell me, why am I not hiding my face, letting you get a good look, and even engaging in this conversation? Words can be twisted. Perhaps I’m someone else, trying to tarnish Valentine’s name?”

I peeked out, trying to get a clear view of what was happening through the windows: five bloodsuckers, one definitely armed. Only two detectives and a single constable were still standing, while the rest of the officers were down. Both sides were in cover – except Noah.

Talking as if he were completely untouchable, he walked over and opened the door of the car holding Simon. The bloody tears on Feron’s face didn’t seem to bother him.

“Noah, I don’t need to prove anything,” Sunset said, firing a shot directly at the vampire’s head, but the bullet ricocheted off. “When the Righteous Hand hears about the drained corpses in the basement…”

Sunset shifted his aim and shot at another vampire trying to flank him.

"Drained corpses?" Valentine repeated, tearing apart the chains of Simon's handcuffs as if they were made of string. "Interesting."

The bloodsucker dissolved into dark smoke and, a moment later, materialized behind the detective. John spun around sharply, but Valentine casually flicked his wrist, knocking the gun out of his hand, and unleashed sparks of death from his index fingers at the other detective and constable, forcing them to stop firing.

The vampire grabbed Sunset by the shirt and yanked him so hard that buttons flew in all directions. Valentine ripped the officer's protective amulet from its chain and hurled it at the constable with such force that it shattered the window of the door the officer was hiding behind.

With another dismissive slap to the struggling detective’s hands, the vampire pressed two fingers to Sunset’s forehead, and the detective collapsed unconscious.

Two bullets and a lightning strike slammed into Valentine’s back. The lightning passed through him, making him stagger and roar with anger. Snarling, Noah ripped a car door off its hinges and hurled it at the shooter. The heavy piece of metal crashed into another car door, slamming it into the detective hiding behind it.

A spark of death followed, disintegrating the cop’s cheek and exposing his teeth. For some reason, Noah seemed intent on not outright killing the officers.

I noticed Simon crouching to grab a pistol, so I darted out from behind the car and fired at the part of him that was visible. The warlock caught the bullet in the backside, yelping and arching his body in pain. He let out a foolish howl, and I raised my gun higher, aiming for his head.

As I pulled the trigger, a spark of death struck me in the back. The pain was excruciating, and while my aim barely shifted, the bullet only grazed Simon's temple. Two more sparks hit me in the back before I could fire again. Darkness clouded my vision, and I didn’t see the result of my third shot.

"Take him!" Valentine commanded, then barked: "Alive! He’s needed alive."

"But not intact?" Simon clarified with a sneer.

The world collapsed around me.

My back was on fire, my head rang like a bell, and my jaw refused to move. My vision was blurry, clouded with haze. It took a few blinks to clear my eyes.

What kind of magic was this?

Gone were the dusty road and the night sky. Instead, I found myself staring at the high ceiling of what looked like a warehouse. My hands and feet were tied, and there was no way to roll over onto my stomach to ease the pain in my back.

"He’s awake," I heard Simon’s voice, followed by the appearance of his loathsome face.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"Perfect. Let’s begin."

"Let me," Feron said eagerly.

"You’re too emotional," Valentine replied coolly. "You might accidentally kill him."

So that blow had knocked me out. I quickly turned my head, scanning the room. There was a table with a couple of kerosene lamps and the battered bag containing our weapons and amulets, the one the police had collected.

But the most striking feature of the space was the neat stacks of various-sized crates. On two of the largest and longest ones lay Sunset. His hands were bound with thick ropes, which were then nailed to the wood with large-headed spikes. The setup wasn’t exactly sturdy.

Twisting my neck painfully, I checked my own restraints and confirmed they were the same. I began tugging rhythmically at my hands, trying to loosen the loops.

Simon noticed and burst into laughter before pulling out a dagger and pressing its tip to my temple. A surge of unbearable pain shot through my body.

"I thought he was immune," Valentine remarked, watching.

"It needs physical contact," Simon explained, a sadistic grin spreading across his face. "May I?"

"You’ll have your fun once I’m done," Valentine replied dismissively.

Valentine pulled out a similarly curved dagger from beneath his jacket and sliced open my shirt.

Hooking the blade under the skin on my left chest, he drove it in to its full length. I growled, channeling the pain into another effort to yank free from the ropes. Valentine twisted the hilt left and right, then dragged the knife upward, keeping the blade parallel to the ground. My skin stretched with it, tightening around the blade until it began to tear. Then, with a sharp yank, the vampire ripped the knife free, and I howled, losing any strength to resist.

It would have been nice to lose consciousness, but the bloodsucker knew exactly what he was doing. He wiped the blade clean with a white handkerchief and sat down on a nearby crate.

"Why’d you stop?" Simon asked, clearly impatient.

"This is exactly what I was talking about," Valentine replied. "You have no patience. Right now, his glands are flooding his bloodstream with chemicals that dull pain. Torture would be ineffective. We need to wait half an hour, maybe an hour, and then we can continue."

"Wouldn’t it be easier to just ask the questions right now?" I interjected.

"Of course not. You might come up with a plausible lie and then stick to it, stubbornly repeating it until the very end. It’d mean nothing to you, as you’d already be dying. And I’d be left wondering whether you told the truth or not."

"They’re looking for us," Simon reminded him.

"They won’t find us in half an hour. Although, we could speed up the process. Check the guard’s storage room for salt."

"On it," Simon replied with a satisfied grin. He returned quickly, holding a small wooden salt shaker. "Can I do it myself?"

"Go ahead. Just don’t overdo it. If it clumps, it won’t dissolve properly, and we need it fully dissolved."

I tensed again, straining against the ropes, but Simon loomed over me with a malicious smirk. He peeled back the torn flaps of skin covering my chest muscle and began shaking out the salt. It felt like liquid fire spreading across my chest, making it hard to breathe.

The cursed bloodsucker was right – I wasn’t feeling the full extent of the pain yet. It would come later, once my body was exhausted, its reserves depleted. Valentine was an experienced torturer, not someone I could trick as easily as Simon. If it were just Feron, I’d try to enrage him, provoke him into killing me. But with Valentine, that wouldn’t work.

I stopped resisting the pain and growled instead. Unintentionally, Valentine had given me an idea: I needed to prepare my answers. If only I knew what he planned to ask. It would most likely be about the clan, my family.

I couldn’t tell the truth under any circumstances, but my first, second, and even third answers to the same question would need to differ from the fourth. The key was to remember that I was already dead, and the dead don’t care about pain.

Ah, if only my spiritual heart weren’t sealed, I could truly convince myself the pain wasn’t real. I might even be able to try to kill myself!

The pain from the salt began to fade, dulling slightly, but my thoughts grew foggy. What helped me hold on also clouded my judgment, and the only question I could come up with was: Who knows about Simon?

At first, I’d say everyone. Three questions later, I’d claim I only told Logan. No, Logan might get killed. They could even get to Bryce if they tried hard enough. They got to Grandfather, didn’t they?

Ah, what the hell should I lie about?!

Nearby, Sunset groaned.

"Can I take this one?" Simon asked.

"Be my guest," Valentine said with a wave of his hand. "But just preparation. We'll do the real torture together."

Together? I thought. The questions were obviously going to be about the attack on his base. How had I not realized this earlier? Who helped me? I couldn’t give up Lindemann. Lucas would find a way to deal with Noah on his own, as long as this information didn’t get out. Otherwise, Valentine would kill him himself, and I had no use for a dead Lindemann.

The clan, the family? I couldn’t risk saying anything that might make the bloodsucker flee the city after hearing those names. Naming anyone would put them in grave danger.

But who did I have to offer?

Gratch? I’d never seen her face, but vampires were always weaving their schemes, both against the world and each other. And, honestly, I didn’t care about vampires’ well-being.

Sunset growled as Simon slipped the blade under his skin, cursing the man loudly when he ripped it free, tearing flesh in the process.

"You just copied what I did," Valentine said, sounding disappointed. "Couldn’t you come up with something new?"

"It’s new to me," Simon replied with a shrug. "Wanted to give it a try. But we’ll do something different next. Watch this."

I lifted my head and saw Simon holding a salt shaker.

"Pepper," he announced.

"Not much of a difference," Valentine remarked.

"In the eyes."

"One eye only," the vampire corrected immediately. "It’s a good idea, but the detective might go blind, and you’ll lose one of the sensory channels we can exploit. Pain is worse when the victim can see their injuries."

"Sick bastards!" Sunset spat, adding a few choice comments about our captors’ mothers. They both laughed in unison.

"I don’t know about Noah’s, but Simon’s mother? You nailed it," I interjected. "The whole family’s like that."

"You!" Feron lunged toward me, but Valentine stopped him with a raised hand.

"Nice try, boy, but I won’t let you die just yet."

Simon abruptly turned back to Sunset, forcing his left eyelid open and shaking pepper directly into his eye. The detective let out a howl of pain.

"Father," said a vampire in an expensive suit, suddenly emerging from between the crates. "I’ve brought it."

I had to crane my neck to see, but there was nothing unusual – just a large, battered bag.

"Good," Valentine said with a nod. "Handle the meat. Simon, you’ve worked with this before..."

"I wanted to stay for the interrogation," Simon protested.

"Help Kyle," Valentine said gently. "I’ll call for you later."

Simon left, looking displeased. Valentine stood in silence for a while, staring at me, then suddenly turned and fired a thin beam of death.

"I figured you’d notice," came a voice that was painfully familiar.

I raised my head in disbelief and saw Uncle Bryce standing near the crates. Slowly, he lifted his hand, materializing an orange flame that he launched in a chain-like motion. The ball of fire whizzed past Noah, who didn’t even flinch, and struck the bindings holding my right hand.

The heat seared my wrist, burned through the wood, and melted the nails that had pinned the ropes down. A sharp pull was enough to free my hand entirely.

I didn’t waste a second, quickly freeing my other hand while Valentine stood frozen, staring at Bryce.

"A shame," Uncle Bryce said. "I wanted to hear your questions. Why not ask them now?"

"No need," Valentine replied coolly. "I’ve gotten my answer."

Bryce smirked, then, without turning his head, suddenly thrust his right hand to the side. A flash of light erupted, and a vampire dropped out of the shadows, a gaping hole burned through his head.

"You shouldn’t have messed with Bremor," Bryce said calmly.

Explosions erupted from all sides, and the ceiling was illuminated by fiery flashes.

Bryce struck with an air punch, hurling Valentine to the side, but the vampire retaliated with a white wave of death. The attack scraped harshly against my uncle’s shields like sandpaper, and Valentine followed it up with concentrated beams that drove Bryce to his knees.

“Father!”

“Bryce!” familiar voices echoed, followed by the roar of fireballs and the crackle of lightning.

I finally freed my legs and darted toward the table with the bag. The enchanted cuffs reacted to my presence before I even saw them, immediately starting to drain my blood magic. There was no time to channel it into my chest – I frantically rummaged through the bag, trying to find my dagger.

To save time, I shoved the entire bag onto Sunset’s stomach and kept digging. Of course, everything I didn’t need seemed to get in the way. I slung the satchel over my shoulder, the strap digging into my burning chest, and felt the weight of my ring with its steel shield slide onto my finger as if it had donned itself. A revolver fell into my hand, and I shoved it into my trousers pocket.

The dagger was wrapped in a cloth. Grabbing it, I dashed toward Sunset, slashing through the bindings on one of his hands before moving to his legs.

“Behind you!” Bryce shouted.

I summoned a shield and spun, striking with its edge. It slammed directly into Simon’s head. He had some sort of stone-like skin enchantment, but the combination of ether and steel in my shield nearly scalped him, leaving a ragged wound across his forehead.

The dagger in my hand pulsed, hungry for blood, demanding more. Simon’s injury wasn’t fatal, but it bled profusely. Feron hissed, and I struck again, forcing him to retreat. A flicker of Bryce’s flame zipped past his face, and Simon decided to flee.

I lunged after him but was stopped by Bryce’s hand, which barely managed to grab my torn collar.

“We’re leaving!”

“What?” I blurted out, stunned.

“Wait for me!” Sunset called, cutting through the remaining bindings on his legs with an enchanted ring he had found in the satchel. He didn’t leave the bag behind, though.

“Follow me,” Bryce ordered, shoving a vial of potion into my hand and handing another to Sunset. I recognized the taste immediately – acceleration potion.

Bryce led us to a wooden wall, where he slammed an air punch into it, breaking open a passage.

“Go!”

The moment we passed through the opening, Bryce threw a vial of incendiary mixture onto the floor behind us, igniting a fire that blocked the way for any potential pursuers. Not that I thought it would be much of a barrier for vampires – they could probably smash through the wall without much effort.

We ran past an adjacent warehouse, turned left, and nearly collided with a tiny Austin car. Bryce immediately got into the driver’s seat, I took the passenger seat, and John climbed into the back. Bryce started the engine and pressed the gas.

“Why are we running?” I asked, only then noticing the ring with the crest on Bryce’s left hand.

Pulling the revolver from my pocket, I pressed it to the stranger’s head and cocked the hammer.

“Who are you?”