Kessler straightened and turned to face Regan. A deep gash at the edge of her mouth transformed her expression into a sneer. The blood running down her face stood out vividly against her pale skin. She touched her hand to her mouth and examined it as if she wasn't sure where it had come from. 

Regan gripped the wound in her chest and felt sticky blood dribbling through her fingers. Trying to stop the flow was like holding back a tap. Splashes of it still shone wet on the concrete. 

Kessler watched her and ran a finger down the back of her sword. 'This isn't a victory. Every step you take extracts a toll in blood.' 

Regan circled her, looking for an opening. The burning hotel at her back seared her skin, but her chest was cold. She could feel the warmth spilling out of her. 

Kessler cocked her head to one side and looked across the car park at Sarafina and the others. Their shapes were barely visible through the darkness and smoke. 'You were dead a moment ago. I wonder where you found this new reserve of strength.' 

Regan's expression betrayed nothing. Her voice came out as a dry croak. 'Everyone wants to tell me what's on my mind these days. I've heard a thousand theories on what I am and what I'm not. Apparently, I don't get a say in any of them.' 

Kessler sighed. 'Your arrogance makes you think you're more complicated than you are. You're not a puzzle. Your entire existence is defined by the things you hate.' 

'That's only a problem if you're someone I hate.' 

Kessler shook her head. 'It disappoints me to see you like this. Silencers should use killing dispassionately, the way a surgeon uses a scalpel. You're a long way from that now. Every kill you've made since you dragged yourself out of the ocean has been driven by fury. You could have done anything, but you just keep coming back to revenge like a dog to vomit. You might as well be an animal.' 

Regan lifted her sword. Kessler's blood was still fresh on the blade. She watched a droplet form on the tip and fall away. 

'All that junk you spew about conviction and ambition sounds profound, but it's garbage. It's pretty window dressing to conceal the fact that what we do is simply violence. An animal and a poet can be equally good at it.' 

'Even now, I can't tell if you love killing or you hate it.' 

'Does it matter?' 

Regan feinted right as Kessler lunged forward, leaving Kessler stabbing at air. She slipped past, and the point of her sword caught Kessler's side. The blade ran across her ribs and opened her flesh to the bone. 

Kessler lashed out with powerful, vicious swipes, but Regan was elusive. She jumped backwards as Kessler turned and slashed at her. Her movements flowed into one another as Kessler's sword sliced past her stomach. 

Regan's speed was increasing now. As their blades scraped and clashed together, Kessler started to slip back. Regan's cuts were light, but each one that slipped through drew blood. 

'You've sacrificed your power for speed,' said Kessler. 'Are you sure your friends have enough time for you to waste it brushing at me with a feather?' Her expression was still calm, but spots of colour burned in her cheeks. She sounded out of breath. 

Regan slipped under Kessler's sword and opened up another light cut on her body. The smoke was a thick, choking haze that burned her eyes and turned the air into a foul smelling soup. 

'I'd say none of us have a lot of time left, unless you've learned to breathe without oxygen.' 

The tip of Kessler's sword moved in confusing circles. 'You've always had a smart mouth, but your gambits are too obvious. A few cuts won't stop me. Without power behind your strikes, your sword might as well be made of paper.' 

Kessler struck for Regan's eyes, but her movements were slow. Regan flashed past her easily. Her sword was barely visible as she whipped past Kessler like a wasp attacking a spider and slashed her shoulder. She tried to ignore the pain in her chest that rose like a tide and threatened to overwhelm her. 

Her strategy was working. Kessler struggled to match her speed, and she couldn't move into the offensive as long as she was forced to defend herself from the attacks she could barely see. All Regan needed to do was to continue the pressuring her and wait for desperation to force her into a mistake. 

Something wasn't right though. Regan felt unsettled. Kessler was tired, but she wasn't losing focus. She watched each slash that cut across her body like she was cataloguing it, and even as she fought to protect herself, she looked calm. She didn't seem like she was being overwhelmed, she seemed like she was waiting. 

Kessler parried Regan's sword and left her neck exposed. Regan saw the opening and attacked. In an instant, she slipped around to Kessler's flank and darted forwards. 

She was already moving when she realised it was a trap. 

As the tip of Regan's sword nicked the side of Kessler's neck, she stepped forward with a low, vicious cut. Regan didn't have time to move. She saw the blade flash past. Pain exploded though her as Kessler's blade tore through the muscles and tendons of her thigh. Her leg gave out immediately. She staggered backwards and tried not to fall. 

Kessler flicked Regan's blood from her sword. 'Without your mobility, your strategy is useless.' 

Regan tried to recover. She lunged, but Kessler caught the point of her sword on her forearm. She drove Regan back, and punished her with a cut that almost took off her head. 

Regan retreated beyond the range of Kessler's sword. Her leg was a dead weight. If she tried to attack now, she wasn't certain she'd be able to stay standing. 

Kessler gave her a searching look. Shallow wounds covered her body, but her expression of cold detachment was unshaken. Soot clung to her hair, turning it a dirty grey, and a cut on her forehead had left a trail of blood that ran over one eye and down the side of her face. She drew back her sleeve to expose the putrid wounds on her arm. Blood dripped off her elbow where she had used her forearm as a shield. 

'Your fight is worse than pointless. I can afford to weather your light attacks. Unlike you, I have the luxury of time. You have that moral wound to worry about, and even if you defeat me, all you'll have to comfort you is a pile of burned corpses.'

***

'Damn it,' said Sarafina. 'Damn it, damn it, damn it.' 

She could barely see now through the thickening smoke and her own watering eyes. Her arms were covered to the elbows in blood, as if she'd participated in some kind of ritual sacrifice. 

Forester had gone limp. Even as she tried to stitch together the wounds covering his body, she could see his head lolling from side to side like a soft toy. She put the back of her hand in front of his mouth. His breath was as weak as a snowflake in summer. 

Next to her, Bennet and Trevellian fought to keep the creatures at bay. 

Bennet held her spear in her left hand. Her right hand was a mess; the fingers dangled at odd angles, attached by thin ribbons of skin where the spike-woman's teeth had almost bitten through them. 

The creatures drifted around them through the smoke. Bennet and Trevellian had managed to repel them so far, but both were tiring. Sarafina wasn't sure how much longer they would be able to keep fighting. As she watched, Bennet swayed on her feet and sunk down to one knee. 

'Get up,' said Trevellian. 

'I can't. I feel dizzy.' 

'Too bad. I'd rather not die here because you decided to roll into the gutter and expire.' 

Bennet tried to push herself to her feet, but her legs shook treacherously. She sank back to her knees with a wheezing sigh. 

'I can't breathe.' 

Sarafina looked beyond her. Dark shadows were stalking them, like predators scenting blood. She could see them outlined against the flames. Barely any of their human features remained. They had been reduced to charred masses of flesh and bone driven by an awful hunger. 

Trevellian turned to face Bennet with rage in his eyes. 'Put some steel in your backbone and get up!' 

If he had been paying attention, he might have noticed the movement to his left. As he started to speak again, half of the spider-creature hit him in a shrieking flurry of teeth and claws. 

Sarafina screamed. 

Trevellian and the creature spilled onto the ground as his wheelchair overturned on top of them. Trevellian stabbed frantically at the creature's neck as he fought to keep its teeth at bay with his free hand. But it had the advantage, driving its weight down on top of him, slashing and biting at the air. 

Sarafina was barely aware that she was moving until she was already sprinting forwards. She snatched Bennet's spear out of her unresisting fingers and ran towards the creature. Her breathing was like a hurricane in her ears. She was light-headed, but her hand remained steady. The world seemed to slow around her as she brought the point of the spear up and lunged forward until she felt it drive home under the creature's jaw. 

The sudden impact jarred her shoulder and almost made her lose her grip on the spear. The creature's head snapped back as the point lanced into its neck and lifted it into the air. For a moment, she could see the pale white flesh of its belly exposed like a fish on a harpoon. 

Trevellian's knife flashed up and opened a deep red cut across the creature's abdomen. A tar-like cascade of blood fell from its stomach. As the creature writhed and pulled on the point of the spear lodged in its head, the cut tore wider and blue-grey intestines spilled out of the gash. 

As the spider-creature screamed, Sarafina spotted movement in the flames to her right. She turned and saw the charred figure of the man with the girl in his stomach lurching towards her like a drunk. She pulled on the spear to dislodge it, but it wouldn't come free. The spider-creature's flesh had closed up around it and held it stuck like glue. 

Fear swirled in her stomach like cold bile as she watched the man closing in on her and tugged at the spear. The man's arms opened wide as if he was about to embrace her, shadows moving behind him. More creatures gliding towards her through the smoke. 

Trevellian was still pinned beneath the spider-creature, and Bennet and Forester were too wounded to move. 

Sarafina released her grip on the spear. As the charred man came towards her, she took a deep breath and drew the batons from her belt. 

***

Regan slashed for Kessler's wrists and succeeded in opening up a cut on her forearm, but she might as well have attacked her with a silk scarf. Kessler drove forward without even pausing. Regan jumped away and felt her legs give out for a moment. She stumbled and Kessler's sword sliced past just short of her stomach. 

She tried to counter attack, but Kessler was too quick. She caught Regan's sword and almost flicked it out of her hand.  

Regan barely had time to dodge as Kessler lunged for her chest. Her muscles moved like wet clay. She was quick enough to avoid getting impaled again, but her energy was running out. 

The smoke stung her eyes. In the distance, Sarafina and the others were a collection of blurred, shimmering outlines against the burning building. She thought she could hear screams, but the sound of flames was like a thunderstorm. The air was heavy in her lungs, making her feel like she was drowning. 

She gasped as blood spilled from the wound in her chest and searing pain pulsed through her. She tried to recover, but Kessler had already seen the pain on her face. She found herself shuffling backwards, vision blurring and trying not to pass out. 

There was a strange metallic taste in Regan's mouth. The tips of her fingers tingled with cold. She knew the blood loss was taking her. She tried to keep a grip on her sword, but it kept slipping out of her fingers. Her knee hit the concrete. She couldn't remember falling. 

Kessler seemed to sense she was finished. Each movement was deliberate as she walked towards Regan and lifted her sword like a hunter preparing to kill a wounded deer. 

'I don't know where your sudden desire to act like a human being came from -- I certainly didn't teach it to you -- but it wasn't enough. There comes a point when our mistakes are beyond salvaging and we just have to live with them.' 

Regan saw Kessler's sword slice down towards her throat. It seemed to last for an eternity. 

Regan lunged forward as Kessler's sword came down. There was a splintering impact as the blade cut into her collarbone. Her shoulder slammed into the pit of Kessler's stomach and she felt her ragged breath wash over her cheek. She felt a grim satisfaction as, for the first time, Kessler looked surprised. Regan's fingers closed around a putrid mass of twine and flesh.  

There was a sound like a wet blanket being torn in half as Regan's sword sheared through tendon and bone. 

Regan came away holding Kessler's arm in her hand. Blood spurted from the mess of ripped muscle and torn blood vessels where it had separated from her body. The rotting pieces of flesh sewn along its length twitched and writhed like boiling insect larvae. 

Kessler didn't scream as she staggered backwards. She gripped the ragged stump where her arm had been, and a look of pain and confusion drifted across her face like a cloud passing in front of the sun. 

A gout of blood pulsed through her fingers and splashed across the concrete. 

Kessler looked at Regan. Her eyes were unfocused. Her leg almost gave out beneath her. She managed to right herself for a second, but her strength was failing. In the next moment, her leg collapsed completely, and she fell to the ground like a toppling tree.