“Sure. Go get ‘em, Sera.”

Sera darted around the closest vampire. Drawing a knife, she grabbed him from behind and sliced her blade at the bonds holding the armored breastplate to his body. He spun around, swinging his arms at her, but she ducked, splitting the armor’s remaining bonds as she dropped. The breastplate peeled off of him. She smashed it into the vampire’s knees. As he collapsed, she clobbered him over the head, finishing the job.

Well, kind of. There were still three more vampires. They were almost upon the mages, who continued to shoot magic fireworks like it was New Year’s Eve. Sera ran toward the next two vampires, slashing out with her knives as she passed between them. Unfortunately, that also put her directly in the line of the mages’ fire. As the vampires’ armor tipped to the side, she dove under the firestorm and rolled.

“Your magic isn’t working,” Sera told the mages, hopping to her feet beside them. “I’ve cut an opening in the armor of those two.” She pointed at the vampires with the lopsided breastplates. “Aim your spells for their sides. I’m going to take care of the next one’s armor.”

One of the mages, a silver-headed stately sort of man whose last haircut had probably cost more than everything Sera was currently wearing, poked his head out of hiding. He turned his cold dark eyes on her. “You dare to give my bodyguards commands? Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?” He was pretty opinionated for someone who was letting the other five mages fight for him.

“Look, mister. I don’t care if you’re the president. Those vampires are out for blood—your blood—and your way isn’t working. You can either do as I say and live, or you can stick your nose in the air and die. Your choice.”

Mr. Silverhead’s nostrils flared. “Of all the impudent, ill-mannered—”

“She took out one of them,” another mage said, pointing at the vampire on the floor.

Mr. Silverhead looked at Sera. She shrugged and smiled at him, which was apparently not the response he was looking for. His magic buzzed with anger.

“Fine. If you’re not going to do as I said, then just try not to shoot me,” she said. She certainly didn’t have time to babysit prissy mages.

“We should listen to her,” one of the bodyguards said to the others. “She looks like she slaughters monsters all the time.”

Sera wasn’t sure whether the bodyguard intended that as a compliment or an insult. In either case, it was true.

“Fine,” Mr. Silverhead growled. He turned toward the other mages. “Aim for the gaps she made in the vampires’ armor.”

As a fresh round of magic singed the air, Sera ran for the last vampire. Like the others, he had that same invisible, odorless magic around him. No, not exactly invisible or odorless. It was a kind of white noise, a background magic that masked all ambient magic. Odd as it was, it didn’t make him stronger than any other vampire. If anything, he was slower, like his movements were delayed by half a second. Sera slashed the bonds on his armor and caught the breastplate as it fell. She smashed him in the head with it, but he didn’t go down. Maybe he was stronger after all.

He swung his gigantic fist at her. Sera lifted the breastplate to block his punch. He kept swinging, again and again. And again. Sera’s armor shield dinged like a clock tower sounding out the hour. Blood dripped down the armor, speckling the white floor with crimson drops. Still the vampire didn’t stop.

Sera stole a glance back at the mages. They’d taken down the other vampires and were now watching her fight with this one. More than one of them looked completely horrified. Just not Mr. Silverhead. Apparently, it took more than a bloody-fisted vampire with a look of cold, calculated murder in his eyes to rustle up that mage.

A streak of lightning zapped past Sera, nearly sizzling her hair. It missed the vampire completely. She shot an irked look at the mages.

“Watch where you’re shooting,” she growled at them.

She shoved the breastplate at the vampire, then hopped back to put some distance between them. The second lightning bolt hit him square in the chest. The vampire convulsed for a few seconds, his eyes rolling back, then he went down.

Mr. Silverhead walked up beside Sera and gave the unconscious vampire a cold sneer. “I need you to hand over that armor,” he told Sera, holding out his hand.

“I don’t think it’s your color.”

Shockingly, he didn’t laugh. “The armor. Now.”

“You have three sets of armor over there.” She pointed at his bodyguards, who were looting the other three vampires. “This set is mine.”

“You seem to be confused as to our respective positions here,” he said, drawing his magic around himself like a regal cloak. “I command. You obey. I have jurisdiction. And you have the honor of serving the Magic Council.”

The sarcastic quip sizzled out on her tongue. The Magic Council. She couldn’t afford to incur their wrath. She’d already attracted far too much of their attention.

“Good. You’re more agreeable when you don’t talk,” he said. “Now hand over that armor.”

“Fine.” She shoved the breastplate into him, then walked away.

“Are you all right?” Naomi asked her as they headed toward the exit.

“Yeah, fine.”

“You looked like you wanted to punch that mage.”

“Yep.”

“But you didn’t.”