Henry wasn't quite certain whether he stopped screaming before or after his voice died out.

All he knew for sure was that the raw, unfiltered emotions had poured out of him for what felt like hours on end from his perspective. That they'd kept his senses as a blur of anguish, endlessly shouting into the void until his throat felt like sandpaper. He could still feel the aftereffects, if only because they were the only detail that still reached him loud and clear through his fugue. Nothing else even came close, aside from the laser-like focus on the bastards responsible for taking away those he'd wanted so desperately to make things right for.

Coherent thoughts eluded him entirely. Only rage and self-loathing remained, letting him stew in his own helplessness as he dumped an entire arsenal's worth of bullets into the arch-vampire in front of him.

Brother Noapte grinned hungrily at him in response. Despite being the focus of Henry's ire, he seemed to accept the unspoken challenge with honest to God enthusiasm.

"Oh, what a shame you only realize it now," the aged monster sneered mockingly at his display. "You thought yourself to be a shepherd for this flock, didn't you? Unfortunately, there is only one true shepherd in these cursed lands. I have seen him. In contrast, you barely qualify to be his sheepdog."

Sharpened, talon-like nails raked towards Henry's face, forcing him to dive off the far side of his horse or be eviscerated. His reflexes were on point, carrying him instinctively to the ground in a stable roll that brought him back to his feet immediately after the hurried landing. The revolver's iron sights snapped up between his eyes a millisecond after, and he didn't even need any extra time to pull the trigger.

A soft click reminded him how dry his stocks of ammunition had become. He let out a snarl of frustration, pawing around in his satchel for anything even remotely resembling a fresh reload. Or even a weapon in general. He was getting less and less picky with each passing moment.

"It's not an uncommon pattern in life, you know. So much of success and failure is left up to chance. More than one might be led to believe possible, as a matter of fact. And those who mistake chance for destiny… are often the ones the most at its mercy."

"SHUT UP!!" Henry ground out those two words, not caring for idle philosophy with the monster who was actively complicit in enslaving his friends. Even now, he was forced to watch helplessly as the few still ambulatory were being picked off one by one by Carte Mare.

A Water mage, one he'd noticed looked oddly familiar to that street performer he and Layla had encountered in the days leading up to the Witching Hours, but wasn't actually the same person. He fell to the ground, spasming uncontrollably as the foreign influence invaded his mind. An Earth mage buried himself alive in a desperate attempt to avoid the same fate, only to be uprooted like a weed and given the same treatment anyways. Henry got the distinct impression that the vamp covered in precious metals and jewels was deriving sadistic enjoyment from the chase. And there was nothing he could do about it as it started closing in on the last free mage left in the group.

The florist. The one he'd promised he could find a light at the end of the tunnel for by week's end.

...Claire.

He'd known her name the whole time. He'd known all of their names, but he'd pushed himself to maintain distance from them. Both socially, as well as mentally. It was his way of keeping himself detached from the fresh set of faces. Something he'd done to selfishly prevent the pain of leaving once his work bringing them all to Kensington was done.

Well, look where it had gotten him now. It was a hell of a time to realize it, but not only was he worse off for it, so was everyone else he'd managed to lead astray.

I wonder if she's regretting handing that sprig off to me, now…

His thoughts numbed to static as he mechanically removed his last two bullets from his ears. Crane of his revolver freed the cylinder, brass casings dropped to the floor one by one. He didn't really know why he was still trying to fight. He'd failed. Miserably, even. Perhaps this was all he really knew how to do anymore.

Fight, and lose. That bastard spider that still had his real body probably would find this whole thing hilarious, if he were here.

Carte Mare hesitated just before sealing the deal, the last plume of enthrallment bile still dribbling from his lips. Brother Noapte took notice of the lapse, disregarding Henry entirely to turn to his companion with a frown.

"Would you just be done with it, already?" it grouched. "You were doing so well just moments ago. I'd almost been concerned that the real you might have died discreetly somewhere and been replaced by a convincing body double. But no, that would be laughable in light of this evidence."

"It was laughable to begin with, Noapte," Carte Mare snarked back. "If you're so intent on telling me how to conduct my business, I suggest you take your share and leave now. Go ahead, take the half you wanted. I don't think I've quite learned what… fun… is supposed to be yet."

"Don't think I'm not wise to your tricks! There's an odd number of mages here, with an even number currently imprinting! You just intend to make me take the lesser half, and skim that plant-loving bitch for yourself."

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

"So what if I do? It's how I operate. You know this, you old goat. We've been enemies far longer than we've been friends, after all."

"And you should know well enough that such profit-grubbing is what most often leads to you getting plundered, maggot. Why else do you think Măcel was so gracious as to give up his own share of the spoils?"

"...Point taken. How about we split it so that I get the extra mage, but you get the leader one with the super hot flames? As well as an agreement to stay vigilant for… attempts, as it were."

Noapte grunted in approval. The accord apparently struck, it turned back around so it could wrap things up and go home, like a tired factory worker after a long day's shift.

Unfortunately for the arch-vampire, it was just in time to face the gambit Henry had been preparing in the meantime.

In a move that managed to confuse everyone else still conscious enough to watch, Henry wrenched the creature's jaw wide open with one hand, and crammed his gun straight down its throat with the other. His hand crammed in along with it, practically begging to be clamped down on and bitten.

"Say," he spoke numbly. "Out of curiosity, do you happen to know what happens when an uncontrolled explosion overloads a dangerously spliced combination of leylines?"

The trigger clicked for the last time.

Two bullets in the same barrel. It was a recipe for disaster even inside of firearms that hadn't been magically modified to hell and back. The engravings on his own piece, while not actually comprised of any Law enchantments, were pretty well tailored to mimic the effects of one through some clever interactions between Fire and Air lines. Henry didn't know much about the specifics of how it worked. He just knew that he'd always had to be very careful with what kind of energy got close to them, or he'd suffer the consequences.

See Exhibit A: the consequences.

The gun went off in his hand, the force of the small explosion enough to light up the interior of Noapte's gullet with a bright flash. Like a spark, that small flame interacted dangerously with the Fire ley lines hidden below the surface of the metal, turning what would normally just be a great way to ruin a handgun into a truly lethal weapon. A torrent of oxidized flame erupted from the shattered remains of the pistol, sending shards of metal pinballing around the inside of the arch-vampire's skull as a magically infused explosion mangled hand and head alike.

Henry felt his reactive shield tighten around his endangered limb for a moment, then shatter. He managed to pull his hand free in better condition than it had any right being, but it didn't take a surgeon to understand that fingers definitely weren't supposed to have that much shrapnel in them. To say it hurt like hell would be an understatement.

He stumbled back in agony. So did the nearly headless Brother Noapte, albeit on a much larger scale. One good remaining eye locked balefully onto him as the tattered remnants of its face let a fountain of black blood gush to the floor. Right now, the monster was fueled more by pure hatred clearly fueled than its own essence… but for now, that was just barely enough to keep it standing.

For a moment, Henry dared to hope the wound was irreversible. Just a moment. Even as he began to back off, he saw signs of the ruined tissue attempting to stitch itself together.

"Agh… damn, that looks like a… pretty serious injury…" Henry's words came labored, grimacing through his own pains as he fumbled with his other hand at the sheath for his knife. "My personal advice… a bit of bloodletting should have that sorted out in no time."

It was hard to read the vampire's expression, when half of it was straight up missing. But, layer on enough feigned bravado in anything you do, and the three most common responses seemed to always end up being shock, frustration or mild amusement. What remained of Noapte's face showed a little bit of all of those, but he could think whatever he wanted to as far as Henry was concerned. His words were causing the vampire to hesitate, even if only for a moment.

He brandished the knife in challenge to the vampire he'd maimed. "Careful," he warned. "I'm a bit of a klutz when it comes to sharp objects. But, for you… I can probably hack out some semi-decent emergency work."

Brother Noapte stared back at him. Eye calculating. Analyzing. Reevaluating, potentially. He didn't look like he was afraid of whatever Henry had in store for him… just that he might be enough of a nuisance that another direct fight might cost more than he'd already lost.

Blood was like liquid gold to these maniacs, after all. And the arch-vampire was losing a lot of blood right now. More than his seemingly frail body would indicate to be possible.

It snorted with the barest hint of respect it could manage. More of a snuffling noise, really, on account of the lack of a clear airway remaining. Might've heard a bubble pop in all that, too.

Without another sound, it grabbed Martin and another mage – Devon, that one's name was – by the scruff of the neck and unfurled its wings, staring up at the open night sky through the breach above.

Seemingly done with giving Henry the time of day.

Carte Mare stared at the other vampire lord like he was an idiot. "You're seriously going to leave with just that?!?! What about all the other merchandise You're leaving behind?! I can't carry all this back by myself, you know-"

The stare Henry had been subject to moments before silenced the garishly bejeweled vampire in an instant. From what he could tell, it was a look that promised great pain if things didn't go exactly the way Brother Noapte intended.

"...Fine. Fine! I'll just leave it all here, then! Free for any lowly underling to swipe for themselves! Although-" it picked out two survivors turned thralls from the pile at its feet, seemingly at random. "I'll be damned three times more if I'm not recouping at least something from this! Where's Măcel now that…"

The mercantilist vampire lord trailed off, realizing that the rest of the warehouse had been silent for some time now. Something Henry had somehow missed entirely as well, making him frustratingly unable to mock the monster for without being a hypocrite.

"...Actually, where the hell is Măcel?" Carte Mare finished. "He was just here a moment ago."

Noapte gave him a second dose of 'the glare', which substituted adequately for any scathing remarks he might have had.

"Right, right… yeah, I'm right behind you." Two massive pairs of dark wings opened up like twin sets of parachutes, spanning their own widths nearly five times over from end to end. Without further discussion, the two of them launched vertically into the air above, leaving Henry and Claire in the wreckage with the still occasionally twitching bodies the vampires had left behind.

Henry suddenly felt… very dizzy.

He fell to one knee at first, then the other. For who knows how long, he just sat and stared at the discarded thralls still struggling against their internal prisons. The world moved on around him without his input just fine. Perhaps better even, which only heightened the tightness he was feeling in his chest.

Robb showed up at some point, clearly haggard but at least back on his feet. Dee and Giselle came in to keep watch, and Grace and Enrico did… something vampire related to put the victims at ease a bit. He heard some promises of potential roads to recovery, of plans to reorganize now that it was obvious the thrall-camps were working together, of…

Of things he couldn't really be bothered to care about at the moment.

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