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The bad news is, so am I.

I collapse to my side with what I think is a yell, but is actually a gurgle.

Breathing hurts. My lungs are rattling like they’re trying to escape from my ribs, and my brain feels like someone’s wrapped their fist around it and is squeezing until it pops.

My wounds are closing already, thanks to my vampire nature as well as the only perk of this shitty Curse, but I’m covered in sweat, blood, and other substances I really don’t want to look at too closely.

The warehouse reeks of iron and death. The cacophony of screams has died out, but the sound still rings in my ears. The air in here is so thick I’m damn near choking on it.

The only silver lining is that the stink completely overpowers the lingering scent of magic.

I lay sprawled on the ground where I fell, staring at the exposed beams of the warehouse and panting through choked breaths.

I hear Gav peeling himself out from behind the chunk of metal wall he used as cover. I turn my head—which weighs about a billion pounds now—and realize the metal wall is bent and shoved back at least ten feet. It’s now living permanently in the foundation of the warehouse.

Huh. Guess those Bone Blades have more velocity to them than I remember.

“Fates, Vaelenor. Are you alive?” Gav’s panting, trying not to slip in pools of all that remains of our enemies.

It doesn’t matter how many times I see it; there is never a way to mentally prepare for the aftermath of my Curse going nuclear.

Gav doesn’t even flinch at the piles of flesh, bone, and brain. I’m weirdly grateful for it. Nothing makes me feel like more of a freak than witnessing others’ reactions to my destruction.

“Yup,” I groan, trying and failing to stand up. “I’m great. Never better.”

I finally get my feet under me and flick my eyes to the drone hovering five feet above us.

I look right into the lens where I know my brother’s watching, and flip him off.

“Hey, Dax?” I call out, my voice sugary sweet and seriously fake. “Any more charming surprises you want to send my way tonight, or was that the grand finale?”

There’s a tense beat of silence followed by the sound of Dax clearing his throat. “Ah, nope. That about covers it. Want me to send some trainees to dispose of the…”

“Bodies?” I suggest with a glare.

“Sure.” He coughs, but it sounds like he’s covering up a laugh.

I scowl.

“No,” Gav replies, surveying the area. “Just send someone to torch the place. There was nothing here anyway.”

Gav’s looking at me like he knows something I don’t. He doesn’t ask any questions or, worse, offer any condemnations. Just holds my gaze steadily, and gives me a single, decisive nod. Like we’ve both agreed in a conversation I’m unaware we’re having.

“I’m gonna get Vae and myself back to HQ.” He says, kicking over a mostly intact Deadwalker to check for signs of life. “Go ahead and call in the team for a debrief—after Vae takes a shower. He smells like rotted meat. I’m gonna have to get my damn car detailed. Again.”

I huff, still leaning over with my hands on my thighs as I try to prevent the world from spinning. “Hell, I’m just grateful you’re letting me in your car. Last time you made me wait for Ford.”

He scoffs. “That’s because last time, it was 1983, and I was in a ‘69 Charger. You think I was letting your bloody ass into that?” His lips tip up at the corners, and so do mine.

I need a stiff drink.

I can probably con Ford into letting me break out the good stuff tonight. He’s in Chicago, but I can always send him a text and really appeal to those grandfatherly instincts he has. The guy was only thirty-nine when he was turned, but he’s under the impression that it somehow makes him ancient compared to us, just because he currently looks ten years older.

Yeah, the more I think about it, the more appealing my plan sounds. Get home, shower, then make Ford feel sorry enough for me to break out the ‘50 Macallen.

He always says you only bring that out when somebody’s born, dies, or does something so colossally stupid that it circles back around to being impressive.

I glance around the warehouse one last time as I make my slow, limping way out the side door behind Gav. Severed bodies are scattered like trash, shredded all to hell, and leaking everywhere. I watch in disgust mixed with amusement as one of the bodies gives a final twitch and a spray of red mist arcs from its chest. The blood squirts a few feet through the air and lands on an arm that’s half-attached to another body by nothing more than a few strings of bloody sinew.