Page 29 of Smokescreen (Knight & Daywalker #1)

The other attacker snarled at the scene before them—her?

They were slenderer than the man, and it was hard to be sure in the shadows, but I thought there had been a hint of feminine shape—and turned back to me.

They didn’t say a word, though, so I couldn’t have hoped to say who it was without a better look at them.

A better look they were apparently going to give me. Maybe not on purpose, but they had at least decided to come at me with that knife.

Yay?

They slashed out, aiming at my chest, but not with precision. With a wild swing that used their whole arm.

This person was not a fighter.

Oh, they were dangerous as hell, that I didn’t doubt at all when their wide swing hit the wall and buried the knife four inches into the corrugated metal next to me.

Vampire.

No human could punch a knife through steel, even when it was a little worn and rusty.

On the other hand, while I could fight, I was no black belt myself, so it wasn’t as though I was able to disarm someone and put them down.

Twist gave a yowl, and I tensed, ready to turn from the knife-wielding maniac and rush to her side, but it was almost instantly followed by an ear-splitting scream that was definitely not her.

The person with the knife gave an angry grunt and ignored their companion likely being gutted, turning back to me and lunging once more with the knife.

I pulled back again, but there was only so far I could go.

Only so many swings I could successfully dodge, even if my attacker wasn’t incredibly skilled with their weapon.

The next wild slash hit the wall again, making a horrific screech as it punched into steel. But the knife’s cross-guard caught on the wall and my attacker lost their grip on the hilt.

I took the opportunity to brace myself, plant a foot in their belly, and shove as hard as I could, trying to separate them from their weapon as much as I could.

The only way to keep them away from it, though, was to either pull it free or push the fight back in the direction we’d come from. I didn’t have faith in my ability to pull a knife out of corrugated steel—King Arthur I was not—so I tried to move the fight backward.

The problem was that I had to go on the offensive for that, which wasn’t a wise way to fight someone who was stronger than you.

Still, I wanted to get back and check on Twist anyway, so I needed to do it. Had to help her if she needed me. I’d taken on the responsibility, after all. I was Father.

So I kicked out at my attacker again, and they fell back a few more steps.

Then they dropped low, all their weight on one leg, sweeping out with the other to try to knock me down.

It’s always so simple in movies for the action hero to jump over that, but in real life?

I can jump just about a foot in the air, two if I’m super lucky, and my attacker’s leg was higher than that.

So they knocked me off kilter and I fell against the wall. They took that opening to jump forward at me, striking like a snake, punching me in the gut, then even harder in the ribs.

The crack and sharp pain from the second blow did not bode well, but I managed to grab them by the neck and shove them away from me once again. My hands hit cold skin under the balaclava they were wearing. Definitely a vampire, if I hadn’t already reached that conclusion.

This time, thank fuck, it was their turn to trip over something and go sprawling onto their back.

Then the shadows moved around us. They poured in from all sides, the darkness writhing and boiling like a mass of tentacles.

My adrenaline surged, blood rushing in my ears, a metallic tang on the back of my tongue. I realized after a moment that whatever it was my attacker had tripped over? That was moving too.

What the hell was?—

Rats.

It was the colony of rats.

“Bite her!” one squeaked, and the lot of them rushed my attacker, all shouting battle cries and insults and I caught one little “for the food giver!”

As for my attacker? She shrieked, high and terrified, flinging rats in every direction as she pushed to her feet, and then she ran.

I didn’t much blame her. If a swarm of rats started attacking me, I’d have been out of there too. The rats didn’t give chase, letting her go, and frankly, so did I.

I did a lot of unwise things, but rushing to get my ass kicked by a vampire who’d just tried to stab me repeatedly was not one of them.

When she was gone, one rat stepped forward. My friend from the day before. “Are you well, food giver?”

“I’m . . . I’m good, thanks. Thank you very much for your help.”

She made a decisive motion with her whole body that felt like a nod. “You are a colony friend. We could not allow you to be injured when we had the power to intervene.”

I remembered Twist, turning to check in on her, when she slunk out of the dark dragging a giant chunk of.

..of gross. It looked like an entire leg, clenched in her jaws.

She pulled it right in front of the rats, who were now cowering, then turned to look at me.

“Tell them they may have my kill. I am fed, and do not require it.”

I turned back to the rats, who were all staring at Twist like she was the most terrifying thing ever to slide out of their shadows. “This is my friend Twist. She says you can have her kill, because she doesn’t need it.”

The colony descended into a cacophony of exclamations at that. Apparently, rats didn’t have a problem with eating vampire. Or, I supposed, it was possible that only one of the attackers had been a vampire.

Either way, I was never going to question Twist’s real name again. The double-dead douchebag could only wish he’d kept her name out of his mouth.

I went over to where her fight had taken place, and the guy was...well, I never wanted to fight Twist, for sure. Holding down my gag reflex as hard as I could, I looked long enough to find—there. His head.

His features were forever etched with an expression of pain and terror, but, I was relieved to see, he was no one I knew.

I turned to look at Twist and the rats. They were in an arc around her, cheering her very impressive kill.

They weren’t wrong, but I was never more acutely aware of my humanity than in moments like this.

Not that I often dealt with rats cheering a dismembered body, but.

..the whole thing made me feel ill. It made them grateful they were going to eat.

“Ready to go home, Twist?” I called to her. “The colony is grateful, and I appreciate your help and theirs, but I could use some sleep, I think.”

She nodded, and as she walked toward me, she started to shrink. By the time she reached me, she was her tiny two pound self again. That was somehow both convenient and terrifying.

“Yes, let us return home, Father.”

I knelt down to pick her up, wished the rats well, and headed for my bike.