Night had officially fallen. The stars were out, thick in the heavens, and they gave enough light for the two of them to see each other but not much more.

Powell wore a pair of coveralls much like her own—she guessed he had been forced to scrounge for clothing since he’d been in Port Radium. He didn’t have Dzo around to follow him around in a rusty pickup truck any more.

He had an ugly scar across his forehead and cheek. Either he’d been injured since his last change or he’d had a near miss with a silver bullet. His icy green eyes were quiet—she couldn’t quite gauge what he was thinking. Or what he was planning.

She wondered if he’d given as much thought to this confrontation as she had.

“Hi,” she said, moving toward him as sedately as she could manage.

“Hello, yourself,” he said, and ducked just as she brought her arms down and tried to get her handcuff chain around his neck.

He had her at a distinct disadvantage. It didn’t matter. She spun around just in time to see him running at her, his head down, his arms wide. He grabbed her around the midsection and knocked her off her feet. She went skidding along a rough section of asphalt and her head bounced off a broken stone. Light erupted behind her eyes and she couldn’t seem to breathe.

He was on top of her, a piece of rubble in his hands as big as her head. He brought it up high, clearly intending to use it to smash her face in. She lunged upward with her knees and he flew off of her. Rolling onto all fours she looked over and saw him doing the same.

Together they jumped to their feet, their arms in front of them. They wheeled around each other like sumo wrestlers. Chey had been trained in unarmed combat by the US military. She knew how to hold her own. Powell had had a century to learn how to fight. He rushed her and she dodged but he must have expected it—he swung around in mid-swing and grabbed her around the waist, twisted up underneath and slammed her to the ground. The wind went out of her but she managed to kick out with her legs and hit him in the ankle, toppling him to the ground, too. They both rolled over, panting for breath. Then he looked up and met her gaze.

Could he kill her? Did he even want to?

For a second they just stared at each other. Then he reached out and grabbed the chain that held her hands together. She cried out as he yanked, hard, and dragged her across the stones, but she couldn’t get her feet underneath her, couldn’t twist out of his grip.

He dragged her inside the big corrugated tin building. The darkness inside was nearly complete. He pulled her a ways farther then dragged her up and off the ground. Both of his hands grabbed at her flesh and then she was airborne, hurtling over the poured concrete floor. She hit hard enough to make spit fly out of her mouth.

“If you want to kill me, just do it,” she shouted. She was hoping he would reply and thereby give away his location. She couldn’t see him at all in the shadows.

“I don’t want to kill anybody,” he said. He was moving around, circling her. She thought of her training. She needed to move, too. She needed to get a wall at her back. Otherwise he could attack her from behind and she would be defenseless. “I’m sorry that I killed your father, but believe me, I did what I could to prevent it. You should understand that by now.”

“Bullshit! You could have done something. You could have locked yourself up in a silver cage that night. But you didn’t,” she said.

He didn’t bother to reply.

She could feel him nearby but she couldn’t determine where he was. She scrabbled up to her feet and started moving toward the wall ahead of her.

She felt his body heat a moment before he scooped her up and threw her back into the dark. She landed badly with an arm underneath her, crushed by her own weight. She cried out in pain.

“You done yet?” he asked. He was close, but not close enough to hit. “Why can’t you just go away and leave me alone? I never wanted any of this. I just want to survive the mess you’ve made for me.”

“Oh, that’s rich,” she said. “You brought this on yourself.” She crawled forward through the gloom. Her hands searched the dusty floor, looking for rocks, discarded tools, anything she could use as a weapon.

He hit her hard, then, hard enough to pick her up and carry her, screaming, across the floor. They smashed into the wall and through it. The corroded tin collapsed under their combined weight and she saw stars, real stars as they rolled back out into the parking lot. Her shoulder gave way with a popping noise—if it wasn’t broken it still hurt like a bastard. He pushed her away and staggered into the night. She knew better than to think he was done with her.