They stopped running. That was the first rule Sarah made. Running made noise. Noise brought the horde.
"We move quiet from here," she whispered.
Kínitos nodded. His hands still flickered blue, but he kept them low.
The sun was lower now. Not gone — but sinking fast. Long shadows stretched across the cracked streets. Sarah looked up at the sky. Then at the building ahead. 5 stories. Boarded windows. But her strings — the thin dark ones — they didn't stop at the roof. They kept going. Up. Through the ceiling. Like fishing line pulled tight.
"Third or fifth floor," she said. "He's high up."
"How do you know?"
"Strings don't lie." She pointed. "See how they angle? They're going up, not straight. Means the source is above ground level."
Kínitos squinted. He couldn't see them. But he trusted her.
They stuck to alleys. Behind dumpsters. Through gaps in broken fences. Every time Sarah saw a cluster of gray strings bunched together — too many zombies in one spot — she pulled Kínitos the other way. Around. Never through. Never giving the puppeteer of this any information.
A few zombies shambled past. Close. Close enough that Sarah held her breath. But the gray strings on their chests pointed east. Not at her. Not yet.
They reached the back of the building. No front door for them. Too exposed.
"Back entrance?" Kínitos asked.
Sarah found it. A loading dock, rusted and half-caved in. A metal door with no handle. She pushed. Stuck. Kínitos put his shoulder into it. The door groaned open.
Dark inside. Real dark.
Sarah's eyes adjusted. Stairs. Concrete. The strings above her — they pulled upward like someone reeling a fish.
"Third floor," she whispered. "Maybe fourth."
They climbed. Each step slow. Careful.
The sun was almost gone now. Orange bled into purple outside the cracked windows. Sarah could feel it. Time slipping.
"Faster," she said.
They hit the fourth floor landing. Hallway. Doors. At the end — a room with light. Not sunlight. A different glow. Flickering. Candle? Lamp?
Sarah held up her hand. Stop.
She looked. Strings. Gray ones — dozens — pouring out from under the door. Spreading like roots. Like veins. And above them — nothing. No string attached to the source. Just... a knot. A tangle of threads all starting from one point inside that room.
"He has no string on top," she whispered. "No one's controlling him. But he's controlling everything else."
Kínitos cracked his knuckles. Blue energy sparked. "Then we kill him."
They kicked the door in.
The room was empty except for a man. Pale. Thin. Eyes black. His fingers twitched like he was playing an invisible piano. Gray threads ran from his chest — out the windows, through the walls, everywhere.
He turned his head. Too fast.
"You're early, and loud," he said. His voice dry. "Sun's not down yet."
"Good," Sarah said.
She didn't wait. A pipe in her hand, purple energy already coating it. She swung.
The vampire moved — fast, but not fast enough. The pipe caught his shoulder. He hissed. Backed into a corner.
"No children c-" before he could utter another word.
Kínitos was already there. A blue-coated fist to the ribs. Then the face. The vampire tried to raise his hands — the strings jerked — but it was too late. Too close.
Sarah drove the pipe through his chest.
He looked down. Confused. The gray strings around him went slack. Dropped. Faded.
"No..." he whispered. Then crumpled.
Silence.
Sarah breathed hard. "Is that it?"
Kínitos kicked the body. No movement. No strings left on him — but there were strings from him. Frayed. Dead ends.
"Yeah," Kínitos said. "He's done."
They stood there for a moment. The room smelled like rot and old blood. Outside, the last sliver of sun disappeared. Then a shadow of something was next to a building.
Then — footsteps.
Heavy. Fast. Coming up the stairs.
Kínitos spun around. Sarah raised her pipe.
The door burst open.
Four of them. Pale like the first, but bigger. Harder eyes. Their movements sharp — not shambling. Vampires. Lesser maybe, but stronger than the puppeteer.
Sarah looked at their heads.
Strings. Every single one. Dark red. Attached to something above — higher floor? Or something else entirely. Not gray like the zombies. Not blue like Kínitos. Red. Pulling taut.
"Strings," Sarah whispered. "They have strings too."
From the shadow lingered the hollow lifeless eyes of the dead. The sun was gone and what replaced it was the night.
The lead vampire smiled. "Sun's down, little girl. And you just killed our errand boy."
Kínitos stepped in front of her. Blue energy roaring now.
Sarah tightened her grip on the pipe. "How many more of you are there?"
The vampire's smile grew wider. "Enough."
They charged.
But more came through the door. Not four. Eight. Ten. Too many for the small room. Kínitos swung at the first one — blue fist cracking ribs — but two more grabbed his arm. Sarah smashed her pipe into a vampire's face, purple energy splashing, but three more pushed in behind it.
"We can't take all of them!" Sarah shouted.
Kínitos looked at the window. Broken. Jagged. Four stories down.
"No choice," he said.
He grabbed Sarah's wrist. Tight. She didn't argue.
They ran for the window. A vampire lunged. Kínitos kicked it back. Then they jumped.
Glass and wind. Falling. Fast.
Kínitos closed his eyes. His energy shifted — from blue to something denser. Heavier. Immovable. The same trick he'd used in the stack. He pushed the power into his legs, his chest, his whole body.
And stopped. Mid-air.
Like an invisible floor caught him. Sarah gasped. She was still falling — but Kínitos had her wrist. Her momentum swung her sideways.
"Jump!" he yelled.
She looked. Another floor. Broken balcony. Two stories below the window they'd left.
She let go of his hand.
Her body arced. For a second she was weightless. Then her boots hit the balcony. Hard. She rolled. Her shoulder slammed a wall. But she was inside. Different floor. Different hallway.
She looked back. Kínitos was falling again — his immovable broke. He dropped. Fast. Straight down into the alley.
A crash. Metal crunching. Trash can.
Kínitos groaned. Garbage bags broke his fall. He shoved a banana peel off his face and looked up. Vampires were already leaning out the fourth-floor window, pointing. Shouting.
But the alley had zombies. Lots of them. Gray strings twitching.
Kínitos didn't wait. He rolled out of the trash can and ran. The opposite direction from Sarah. Leading the horde away.
Sarah pressed her back against the wall. Breathing hard. She could hear Kínitos's footsteps fading. Then the growls of zombies chasing him.
She was alone now.
From somewhere above — more footsteps. The vampires from the room. They hadn't followed Kínitos. They were spreading out. Searching.
Sarah looked at the strings. Red ones. Dark red. They still pulled upward. Higher than the fourth floor.
"Fifth floor," she whispered.
The night had just begun.