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Hector turned his head toward Sheryl, just enough so that he could still keep an eye on Geoffrey. “Please,” he whispered to her, “move to the corner there...”

“W-why?”

“I don’t want anyone sneaking up behind you while I’m... distracted...”

Sheryl nodded, and Hector stayed in front of her while they repositioned themselves away from the open door.

“Still refusing to answer me, I see,” said Geoffrey. “I will take that to mean you really did love your father, after all. Honestly, though, I cannot understand why. You know what the funniest thing is? I actually care more about you than he did.” He grinned with Samuel’s face. “And of course, I will be a much more attentive father.”

Hector clapped his hands together, and a wall of iron sprung up between him and Sheryl, as thick as he could make it from floor to ceiling. He took a step forward and then added a second layer, just as broad as the first.

“Ha. She will suffocate in there, you know.”

“You’d slip through any air holes.”

“I will just have to break it down, then.” The red shade shot toward him.

Hector made a shield--a crude slab of metal over his arm--and the shadow splashed against it, spraying outward before swirling around to Hector’s backside. He slashed with a focused dagger, but more red was already on the way. Within seconds, it had him entirely enveloped.

The shadow faltered against the iron wall, however, cutting into it but not nearly deep enough. “Eh. Too much hassle. I am not interested in Sheryl, anyway.”

Hector struggled, but without his undead strength, he couldn’t even move.

Ms. Trent popped off the wall, suspended in midair. “How about a bargain?” said Geoffrey. “Tell your reaper to show himself, and I will allow this woman to live.”