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It was a strange sight. Stoker’s head had been removed from his body, and Stoker was clearly still conscious. He didn’t seem capable of speech quite yet, but his body was regenerating--which was the oddest thing, Hector felt. Stoker’s body wasn’t growing a new head. His head was growing a new body. After a moment, Hector figured that it only made sense that the regeneration should work that way, considering how important the brain was to servants, but even so--it was almost like there would be two Stokers now. Except one was dead. And headless.

“Someone help!” came a sudden plea from the rubble of a nearby ice cream parlor.

“Help!” came another.

And still another. Several more. All around him.

There were too many. Hector knew he didn’t have time to help all of them before Karkash showed up again. But he could at least get to a few.

First was a little girl trapped under a staircase. Then a man in an overturned delivery truck.

“What are you doing?!” came a man’s voice. It was Stoker, fully regenerated and clothed. “Just leave them! We have to go kill Karkash!”

Hector ignored him.

Garovel spoke up in his place. ‘Where is your reaper?’

At that, Stoker ran off toward the restaurant from before.

Garovel remained close to Hector. ‘He does have a point, though. Rescue crews should be here soon. The priority is still Karkash.’

An iron dome formed over a couple of battered teenagers, shielding them from a collapsing roof. Enough space was left for them to escape safely.

“I know,” said Hector, “but if I can just--”

Colt rolled up in his car, the twins in the backseat and Bohwanox on his tail. “Need some help?”

“What’re you doing?” said Hector. “You said you’d keep your distance!”

‘You just worry about keeping that electric asshole occupied,’ said Bohwanox.

“But--!”

“Just shut up and take my help,” said Colt. “I already owe you way too much, as it is.”