Time slowed further. The zombie, even though it was still flying, appeared to be floating in the air like it was in zero-G. Only its legs were covered with armour, but he could see it creeping up. The spread was slow, but in a second or so of real time, he knew it would be fully decked out in armour and then invulnerable. The spot it was travelling toward was trap free as the strength zombie had thrown his twin on the same trajectory the first two grunts had followed. The throw was not intended to be dangerous.

The mouse’s eyes shifted slightly, and he saw wood spikes in the air. They were dropping like he would expect something toppling off a shelf would fall. Which was fast, particularly when they were the only things moving. The zombie was almost still. It hung in the air, rotated so it was flying backward while looking at its twin with murder in its eyes.

Understanding flashed through him, the bloodlust he had felt in his precious-but-obviously-not-innocent mouse, the glow he had seen coming out of her, those spikes moving when everything else was frozen.

She had manually triggered the trap, and those spikes were moving as fast as bullets.

In his mind, he measured the angles. The zombie was directly underneath the trap and its armour would not form over its torso in time to repeal the collision.

Could . . . ?

What?

Was it possible?

Had Priscilla set things up to kill the twin?

Everything was still frozen. One part of him thought keeping the time slowed was wasteful, but Priscilla wanted to see. She seemed obsessed with seeing the splash of blood. He was probably going to have nightmares about what the mouse that Tamara doted on was capable of if she was let free to do her own thing. For goodness’s sake, what would it be like if she had the size and tools of a typical house cat?

Three of the spikes were on target. The first slammed into a flailing arm. The entire arm distorted under the pressure. Then the skin split, breaking like a rubber balloon while the spike kept going. The width of the arm expanded as it penetrated. Clinically, it was fascinating, just like watching a super-slow-motion replay.

That spike would not kill it, but the second spike hit the zombie on the right shoulder. It was less pronounced this time, none of the balloon breaking effect, but as Daniel watched, it sank into the zombie like a nail through soft wood. Then it kept going till it disappeared. The zombie was reacting, its eyes widening, mouth opening, but it was mostly still frozen in time. It had only moved a centimetre closer to the floor. Time was as good as stopped, and the spike had disappeared, anyway. That was how much power Daniel packed into his traps.

Then the third spike hit the leg. It was glancing, but sometimes glancing was good. He still remembered how tearing a chunk of flesh from Fire Hands had disabled the monster. This last spike dug into the flesh as it moved. To his disappointment, it was cutting rather than shearing, so there was going to be no flesh getting torn off.

There was a sudden spike of excitement in the mouse.

What?

He looked closer. The second spike had emerged, exiting out just above the left hip. That was . . .

A killing strike?

He traced the route the shard of wood must have taken. Straight through the heart. In folklore, that was enough to kill a vampire. The third spike suddenly shook, disintegrating, and popped out of the leg after it struck the rising tide of earth armour.

It would not matter that spike had pierced the heart. It was a dead zombie flying.

Joy came from Priscilla. She enjoyed doing nice things for her pets.

The vision switched to the second twin. It had stepped forward, its own earth armour forming and spreading over itself, responding possibly to the trap triggering near its twin.

Before he could even process what was occurring, she blurred again.

Another trap was manually triggered. This was one of the pressure traps on the wall. The spikes went straight for the back of the strength twin, but Priscilla was already moving, jumping and shifting positions.

The zombie stumbled forward like someone much bigger than it had kicked it in its back. The traps packed a wallop even if the spikes could not punch through the armour.

Another glow.

She was moving but paused long enough to watch the ceiling trap swing down with more than just gravity driving it. A long row of spikes led the trap, which slammed into the zombie, hitting it in the chest.

The points all broke as the armour withstood everything, but it knocked the creature right off its feet, so it was flying down the stairs just like the three zombies it had previously tossed.

The twin was airborne right down to the bottom landing before slamming to a stop on the spikes down there. She had set this in motion and planned for that outcome. This was exactly what Priscilla wanted.

Daniel realised to his horror that in some very mathematical ways the mouse was significantly smarter than him.

There was no blood. Priscilla was not concerned. She did not see this as a personal affront. More something that she had planned for. Her thoughts told Daniel that earth armour was about to fail.

She blurred again.

Thud.

Blur.

Crack!

Priscilla, once more hidden amongst some broken wooden traps, assessed the latest outcome. The strength twin was still covered with its earth armour. Somehow, it had survived the multiple direct hits to date. But then again, they had known that the earth armour was impressive.

Oh well, at least her intervention had killed one of the elites.

The Professor appeared halfway down the stairs. The damaged twin looked plaintively up at it.

The earth armour crumbled and Priscilla nodded, and it felt like she was very satisfied with what she was seeing. What had she seen? Or noticed? That he had missed?

The twin was very poised and suspiciously still. Panic and terror lurked in its eyes, and it looked up at the Professor. The twin jerked like an enormous weight had landed on its chest. Then roared and through his flesh ears on the floor above, through the door, Daniel could hear it.

Another nod from the mouse.

The twin was trying to push itself up. Then it slumped backwards like another weight had landed on top of it.

Again it roared.

Priscilla was almost combusting in her excitement, and time briefly stopped. Daniel could now see it. Wood was poking out of its guts. Those flinches back had resulted in it impaling itself.

The Professor looked like it was smiling. The twin appeared panicked. Both its arms scrambled to hold itself up, and Daniel understood it was not just the spike he could see jutting up from behind it. There must be dozens of spines either already piercing its skin or at least close to doing so.

The Professor stepped forward and stamped hard on the exposed head.

“Roaar.”

The twin strained its head forward, trying to stop its head from going backwards. The Professor’s human features were grinning like an inmate getting ice cream in a lunatic asylum.

Another stamp. A third, a fourth, then a loud crack as spike plunged in. It reminded Daniel a lot of how he had disposed of that first zombie.

God. Daniel looked through the mouse’s eyes in shock.

That grin. Then the rest of the fight came together. The Professor had murdered its previous ally. That weight that had pressed on the zombie at the start that had been the Professor using its telekinesis.

He could see the Professor’s canines; they were showing. Its face . . . it looked like it had just had an orgasm. It was a monster, and it killed for fun.

Daniel shook his head to get his mind back on the game. Half the traps in the stairwell were gone, but they had eliminated three out of the six elites. They were halfway; even if it was only because of the psychotic Professor, they were on target.

The image he was receiving went dark and then a moment later there was an image of not one packet of chips but two of them.

One per elite—he agreed with the request easily enough. Then he fully walled off his mind. Killing an elite was worth way over one packet, but he really did not want the mouse figuring that out.

Excited determination bubbled up through the bond. Priscilla was imagining proudly pulling two “unopened” packets into her den.

“Yes!”

“What?”

“Priscilla just killed two elites.”

“How?” Tamara asked a quizzical expression on her face, probably imagining Priscilla shooting like a meteorite through a zombie’s neck.

“With the traps. I offered her a packet of chips per kill.”

“Promise her ten if she can kill all the zombies in the building,” Tamara suggested before laughing. Then cut off her laughter when she realised they were still waiting for the monsters to come to them. “Are they coming?” she asked after a moment’s hesitation.

It was wasteful, but he blasted out Animal Sense.

They were all there at the base of the stairwell, all the remaining zombies on the floor below them. Three elites and three standards, and they were standing by for something, or a signal.

“Six in total,” he shouted, knowing they could probably hear him, but he was fine with that. If they rushed, then it would be more likely for them to make a mistake. “Three elites: Professor, Ice, and Club.”

There were nods from everyone.

Priscilla sent an image. They were rushing up the stairs. Together.

“They are coming.”