Zac stared up at the slasher. It leered down at him and laughed. It lifted one foot, slowly and deliberately. Zac spared a moment to hope it would make things fast, and then shook himself violently. What was he thinking? He could not give up, no matter how much he hurt.

He had to keep fighting. He had to survive. If he died, he left that little girl alone, in a mall full of monsters.

Zac flung himself sideways, rolling out from under the slasher's attack at the last possible second.

He had to think, and think fast. He had no weapons, he was injured, and he could barely stagger to his feet.

But.

He only needed to hold out for a few minutes. Skye was coming back, and she could make the thing disperse back into the shadows.

What could he do? Flinging himself at it and flailing pathetically in hopes of doing some modicum of damage might amuse the creature and keep its attention on him, but it was also the next thing to suicide. He couldn't take much more of being flung around like a rag doll.

He skittered aside as the slasher turned and reached for him. He dodged its reaching arm by inches.

“Zac!” That was Alex. Of course the idiot left the office. He only had a command from Death herself to stay put.

Wait. Alex. Zac looked at his hands. He'd hurt Alex just by touching him. Skye called it a death touch. Said he had to mean it. To want it.

Damn but did he want to hurt this creature.

He jumped at its back, trying to get his hands on its head or neck. He managed a pretty solid grip on a shoulder. That would have to do.

Now what?

He'd been hurting, and touched Alex, and Alex screamed. So. He was hurting now, and touching the creature. Nothing was happening. Was the slasher just immune? No, Skye implied her abilities worked on it and this death touch was somehow related to her Aspect's power. So. Maybe he misunderstood.

There was pain, and there was pain.

It wasn't the physical ache that had burned through Zac when he grabbed Alex. It was the man's face, the disgust burned across features he thought belonged to a friend.

He remembered the taste of drugged coffee. He'd have known it was contaminated if he'd taken even a moment to check. But he did not check. Because he trusted his friend. He felt sick. It burned, to remember how Alex called him freak. How Alex kicked him, spat on him, stood by while he was hurt.

Zac held that burning, shamed, angry pain and pressed all of it into his hands. Into the Slasher. He could not contain all that pain himself. It had to go somewhere. Why not into the monster? It ate pain, did it not? Let it have all it could take!

His hands burned, the long, draining burn of iron and betrayal. And then, the Slasher screamed. At last, something made it stop laughing. It screamed, threw its head back so that for a moment only the hood feel aside. It was just... a man. Under there. Even the eyes stopped glowing.

And then the scream, and the Slasher, faded into a rush of shadows. Zac crashed to the ground.

“W—what just happened?” one of the new ones, Paul, Zac thought, asked.

Wow but these men could not take orders.

Zac shook himself and staggered to his feet. Everything hurt, and there were some lovely new burns on his shoulder and side from the mesh gate, but he could stand. He looked around, seeing the open office door, from which Jacob peeked. Alex, standing next to the door with a gun in hand. Maybe it was even loaded, who knew? And Paul, with his back pressed against the wall. Jeff was nowhere to be seen. He'd either obeyed and was safe in the office, or he'd fled and they would have to try to find him before the slasher reactivated and hunted him down.

Alex moved, walking cautiously until he stood just a little out of arm's reach of Zac. So he did have some brains. Zac looked at him, waiting.

“What did you do?” Alex asked.

Zac shrugged. “Dispatched it, for the moment.”

“You didn't do that the last time,” Jacob chimed in.

Right, the boy had seen his attempt at fighting the slasher before Skye's arrival. Zac hadn't really been aware of his presence at the time, but he had been the one the slasher was after.

Zac glanced at his hand. “Couldn't, then.”

“But you can, now? Why?” Alex asked.

Zac looked at him with one eyebrow raised. “What possible incentive do I have to explain anything to you?”

“We have to work together to survive," Alex said.

“You have to work with us,” Zac said. “We will be just fine without you.”

“Speaking of your better half,” Alex mused, “where is she?”

Skye answered that question herself, by arriving at a slow run, with a grown man slung haphazardly over her shoulders. She carried a moaning red haired man in a clumsy fireman's carry, and dropped him quickly to the ground.

“Corey!” Jacob yelped.

“Broken leg,” Skye reported, “Probably exacerbated by me carrying him like that but not a lot of choice. I sensed the slasher here. What happened?”

“I... can fight it now,” Zac said, slowly. “I, ah, used the death touch.”

“On purpose?” Skye stood a little straighter, obviously surprised.

Zac nodded.

“Wow," Skye said, "Usually takes a while to get that under control.”

Usually? Were there many people wielding a part of Death's power?

“I'm practiced at control,” Zac said.

“Oh, right.” Skye nodded and stepped aside so Jacob could reach the injured man.

“What happened to Corey?” Alex demanded. “And where are the others you said you'd rescue?”

“Hey, three out of five isn't bad,” Skye said, “The others are still hiding. We'll gather them in a minute.” She shook her head. “The thing is baiting me now. It grabbed that guy,” she motioned to where Jacob was trying to figure out how to splint a very broken shin bone, “and snapped his leg clean in two. Then it vanished, and popped back up here. I...” Skye shrugged. “I honestly don't know what to do except get all of you together. So it can't pull that little trick again.”

“What's stopping it from grabbing the others?” Alex demanded.

“Not much, except that Zac damaged it and it needs to gain back some energy first,” Skye said. She paused, perceiving something the rest could only guess at. “You hurt it a lot, we should have time to gather the other two.”

“Should,” Zac repeated.

“Does anyone have something I could use as a splint?” Jacob piped up from where he knelt on the floor. “The kit has plenty of bandages, but nothing I can use to brace the bone.”

Interestingly, the boy's voice was much steadier with a patient to treat. Zac remembered that Jacob had seemed to lose some of his fear of Zac when he treated the wounds from the glass.

Skye nodded and walked over to the nearest chair. She calmly snapped a metal leg off of the thing and brought it over.

“Will this do?” she asked.

Jacob nodded, and for a wonder didn't bother to flinch when she handed it to him. He just strapped the thing to Corey's broken leg, eliciting a thin whine from the injured man.

“Hurts,” he whined.

“Yeah,” Skye said with something remarkably like sympathy in her voice. “Broke my arm falling off a mausoleum when I was six. Hurt like crazy.”

There was a beat of silence as everyone, Zac included, stared at her.

“What?” Skye asked.

“Mausoleum?” Zac squeaked.

“Death fell off a mausoleum? Seriously?” Alex choked.

Skye shrugged. “I was six. My balance wasn't that great.”

“But why were you...” Jacob stopped, tied off the splint, and shook his head. “You know what, no, I don't think any of us want to know.”

“Probably not,” Skye acknowledged.

Zac sat down on the ground, leaned back against the peeling paint of the wall. He knew they would need to move soon, and move fast, but for the moment he needed the rest. Fighting was tiring at the best times. He had no idea what the new ability, the death touch, would cost him to use but there was always a cost. Always.

He would wait until they had some privacy before mentioning the matter to Skye. She was, rightly, hesitant to share anything that might be construed as a weakness with the Hunt Initiative men. Just because they had a functional truce at the moment did not mean they would not turn on her the moment they thought it would give them an advantage.

“So.” Alex moved to stand somewhat near Skye but carefully out of stabbing range.

“Let me guess. What now?” Skye made a wry face. “We keep asking that. We're reacting, not acting. That's not good.” Skye crossed her arms. “The group is too large, and now there's an injured party,” she shrugged towards Corey, who had been settled against the wall near Zac. “We need a secure base.”

“Any idea how to keep a slasher from teleporting right into whatever base we pick?” Alex asked the room at large, but only Zac would reasonably be expected to answer.

“Salt circle,” Zac suggested. “A protective circle of salt should do the job. Skye has enough power to make it proof against the slasher, for a time at least.”

“Where are we gonna get salt?” Skye asked.

“There's some in the security office,” Jacob said.

He very carefully did not look at Zac when he said that. Zac wondered what they'd meant to do to him that involved salt. He did not want to know enough to ask, though.

“Okay,” Skye said. “Alex and, uh, you...” she pointed to Mike. “Go to the security office. Get the salt. Zac, stay with the main group since you're the only other one who can fight the thing. I'll get the stragglers.”

“Where are we going to make the base?” Alex asked. “The main office is really too small.”

Skye looked around. “The theater.” She pointed down the main hallway. “There's an old arcade in there, only one entrance, and there's room to fight if the salt doesn't work. Think you can get this useless mob that far?” Skye smirked at Zac.

“It'll be a trial,” Zac admitted, “but I'll manage.” He paused. “Be cautious, please.”

He didn't like letting her go alone, but her reasoning was sound. Alex and Mike would have to take their chances. Speaking of which. Zac stepped forward and lowered his voice, so that only Skye could hear.

“Will you tell him?” Zac asked.

“About probably being the next host? Yeah.” Skye shrugged. “Wish me luck.”

Zac nodded and turned to figure out how, exactly, to get six likely uncooperative humans, one with a broken limb, into a locked theater. With, he noted, yet another steel mesh grate over the entrance.

Well, he would manage. He usually did.

“How long until the slasher reforms?” he asked.

“Quarter hour at best.” Skye stepped back. “If the other two are in better condition and cooperative I can get them to the theater in time. If not.” She shrugged. “I'll burn that bridge when I get to it. Good luck.”

“Good luck," Zac said.

Skye walked away, then, followed by a silent Alex and a loudly complaining Mike. Zac turned to look at the rest.

“Okay. Fifteen minutes.” Zac wished he had a watch. They'd fallen out of fashion recently; most people carried phones and looked at them for the time. “Let's move, people.”