Glory crouched, putting her face level with his. “And I feel like you should know that I wouldn’t mind keeping you around to clean out the ribbon dancers’ toilets. But I would never ever ever in the lifetime of hell itself let any human born on this miserable rock touch me. I am a goddess and you are a bug. With cute hair.”

Her fingers inched toward his temples, pressing down hard until white light appeared and her nails began to sink impossibly into his skull. Andrew cried out in pain, wild-eyed as he attempted to see what the goddess was doing to him. The white light grew brighter and Andrew’s screams intensified.

“Hey!” Anya shot to her feet. Fury made her skin tighten as her demon form burst to the surface. If she’d been in possession of her magic, she would have blasted the goddess out to sea with a wave of her hand. Being powerless, she pulled the Dagger of the Unkillable out of her pocket and pointed it at Glory. “Stop hurting him! He’s a weak little mortal who can’t defend himself! It was hard for him to disclose his sexuality to you! For reasons I don’t fully understand!”

“The regressive mores of a heteronormative society,” Willow muttered behind her.

Anya nodded at the red-haired vampire in thanks, then turned back to Glory. “And you are being cruel for no reason! We came all the way up this very steep hill to bring you the Black Flame flag so you could help protect this dimension from being destroyed! So, if you don’t want to help, fine. But that means we have to go fight the slayer ourselves! Again!”

The white light disappeared as the goddess withdrew her fingertips from Andrew’s head. Andrew fell forward, gasping for air as Glory narrowed her eyes at Anya. Colors roiled in the whites like an oil slick, making them difficult to look at directly.

“Did you say the slayer? You can’t mean the vampire slayer?” Glory asked. Her red lips pulled away from her teeth as she swung her head toward the Mayor. “Ew, Richie! This is the emergency you wanted to speak to me about? This is plebeian! A fire in the anthill. Boo-hoo. Life goes on.”

The Mayor cautiously rose to his feet, keeping his shoulders hunched in frightened deference. “It won’t, though, your eminence. According to our intel, the slayer means to wipe out this whole plane of existence. Top to bottom. Which means all of us.” He motioned at everyone on the nondivine side of the carpet. “And all of your worshippers, dancers, singers, temple guards, and hairdressers will cease to be. And you, I’m afraid, will go straight back to Aftarex. With your sisters. Always fighting over who’s the strongest, who’s the prettiest.”