Dashing into the front hallway again, she retrieves the freeze ray from behind the open door and tucks it under her arm. It’s tempting to shoot it at the vamps, but she didn’t look closely enough at the schematics to know exactly how it works. It needs to be plugged into an electrical socket. What if it needs to heat up—or cool down—before it can be fired? It would be so embarrassing to get bitten to death because she was trying to use a supervillain weapon that looks like a giant hair dryer. She’ll portal somewhere else to try it out.

“Not so fast, Slayer,” Angelus says. He staggers into the hallway, Spike close behind. “I’m gonna need that gem.”

Spike smacks him in the arm. “So you can gift it to the vengeance girl? I knew I smelled something going on between you two. She’s so your type. Ancient, petite, all the subtlety of a Fyarl with its horns on fire. Might as well call her Darla 2.0.”

The Slayer freezes. Before, she might have been content to leave these vamps here, beaten but still walking. But fury makes her brain go fuzzy.

“You partnered with a vengeance demon?” she asks through gritted teeth.

“Partnered with is a bit of a stretch,” Angelus says. “She’s a new acquaintance. She came into the Bronze today to alert us about your plan—”

As he speaks, he rubs at the back of his neck. The motion is so painfully familiar to the Slayer. It’s so Angel, her Angel, all bashful and unsure. If he had the ability, he’d be blushing.

Over a vengeance demon.

The Slayer’s pulse pounds in her ears. Hatred and jealousy twist inside her, so knotted together that she can’t pry them apart to reason with either. She knows this isn’t her Angel. This isn’t her reality. This isn’t a man she’d even want to rub his neck over her.

And yet.

She bangs the staff into the ground, telling the gem, “Somewhere sunny!”

Obliging, a portal opens. The narrow entry hallway is flooded with natural light, illuminating the drywall-dusted floor. Exposed skin smoking, the vampires fall back, snarling.

The Slayer dives into the portal, pausing for one last glimpse of Angelus’s ponytail catching fire before she disappears into a new dimension.

Ten

“I’M NOT GOING to let you rip me off here, warlock,” Anya said. “There is no way this is worth less than a hundred and fifty.”

“I paid fifty quid for that back in London,” Ripper said.