Anya disliked the way this made her insides seize up. It was an unfamiliar, troublesome feeling. Like her organs had turned to bricks.

“No, I wouldn’t like to see them torn apart by an angry mob,” she said. “If they aren’t already being torn apart by an angry mob.”

Taking advantage of the eyebrows he only had when he wasn’t fully vamped out, Angelus looked surprised. “You don’t want vengeance?”

“I exact my own vengeance,” she told him.

She was pretty sure that she should have been worried about Jonathan and Andrew being sent to recruit their army. It was a dangerous mission for two humans. All day, she had guarded the boys, only to send them to shepherd Demondale’s nastiest creatures.

If they wanted my protection, they should have thought twice about giving me that mendacious money, she thought. In violating her trust, they had freed her of the burden of responsibility. Only having to look out for herself again was good.

Not that she felt good. But just because she didn’t feel it didn’t mean she didn’t know it wasn’t true. Feelings were the misfirings of her ridiculous human meat suit. Logic was logic.

It would have been nice to stop feeling the impulse to check if they were safe.

Seeing the giant steel box of the Bronze rise into the foreground was a relief. She could use a cold drink before her next attempt at saving the world.

At the Bronze’s front door, the bouncer let Anya and Angelus pass without comment. Glancing down at her wrist, Anya found that she was still wearing a red wristband. It had been hours, not days, since she had brought Andrew and Jonathan to the vampire club.

Inside, it seemed that nothing had changed since Drusilla had foretold the slayer’s arrival that afternoon. The barstools were occupied. Wellex demons crowded around the pool tables using their polelike limbs as cue sticks. Fyarl-demon waiters carried platters of food to tall tables. The musical stage was empty, but hidden speakers screeched what had to be Drusilla and the Dollies’ greatest hits. The dance floor was congested with gyrating chaos demons. Antler goo flew across the club as they danced.

It was all disconcertingly normal.

Behind the bar, a loose-skinned demon’s whole body swished with the effort of mixing something in a cocktail shaker.

“Hey, boss,” the loose-skinned demon said to Angelus as he and Anya approached. “You take care of that slayer problem?”

“Not yet, Clem,” Angelus said. He slid the wrinkled flyer across the bar. “We’re gonna open the doors a bit tonight. See if we can’t smoke the girl out. Things might get kind of hairy. I understand if you want to head out before the rumble starts. But your tentacle trick might come in handy here.”