“Demonic small businesses like the Bronze are prospering under the sunshade,” the Mayor said. “Now, I’m an optimistic person. I believe that we are entering an era of demonic prosperity. An era in which vampires can walk outside at any time of day. Unshackled by the sun. Empowered by a community of like-minded fiends from all over—above and below. A community of true diversity like I see in this room. Different species, different abilities, different hungers, coexisting. We are living the dream here in this fine city. And I mean to extend this utopia throughout the entirety of the great state of California.”

A cheer went up, this one unprompted. The Mayor pretended not to enjoy it, pushing his hands down as he asked the crowd to settle.

“Imagine, not being confined to one town,” he said, wagging his thumb. “Traveling to the beautiful wineries of Napa County and drinking blood rich with cabernet sauvignon. Walking through Yosemite National Park, beholding the glory of the falls—which are second only to the ice floes of hell’s Pyrlantabuz. I know I’ll never forget my first taste of San Francisco sourdough, dipped into a steamy bowl of clam chowder. The year was 1895, and I was seated beside a fellow by the name of Burmut, a thrall demon who came to the surface with nothing but the green slime on his back and a dream. A dream of belonging to this crazy world of ours.”

Spike returned from the bar, a pint of blood in one hand and a beer in the other. He chugged the blood first, then washed it down with an equally large swig of beer.

Angelus leaned over to him, murmuring, “I’m proud of you for taking a stand against Dru. Truth be told, I never really liked the two of you together.”

“That was never much of a secret, old man,” Spike scoffed. “You went all ‘not my daughter’ the second she brought me home.”

“You were a reckless prick, always getting into trouble.” Angelus chuckled. “I liked your hair back then, though. You looked better before the bleach.”

Spike licked away his blood mustache. “You look better without the ponytail. The slayer did you a favor.”

“I’ll let that slide. I know you’re heartbroken.”

“Hey, Angelus,” Jonathan whispered. He forced himself to stand his ground and not flinch when the hulking vampire turned toward him. “Are there electrical sockets in here?”

“Of course,” Angelus said. “What is this? The Dark Ages?”

“I want to charge my weapon so I can be ready when the time comes,” Jonathan said. He didn’t want a repeat of the powerlessness he’d faced in the Church of the Eternal Night catacombs. This time, he would be prepared to face the slayer.