Anya was shocked to find her vision blurring with tears. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me,” she choked, fanning the moisture in her eyes with the money wad. “You know how much I hate Human-Mike.”

She threw her arms out, pulling the boys back into a group hug. A shorter one.

Wiping her tears away, Anya stepped back, tucking Human-Mike’s money into her pocket. There would be plenty of time to ponder the ways that being short a couple of hundred dollars would impact the human Best Pressed manager’s ability to maneuver in the world. But now there was work to do. Not juicery work.

It was time to set everything right.

She reached for her talisman necklace and called out, “Blessed be the name of D’Hoffryn!”

Preceded by his typical cannonade of lightning, D’Hoffryn arrived, his blue head carried in the arms of Vengeance LLC’s receptionist. With a tremendous effort, Anya held back a groan of annoyance. The receptionist—a blond girl who had been human until very recently—had somehow survived the slayer’s attack on the office, living to spend another day complaining that Arashmaharr didn’t have a Starbucks. Even though it did have a Dunkin’ Donuts, which, as far as Anya was concerned, was just as good.

“Oh, wow, Anyanka,” the receptionist said, her heavy Valley girl accent pulling all of her words up at the end so that they all sounded like individual questions. “You got the gem and a new hair color? I’m living for that strawberry blond. Earth totally agrees with you, girl.”

D’Hoffryn raised his hairless brow at Anya, silently prompting her to respond.

Anya didn’t know why the Lower Being had such a soft spot for this girl, who had been mortal less than a year ago. It wasn’t like the receptionist was even authorized to perform actual vengeance yet. She’d been hired just to answer incoming phone calls and emails, but then she’d cut one person’s brake lines and was suddenly declared a “real up-and-comer,” the darling of the office.

Through clenched teeth, Anya forced herself to say, “Thank you, Harmony.”

“I am quite pleased to see that you have retrieved the Marnoxon gem for us, Anyanka,” D’Hoffryn said. He rocked his head back and forth in Harmony’s grasp; his stubby horns tapped her arm. “Harmony, up!” he commanded.

“Oops, sorry!” Harmony scrambled toward the bar. She simpered at Angelus, nodding at the bar next to the Marnoxon gem. “Could you be a sweetie and wipe this down for us?”

Eyes blazing, Angelus slapped a bar towel down and pushed it in a lazy circle before slopping it back into the bucket whence it came. Harmony, immune to all forms of hostility, cheerily thanked him and set D’Hoffryn’s head on the damp wood.