“I’m not wrong!” the girl shrieks. In her rage, she begins to swell. Inflating like a tweenage bouncy castle, her willowy limbs fill the empty space at the center of the tasting room. Six feet tall. Then seven. Eight.

The Slayer climbs atop the nearest stack of barrels to avoid being squashed. Her route to the goat-head seal isn’t as clear as it had been before she tried to hug some evil shapeshifter pretending to be her mother. Live and learn.

“Give me the gem, Slayer,” the giant “sister” roars, bending down so that her enormous face is within spitting distance. If she starts to fi-fie-fo-fum, the Slayer is going to have to pull off some drastic maneuvers to keep from being eaten. “You’re not worthy of carrying it!”

“Just take the L—Dawn, was it?”

“I am the First Evil,” roars the entity. “Beyond sin, beyond death—”

“Beyond boring, beyond help,” the Slayer says as she takes off running down the line of barrels, which are, unfortunately, not as stable as she would have hoped. They roll and tumble out from beneath her, cracking against the ground like a particularly difficult Donkey Kong level. A tidal wave of wine splashes against the concrete floor. Somehow, the giant girl’s jeans remain unstained.

“Careful!” the Slayer warns the giant. “If you’re really my little sister, then there’s no way you’re old enough to drink that!”

The giant lets out another ear-piercing rage-screech. The monks swarm again, their robes rustling as they crowd toward the Slayer. She jumps off the last remaining wine barrel and onto the back of the closest monk, using the clamoring mass of them as stepping-stones to the bar top.

The goat-head seal watches impassively as the Slayer takes a running leap and slam-dunks the green gem into both prongs of the Black Flame. As the vineyard tumbles into nonexistence, the giant girl in the center of the tasting room shifts between shapes, wearing the faces of dozens of strangers before bursting into floaty pink mist.

“I told you that you weren’t my sister,” the Slayer says, shaking her head. “Summers women are all distinctly corporeal.”

“You cannot kill me, Slayer,” the pink mist says. “I am a concept that you will carry with you wherever you go, the very nature of evil itself—”

“I might carry the concept of you, but you-you? You’re a goner.”

With a flick of the staff, the Slayer lets herself fall backward into the purple light of the Creation gem’s portal.

THE DOWNTOWN STREETLAMPS made the white limestone of City Hall glow the way the moon used to. Back when the moon was visible. The sunshade spell blocked out all light in the sky, even the stars. Jonathan, who had grown up with a telescope in his room, assuming that one day he’d be tall enough to become an astronaut, missed being able to chart the constellations.

He also missed Warren. In the hours since he and Andrew had left the botched Ascension, Jonathan felt like he’d become completely invisible. He was pretty sure that Anya the vengeance demon hadn’t learned his name yet. And the vampires only looked at him when they were thinking about killing him. Undead-obsessed Andrew was thrilled to have three vamps to pepper with questions. He hadn’t even noticed that Jonathan was lagging behind the group.