Nina. I lean into it.
Doug coughs to cover up a laugh. “She’s a Slayer, mate. You should probably tell her.”
“A Slayer!” Instead of looking intimidated, Clem brightens. “Do you know Buffy? I haven’t seen her since Sunnydale was swallowed whole! It was a simpler time back then. Just a demon, trying to make it on a hellmouth. None of the cameras and the fame and the love of my life who can’t see me, you know?”
Doug and I share an awkward glance. We actually do know. We both nod encouragingly.
Clem continues. “Anyway, you should have said you were a Slayer. Slayers and I go way back. Here.” He pulls out one of his cards, scribbling an address on the back. “If you see Buffy, tell her Clem says hello, would you? And if you see that good-for-nothing peroxided nightmare of a vampire, tell him I haven’t forgotten he owes me ten Scottish Folds and three Siamese. Gets a soul and thinks all debts are crossed off. I’ll have those cats from him, diet be damned.” Muttering to himself, he heads back inside.
“That was really weird.” I stare at the door. The three smoking demons have gone back in as well. Only one demon is left out here with us, a human-looking woman in a black cloak leaning against a wall. “Right? It’s not just me. That was weird.”
“Demon conferences tend to be.” Doug holds out the card. “Let’s go see whether this collector has managed to nab any nasty incubuses or succubuses—succubi? Incubi? Succubussesses? No wonder they’re going extinct, what a nuisance. Hopefully it turns out Von Alston has something less nasty and easier to say. Or that he actually is a friend, he’s not the nameless threat hunting for demons, it’s all a misunderstanding, and he gives us a check for no reason.”
“One of those giant cardboard ones. With lots of zeroes. Maybe then we can finally fix up the tower section of the castle.”
“I call dibs if we do. Always wanted a room in a tower.”
“No way. I’m the Slayer. I get the tower room. Assuming it ever isn’t a total crumbling safety hazard that would get the whole building condemned if anyone actually knew the castle existed.” I pause, nuzzling the purring kitten. “Aw man. Now I really want a tower room. Let’s go see about that imaginary check. Or demons, I guess. Whichever.”
We turn to find our way blocked by the woman in the cloak. “Doug!” she says brightly. “Fancy meeting you here!” And then, knife in hand, she lunges.
I shove Doug out of the way so hard he slams into the wall and slumps to the ground, winded. The woman dodges me, blade winking wickedly in the sun. I’m still holding the kitten. It purrs, a soft warm ball against my chest. I duck a slash of the knife, spin left, and kick at the woman’s leg. She jumps, landing neatly and punching me hard in the side. I shift to protect the kitten, then toss it gently onto Doug’s chest.
“Okay.” I hold up my fists. “Now I’m ready.”
She comes at me with a flash of menace and metal. I twist and turn, working backward, leading her away from Doug. When she’s far enough that she can’t hurt him—or the kitten—I stop so abruptly she stumbles, confused.
“You sure you want this fight?” The need for a fight is roaring inside of me, begging for it. Nobody gets to hurt my friends. Nobody gets to take someone I love. I tremble with the effort of holding it all back.
She snarls and slashes. So I don’t hold back anymore. I catch her arm, twisting until it pops. She screams and drops the knife. I let her hit me with her good arm, barely feeling it as I lift her and pin her against the brick wall. She kicks and I press against her dislocated shoulder.
Sweat breaks out on her face. She groans in pain, gritting her teeth, but there’s nothing she can do against me, and we both know it.
I hold her there. “You can tell Sean he’s never touching Doug again.”
She laughs, pain making the laughter sound discordant and unhinged. “You think I take orders from Sean now? He’s little leagues, love. And you’re in over your head. Everyone you love is already his. You just don’t know it yet.”
I grab her neck. Rage so ancient it defies understanding pulses through me. It’s ready to devour something. Better her than me. Something slips from her sleeve