through that door. You want the first one? I’ll deal with Darren.”

“Okay.” Sam made her way to the bathroom. Two sat down at the desk, looking at her watch.

* * *

Darren made it back with just under twenty seconds to spare, and dumped the clothes unceremoniously on the desk in front of Two. He stood, waiting, anger like embers at the back of his eyes. Two had her feet up. Tori was curled up at her side, but she opened one eye and growled low when Darren entered. Two glanced at the clothes, nodded, and turned to look at him.

“So what happens now, Darren?”

“You tell me, slu... Two. You’re the one with the gun and the crazy bitch who thinks she’s a dog.”

“You don’t want to talk about her like that. I don’t think she’s very fond of you, and I know that I’m not.”

“Feeling’s mutual.”

“Money, Darren. How much have you got here? Don’t lie to me.”

“Three, maybe four grand in the safe.”

“I want it. Then you can go... under one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Get out of this business. You’re smart enough to make money some other way. I don’t give a shit what you do. Open a bar. Run drugs. Whatever. Just stay away from girls. You’ve fucked up enough of them.”

Darren rolled his eyes. “Spare me. Doesn’t seem to have done you too badly...”

Two closed her eyes a moment, thinking of Theroen. “No? You don’t have a clue, Darren, and you’re walking into bad territory. I’m giving you a break here. If revenge was everything, I should have Tori tear your prick off with her teeth so I can feed it to you. It’s not, and I’m trying to be better than that. Don’t talk to me about how I’m doing. Just get me my money.”

Darren went to a safe at the wall, and if Two had been human, things might have ended some other way. As it was, she could see exactly what was in the safe, was well aware of the cold glint of metal in the shadows. Darren stood by the safe, appearing to count money.

He looked up at her, and there was a small smile on his face. “You sure I have to leave? I was damn good at this.”

Two rolled her eyes. “Yeah, your exploitation of twelve year olds is renowned, and your woman-beating skills are top-notch, Darren.”

Darren shrugged. “Got to keep you in line. We had a business relationship, Two. I gave you what you wanted, you paid for it.”

“Fuck you. I never wanted that. You forced it on me.”

“And you loved it. I know you stole shit from those other girls. You loved getting high. What’s so wrong with that? It’s good shit. What does it matter what you paid for it?”

“That’s not love. That’s need.”

“What’s the difference?” Darren shifted position. His eyelid twitched, and he glanced at her. Cagey. Two knew what was coming. She thought about his question. Love. Need. What was the difference? She loved Theroen. She needed the blood. She loved the blood. She needed Theroen.

“You can’t have love without need. You can have need without love. This is going nowhere, Darren. You’re done.” Two glanced down at Tori, who was looking up at her in anticipation. Tori could feel the tension growing. Two held out a hand, hidden from Darren’s view behind the desk, telling Tori to wait.

“Suppose I said I don’t want to leave?” Darren would have seemed calm to a normal person. To Two he was a bundle of nervous tics. Tiny involuntary muscle movements around his eyes, in the muscles of his right arm.

“I’d tell you that you don’t have much choice.”

“Baby, I have all the choice in the world.” Darren snarled and made his move, bringing his arm up, pointing the gun at Two. As he began his move, Two closed her hand into a fist. Tori leapt into motion.

Darren was quick, but Tori was supernatural, a creature beyond the bounds of human limitation. If the vampire girl had moved fast before, she was lightning now, covering the distance between her and Darren so quickly that her passage made an audible rushing noise. The gun was knocked away, Tori’s teeth found his throat, her head made a ripping, rending motion, and Two’s former pimp ended his life with a gurgle that was supposed to be a scream.

* * *

“I thought you said you didn’t do this often.” Sam was standing at the doorway to the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, staring at the slumped