The newcomer gave a low, sinister laugh as he sized them up. The light in his jet eyes told her how much he looked forward to the fight.
His gaze actually goaded them.
"Bad form to take a hostage," he said in a deep, smoothly accented voice that rumbled like thunder. "Especially when you know I'm going to kill you anyway."
In that instant, Cassandra knew who and what the newcomer was.
He was a Dark-Hunter-an immortal warrior who spent eternity hunting down and executing the Daimons who fed off human souls. They were the defenders of mankind and the personification of Satan for her people.
She'd heard of them all her life, but much like the bogeyman, she'd attributed them to urban legends.
But the man before her wasn't a figment of her imagination. He was real, and he looked every bit as deadly as the stories she'd heard.
"Out of my way, Dark-Hunter," the Daimon holding her said, "or I'll kill her."
Appearing amused by the threat, the Dark-Hunter shook his head like a parent scolding an angry child. "You know, you should have stayed in your bolt-hole one more day. Tonight's Buffy night, and it's a whole new episode, too."
The Dark-Hunter paused to sigh irritably. "Have you any idea how angry it makes me that I have to come out here in the freezing cold to slay you when I could be at home all toasty warm, watching Sarah Michelle Gellar kick ass in a halter top?"
The Daimon's arms shook as he tightened his grip on Cassandra. "Get him!"
The Daimons attacked at once. The Dark-Hunter caught the first one by the throat. In one fluid motion, he picked the Daimon up and slammed him against the wall where he held him in a tight fist.
The Daimon whimpered.
"What are you, a baby?" the Dark-Hunter asked. "Jeez, if you're going to kill humans, the least you could do is learn to die with some dignity."
A second Daimon dove for his back. As the Dark-Hunter twisted his lower body, a long, evil-looking knife shot out of the toe of his boot. He buried the blade in the center of the Daimon's chest.
Instantly, the Daimon exploded into powder.
The Daimon in the Dark-Hunter's grip flashed his long canine teeth as he tried to bite and kick him. The Dark-Hunter tossed him into the arms of the third Daimon.
They stumbled back and landed in a heap on the floor.
The Dark-Hunter shook his head at the two Daimons as they stumbled over each other, trying to regain their feet.
More attacked and he cut through them with an ease that was as scary as it was morbidly beautiful.
"Come on, where did you learn to fight?" he asked as he killed two more. "Miss Manners' School for Girls?" He sneered contemptuously at the Daimons. "My baby sister could hit harder than you when she was three years old. Damn, if you're going to turn Daimon, the least you could do is take a few fighting lessons so you can make my boring job more interesting." He sighed wearily and looked up at the ceiling. "Where are the Spathi Daimons when you need them?"
While the Dark-Hunter was distracted, the Daimon holding her moved the gun from her temple and fired four shots into him.
The Dark-Hunter turned very slowly toward them.
Fury descending over his face, he glared at the Daimon who had shot him. "Have you no honor? No decency? No damn brains? You don't kill me with bullets. You just piss me off."
He looked down at the bleeding wounds in his side, then pulled his coat out so that light shone through the holes in the leather. He cursed again. "And you just ruined my friggin' favorite coat."
The Dark-Hunter growled at the Daimon. "For that, you die."
Before Cassandra could move, the Dark-Hunter whipped his hand toward them. A thin black cord shot out and wrapped itself around the Daimon's wrist.
Faster than she could blink, the Dark-Hunter closed the distance between them, jerked the Daimon's wrist, and wrung his forearm.
She stumbled away from the Daimon and pressed herself against the broken jukebox, out of their way.
With one hand still on the Daimon's arm, the Dark-Hunter grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off his feet. In a graceful arc, he slung the Daimon onto a table. Glasses shattered under the weight of the Daimon's back. The gun hit the wooden floor with a cold, metallic thud.