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As Butch wobbled and reached out for the wall like he was having trouble standing, she took his arm. “Are you okay—”

A shrill whistle from John brought her head around just in time—another lesser was rushing at her, prepared to use the switchblade in its hand. Thanks to John, she ducked down and lunged forward, grabbing a thick wrist and taking control of the weapon while she stabbed upward, catching the slayer under the ribs.

Bright lights, big bang.

And on to the next.

She was all in the zone with the fighting, fast on her feet, quick with her hands. And even though she was going a mile a minute and she’d poofed off that one slayer, she was going to respect Butch’s role in this showdown. She didn’t understand precisely what that ashes-to-ashes routine was all about, but she was willing to bet that it was a special end for the enemy.

In that vein, she took to slicing the backs of knees and the fronts of thighs. Incapacitation was something she had excelled at as an assassin, because a lot of times she’d had a message to share before she struck mortally. And sure enough, as she left moaning bodies in her wake, Butch swept up behind her, inhaling and turning to fine powder that which they had come to kill.

As she carved and slashed her way through the inductees, she found herself keeping a second eye on John and . . . holy hell. He was one slick fighter.

Who seemed to specialize in snapping necks. He was lethal for closing in behind the enemy, grabbing on and then with brute strength—

The blow came from out of nowhere, catching her on the shoulder and sending her spinning into the wall, her knife popping from her hold as all kinds of Looney Tunes stars bloomed in her vision.

The slayer who had hockey-checked her lunged forward and nabbed her dagger from the bloody living room floor, palming the weapon and coming at her with it.

At the last minute, she bobbed left so that he stabbed the wall she’d hit, trapping the blade in the Sheetrock. As he went to try to get the thing free, she whirled around and nailed him in the gut with her backup blade, springing a hole in his lower intestines.

Meeting his shocked stare, she said, “What, like you didn’t think I’d have a second knife? Fucking idiot.”

She punched him in the head with the butt of her backup, and as he crumpled at the knees, she unsheathed her primary from the plaster and faced off at the fray. As grunts and smacks resounded around the house, she shifted through the fighting to find what was being unattended to—

One of the slayers was flying through the front door, on a bolt for the great outdoors.

She dematerialized out of the house and right into his path. As he went Three Stooges and pinwheeled to a stop, she smiled. “No, you may not be excused.”

The lesser took off again and headed back for the fight—which was stupid because there was no one who would help him in there. Well, not to survive, that was.

Her body was lithe and strong as she burst after him and the two of them came around in a fat circle. Just as he got to the door, she leaped into the air and took him down in a flying tackle, catching him around the neck and shoulder and wrenching him around, using the combination of her strength and her trajectory to crank the guy into a living, breathing question mark.

They landed hard, but even as the air punched out of her lungs, she was smiling.

God, she loved a good fight.

John saw Xhex flash out the front door, but he couldn’t go after her because he had a pair of initiates so far up his ass he was coughing on their eyebrows. But he was going to take care of the crowding PDQ.

Funny how when your female beat feet into the night on her own you got an extra burst of energy—

Not that she was his female.

Funny how reminding yourself of something like that made you mean as a snake.

Reaching out to the slayer in front of him, John snapped the bastard’s neck clean off the top of his spine. As he bowling-balled the head, he thought