“What did he say?” Violetta asked. “This is a trap? We were set up?”

But it was academic. The bolt hit the dust devil of energy around Ned, and seemed to just splash off, as if he’d hit him with a water balloon. Ned shouted something and held out his hand, and a burst of the energy surrounding him shot out like a bullet, hitting the alley and exploding with the brilliance of a hand grenade.

“How can this be a set up if we never even had a sodding plan in the first place?” Violetta exclaimed, backing away from the edge of the roof. “It’s not fucking fair!”

Giles shouted something that sounded like an incantation and reached under his coat, but Ned held put his other hand and Giles froze; the faintest wisps of energy seemed to be traveling between them, flowing from Giles and into Ned. Logan popped his claws, startling Shadow, and carved off a chunk of brick from the roof. So that energy protected Ned from a mystical attack - did it protect him from a physical one? He threw the brick as hard as he could, aiming straight for his head.

The chunk of brick passed through the energy veil, making it ripple like a pond, and beaned Ned square in the left temple, making him stagger back a step, the energy strand between him and Giles breaking and dissipating in the turbulent air. “Good arm,” Violetta remarked.

But even though he hit the target, Ned looked up at them with his black eyes, upper lip curled in a snarl. “Uh oh. Move,” Logan shouted to the vampires, bolting for the side of the roof that looked down on the alley that hadn’t yet been blown up. He didn’t see much, just a bright flash of light out of the corner of his eye.

He didn’t quite complete his jump off the roof before the top half of the building exploded in mystic fire, the force of it slamming him face first into the wall of the neighboring building, and he lost consciousness for a second or two. He came to on impact with the asphalt, tasting blood in his mouth and feeling sore, his face even hurting from where skin had been scraped away. He was surrounded by chunks of building, and a very pissed off looking Violetta and Shadow were staring down at him, debris in their hair. “What a great move,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “Make him blow us up.”

“He missed,” Logan grumbled, climbing to his feet and shaking his head in a poor attempt to make his ears stop ringing.

“We’re out of here,” she said, heading towards the back of the alley. “Try not to die.”

“Fine, run out. I bet Hashim’ll be impressed.”

“You have to live to tell him,” she shot back.

Good point.

Giles completed whatever incantation he intended to use, and threw something at Ned, which just splashed off his shields like everything else. But they briefly turned a noxious color, the gray-purple of bad meat, before cycling back to a more potent orange color. “Rebound spell,” Ned chuckled. “Good. Not good enough, but a worthy try.”

The tarp moved, and Glenn/Anzu stepped out from behind it, and asked, “We on?”

“You’re not,” Ned replied sharply. “I think this geezer’s run out of time. No food for you.”

“I don’t know about that. You should feel the energy he’s giving off.” His eyes started to glow, and he said, in his strangely gravely voice, “He’s connected with others; many others. He’s been joined by a - ack!” Anzu’s sentence was cut off by a dive bombing pterodactyl, with seemed to grow tentacles as it plummeted towards him at mach one, and knocked him ass over tip back into the construction site, ripping down all the tarps.

Ned looked shocked, and held out an arm towards Anzu, who was still screaming as a thousand razor sharp tentacles started tearing into him, with noises that sounded like a sushi chef boning fugu. Ned started saying something in Latin, but he got out the first syllable before another Vilkacis swooped down and plowed him into the site.

And then all the others descended, like starving vultures on a fresh kill, and the sound of screaming - Human, demon, Vilkacis - filled the air, along with the wet sound of tearing flesh. Logan wiped away the blood on his face and went over to Giles, who was bent over in the middle of the street, looking for all the world like he as catching his breath. He hoped that was it.

“Giles? You okay man?” he asked, feeling like a complete idiot. Sure he was fine; just attacked by a nutso sorcerer, but he’s hunky dory.

Still he nodded, and eventually looked up, revealing that he was actually leaning on a sword, presumably the weapon he had stashed under his coat. He looked pale, and his glasses were gone, but at least he was alive, and didn’t looked aged. “Fine. We can’t let the Vilkacis kill them in there.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because the blood might open the Hellmouth, that’s why.”

Suddenly gunshots rang out from the far end of the street, and Giles instinctively flinched, but Logan knew just from the way the sound carried that the shots were away from them, not towards them. “Who the bloody hell has guns?” he wondered crossly.

Logan took a wild stab. “The Ressiks. I assume Ned’s back up showed. Look, how screwed are we here?”

“He wasn’t expecting the Vilkacis. That may have given us an edge.”

“Enough of one?”

As if on cue, Ned shouted something, and there was a huge explosion of golden light, like a dozen flash bangs going off at once, and the huge, tentacled bulks of the Vilkacis went flying out in all directions, forcing him and Giles to both duck to avoid the lethal tentacles. “So, that witch friend of yours?” he asked.

“Any minute now,” Giles assured him.

They could vaguely hear sounds of fighting around them, and it seemed that the vampires had engaged whatever evil minions Ned had closing in on them, but from the screeches and sounds of dusting, they were losing as much as winning.

Ned emerged from the site, which was clearly some kind of Hellmouth sacrificial altar, and he came out of it glowing, bathed in hot molten light that surrounded him head to foot like a shroud. They could barely see his face behind its veil, but Logan could tell he was pissed off.

“You deal with devils now, do you Rupert? Why am I not surprised?”

“No, I deal with devils,” Logan said, wondering if he could draw his fire. Admittedly, mystical shit could probably kill him stone dead in a way that physical weapon never could, but he had to try. He started slowly moving away, and just like he’d hoped, Ned’s eyes followed.

“And what exactly are you? You look like a werewolf.”

“I get that a lot.” He tried to take another step away, but he suddenly froze; it was like his body wasn’t responding anymore. And then he realized he couldn’t breathe.

“Whatever your plan is, forget it. You’re out of your league.”

Giles threw the sword, and it embedded itself hilt deep in Ned’s chest with a sound like a hammer punching through meat. He staggered, and suddenly Logan felt like he could breathe again. “It ends here,” Giles insisted. “Your plan is insane. You will make us more vulnerable to threats, not less. Stop this now before I have to kill you.”

Even with a sword through his chest and sticking out his back, Ned wouldn’t fall down, and since he’d just threatened to kill him, Giles must have known that. Ned grabbed the hilt, and sneered. “You couldn’t threaten a wet paper bag, you decrepit old man.”

The ground started to tremble; it was minor, but growing steadily in intensity. Ned gave them both an ugly, gloating smile, and Giles whispered breathlessly, “No.”

Logan didn’t need to ask - it was Hellmouth city now, wasn’t it? Shit.

Ned pulled the sword out of his body, and held it over his head menacingly, but before he could do much else, something even more inexplicable than usual happened.

What looked like a glowing orb the size of a cantaloupe seemed to drop out of the sky and hover in mid air about twenty feet above them, giving off such a curious energy that even Ned turned to look up at it. “What the -” he began, as the orb seemed to erupt into a burst of blinding light that briefly lit up the block light it was high noon.

As soon as the light faded, and Logan was able to blink away most of the afterimages, he saw Ned standing before them, sword still held in a defensive position, looking slightly flummoxed. His shield was gone; the magic energies that had been surrounding him had completely disappeared.

He had a single moment to panic, it flashed through his eyes like lightning, then Logan lunged for him.

It sounded like he shouted something like “Fire!” in Latin, and as Logan popped his claws and slammed them into his midsection, Ned grabbed his face, and heat sizzled into his skin, burning away his flesh and muscle, going straight to bone.

The pain was indescribable, his nerves being eaten away as slowly as possible, a bright white light of agony exploding in his brain. He heard himself screaming, but was unable to do anything except rip his claws to the side before he hit the pavement. His skin continued to sizzle and smolder, the scent of his own charred flesh filling his nostrils and making him dizzy. But the pain was subsiding, and he heard a wet splash on the ground beside him that made him push himself up on his side and look.

He’d cut Ned completely in half.

He couldn’t actually see his lower half, just his feet (yep - Bruno Magli shoes), but he could see him from his head to stomach, which was where Logan’s claws had sunk in and ripped through. His intestines were spilling out, along with a wash of dark blood and lumpy pieces of internal organs, but his eyes were wide and clearly indicative of consciousness, at least for now. “Holy shit,” he said, to no one in particular. Then his eyes clouded over, and his chest stopped its spasmodic rising, as the scent of death started coming off him, strong and sour.

“Dear lord,” Giles said somewhere behind him.

“I could’ve controlled if he didn’t burn me,” Logan muttered, his own words sounding funny to him. He pushed himself up, and felt a little lightheaded, but he figured after having half his face burnt off, it was normal to feel that way.

Giles came over and grabbed his arm, helping him to his feet, but as soon as he saw his face his eyes widened and he jerked his head back, as if he’d seen something so awful he could barely hold down his lunch. “You - oh god, I’ll get you to a hospital -”

It was that bad, huh? “No need; I’ll heal.”

Giles was grimacing, reacting in sympathy to the pain he must assumed he was feeling. Frankly, with most of the nerves burned away on the left side of his face, he wasn’t feeling any pain at all. When they regenerated … well, that’s when he would need the oxycontin. “I - I can see your jaw and cheekbone. They are metal.”

“Told ya.” He could feel a breeze in the left side of his mouth, and figured that’s why he thought he was talking funny - and why Giles couldn’t look at him without blanching and quickly looking away.

The ground continued rumbling, and they could see that something was starting to appear; the pit formerly lined with intestines was now swirling with energy. It was now the size of a mud puddle, but Logan was sure it was going to get bigger, and soon. “How do we stop this?”

Giles retrieved his sword, which was now smeared with blood. From the heat on his back, Logan realized he had been chopped with the sword before he tore Ned in two, but compared to the pain of having half of his face burnt away hurt a hell of a lot more. “Honestly? I have no idea.”

There was shifting in the rubble, a tarp slid aside and was pulled towards the small energy vortex, and Anzu stood up shakily, looking like he was a stiff breeze away from falling over, covered with rips and slices, gashes that made his look blood red and savaged with a jigsaw. He was still healing, but since he’d been sliced up like a pizza, it was going to take a while. He glared at them, eyes glowing like a furnace, blood oozing from a thosand different cuts, and he grated, “Give me your -”

A gunshot cut off whatever else he was going to say. It tore through the side of his head in a fountain of blood and bone, taking part of his right ear with it, and he was so weak he toppled over like a binge drinker after a kegger. The Ressiks were there, their semi-automatics gleaming in the light given off from the vortex and torches, and the copper one asked, “Is he responsible for this shit?”

Giles looked horrified that they would shoot without confirming the identity first, but that was Ressiks for you. “Yes. But he’s a demigod. You can’t -”

“Oh yeah? Watch.” Anzu was still moving, trying to push himself up, but the Ressiks surrounded him in a loose semi-circle and opened fired. They emptied their clips into him, popped the empty ones, slammed new clips in, and started shooting him again with an almost mechanical fluidity. It was a Tarantino-esque bit of ultra violence that was almost funny in its basic implacable inhumanity. They were blasting him into microscopic fragments, getting him all over their oddly expensive suits.

“Can they actually kill him that way?” Logan asked Giles.

The Englishman was staring at them with a slightly contemptuous glance, but with their collective backs to them, they didn’t notice. “Anzu? No, but Ressiks know what they’re doing when it comes to killing gods. They’re probably working on the assumption that obliterating the Human host will be enough to get rid of him.”

“Right, he can’t exist in this dimension solo.” But then he realized what Giles had said about the Ressiks, and asked, “Why would they know about killing gods?”

“Well, according to mythology, they were created by a hellgod to specifically be his army against other gods and halflings, which is why they’re generally immune to god energy and powers: they’re designed to be.”

“So, if they’re such god killers, what the hell are they doing here? Oh, wait, don’t tell me - is this one of those things where he made them actually immune to his own powers, and they revolted and killed the son-of-a-bitch?”

“You’ve heard this story before, have you? Yes, that’s exactly what happened, and some gods got nervous, and exiled them to a godless world, where they couldn’t harm them or their kind. Or at least none of their kind that didn’t deserve to be hurt.”

“Earth. Cute.” Well, if true, that explained why Ressiks and their Frenik “cousins” were immune to Bob - and Anzu, apparently. The nerves must have been starting to regenerate, because damn, was his face starting to ache like a motherfucker.

“What are you doing there?” Meldane asked, as he came up to them with a sour look on his face. “Are we going to close the hellmouth before it opens or not?”

Giles matched him glare for glare. “And how do you propose we do that?”

That made Meldane scoff. “You’re joking, right? I close them all the time; some asshead keeps tryin’ to open one in the Metro every year. Wanna give me a hand?”

Which was more startling - the fact that Meldane knew something Giles didn’t, or that Meldane actually proved useful? Giles recovered with aplomb, though, and said, “Yes, of course.”

Meldane looked at him finally, and grimaced like he’d just bitten down on a fish head in his soup. “Oh god, you might wanna put a bag over your head or something. You look like a Halloween mask.”

“Fuck you too.” It seemed somehow funny though, as the sounds of gunshots continued to ring through the night (the Ressiks must have been on their fifth clips now, making him wonder if there was anything left of Glenn to shoot; his body was probably a bunch of quarter sized fragments by now), and the two spellcasters wandered off towards the hellmouth to shut it down.

Logan looked around, pretty sure the sounds of dusting had stopped - for good or for ill - and damn was he hurting. He really wanted to sit down now, or better yet, pass out face first in a beer. Presuming, of course, the beer didn’t sting his wound, or just dribble out the open side of his mouth.

Shit, this sucked.

****

The end of the hellmouth was the end of the fight, as Ned and Anzu’s minions beat it, apparently aware that their side had lost. He was sitting against a building, trying not to pass out, gritting his teeth against the pain of his muscles and nerves regenerating, when Hashim and his people came by to see what had happened. He saw that Euan and his blue haired girlfriend were among the survivors, but he couldn’t see Violetta and Shadow. But they could have been there, just loitering among the back of the crowd.

Hashim grimaced at him, which was almost the final straw for him. “That looks … unfortunate.”

“No shit, Sherlock. We done here?”

“We appear to be.”

“Ugh!” Vampire Scott exclaimed, and looked away as he pointed down at both sets of Ned’s remains. “Who the fuck did this?”

Hashim looked down at him. “Your handy work?”

Logan glared up at him as he used the wall to climb up to his feet. His face felt like it was on fire once more, but since it was taking longer than the first time, the pain seemed a bit worse. “He pissed me off.”

Hashim smiled ever so slightly, a bit admiring and a bit evil. “You’re positive you’re Human? You’d make an excellent demon.”

“I’ll pretend that’s a compliment.”

The Ressiks came over en masse, their guns still out but held down at their sides in a neutral position; they were still smoking , and after having had fired so many clips, Logan imagined they were far too hot to put away just this moment. “Are we even?” the copper Ressik demanded.

Hashim regarded him coolly, all his humor gone, and he seemed to deliberate much more than he needed to, just to make the Ressiks stew. “Yes, I suppose we are. Consider your debt paid.”

“Fuck yeah it’s paid. And if I ever see you again, blood sucker, I’ll twist your head off with my bare hands.” After a final evil glare, the Ressik and his well dressed crew of thugs stalked off into the night, trailing a heavy scent of cordite and blood.

“They’re such a pleasant breed, aren’t they?” Hashim noted wryly.

“They get the job done,” Logan pointed out needlessly. He just felt they deserved some respect, if only for wasting hundreds of dollars worth of ammo on Glenn. And here he thought the Vilkacis would take care of Anzu.

“They do. Killing is about all their good for.”

“The same could be said of your kind,” Giles said, walking over to them with Meldane in tow. They both looked a bit ashen but otherwise okay. “You’re Hashim, I presume?”

Hashim eyed him warily, all business. “I am. And what Watcher are you?”

If Giles was surprised he knew he was a Watcher on sight, he didn’t let it show. “Rupert Giles. I doubt you’ve heard of me.”

“You’d be correct.”

It was like a British version of a staring contest. They were competing to see who could be more icy and contemptuous without letting any true passion flare. And as far as Logan could tell, it was a tie. “I think you should release Meldane from his debt as well, don’t you?”

Again, Hashim made a show of thinking about it, but this time he didn’t seem to be enjoying it. “I suppose. But you’re not really here to petition for a washed up defender of Britain, are you?”

What? What was that supposed to mean? Meldane was just a washed up magician, wasn’t he? But Giles didn’t react to that, he simply matched him glare for glare. “Just because there’s no headquarters doesn’t mean you aren’t being watched, Hashim. Consider yourself on notice.”

He smirked, the corner of his mouth curving up ever so slightly, dark eyes glittering like diamonds. “Is that a threat, old man?”

“It’s information. Now where’s Ruby?”

“She wolfed out,” Euan said, mainly because it didn’t look like Hashim was inclined to answer. “We left her gnawin’ on some of Anzu’s … well, whatever the fuck they were. Nasty buggers.”

Giles sighed, and looked back at Meldane. “Do you have a tranquilizer gun?”

“No, but I suppose I could get her with a sleep spell.”

“It won’t last long on a werewolf.”

Meldane just shrugged. “We can tie her up in the meantime, get the amulet back on her.”

Giles looked at him like he was insane. “And what if she wakes up while we’re doing this?”

“I’ll do it,” Logan grudgingly volunteered. “I’m strong enough to hold her down, and even if she rips a big hunk out of my arm, I don’t think I’ll catch wolf germs. My immune system’s pretty powerful.”

Giles looked like he wanted to object, but he reconsidered and decided not to. “Considering your cheek has almost completely grown back, I’m inclined to believe you.”

“Which way?” Logan asked Euan. Both he and Drena helpfully pointed over their shoulders, and he nodded a thanks.

“So that’s how it’s going to be, Logan?” Hashim asked, giving him a curious but hard stare.

What was this? Did he actually think he could recruit him to his side, make him a right hand man in his organization, an enforcer? Was this whole thing a sort of professional vetting? He scowled at him - he really didn’t like being played in any way, shape, or form - and said, “You didn’t actually think it was gonna end in any other way, did’ja? I’m Human.”

“You’re a born warrior, and very few Humans are. You don’t belong with them.”

“I don’t belong with anybody. But I’m starting to get cool with that.” And, remarkably, he was. There were just some things you couldn’t fight, no matter how hard you tried.

The vampires made way for them as they walked off, but Logan wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that he had torn Ned in half like an old phone book. He supposed it didn’t hurt.

But what about Meldane? Defender of Britain? What could that possibly mean? He couldn’t have been a Watcher, as he didn’t seem like one, and surely Ruby or Giles would have known if he was.

Wait … he had said his name was Mordred. Was it possible that he …?

Nah. He’d believe a lot of things, but he wasn’t quite ready to go that far.

10

Scott sat on the end of his motel bed, wondering how an air conditioner could make so much noise and yet do nothing, and stared at the object that was supposed to render Bob harmless.

It sat on top of the t.v. as there was really nowhere else to put it in this small room, and he found himself staring at it, somewhat mesmerized by its ugliness. It looked like a melted tiki statue made of obsidian, no bigger than a pop can and just a bit thicker, although it felt like it weighed twenty pounds, and it made him slightly ill if he held it for too long, like he’d have to go lay down before he collapsed. If it had that effect on him, would it have an even more profound effect on Bob? Or had Forajo sold him a nice, solid lump of bullshit?

The more he looked at the obsidian statue, the more he thought he saw distorted, screaming faces carved into it depths, like a window straight into hell. He was starting to think that maybe - just maybe - he was making a mistake.

But no, how could he be? He needed answers about Jean, and only Bob could give them to him. But unless he had some strong impetus, he couldn’t count on Bob to tell him the truth.