“What did you do?”
Jasfoup stared, horrified, at the space that had been occupied by his erstwhile employer. He passed his hands over the area several times to make certain Harold hadn’t just turned invisible.
“I have completed my mission.” Vixen backed up against the wall. “He’s gone.”
“Gone where?” Gillian picked up the assassin’s dropped tantō and pressed against her neck. “I don’t think you’ll be able to grow a new head.”
Vixen frowned. Her right hand was already a pink amorphous blob as the cells re-grew. She was fortunate that the vampire had taken it off above the wrist. She knew from experience how weak a replacement wrist was to begin with. A snake would grow feathers before she could regenerate her own head. She swayed as a wave of fatigue broke over her.
“He’s gone to Neverland.”
Vixen slumped to the ground and passed out.
Julie kicked the prone form. “He’s not Peter Pan you fucking moron.”
Gillian relaxed and inspected the tantō. A frown crossed her features. “How’s your eyesight, Jasfoup?” she asked. “There’s something odd about this blade.”
“Pretty good.” The demon took the blade and whistled. “This isn’t a pound store knock-off,” he said. This is a monofilament blade. I’m surprised she only cut your saber in two and not your whole arm.”
“She’s got a gadget that makes pentacles, too,” Frederick added, “and contact lenses.”
“Has she indeed?” Gillian turned the assassin over and pried open her eye.
“It’s jus’ the one,” said Molly, appearing from the upstairs hallway. “I seen her put it in.”
Gillian looked up, an eyeball in her hand. “I worked that out. Thanks, Molly.”
© Rachel Green 2007