That crazyass shit was for the cartoons! But the demon was holding an arm severed just below the elbow, blood flowing. Incredibly, the thing's arm was sealing. Healing.

Friendly, enemy? He couldn't tell. The male looked up at him. It snarled, black pits where its eyes were. Instinct. Enemy. He wound the blade back and cleaved through the thing's neck.

Something else barreled into him hard from the side. He twisted, grimacing, wrapped his arm around the neck of whatever this was.

This one had no horns, it wasn't demonic. It was... the Hell? Fangs?! It had lost a leg. Now it was struggling, reaching to bite him.

He slung the sword under its chin, pulling the blade up and back, hard, like he'd been trained. Pull head to the side, twist, slice back hard, sever carotid, sever the throat. FUCK YOU!

The thing fell over, but the hands were twitching. Jesus, they wouldn't die from that?

Byron rolled the sword around, up and over in a hard swing. Cleaving through the rest of the spinal cord. The – fangs, had to be a freaking vampire – stilled.

He inhaled at the way wrong time. Smelt the fetid shit the thing let loose with its death. He puked up whatever it was he'd had for his late dinner.

The vamp's rusty blood was so rank, congealed. It was black tar in the swamp's muddy water and ground. Byron turned and pushed further on, seeking a way out. He spat out the last bits of vomit.

Whatever the hell those centaurs were, they appeared to have stopped coming this way. Had those couples been responding to a flanking maneuver?

I gotta be dreaming, I gotta be...

Roses, almond oil, shea butter... what... who smelled like that in this disgusting Hell? Byron looked around, seeking the source. Then his eyes landed on a female walking alone through the swamp.

His heartbeat thudded.

Her. Who? What? Are you?

She was shorter than him, maybe four or five inches shorter, but sweet God in Heaven, she was beyond gorgeous. Hourglass curves, and raven-black hair. But her outfit? She was dressed in a t-shirt and a miniskirt with... He did a doubletake. Were those frigging combat boots?!

He looked her up and down, mouth hanging, eyes blinking hard. Jesus... yep, those are desert Oakleys. Pretty penny for those, and she's got blood and muck all over'em.

Something appeared beside her in a blur. Male, vampire, a sword raised. Threat! He leapt forward, mouth opening to shout a warning.

The woman swung her right arm out in a simple flick. The threat lost its head.

She didn't even look!!!

Another vampire rushed her, and he started forward, but this one was paired with a female. A vampiress? Then the woman's whole body shifted, and she lifted a hand. What in the world?

She was done up in an old-style party dress. Something he'd seen maybe in the old black-and-white films. She reached out, and one of the other demons was lifted up, struggling. He blinked.

Okay, what, was she a freaking Jedi or some crap?!

The male had red eyes, towering over most any human being Byron had ever seen in real life. He howled, "Stop ruining all our fun, Valkyrie!"

Was that a freaking Russian accent? They were friendly? Enemy?

Both were past the raven-haired beauty he was watching in less than a second. She wasn't even looking at them.

"Oui! Leave some for us, Nїx!" the woman shouted with an accent that lilted French and New Orleans' best together.

And she was flat-out over-the-top gorgeous. He could imagine the boys back in the service would have been howling to chase after her. Unless of course Red Eyes was the husband. In which case, shit no, respect given!

And now this couple – vampires were allied with Valkyries, what the? – they were cleaving into another dozen demons with relish.

The towering male was tearing enemies apart with his bare hands alone.

Okay, absolute respect.

The female suddenly flung her arms apart. The demons' heads literally came off their necks with a wrenching pop-crack.

Byron thought twice about what his buddies would do around that lady. She could handle herself. Then she gave off a shouted, "Conrad, that one there!"

She threw out a hand and the demon clutched its throat just moments before the red-eyed one cleaved its head off. She had telekinesis? He shook his head and turned, scanning again. This is real. I am not dead, and I am not dreaming.

Byron breathed, focusing. Something was coming at him, charging him from behind. He had no idea how he knew, maybe it was just a tingle in his spine. Instinctively, he twisted and juked back, putting a thick tree between him and the threat. Horns, demon, definitely a threat.

The demon's blade swing was interrupted on the tree, but it cleaved right through!

SHIT! He ducked under the blade's passage; eyes locked on those black pits. Byron twisted his own blade up. Thrust with the tip into the demon's chin. He grabbed the demon's shoulder. Heaved on up with his sword arm.

KEEP GOING, all the way Dekker!

He shoved further, felt the brain cavity go. Now that demon slumped. But its lungs were still expanding, contracting. He didn't bother with the sword lodged in the skull. Instead he picked up the demon's own fallen sword, then swung down hard.

Whatever they were, the head was the head regardless of the... type? Species? Kind? A death breath exhausted out through the now-headless corpse.

He glanced back at the, Valkyrie? Like, Norse Valkyrie, for real? That French girl had called her Nїx?

She had raven hair down to her curvy ass, but she was walking as if in a daze. Byron started forward, then tripped over something. A body?! He reached up to get purchase of something. A heavy stick came off in his hands.

No, wait. This massive stick wasn't just wood. It was harder than. Petrified wood? He peered at it strangely.

Something passed through him.

A blade sparked out of the petrified wood, and he blinked. A scythe? How did this shaft of wood become a scythe?

Whatever or however, didn't matter. Two demons appeared in front of the raven-haired Valkyrie. This time he could see her movements more clearly.

This Nїx was so incredibly swift, both enemy demons seemed almost to be moving in slow-motion. Her blades bisected their spinal columns with precision unlike any he'd witnessed.

Byron caught movement. Another centaur, this one massive, coming on from behind the Valkyrie, charging, sword raised. Byron looked back. She was still oblivious, watching both the demons fall, savoring their ends.

She didn't see the centaur. Wasn't moving.

No time!

He pushed off, attempting to run. Instead, he leapt forward with an adrenaline burst so intense he felt like he was hurtling, flying.

Byron put the scythe out in front of him, thrusting. The centaur scarcely glanced in his direction before the blade edge caught the male's clavicle, then the rest of his neck.

The scythe's edge cleaved through muscle and sinew like a hot knife through butter, the centaur's head flopping off.

The Valkyrie twisted just in time, but the centaur's sword was falling. She juked to one side; a few strands of her hair were bisected by the blade edge.

The centaur's body crumpled.

Byron slung himself behind a tree, then found he'd just landed over twenty-five feet away. He blinked, wheezing. She was safe.

Another demon appeared. Byron started forward, then noticed another two gorgeous Valkyries appearing at the demon's side.

Short halt, Dekker. Observe. Not a threat. They were escorting this guy, apparently. One redheaded, one platinum blonde, both cleaning the blood off their blades by rote. As if this shit were the most normal thing in the world.

Byron looked at the scythe in his hands but left the blood alone. The male demon was a true titan, black horns straightened. He was panting, clearly coming down from one hell of an adrenaline rush.

The raven-haired Valkyrie scarcely paid attention, instead peering around as though inspecting paint drying on walls. Nїx didn't even care that she was standing on top of the centaur's body.

The friendly demon rumbled in a clipped accent, "Nїx! Did you even see that!?"

The demon tried looking in Byron's direction, but he'd already shifted positions to another clump of underbrush. The male was peering about, trying to find him.

"See what, Rydstrom?" Nїx purred absently.

The massive demon grunted and rolled his eyes. As though this was a common occurrence for the woman to space out. But the other Valkyries didn't appear to be. They were very alert, talking about someone named Kaderin collecting fangs.

Who is Kaderin? Another Valkyrie? Vampiress?

Rydstrom was pulling at the sack on the back of the centaur. "Here it is. I found the dieumort."

"As I said, he'd be carrying it," Nїx murmured. "Rydstrom, sometimes I wonder." Then she paused. "Wait, where's Bertil?"

The demon was shaking his head while the raven-haired beauty wandered off, calling for this Bertil. Was that her husband?

The friendly male demon started following, "Wait, Nїx, did you see-?"

"Oh, Rydstrom, your wife is pissed at you that you took off without including her in the fun," the Valkyrie answered.

Her gold gaze turned to Rydstrom along with her upper body. She struck a model pose with that vacant stare, "You might want to go home before Sabine tells the basilisk to shit over your new car. In, say, twenty seconds?"

Both the other Valkyries giggled, then made their way off to where another skirmish was going on. The redheaded beauty called over her shoulder, "Good luck Rydstrom, guess we get the leftovers!"

"Fifteen seconds, I believe the basilisk is already gophering it," Nїx stated.

"The what?! Not the Lambo!!!"

The demon was... gone. Byron blinked, mouth agape. Teleportation? Wife telling basilisk to shit on a Lambo?!

How would this golden-eyed Valkyrie even know that, and where the hell had the demon gone? Wait, demon, hell... Basilisks and Lamborghinis were in Hell?

Her voice lilted, "Bertil!"

He shook his head and wandered closer. He glanced round, noticing the piles of dead strewn about.

She is married, right? What kind of a name is Bertil? Gotta be English...

The woman leaned over to a corpse, one of the enemy demons, and picked up the black-haired, grey-horned head. She appeared to be looking it in the eyes. That shudder-inducing whiskey voice asked, "Excuse me, have you seen a cute little mammal, brown and black, nice wings? Goes by Bertil?"

He swallowed.

She's... is she insane? But she sees other realms, the future? Wait, wings? Bertil has wings? Is Bertil an angel? Huh?!

She was considering the face of the dead demon. Then her soft lips went from curious to absolute disgust.

"Ew! Fucking pervert!" Nїx punt-kicked the head and it soared off.

Byron blinked, jaw hanging. The jackwad Patriots would have signed a hundred-million-dollar deal for that kind of leg!

"Bertil, there you are, love," she sighed.

Something fell on top of her front. She started patting the small furry creature that had landed on a pair of perfect breasts. He stared.

It's a bat. She's cooing to a freaking. Bat. Not a man.

The absurdity of what was happening caught up.

She's not insane, I'm insane, this is some far-out acid trip! What in God's name is going the hell on!? What'd I eat before-

She swiveled to look in his direction and he leapt behind a tree. He'd snorted out of reflex.

Oops. Self-preservation instinct told him she was very much in a killing mood. But her gaze was completely vacant.

The Valkyrie really was out of her mind. But how could she be insane, if she was still able to see in an entirely different dimension?

Then she started looking down at herself, noticing all the blood and gore that covered her aplomb outfit.

Nїx. What kind of a name is that? Not English at all... is she... wait, Valkyrie, Norway, Denmark? But she's got no accent!?

The sable-haired beauty sighed and those angelical full lips pouted, "Ugh, gods dammit! I just got this one, too. Now I have to wash it off."

She stripped off the t-shirt and Byron felt his dick stir to life in a heartbeat. The woman was curves all over. Expensive black lace covered swells that were completely golden tanned. She had to spend hours on the beach to get that perfect.

That's... wait, aren't those from Agent Provocateur?! Those are expensive as hell, and she's hotter than Charlie's or Heaven's angels!

He shook his head, blinking.

Wait... his mind froze, processed.

She just punt-kicked a freaking dead demon's head over half a mile for looking at her breasts with a t-shirt ON.

Then Byron looked back. Nїx was staring directly at him. Really staring at him. Her lips parted open in a smile.

That's... that's a fang. She has fangs. She sees me.

He was off. His feet carried at full speed through the swamp, splashing muck over his denims. Legs and heart were pumping with adrenaline.

Emergency is in full effect, run your fucking ass OFF, Dekker!

Logs he cleared in a single leap would have required him to climb six feet over. He scarcely even thought of how much ground he was covering. That did not matter, what mattered was survival.

Do not think, do not look back. Lord Jesus! She is totally smoking hot, but it ain't worth dying for yet!

Heavy thunder crashed loud enough to shake the ground underneath him and he slid to a stop in a puddle.

Shit on me that's lightning! It's... there's no clouds! No. Fuck. No, no way, it's HER?!

She could teleport, too? 

A soft, sultry inflection came out of perfect lips, "Where precisely did you think you were going, young male?"

A raven-haired goddess with nothing but a bra and miniskirt on was now walking towards him, carrying two short swords in her fists, hip-locking like she was a God-blessed runway model. Those kohled eyes narrowed, swirling amber-gold.

They'd been vacant before. Now her pupils were mindful, cognizant. Lethal.

Her whisper took an ugly turn, "Do you like what you see?"

She bent over, muscles coiled, about to charge him. Those hourglass curves from this angle were ravishing, but those swords of hers were coming up.

About to strike.

I don't want to harm her. His hands trembled on the scythe. Oh, dear God in heaven, I am dead.

She leapt forward and something flashed over his eyes. GUH!!! Yep, dead.