Page 59 of Peacemaker

“Not you. Her. Her pure blood.”

No one was surprised.

“And the other ingredients?” Leo asked.

“You will need the Foam of Aphrodite,” Jin answered. “The pure blood—a few drops should be sufficient. Seven ounces of fresh flesh taken from a living supernatural. A—”

Shane smacked the table. “Seven ounces of fucking flesh. Someone has to donate a foot or something?”

“He warned it would be difficult,” Leo said.

“Yeah, no shit,” Shane said.

“It doesn’t have to be a foot,” Jin said earnestly. “Some fingers, ears, a nice variety of toe. One of you could shave a piece of meat from your hip.” He leaned forward. “If someone were to donate a penis, all the better. The potion would be doubly powerful.”

Every man at the table paled.

“Yes,” I said, curling my lip. “Everyone knows how powerful the almighty penis is.”

Jin nodded solemnly. “That is true.”

Rhys walked to the sink to get himself a glass of water. “No one is cutting off pieces of himself.” He took a long drink of water, then turned to look at us.

Shane gave him a nod. “Not for the fucking humans.”

I understood that. Still, I was curious. “What else, Jin?”

“You will need an aged virgin’s…reproductive fluids.” He stared fixedly at the tabletop. “A small piece of a vampire’s heart. A spoonful of ashes from a burned human.”

“Okay,” I said. “So we need a new plan to deal with the incubus.”

“No,” Angus said, putting his phone away as he walked into the kitchen. “It’s a good plan. We will each gather an ingredient. There will always be demons, even when this one is gone. We need a protection in place.”

“Gathering those ingredients will take forever,” I said. “And besides…we’re not going to cut ourselves for the humans.”

“It’ll take a while, and that will give them time to appreciate the hell out of us when we save them from not only the rifters, but the nasty demons.” He shrugged. “I’m paraphrasing, but those were Himself’s words.”

Jin slunk from the room, leaving us to our plans.

“Smart,” Clayton said. “And the tide begins to turn.”

We could hope.

“I just want to know one thing,” I said. “Who’s going to donate seven ounces of flesh?”