The girl's slight weight wouldn't have been enough to knock Meg down, had she not been so surprised. She hadn't expected Jo to really go for it. This was not the reaction she had been prepared to see in the timid little girl. Timid was perhaps the wrong word...but it felt oddly appropriate considering what few interactions Meg had actually had with Jo. She was used to seeing the girl as weak, self sacrificing, unprepared for the reality of the life she'd chosen to lead. This, though. This was the sort of thing she would have expected from a proper hunter. She tumbled backwards in surprise, feeling her leg twist awkwardly under her as she made contact with the ground.
Jo's first cut went right for the throat, and sent up a spray of blood that stippled the blonde in red. Meg coughed, her mouth filling with blood, and scrambled for her power as blows rained down on her. Within seconds she was covered in gashes and vicious stab wounds, faster than she had time to react. Her instincts told her to snap the girl's neck. She could do it, of course. She could do it with hardly any effort at all. She thought of her promise to Sam and nearly gave in to the impulse. This was his fault. He'd promised to help her, to handle this situation. And he hadn't. He'd left her high and dry for weeks and now, come to find out, he hadn't even warned the bitch. Maybe this was the outcome he'd been hoping for. If Jo couldn't kill her, then maybe the resulting fall out would give them an excuse to come hunting. She was disgusted with herself for trusting him. Still, she hesitated. Killing this girl was a line that, if crossed, could not be uncrossed.
Gathering her power to her chest, she flung it outward, knocking Jo off her and sending her flying far enough to give Meg a moment to breathe. She rolled onto her side, spitting out a mouthful of blood. The concrete beneath her was red and she could feel the warm rush of blood down her face, her throat, her entire body. She tried to stand, but her leg would not support her weight. She didn't feel the pain, exactly, but she felt the damage. The last time she'd been laid low like this, she'd been looking up at the King of Hell, just as he was about to kill her. This girl couldn't do that. She didn't have the weapons or the skills. But, for just a fleeting moment, Meg wished she could. Her sense of survival had gone out the window. She had no where else to go, after all. No one to care if she lived or died, and no hope. She looked at Jo, and almost smiled, her face a mask of blood.
"When you see them, you tell those boys I kept my promise." She closed her eyes and waited.