Spear, with Sigrun at her side, stood and told the round robin of agencies --Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department, the DEA, and even the FBI --what happened.

Lovelace Jons, known as Lacey, DEA. She watched on body camera and heard every word. She drove like a bat out of hell to a little building on Gower, also known by the cops as Traffic Central. She badged her way in. Thank the Universe I keep my black pants and blue silk tee in my suitcase, she thought.

Thom Pance of the FBI met her there, a man nearly as large as his SUV. He was dressed in the standard ‘black-suit-and-dark-glasses’ FBI getup. He had no hair, in direct contrast with Lacey's spill of black hair in a silver clip that fell in waves, just behind her neck.

They pulled up four separate cameras, and Spear's version was shown to be true; Wraith waited at the light, and had made sure no one was rushing the light, then entered the intersection. A white truck with some sort of logo on the side had been idling at the light. It ran the light, then swerved out into the intersection. It hit Wraith on the left side. The truck swerved and turned into oncoming traffic, and took off like a bat out of hell.

"Stop. Enhance," said Lacey. "Half speed." They watched the murderous attack again, zooming in on the license plate of the truck. "No joy," said Lacey. "Deliberately obscured by dust, front and back."

"There," said Thom. "Logo?" The technician zoomed in. "Mountainside Desert Flowers." He poked at his tablet. "No such business within the state."

Zeroing in on the driver got them a scarred man wearing a black leather jacket. He also adorned black driving gloves, and a cap pulled down low.

"Reflections," said Lacey. "Let's get something. Eye or hair color, and anything on the jacket we can use." She pointed to reflections in the glass. "Blue eyes. Gotcha!"

"Give me that, and my lab geeks will enhance it," said Thom.

"We've got geeks, too," said Lacey.

"Yeah, but did you see that landing? We can't share Wraith flying through the air or smashing into the pavement with anyone from the Valkyries, Iron Knights, or Nighthawks. They will be looking for revenge, hot or cold."

"You have a point," said Lacey. "Let's give them what we have so far; minus the flying through the air thing. Let them know the scars may be artificial." She stared at the image. "Possibly contacts as well. That's a distinctive shade of blue."

"Makeup," said Thom. "If so, that's an Agency trick. And sophisticated. It isn't some jumped-up biker club going after Valkyries."

Lacey cringed. "If it is, they have a death wish. A huge one. They train several times a week. One of them actually trains law enforcement here."

Thom showed Lacey a bruise on his arm. "Herja threw me across the mat earlier this week." Thom was a huge guy, muscles rippling. He worked out, even when on the road. He was slowly losing his neck. Herja was half his weight and size.

Lacey grinned. "The bigger they are..."

"The harder they hit the mat," said Thom.

Officer Frank Rimur from the LVMPD called from the hospital; he had taken possession of the clothes cut off her body. He found a bloody receipt in Wraith's pocket for a Coke and an energy bar from a convenience store just four blocks away.

"Good work, Frank," said Lacey. "Tell your boss I said so. We're making progress." She hung up, and told the tech about the receipt.

They now had where she came from, and tracked her back all the way to her apartment. They ran it forward again, and then they tried to track the truck back. Thom's geek, Ristar, sent an enhanced photo. The truck had a tiny silver sticker on the back bumper, and another in the back window.

"Them's a code," said Ristar, on speaker. "Bar code. Your truck's stolen from a truck rental place, a place called Moving People Fast. People use it for short-haul moves, like changing apartments. It hadn't been rented in over two weeks. Chain was cut on the back fence; I told SAC Haviland and he's sending a team to take pictures."

"Great work, Ristar," said Thom, "keep at it." He hung up, then immediately dialed again. "I'll get an APB out on that thing. We've got a real license number now to work with, so thanks."

"The Iron Knights are going to get this stuff," said Lacey. "We need to give them enough, so then they know what to look for. They're everywhere. Tell them to locate and call it in."

Thom sighed. "Control the flow."

"Before we get cut off at the knees, yes," said Lacey. "That truck's been dumped by now, and they'll find it."

"Do it," said Thom.

Henry got the pictures of both truck and driver. Herja sent it out to her people, and Pax of the Iron Knights got it out to his. Ivy called Cougar in and coordinated at the bar while she waited for Cougar to arrive. She found out that she could pour beer with one hand and text with the other.

Cougar came in, grabbed her bar apron, and said, "Damn shame about that girl. Go. I've got this."

Bella kicked her out. "The babysitter network's up and running," she said. "Gotta get justice for our girl."

"On it," said Ivy.

* * *

Bao read her text, and called over the server. "Put a rush on our food. We've gotta go."

Nico typed furiously on his phone. He looked up, and said, "I've got to..."

"This is a diner, love," said Bao. "They serve fast. Eat first. The grid's already out. We're coordinating with LVMPD. Neither one of us is on the grid. I suspect I'll have babysitting duty, and you'll end up somewhere on the road, with a long night."

The server filled up some ‘to-go’ cups with coffee for them. "Julio will have this stuff out fast. Eggs and bacon don't take long," the waitress said. She looked out, noticed cell phones being read, and checks being paid. "What the hell happened?"

"Hit and run," said Bao. "Our friend."

The server's jaw dropped. "I'm so sorry. Probably some drunk, or a tourist not paying attention." She heard a ding. "Be right back."

"Wish that were it," said Nico. He pulled up an app. "I'm gonna pick up a bunch of stuff to go, on my way in."

"Get food easy to eat," said Bao. "I'll text Brother Heng at the Chinese restaurant. So, order a bunch of egg rolls and dim sum, some fried rice, egg drop soup, to be delivered in what... three hours?"

"Two," said Nico.

The server dropped off their food. They dug into their eggs, crispy bacon, hash browns, and biscuits with honey. They were both as hungry as wolves.

"And pizza in four hours. Chicken two hours after that. For everyone. Nighthawks, Iron Knights, Valkyries." He shrugged. "It's a job you can do while juggling babies, and you have the cash to take care of it."

"Thank you," said Bao. "Food coordinator." She put a strip of bacon in her mouth, and chewed while texting. She swallowed. "Job accepted with thanks. An army runs on its stomach."

Nico finished before her. "Gotta go. Love you." He kissed her. "Mmm, bacon lips."

She punched his arm, smiling. "Go. I've got this."

She finished, paid, used the restroom, and wasn't surprised by either the sheer number of police out in patrol cars, or the massive number of motorcycles out in pairs. She held up a fist in solidarity when she saw them. They fisted back. She debated whether or not to switch out the car to pick up the kids at school, but Callie sent a text that they were already packed up and heading home early. An assault on anyone sent people behind barricades, and the farm was safe.

Bao met Callie at the intersection near the clubhouse. "Got four kiddies," she called out the window.

"I'll follow," said Bao. She kept a close eye on other traffic. An Iron Knight named Pickles pulled out in front of Callie's car, held up a fist, and led them to the farm.

"I'm on ranch duty," he said, as Bao pulled up alongside. "You gonna stay in the big house?"

"Much easier to defend," said Bao, taking off her helmet. "Besides, they've got room."

The soldier, Mike, came out to greet them as Bao locked up her helmet and moved to help with the babies. "Got us in safety mode," he said, cheerfully. He stepped out, fast on his bladed leg. "Let me get the girls."

Grace and Hu tumbled out of the car. "Wraith got hit with a car," said Grace, breathlessly. "We've gotta stay in the big house."

"And help with the babies," said Hu.

Bao took a burbling Aiden. Kiya wailed when her mother picked her up. "She hates not being with the other babies at the center," said Callie. "Makes for a very loud evening."

David stood in the doorway. "Bring me my grandkids," he said in a stentorian voice that made Grace and Hu giggle.

The girls ran to him. The mothers followed after, closing the car doors, with babies making lots of noise. Mike followed, gun in his waistband. David took the girls' hands, and led them in.

* * *

Henry and the Nighthawks’ lawyer Denise arrived to keep Saber's rights intact. The LVMPD tried to split up Spear and Sigrun. A second lawyer, Tami Pfenning from the Valkyries showed up, and started screaming about how a decorated veteran was being held against her will. They moved the questioning to the clubhouse, then kicked the alphabet soup of agencies out.

Sigrun didn't know anything and was finally released to go to the hospital --the second one. Wraith was airlifted to a Level 1 Trauma Center with broken ribs, a ruptured spleen, a punctured lung, a broken leg, and a broken arm. And all along the left side where she was hit. She also had two cracked neck vertebrae. There were officers posted outside the operating room, which made the nurses nervous.

Dee Garver, the trauma nurse, came out with updates. "Your wife's injuries are severe. This surgery's going to take hours," she said to Saber, holding Sigrun's hand. Ace stood by Saber's side, and Rota at Sigrun's side. "She has a punctured lung, and the spleen has already been removed. They will put pins, screws, and plates into her left arm and leg to hold them together, and we'll have to remove bone fragments in her neck. There is some swelling in her brain, and a shunt will most likely be put in to take off the pressure." Sigrun nearly crushed Rota's hand, and Ace held up Saber.

"Do what you need to do," said Saber. "But, if she becomes brain dead, she left a strict ‘Do Not Resuscitate Order’ about that."

"We have that filed in her paperwork," said Dee. "She's a long way from brain dead."

"Good," said Saber. The nurse left, and he held Sigrun close. Sigrun punched his shoulder again and again, with tears running down her face.

Rota dragged her away. "We'll get some coffee and come back," Rota said, and dragged Sigrun to the bathroom.

Ace led Saber to a chair, but instead Saber paced like an angry lion. Ace paced with him, deliberately slowing his steps so Saber had time to cool down. He'd seen that look of mingled terror and rage before. If Saber got hold of whoever struck his wife's Harley with a truck, that person wouldn't have much time before meeting their ‘Maker.’ He had to keep Saber out of the fight. Revenge was a dish that was best served ice-cold.

The hunt for the truck used in the hit and run yielded results. Spear had finally been cut loose, and was with Quinn on a back road when they found it. They stopped, called it in, and waited on the silent, darkened sandy road.

"Think that's it?" asked Spear, again.

Quinn shone his penlight. "I see both stickers. But, if we go in, we destroy evidence."

"I want that monster dead," said Spear. "She flew through the air. I thought she was dead."

"She isn't, not yet," said Quinn, as the sirens grew louder. He checked his phone for texts. "No news is good news."

"If she dies, whoever did this better pray they..." She found herself off her feet, then flying backward.

She tried to shield her hands and face, and land with a curved back so she could roll. Quinn tried to reach out to her, and failed. They both thudded to the desert floor. Their training had them rolling around, standing up, checking for flames and injuries on themselves, and on each other. The sirens got louder, then faster.

"You hit?" asked Spear.

"No," said Quinn. "You?"

"No," said Spear. "I didn't see or feel a tripwire or pressure plate. That truck was either rigged to blow..."

"Or someone is watching." They looked around. The only thing they saw was the lights of the cop car and the FBI van.

SAC Haviland got out of the FBI car and rushed toward them. "Are you alright?" he asked. He was dressed in standard FBI black. He was an African American man, with delicate fingers and a tight smile, now a grimace.

"Truck was right there," said Spear, and pointed at the flaming wreckage. "Now you've got a jigsaw puzzle."

"Circle the area," said Quinn, choking. "Neither one of us felt a pressure plate or tripwire. He might be watching."

"On it," said Haviland, whipping out his phone.

* * *

Henry passed on news of the blown-up vehicle, and the dragnet that yielded nothing. Saber and Sigrun were told, but they were concentrating on sending Wraith the will to live through the closed operating room door. The surgery to put Wraith's body back together took sixteen pins or screws, forty-two stitches, and a lot of luck. The surgeons were excellent. There was swelling in her brain, so a shunt was inserted to take off the pressure. and she was placed carefully in the ICU.

Ace was by Saber's side when the surgeon told him the news. He staggered, but Ace held him up. "When can I see her?" he asked.

"She's in a medically induced coma," said Dr. Pari Patel. "You can see her for five minutes, then let her rest."

"I call bullshit," said Ace. "She's DEA. She needs her loved ones in the room. Someone tried to kill her today."

The Valkyries knew a long haul when they saw one. Saber was taken off coffee --he was beginning to shake from both caffeine and exhaustion. Thom from the FBI and Casey from the DEA came to debrief. They popped open laptops, put on wireless headsets, and spoke in gibberish and acronyms. This actually seemed to relieve Saber. Sigrun held his hand, paced with him, then rubbed his back. Skuld and Rota took her aside to let her cry, scream, moan, throw things, then return, dry-eyed, to comfort Saber.

Ace stuck to Saber like glue. "Man took a shot in the chest for me, you know?" Ace said to Gregory. "I'm going nowhere."

Gregory nodded. "I'll get the baby nurse people to send them to my house and yours."

"Don't bother," said Skuld. "The young ones are with your wives, helping with the babies. It's going to be damn distracting for Ivy, too, so we've sent the Wolfpack over there, as well. They're all on shifts. This is a long haul, a very, very, long haul. So, you're all on shifts, too, even Sigrun and Saber. We've got them a suite, so they can shower and sleep, and we have a command center." The FBI guy, Thom, came in and drew out Agent Lacey. "The Alphabet Agencies have got a command post there, too," Skuld said. "And protection around the clock from the best we have; one Iron Knight, one Valkyrie." She smiled. "I'm getting food and catching a fifteen-minute nap. I've got duty in an hour."

Ace and Gregory stared after her. "That's terrifyingly organized," said Ace.

"I think we need a spreadsheet or something," said Gregory.

"Already done," said Katya, coming in with Ivy. They kissed and hugged all around.

"We women have a spreadsheet, and you guys have one too," said Ivy.

"Who's minding the bar?" asked Ace.

"Bella and Cougar. They have it covered. And, we're on shifts, so the bar will get covered." Ivy held Ace close. "We're going to do two hours, then rotate. You are not rotating, though. You wouldn't be able to concentrate, with your blood brother a mess right now."

"Damn straight," said Ace.

Gregory stared down Katya. "Love, you're knocked up with the firefighters' baby. Go on home and rest, sweetlings."

"Don't you 'sweetlings' me," said Katya definitively. "I am strong peasant woman. My husband stands by Ace, who stands by Saber, who stands by Wraith."

"That's like, four people removed," said Ace. "We're taking up a waiting room. It's smarter to put someone in that rotates. Someone that will give us the news." Ivy looked at Ace as if he'd grown three heads. "What?" he asked. "I occasionally make sense."

"Is why spreadsheet," said Katya. "Gregory, you and I head to hotel and have romantic interlude. Then, you come back, help Ace, and feed him."

Ivy snorted, Gregory gaped, and Ace groaned. "I did not need to know what you were doing at the hotel," said Ace. "I can't unhear that."

Gregory stared at his wife. "I don't want to... you know. Not now. Inappropriate timing."

"Your loss," said Katya. She kissed him deeply, then sauntered out.

"Follow her before she removes your dick," Ace said. "Ivy's on ‘me duty.’" Gregory sighed, and ran after his wife.

"Yay!" said Ivy. She opened a sack. "Krispy Kreme donuts and a cappuccino. One for me, one for you."

"You rock!" said Ace, and kissed her on the cheek.

Hunted

SAC Haviland strode into the suite set aside for them. "Talk to me," he said, putting down the bag with three filled thermoses of premium coffee. He took out the bag of Chinese food. "Courtesy of the Nighthawks," he said.

Casey grabbed the sack, and started taking out chopsticks and paper cartons. "The truck is a total loss. Tire tracks --bike tracks, not a Harley, thank the Universe. A crotch-rocket. Doer was probably hiding behind a rock, and hit a button on a cell phone to go boom. Visibility is high because there's not much out there where they found it. Techs are putting the truck back together." She smelled a box. "Orange chicken." She tore the paper off her wooden chopsticks and dug in.

"No tripwire or pressure plate found," said Thom. "Techs are all over it." He grabbed a box. "Mu shu pork. That'll work."

"Eat," said Haviland. "I had pizza. Let me see the grid."

Casey reached over, and called up the overhead of the techs at the site. A computer-generated grid overlaid the real-time work. Police officers were walking the grid, looking for clues on stony, sandy ground.

"They're not even getting a candy wrapper out there, Sir," said Casey.

"Next steps," said Haviland.

"Homegirl's out of commission," said Casey. "For the duration, if she pulls through. That means all her cases, testimony, all of it, poof. She does a lot of depositions for this reason. Ours is a hell of a dangerous profession. I do the same thing with mine. I'm on a break, so I got called here. Already checking cases." She waved to a screaming-red laptop. "She gave Saber her secret codes. I've got all of it." She brushed cat hair off her black jacket. "Had to drop the kitten off, in return. Someone called Lily has her, a friend of Wraith's." She said, "Homegirl was busy. I mean, she had three identities she kept active, and four she kept dormant. Chicago, LA, Nogales, Phoenix. A fifth for Brownsville, Texas, a semi-active. Had a few more she would trot out on occasion. She built case after solid case. Gave info to anyone who could use it to take someone down --FBI, ATF, Homeland."

"Hence my being here," said Haviland. "She works and plays well with others. That biker persona is very useful."

"Not a persona," said Casey. "Real life. She's part of the Valkyries, a female bike club that specializes in empowering women. She's helped Herja train agents, and been involved in a program to get ex-service people with post-traumatic stress trained in the skills of bike repair."

"Good god," said Haviland. "That widens the suspect pool to..."

"Something just south of infinity," said Casey. "But, that's not what we think is going on."

Agent Thom Pance finished his mu shu pork pancake, took a sip of Kenyan coffee, and said, "The scars, the hat pulled low, the lack of fingerprints at the truck rental on the fence, the avoidance of cameras in a city with thousands of them, the exact timing to hit Wraith in such a way that it would kill her instantly and look like a traffic accident, and then blowing up the truck to cover his tracks in a way that showboats. All of this is way too elaborate. We think it's a spook."

"Didn't you arrest one recently?" asked Haviland. "Some crazy idiot."

"Jasper Palliver, Robert Smith, and what have you. Agent sold out agents and his team, then the ops went real-bad. One sick mother. Hear his handler had hold of him. He's in some deep, dark place, boss. Wiped clean off the face of the planet. If we see him again, he'll be in his nineties and too old for statecraft." Pance looked sick. "I read about some of what he did. Made some of those cartel fucks look like choir girls."

"Some of them are choir girls, or were," said Casey. "This guy's in a reptile room all of his own."

"He didn't get out?" asked Haviland.

"Not according to our contacts," said Casey. "But someone is really, really angry with Wraith for taking him down. Wraith tasered him. Twice."

"Payback," said Haviland. "And the whole point of being a spook is to stay hidden."

"We've got to expose this person to the light," said Casey. "Let the spook know that revenge works both ways."

"I've worked with some really good analysts," said Haviland. "Dedicated people. Want the intel to take down the most reptilian among us. Sadly, though," he said, breathing in his coffee, "I can't rule out or even be that horribly surprised by someone going bad. Some people aren't Wraith. They go down the rabbit hole and they don't come out."

"We're going to have to go down one ourselves. All to find a spook that was... what? In love with him? That man was incapable of it." Casey rooted around for the last piece of orange chicken.

Thom nodded. "That guy had snakes in his brain. Whoever we're looking for is exactly, positively, the same way."

* * *

Saber groaned as the woman in the flowered shirt and tiny blue shorts grabbed his wrists and pulled. His back popped, then stretched. She moved behind him, and stretched his arms back. He groaned as his shoulders popped.

Kwang Atitarn brought in a Thai mat, towels, oils, and soft flute music, and set herself up on the floor in the smaller bedroom. She put his hands on his head, wound her hands through to the back of his neck, and stretched. His back popped again, and again. He sighed.

She stretched him some more, then patted his back. "You put your shirt on, go sleep," she said. "Ace is with her, and you need sleep. Long haul, not one day."

He groaned, and rolled himself up. He staggered to the bed. She ran ahead to turn it down for him, and tucked him in. She stretched, drank water, then used the ensuite bathroom.

She opened the door. "Next," she said. Sigrun stumbled in, and collapsed. Kwang helped her get her shirt and shorts off, then her camisole was replaced with a loose robe. Despite Kwang rubbing her skin and pulling on her limbs, Sigrun was soon asleep.

* * *

Ace watched the machines beep. He was in a moon suit to prevent infection. He had slept some, but he missed Lily and his kids. He ached inside; for Saber and Sigrun, and for the Nighthawks and Valkyries. And guiltily for his own empty arms. He looked at the broken woman in front of him, the singularly most alive person he knew, other than Ivy. He saw the pins, the traction. She was on a lung bypass machine that hissed again and again as it breathed for her. He felt helpless, angry, and very alone.

A thought occurred to him. The one thing I'm not is alone. Henry had moved out to the clubhouse, and was coordinating and bunking there. Ivy had slept, and was going to take Ace's place in an hour. They'd gotten special dispensation; they didn't want Wraith to die alone, and they didn't want anyone to attack again. Kind of pointless, with her at death's door, but they had to be wary and vigilant.

He thought of what to do next. A spook. They thought a spook did this. But how the hell were they supposed to find and nail a spook? And how did a spook cross paths with Wraith? There were whispers of her taking down one, but the same whisperers said the spook in question was in a deep, dark hole, and not getting out. So, someone looking for revenge, most probably.

He looked at the woman in front of him, again. He'd seen brothers and sisters die, but not primarily on the road. His best friend, Youngin, from school. He died on a Kawasaki when a student from another school ran her over driving drunk, and far too fast. And then hit a tree with his brand-new Camaro. The other guy died, too, a week later, both loved by friends and family. Pointless waste, he thought. He began to sing; humming really. He started with her favorite songs, from every hair band, and including every guitar lick. It was the only thing he could think of to do, just to pass the time.

Thad Jugar --not her real name, had her little spook boy-toy parked at a psychiatric facility. She'd been his handler, and occasionally his lover. When the bullets flew, getting drunk and boinking your brains out afterward sounded like a good idea. Ronnie, Bobbie, Bob, Rob, then Harry, then Jasper --it was hard to keep track of all the names, and the personas. She knew something was wrong, and that he was selling them out. But he had the recordings and the devices, all over. He had dirt on all sorts of people. As time marched on, he became less bulletproof as people died, retired, or aired their dirty laundry.

She’d sounded the drum repeatedly, saying, "No one's luck is that bad." And finally, they let her burn him.

She figured he'd stashed enough to go to some island and retire. But, true to form, the little psychopath became an arms dealer. One that kept sneaking into facilities using false identities and the identities of people he'd killed. Or ones that were going to show up for their first day. Killing seemed to amuse him. He would leave the bodies in abandoned places, like shuttered amusement parks, and leave the bodies in strange positions. He got out with scraps of cobalt, uranium and phosphorous. He sold his little toys for astronomical amounts of money, to terrorists who were interested in all makes and models.

Now, she had the little shit where she wanted him. He'd already been doped up on Thorazine, and had talked about being a spy. Luckily, he hadn't used the word "terrorist," yet. That would get a call to Homeland Security. They just thought him to be a run-of-the-mill nutcase.

She was still his handler. Only now, he had a lot to say while under the influence of a variety of chemicals. Things that meant nothing to the staff, but a great deal to her. Listening to the recordings was... informative. Then, he started talking about how he would kill a bitch called Wraith, and that became... interesting. Apparently, she'd tasered him a few times.

She found the other listening device when he was in therapy, and when she went in to install a better device. Who the hell else was listening to him, and why? And how did the person get in? She decided to backtrack, and find the doer. Then, she found out someone had tried to assassinate Wraith. All bets were off; she had to find the listener. And soon.

She also had to send a warning. But to whom? She did some searches in her considerable databases. She'd started out as an analyst, and learned a great deal about information. She had even learned how to code. Wraith; she discovered, was married to an ATF agent. She also belonged to a motorcycle club, known as the Valkyries. She found Skuld, the law enforcement trainer. Now, to send a message without it being traced back to her.

* * *

Skuld worked on her laptop at the hospital, directing the Valkyries on their search for the scarred person, all while waiting to take her turn in a “giant condom,” as she called it, to hold Wraith's hand. She sent an email to Herja, and sent her a quick report on the search and Wraith's unchanged condition. She clicked on the email from an FBI server, assuming it was from Haviland, Thom, or one of his nerds. A little dancing ghost came out; a pink one. It developed an ear, and listened at a wall where a black and ugly demon was behind bars. The scene went to the other side of the prison wall, where a second ghost (this one gray and indistinct), had its own giant ear to the wall. Then, the gray ghost turned, and blew, and a silver-haired stick figure went flying through the air. Skuld's jaw dropped, and she made an inarticulate sound. She grabbed her iPhone and called Haviland. She got his voicemail, hung up, and called Casey with a video call.

"Is she...?" asked Casey.

"She's unchanged," said Skuld. "You gotta see this." She held the phone’s camera up to the ghost video.

Casey made the same sound when she saw it, then put her brain into gear and started analyzing. "We've found Jasper Palliver/Robert Smith's handler, or monitor… or whatever. The handler and someone else bugged the prison where he is and one of them is our doer. The handler is female; hence the pink. Palliver is the demon, and Pink Ghost Handler has no idea who Grey Ghost Doer is, or anything about the person."

"I assume she sent it to me because I'm a Valkyrie that works with law enforcement," said Herja.

"Don't know why she didn't contact Haviland," said Casey.

"Pink Ghost Handler doesn't know who to trust," said Herja. "The doer may be law enforcement, and is certainly a spook."

"Well, fuck," said Casey. "Do you trust me?"

"Because you're female? No. Because you move fast and have shown no sign of not being on board with this, yes. Provisionally. If you did this..."

"I'm going to be drawn and quartered by four bikes going four different directions. I get it. I don't think we're looking for a man. The doer is female. Savage. Furious. Her man was taken down and taken in, and she can hear his pain and suffering through the wall; probably a bug. Listening device. Anyway, the body type is slight. The scars are probably makeup. The ball cap obscures features. I think our doer is, or was, that demon (Palliver's) girlfriend."

"Did you get any info on Demon Palliver?" asked Skuld,

"Running into 'cannot confirm or deny.' Talked to a Quantico buddy, an analyst that went to Spookland. She says his file is so redacted there aren't five words in it. She's tracking down who knew him."

"Fuck," said Skuld. "We need intel. Can she be trusted?"

"If not, I'm a horrifyingly bad judge of character. I know her, and I roomed with her for a while. And I went through some very bad training scenarios with her. And she's a lesbian, so I don't see her falling for Palliver."

Skuld barked laughter, then grew serious. "That man has nasty tastes. Wraith said she picked him up in a whorehouse beating a lady of the evening. Whoever this is, if they're sexually involved, she may have a screw --or six loose."

"In other words, batshit crazy, " said Casey. "Okay, the Pink Ghost Handler, or Pinky, she wants to warn us that someone has been listening to Demon Palliver, and that someone attacked Wraith."

"Check," said Skuld.

"That person could be male or female, but I'm voting female," said Casey.

"Check," said Skuld.

"Grey Ghost is probably a psychopathic, murderous bitch, going after the person she feels is responsible for Demon Palliver's arrest."

"Check," said Skuld.

"The spooks tend to keep their prisoners in deep, dark holes," said Casey. "So, Grey Ghost is probably another spook. Trained in disguises, wet-work, survival, mayhem, and generally staying hidden."

"Check," said Skuld.

"How do we catch this bitch?" asked Casey. "We can't find out who he worked with. That's been redacted. Even if we did, it may be someone he met after he got kicked out. Sometimes burned agents are still considered 'useful' and used for nasty jobs."

"We're looking for a spook in charge of nasty jobs," said Skuld.

"They won't tell us that's their job description," said Casey.

"We set a trap," said Skuld. "And we need to put protection on anyone else who was there when Wraith took him down."

"A trap," said Casey. "Count me in!"

"We need a disinformation campaign. And sleight of hand. She's going to know we're looking for her, and maybe that we know she's an agent." Skuld made notes on her computer. "We need to take her down before she tries to finish the job.”

"Let's make a plan," said Casey. "What are our assets?"

"About a hundred angry bikers," said Skuld. "Guns, ammo. Knowledge of Vegas you can't even begin to imagine. A lot of law enforcement and former military. Very trained people. Motivated people."

"People who will gut our girl like a fish when they find her," said Casey.

"Do you really think she'd go to trial?"

Casey screwed up her face. "A definite point. She'll be dropped in a hole like Demon Palliver."

"I foresee her escaping --or suicide by cop, or being deranged enough to try to pop Loverboy out of prison."

Casey nodded. "I think she would have broken Loverboy out by now, if she could have. I think she's being passive there, waiting for her moment."

"So, we need two traps; one here, one there. If you can find out where 'there' is." Skuld thought quickly. "We can send a little, pixelated message back. One asking where the boy-toy is located. Maybe even ask her to set up a sting on her end."

"A one-two punch," said Casey. "I like it. How do we do this?"

"Let's loop in Ivy and Henry, and Herja, and..."

Casey cut off Skuld. "Too many people will know, and it will get out," she said.

"Planners," said Skuld. "The best ones. And, the people in it will only know their parts, not how the whole thing comes together."

"Okay, but no more than four," said Casey. "I've gotta run this as DEA and keep Haviland out of it. FBI is not used to running deep, undercover ops. We are."

"The Dirty FBI are. We're in touch with them. But, I agree. The DEA wants her more than anyone."

"Come here, little mousey," said Skuld. "I've got me some cheese."

* * *

Herja came down from Pahrump, exhausted from working with the Soldier Pack. "Those ladies push me to tell them everything on the first day, and they demand perfection from themselves," said Herja to Skuld, after they touched foreheads in the hotel parking lot. "Amazing women, but I'm not sleeping enough."

"I helped build their apartments here," said Skuld.

"Scouting places there," she said. "One's really bad, it’s a crack house. But, fixed up, it would be gorgeous. One-bedroom, nice kitchen."

"Good," said Skuld. "Ivy's got a babysitter and Cougar is covering for her at work. Henry is here, and they're ready to go mouse hunting."

"Well, let's catch a mouse," said Herja.

They went up in the elevator, speaking in Old Norse about the weather and the ride. Skuld opened the door, and found Henry sitting on the floor. Ivy was reclining on a couch. Henry had his tablet, Ivy a laptop.

Herja dropped her backpack and hugged Ivy and Henry, then introduced herself to Casey, and said, "No electronics. That way they can't be hacked."

"I sniffed for bugs," said Casey, "But, you're right."

Herja reached into her backpack, and withdrew several legal pads and a pack of pens. "We go old school," she said. They mapped it out, refined it, and made it beautiful. They divided it into segments and teams, and then got busy deciding who did what.

Ivy began that night with a very public argument with Saber, leaving a hole in the room-sitting defense. He texted Sigrun that he was going back to the hotel, and a little about the argument. He didn't find the note in his jacket pocket until he stopped at a convenience store on the way back to the hotel. He was literally heartsick that Ivy had called him a terrible husband, unable to protect his wife, and an idiot for leaving Vegas when she needed him the most, over and over again. He switched out beer for Red Bull and made his way back to the hospital, hoping he didn't trip up whatever plan they'd hatched.

An Iron Knight ate something that made him sick and vomited right there in the hallway, leaving another hole, a tiny one. Herja put on a fake baby bump, and took over. She listened to music, and left the room open, twice.

On the second time, the Grey Ghost slipped into the room. Henry was there, in his moon suit, singing the sacred songs over Wraith's head. He had weapons, very good ones, ready to use, and hiding in folds in the moon suit. The Grey Ghost was dressed in scrubs and a white coat. Henry knew she wasn't on the approved list. She was short, with brown hair the color of old peat, with faded blue eyes, and the slow movements of a tired doctor making last rounds for the night. She nodded to Henry, who continued singing without a hitch.

Skuld was behind the door, and caught the arm with the syringe. Henry didn't strike out in the usual way. Instead, he dosed her arm with a mix of stinging nettle and some hotter-than-hot pepper spray. She cried out. Skuld got her in the back of the knee with a low-electric-shock taser. She crumpled, but corkscrewed herself out of Skuld's attempt to arrest her.

She tried to lunge or fall forward with the needle, but Henry knocked it out of her hand. They grappled. Herja came into the room, popped the woman on the back of the head, and caught her when she crumpled. Skuld immobilized her hands, and they took her out to Casey's waiting car, with the "sick" Iron Knight rushing to replace Herja at the door. Saber met them at the door, and led them out the back way to the back lot.

Of course, the Grey Ghost was faking. She fought well with her hands tied together with plastic cuffs. The fight was fast, a confused battle of arms, legs, and a baton the Grey Ghost had hidden, which was strapped to her leg.

Sigrun stepped forward into the desert night, and they were silhouettes by the lights of a car. "Baby, get back," said Saber. "What are you doing here?"

"You texted me, upset about Ivy. I came here to yell at her. Is this the one that hit our girl?"

"Get back!" repeated Saber.

Herja spit out blood from a split lip. Skuld took out her own baton, and they fought as if they were swords. The ghost took advantage of someone entering the parking garage, and ran toward the car. She broke the windshield with her baton, and screamed at the woman inside to get out. The woman backed out instead, screaming with anger. Infuriated, the Grey Ghost ran after the car. Herja tripped her, then knocked her down. The woman came back up with a gun. It was a pea shooter, and she pulled the trigger. Sigrun turned white, and fell. Ace now ran toward her.

There was another shot, one much louder. Casey came out from behind a car, with a gun in one hand, and a badge in the other. She appeared at the same time Grey Ghost's skull exploded into a mess of bones and gore.

Herja and Skuld stepped away from the splatter of blood and brains, and ran to Sigrun. She was on her back, breathing in shallow gasps, with a hole in her chest.

"Not again," said Skuld, and knelt. She took off her leather jacket, threw it to Herja, and took off her shirt, exposing the camisole underneath. She pressed it into the wound.

Hospital security came running. Casey badged them, and had them call for an EMT and a stretcher. They loaded Sigrun. Ace and Skuld following her in. Herja stayed to give a statement while Casey called her superiors, and checked over the body.

"The coroner's going to have a field day," she said. "Woman's got a garotte in her hair, two blades strapped to her ankles under her support hose, and a shit-ton of ammo."

"Thank you," said Herja. "Always better when law enforcement gets the doer."

Ace followed the sirens to the back of the hospital and parked his Harley. "Did you get the doer?" he asked, then he saw Sigrun being loaded on a stretcher. "I'll stay with your wife, Saber. You take care of Sigrun."

"Thanks, brother," said Saber, rushing past, holding Sigrun's hand. "You're going to be fine, baby," said Saber. "If you're going to get shot, a hospital parking garage entrance is the place to do it."

Cameras throughout the hospital and the garage backed up the explanation of what happened, and when. Haviland showed up and took over the scene, although a DEA agent was involved. Thom helped with the interviews and the mountain of paperwork. They put the whole thing to bed at three a.m.

Casey went back to the hotel once they cut her loose. Henry was back from his singing; Ace had replaced him, then Ivy replaced Ace. Henry sat with Ace on the floor. Ace was mumbling with exhaustion, but too wired to sleep. Henry mumbled back with a reassuring tone.

Casey knelt before them. "Before I go home, I wanted you to know that the Grey Ghost I shot --her name is Emilie Roux. She's been with the Agency for a redacted amount of time, and she was his black-site handler when he left the Pink Ghost Handler. I still don't know her name, but she sent this." There was a cartoon of a pink ghost, with the demon in prison, and the cartoon of the grey ghost now had Xs for eyes. "I think she's verifying that we got her."

"Good to know," said Henry. "Casey; you, Haviland, and Thom, go home. I'm getting this one to bed."

"Mmm," said Ace.

The Valkyries waited until the bullet was out and her prognosis was good. They did this before telling the exhausted Saber that he could go back to his wife, and that they would take care of Sigrun. The bullet had punctured a lung and broken a rib, but it was a through-and-through and was expected to heal well.

Rota held Skuld's hand as they moved to the ICU waiting room. "Two of our sisters down," she said. "You both have bruises on top of your bruises." She gently touched Skuld's purpling cheek. "Let me get you a cold pack."

"At least we can stand down," said Skuld, gently removing Rota's fingers from her face. "Now we can begin to heal. And yes, please get me some ice."

Herja swung in, two ice packs in hand. "I've got two," she said, motioning for Rota to sit down. "I am really tired of people getting shot." She sat carefully, and handed a blue pack to Skuld. She put hers on her lip, and Skuld put hers on her cheek. "I'll fight any day. I live to fight. But shot? And two from the same family?"

"I wish they could legally marry," said Rota. "They are three, but they're all adults."

"I wish so as well," said Skuld. "They each are strong in different ways, defending the others' vulnerabilities."

"Maybe somewhere, sometime, people will be more free," said Rota.

"From your mouth to the universe's ears," said Skuld. "Let's call in other sisters. I think we all need to go home to heal."

"Already done," said Herja. "Ivy's in with her, and we're not on the schedule for another eight hours. Let's go get some food and rest."

"Ice cream," said Skuld. "Cold and goes down easy."

"Sonic has great shakes," said Rota. "Let's go!"

Reconnaissance

Sigrun was up and walking, but still in the hospital, when Saber kissed Sigrun gently. "Love, you've got your sisters here, and someone will be with you at all times. Numa's going to teach you how to card wool, and David will help you bead things. They're great people; the best. Learn what they have to teach you."

"I want my paints," she said.

"Way ahead of you," said Saber. "I couldn't get in paints, but I brought you colored pens and pencils, drawing paper, calligraphy paper and a calligraphy book and pens. There are these special pens that look like paper. Take them. Play with them. Use them."

"Alright." She kissed him, and his kiss was like a butterfly wing. "Love, you really have to go?"

"I called in some favors trying to track down Grey Ghost. Some of them big ones. I have to repay them when asked."

Sigrun smiled. "How the hell did you get her real file? She was involved in some shady-ass stuff."

"Only half redacted," said Saber. "No dates, times, or place names, but we did track down how she met her ‘One and Only.’ She was Demon Guy's handler when he infiltrated an arms dealer. Ended up becoming one himself --one weapon of mass destruction, at a time. The Feds are apparently interrogating him to track down all his little toys and the crazies that purchased them." He kissed her again. "I see what you're doing. Trying to get me to stay." He handed her the bag of goodies. "I snuck in chocolate and bubblegum. Behave."

She laughed, then clutched her side. "Don't make me laugh, you idiot. Go!"

He went up two floors to see his other wife. When did I start thinking of Sigrun as our wife? he asked himself. Wraith looked better, her color up, the shunt in her head removed. She was out of the induced coma, and could wiggle her fingers and move her eyes. They were all stunned to realize she wasn't paralyzed, but her spinal column would need time to heal.

Wraith had both a tablet and an eyeboard if she needed to talk. She made "gah" sounds that raised and lowered in pitch. Vu was there, reading to her. Saber was startled to realize there was a tablet under the injured hand and a lighted keyboard under the other.

Vu pointed at the new keyboard with her chin. "She's practicing. We'll get her hooked up to ‘Mavis Beatty Teaches Typing,’ tomorrow. "

"Gah," said Wraith emphatically. Her hair had been washed and braided; probably Herja on night shift, who was most likely responsible for that.

He smiled down at his wife. "Sigrun's got new coloring toys. She'll drive the nurses crazy, asking them for paper."

Wraith smiled. "Go gah," she said.

"Our wife," said Saber. Wraith's eyes filled with tears, and she nodded a fraction. Sudden movements hurt her neck, and she was in a brace, so her nods and head shakes were minimal, but easy to read. "She is," said Saber. He struggled not to cry. "By the time I get back, you'll be talking."

"Gon go," said Wraith.

"I called in favors," said Saber, tears standing out in his eyes. "I have to go. I swear I'll come back as soon as I play my part. This is strictly short-term. A real baddie to put down." He smiled. "We like taking them down, don't we?"

"Go go mo," said Wraith, looking at her left hand, still in traction.

"Not anymore maybe," said Saber. "You Valkyries are the strongest people around. Whatever you want to do, you'll do it, no matter how long it takes to get there."

"Go guk," said Wraith.

"Thank you. I'll need good luck to make this as short as possible." He kissed her with butterfly kisses, while he tried not to look at her left arm. It was in a spider's web of metal and white traction.

"Go go gi," she said.

"Or on it," he said, putting his forehead to hers. "Love you with everything."

"Gov gu," said Wraith.

Tears filled his eyes. "Love you too," said Saber. "Be back as soon as I can." He kissed her again, and she smiled, just a tiny bit. He smiled back, and left.

* * *

Life returned to normal, except for rotating through sitting with Wraith and Sigrun. Wraith was finally downgraded enough to where they could be in the same room, with Sigrun almost ready to go home. That cut the rotating in half. So, Callie was happy to go to see the “ladies,” as she called them. She found markers that had ink that glowed in the dark, and others that were glittery. She bought black paper to go with them, and put them in a bag for Sigrun. She found a gel ball for Wraith that she could squeeze and pummel, and even throw if she got really mad. The old Wraith was there, just imprisoned in a body that needed time to heal. She also brought her laptop, loaded with programs designed for those in traction to get more movement, and to work on their language centers.

She hugged Herja, who was showing Sigrun and Wraith a video of their latest open-field fighting session. Wraith slowly raised her right knee, and put it down.

Sigrun put her hand over her mouth. "What the hell?"

"Fiz zu kul ter a pee," said Wraith, slowly sounding out the word. The syllables sounded like marbles in her mouth, but were very recognizable."

Callie pretended it was no big deal. "Physical therapy sucks. Got you in speech therapy, too?"

"No," said Wraith. "Tal-king be-cause Vu may-kus me."

Callie smiled. "Guess what we're going to do today?" She went over and gently hugged and kissed Sigrun, then took the ball out of the bag, and handed it to Sigrun. Sigrun eagerly pulled out the gel pens.

"Wha?" asked Wraith. Callie went over and touched her good arm, then butterfly-kissed her cheek. She put the ball in Wraith's good hand. "You need to relearn how to squeeze a ball, and how to pitch something at someone's head if you're mad."

Sigrun giggled. She was still on pain meds. "You'll get us kicked out when Wraith beans the physical therapist in the head." She laughed again. "Or the nutritionist. The food is horrific."

Wraith pulled out the bag that had been hidden inside the one with the pens and ball. "Orange chicken, two kinds of dim sum, egg drop soup. Fortune cookies," said Sigrun, aroused at the thought of yummy Chinese.

"Damn you," said Herja. "Now I'll have to stop by Bao's mother's place and pick up Chinese on the way home." She put away her laptop, slid the bag on her shoulder, kissed everyone goodbye, and left.

Sigrun fed herself, and Callie fed Wraith the soup, with tiny bites of the chicken, and the mini dim sum. Then, she helped Sigrun to the bathroom to clean up, disposed of the evidence in a trash can, and read to Wraith. She had Wraith read a line back to her, while also typing some of the words. They had switched to a Dvorak keyboard, and now she could type one-handed much faster. She put on Mavis Beatty Teaches Typing, and set it to a typing game to where a lizard gobbled typed letters.

She heard Wraith's breathing get labored. "I hate Ma-vis Bea Tee," said Wraith. "Dat bitch."

Sigrun laughed as she came out of the toilet. "I do too, but my typing is much faster. I'm able to finish up Asian Art Online. Getting caught up, even."

"Good," said Callie. "We'll get you home and finishing off paintings for your other class. Did you get anything done for the other two classes?"

"Had to drop them," said Sigrun. "I did ask if I could draw certain... medical things. 'The Art of Imperfection,' I'm calling it. They said if it is an entire small portfolio, it would work. So, I'm doing line drawings."

"Of my ha und," said Wraith. "Ugh."

"No," said Callie. "It's brilliant. People do drawings like that to design 3D printed devices that can help people in medical settings. If you can make the drawings as realistic as you can, you can help people design better things to help people."

"3D art," said Sigrun. "Interesting."

"It's actually a great field to go into," said Callie. "Now, let's finish with that bitch Mavis --and then you can tell me a story."

"Bitch," said Wraith, clearly, as Sigrun toddled back to bed on Callie's arm.

"Abso-fucking-lutely," said Callie.

* * *

At home, Callie came in. Ivy was hyped up from a great night at work, and was now singing in the kitchen. The babies were asleep; Henry and David had worn them out playing baby games. Hu and Grace were with Bao.

"Your ice cream sundae awaits," she said. Callie kissed her deeply. "What brought that on?" asked Ivy.

"What happened to Wraith could happen to anyone, at any time. She's progressing as fast as she can. When Saber gets back, he's going to kick himself for missing Sigrun going home, and Wraith talking again. She moved her knee today." She sat down at the breakfast bar. Ivy kissed her again, and put a scoop of butter pecan ice cream in front of her, with caramel, whipped cream, and a cherry. Callie dug in.

"They are good together, you know?" said Ivy, putting away the ice cream. "A three-person marriage. Works for me." She laughed.

"Not us," said Callie, pointing a spoon at her. "We're too damn busy to date other people."

Ivy laughed. "We are burning the candle at four ends, aren't we?"

Callie licked caramel off her spoon. "I need... I need..."

Ivy opened the door to the refrigerator, pulled out the box of Girl Scout Thin Mints, added two to the sundae, and put the cookies back in the refrigerator."

"Bless you," said Callie, and took a mouthful of mint chocolate goodness. She swallowed and said, "How do you always know exactly what I need?"

Ivy smiled. "Practice."

"How did it go at the bar?"

"I sang 'What A Girl Wants.' It was all about you, baby."

"That's so sweet!" said Callie.

She finished her ice cream, cookies, and caramel, and handed the empty bowl back to Ivy. She licked the last of the caramel off the spoon, and handed that over, too. Ivy rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher.

Ivy came over, and pulled off Callie's simple black tee. Callie pulled off Ivy's "Rock On" tee, and kissed her. They fondled each other's breasts. Ivy was the first to unclasp Callie's bra, letting the breasts spill out into her hand.

"Mmmm," Ivy said, and sucked them one by one.

It took Callie longer, but she got Ivy's bra off, and played with the tips while Ivy made her moan. She came, and returned the favor. Ivy came, and they stood, throwing off clothes, and ended up in the living room. The new couch had a double recliner. Ivy took one end, shoved Callie into it, pulled off her jeans, and spread her legs. She kissed her, hard, and pulled off her underwear. Callie tried to reach over to unbutton her jeans, but Ivy shoved her hands away.

She explored her wife, stroked her with her hands, then her tongue. Ivy bit her neck, licked the tips of her breasts, and made her moan and cry out. She put her fingers inside, making Callie come up to reach her, bow her back, and scream out in pleasure. She made Callie come, again and again --and again, using her fingers, her tongue, licking and sucking and putting her fingers deep inside. She came when Callie did, hard and rough, and felt something inside of herself unwind. As if it kind of snapped back into place. Her magic wife; loving and healing, and just for her.

She picked up the dirty clothes and left her wife there, naked and gasping, legs like rubber. She put their clothes in the wash in the laundry room, and she put the load that was in the washer into the dryer. It was made up of baby things that were waiting to be spun. She came back, and helped her wife up to bed. They put on underwear, yoga pants, and camisoles, and held each other in the dark.

Ivy couldn't sleep. She was sick with heartbreak and rage. She couldn't fathom it. Yes, Wraith and Saber went after dangerous people. Yes, Sigrun knew this. She also knew that Sigrun put herself in the line of fire by loving them. But, the cost was so high. Wraith had a long recovery from a brain injury, with months of learning to speak, move, walk again, and with possible memory problems. Callie and Vu were miracle workers, pushing Wraith far past where the doctors expected her to be. Sigrun had gunshot recovery, and had to scramble to catch up on her art classes. Art school was expensive; she couldn't drop what she was doing. She was clever, and finding ways around the problem. But, their lives now revolved around hospitals, doctors, prognoses, and fighting against them. Or taking care of the kitten, who treated Skuld's kitchen as a place to mount an assault, knocking spices and utensils to the ground and pouncing on them. And they'd need money, wouldn't they? The Valkyries had two of their own in the hospital, with Wraith still critical, and Sigrun who was expected to fully recover. Sigrun had measly student insurance, and couldn't cover the cost of her own care, much at all.

They needed a rally, a bike rally; one all three clubs could participate in. She brought out her maps on her tablet and laptop, and plotted a route. California looked great, and the Iron Knights and Valkyries were there as well. So, she settled on San Diego, texted Herja, and planned out the route there and back. She got a text back, and although it was nearly three in the morning, Herja said Hrist in San Diego wanted an oval trip. From San Diego to Olympia in Washington, then on small highways, to Reno, then back to Vegas. Herja also sent a route map, and Ivy loved it. She texted it to Ace, and, despite the late hour, got a “Do it!” text back. Ivy sent the info to Sigrun with the route map, and asked for some artwork. She then went to bed.

"Why the fuck aren't you asleep?" asked Callie, with one eye open.

"Needed a plan. Made one. We're going on a ride." Ivy kissed her.

"Mmmf," said Callie.

The Iron Knights loved the plan, and started getting their bikes ready to go. The Soldier Pack scrambled to get bikes ready for both themselves and any Wolfpack members who still needed a bike and wanted to go. Once every weld was checked, they were all pronounced "graduated" from the program, and the Valkyries, Iron Knights, and Nighthawks told them to talk it over and, after the trip, they would determine if they wanted to set up shop at home with some seed money. Alternatively, they could set up shop in small towns near Las Vegas. The apartments needed to be vacated for the next group. The clubs scrambled to help Tito and Nico find apartments and garages that could be bought at auction in several small towns nearby, like Mesquite, Nevada, and Hemet, and California, for those who wanted to choose that location.

Valkyries from all over the country came, and signed up their Iron Knight brethren from as far away as Maine and Fort Lauderdale. The Nighthawks came, loaded down with donated sandwiches and homemade chips made from produce from their vast, vertical garden. Mike and Nantan had started experimenting with ginger ale and apple ciders --and sodas they bottled in reusable containers, which were definitely a huge hit.

Kieran and Pavel came down, with dogs in boxes on their bikes that they had bought from the Soldier Pack. They were introduced all around.

"How do you train those dogs?" asked Mike, while passing out ginger ale.

Pavel said, "It takes about a year to train dogs. We train dogs that recognize epileptic attacks, or soothe autistic kids. We have dogs kids read to, that will sit still and listen, and dogs that help with depression and anxiety disorders."

"You train the bomb sniffing and drug dogs?" asked Spear.

"Bomb sniffing and drug dogs we leave to the police to train. Not exactly a good idea for people still in college to try to collect bomb and drug residue the dogs can train to sniff," said Kieran. "Homeland Security may get nervous."

"We adopt them from shelters or rescue societies for specific breeds, like golden retrievers, or shih-tzus or pugs," said Pavel. "Then, they get the basic commands, by voice and by sign." He called over the pug named Mabel, and told her to come. He did it by holding his hand down and moving it toward himself by pointing down, and to lay down --by making his hand flat and lowering it.

Soon, a group from the Soldier Pack were around the dog trainers, learning the commands by practicing on Mabel and a happy little shih-tzu named Onyx, named for his black fur. There was a lot of talking and laughing. They practiced on Henry's Bess, and Ivy's pug, called Jake. She'd left the dachshund (Daisy) at home with the infants, and with Callie, Bao, and the Wolfpack who didn't want to go, or who had face-to-face classes.

Henry explained about how the dog boxes and harnesses for the backs of bikes or the sidecars worked. Ghost proudly informed them the boxes they'd made got their straps on the reservation, then went to people all over the world. They loaded up the dogs when Herja and her soldiers came up behind her. Some of the soldiers practiced the commands on each other as they loaded themselves onto their bikes, provoking laughter, and they were off to San Diego. Off, with Ivy and Skuld in the lead.

The Iron Knights met them at Boulder City; they had camped at Lake Mead overnight, along with some of the Soldier Pack and the Vegas Valkyries. They racked up the songs, including Truckin' by the Grateful Dead, Springsteen's Born to Run, and Whitesnake's classic, Here I Go Again. As they rode, they accumulated more and more bike clubs. The Gearheads argued bike building and maintenance with Bonnie, Ghost, Killa, and any of the Soldier Pack who would listen. The Soul Brothers caught up when they ate lunch on the other side of the Mojave National Reserve, and with some teenagers who had never left Las Vegas before. They took the scenic route through Joshua Tree National Park, and avoided Los Angeles by taking the California 62. They took a series of smaller roadways, enjoying the scenery, stopping to use the restroom, walk dogs, or eat and catch up with the long train of riders. They took over a series of hotels just north of San Diego on the Pacific Coast Highway, and set up tents on the beach as well, and at a campsite on the bay. They changed into swim shorts, shirts, and casual tops, and went swimming. They lazed in the sun, had a massive cookout, and Ivy and Herja had them up singing, well into the night.

They hit up La Jolla for breakfast, taking over several diners. They stopped off at Santa Monica Pier, and played volleyball on Venice Beach. They all shopped. They ate lunch in various Venice and Santa Monica restaurants, then headed back out onto the highway. They collected more members from various groups, including two very tall Valkyries, and a lot of Iron Knights; most of them cops and firefighters taking time off before wildfire season started, in earnest.

They headed up to Santa Barbara, and had fun in the museums and bought some chocolate. Then they went to Santa Cruz and stopped by the boardwalk. Some went to Wilder Ranch State Park for hiking. They met up at the wharf for dinner and dancing, then headed to a beach campsite for the night. They sang, they danced, drank sodas and beer, roasted marshmallows to make s'mores, and generally had a disgusting amount of fun.

David encircled Henry with his arms. "What do you think?"

"I think we needed to get away from the farm, said Henry. "I was getting so exhausted that I couldn't remember who I talked to about what, or why. I had people on my schedule I talked to, because the call was logged, but I had no idea what we discussed."

"Mental fog," said David. "I love the babies, and the kids, and the Wolfpack, and every single horse and pony. But, I'm thinking we need some alone time."

"No one seems to be paying attention to us," said Henry. "Let's sneak away."

They turned, and David led Henry to their tent. They kicked off their sandals, unrolled the sleeping bags, then zipped them together. They zipped shut the tent, turned off the lantern, and held hands for a long time. David kissed Henry so slowly, so very gently. Then, they moved together, pulling off T-shirts and board shorts, and they slid into the sleeping bag.

David caressed Henry's face. "Love," he said.

"Quiet," said Henry, putting his fingers on David's lips. "We don't want anyone stopping by with questions, or concerns, or handing out drinks..."

David snuffled a laugh. "Point taken," he whispered.

They reached for each other, kisses starting slow, then building, getting deeper, harder, and faster. David stroked Henry's hair, face, and he kissed down his neck. He turned, kissing his way down, and stroked and kissed his cock, then sucked on his balls, one at a time. Henry did the same, but found himself distracted. It didn’t take long, with the powerful rush rising, and then he came.

Henry reached over his head, grabbed a wet wipe, and passed it down. He took his time kissing and sucking David until he came as well. He cleaned David off, disposed of the waste in a plastic bag, and dragged David back up. They shared sips of cherry water, then began again. But this time more slowly, letting the tension build and rise, only to back away, and to let it rise some more. They came again, together, and this time after David cleaned them both up. Afterward, they slipped on shorts, and fell asleep in each other's arms.

They were awakened by screams. Mike was two tents over. Gregory slipped in, with two cans of Coke in hand, woke him up, and took him out to the fire. Most of the camp went back to sleep. Henry and David knew Gregory was there to lend a hand.

"What's up?" asked Gregory, sipping his Coke.

Mike poked at the embers with a stick. "I've gotta... this is good, you know? Getting away. Learning how to ride with a peg leg. Making food everyone ate yesterday." He laughed. "Didn't last long."

At the sound of their laughter, those wondering if they needed to go out and intervene slipped back into sleep. The soldiers slept four to a tent, in bigger tents. It was what they were used to.

"It's a real thing, growing food," said Gregory. "That's the people that should get the money. The farmers and the truck drivers, and the servers --and all of those that get the food to us. And the energy. And the people who transport other people, like bus drivers. We can't do anything without those people. Yeah, some people throw great touchdowns, or sing a rocking song, but I would rather pay the people that make life work. Pay them the big money."

"Don't need the cash," said Mike. "Just need to do something useful, you know?" He sipped more Coke. "That's the first nightmare I've had in two weeks. Used to be every damn night. I'm damn happy, you know, Gunny? Got to go swimming, and hiking." He stuck out his specialized leg with the hiking shoe on it. "I can move around a lot better. And I'm not tearing my hands up on the bikes, trying to do something I can't do. I can do a lot of things."

"There's a million things you can do, and a million things you can't," said Gregory, quoting a very old Star Trek episode. "The trick is figuring out which is which. I tell my soldiers --we've hired and are training some of you soldiers for the security company I own with Bannon. And to only work security if they like it, and if they are good at it. I train them on as many things as I can, because until you try it, you won't know if you like it or not. I still work on houses for Habitat for Humanity, and the soldier houses..." He became silent.

"What?" asked Mike.

"Houses. For those who want to work on bikes in small towns. Some will want to go home, but over half want to be around us. We've been scouting apartment houses, and apartments over garages. But, if only two or three are staying in an area, why not rehab a house?"

"Sounds better," said Mike. "We like living together. Help each other out with cooking and cleaning, and all that kinda shit. Have a garage to tinker in. We don't need a specialized garage with a bay, just the tools. And those that have been doing this awhile have already worked on getting those. Get a lot from a guy who retired. Or, just a small one with one or two bays, like those drive-up places they use for oil changes."

"Well then," said Gregory. "We've got a new plan." Gregory took Mike to his own tent, and they made plans until dawn.

They found Tito in the morning, and he was so excited that he did some research on his phone. They found a little garage in Hemet, and one in Baker in California. Then, two in Mesquite, one in Tonopah in Nevada, and one in Bullhead City, Arizona. Finding three-bedroom houses or condos for auction was relatively easy after that. They went to coffee shops for breakfast, and Bonnie, Herja, Tito, and the soldiers hashed out who wanted to go where. Gregory fronted his bonus money for training and recruitment, and they had themselves a plan for when they got back.

They mounted up, and went to San Jose. They explored the zoo, the open-air market, and the Winchester Mystery House with its 165 rooms. Then they went to Golden Gate Park, had lunch, and took dozens of pictures of the Golden Gate Bridge. Some went to Alcatraz, some to Fisherman's Wharf, and some went hiking up and down San Francisco's hills. They met at the wharf for delicious bowls of clam chowder in sourdough bread bowls, and headed north. They ended up in Olympia, Washington, with stunning views of the bay. They camped, and went to Olympic National Park, and then they drove the Olympic Peninsula.

They headed back inland, and saw the giant redwood trees. They took small highways, all the way back to Fresno, then those that lived in Southern California split off from those that lived west. They went back to Nevada. The Iron Knights (and Valkyries heading back to the east) took a few riders and their tools with them. Back to Georgia, Alabama, Tennessee, and Kansas, but most wanted to stay on.

"Bones heal. Hearts heal. Bones and hearts together? That's gonna take some time."