Sheriff Bob and Xenia were both there for the arraignment. Donna Trast, the former foster mother, was in court for starving a child. She was foul-mouthed, rude to the judge, ignored her attorney, and made herself a pain in the ass. She was quiet long enough for the judge, not the prosecuting attorney, to ask Sheriff Bob why the Sheriff’s Department didn’t catch the abuse.

“My wife had a new baby, and she and the baby were nearly kidnapped. Very understandably, she spent the next few weeks at home. I visited Dina, but I hadn’t physically seen her previously, and therefore did not spot her sudden weight loss.” He grimaced. “Ms. Trast was rude, demanding, and tried to get me to leave before I had a chance to see Dina. I insisted.”

“And what about the caseworker?” asked Judge Janye Jermaine. Everyone called her Judge J.J. She had a narrow face, dark eyes that held like steel when she was angry, and a cascade of dark hair that was held back in a golden clip that went well with her judicial robe.

Sheriff Bob spoke clearly for the court reporter, so he could catch all of his words. “Dina didn’t remember the last time her caseworker had visited her. I called the caseworker when I got back to the office, and left a message to see Dina. Dina was quite clear that Ms. Trast was treating her rudely, with a lot of screaming. I tried asking her exactly what Ms. Trast said to her, but Dina refused to say. I have since found out that she was embarrassed about having been overweight, and at first was pleased about losing weight. I described what I knew to her caseworker on the phone call. I then followed up with two separate emails. My wife was going to visit her next, and I assumed either the caseworker or my wife would get to the bottom of it.”

“What else did you do?” asked Judge J.J.

“I sent an email to her caseworker’s boss. Jenna Rayse listened to my detailed report and hung up the phone. Also, my wife and I were searching for adoptive parents for her, keeping our eye out, talking to family and friends. We found a couple in Las Vegas who were highly interested.”

“Do you know what was done from there?” asked Judge J.J.

“I do not,” said Sheriff Bob.

“I am satisfied with this witness,” said the judge. “Do you have anything to add?”

“Only that my wife’s description of Dina, and my subsequent viewing of the photos a few short weeks later, were both chilling and disturbing. I thought ‘holocaust survivor.’ Her eyes were hollows in her head.”

“Very well,” said Judge J.J. “Anything from counsel?” Both were intelligent enough to do nothing. Judge J.J’s eyes were beginning to darken with anger. Ms. Trast was, surprisingly silent, but she glared daggers at Bob. Bob glanced over at her with the weight of cold rage in his eyes, and she had the slight bit of intelligence to flinch.

Xenia came up, was sworn in, and sat down. “Sheriff Poulolakis I would like permission to call you Xenia. Your name is a mouthful.” Members of the audience snorted.

“Of course, your honor,” said Xenia.

“Tell me about your visit with the putative foster parent, Former Special Agent Annika Jensen.”

Xenia told her about the disastrous visit, including Donna’s ugly behavior that included cursing in front of toddlers and infants, Dina’s terrifyingly small weight, and Dina’s statement (and that of her foster sister Rayna). She added that Ms. Trast thought she was “…fat and faking her physical pain.”

“Was the girl hospitalized afterward?” asked Judge JJ.

“Not here,” said Xenia. “Her new mother carried her, and got her gel pillows. We were quite worried about overfeeding someone who had been starving, and we were intensely concerned about breaking bones due to calcium loss. Her doctor in Las Vegas put her on a glucose drip for forty-eight hours, and she has been seen by a nutritionist to help her gain weight safely.”

“I have those medical reports,” said Judge J.J. “I also have perused the photographs. I am officially stunned and horrified.” She looked at Xenia. “Do you have anything to add?”

“I do. Rayna is in Las Vegas. She has gained weight. Her hair, bones, and nails are far less brittle. She is learning biofeedback and gets acupuncture on her ears to decrease her pain, which is quite real.” Xenia looked right into Donna’s eyes when she said that. “When her weight is at a healthy level, she will have surgery to repair some of the damage from the injuries and allow her to sit and walk normally again. She will then have physical therapy to help her gain muscle mass, and an occupational therapist will help her move in ways that are not painful.”

“I am relieved to hear it,” said Judge J.J. “You are relieved, Sheriff Xenia.” Xenia stepped down.

Judge J.J looked at Donna Trast. “I am appalled. You had a highly damaged child in your care. It says here that you were a pediatric nurse. I cringe at what the children under your care would have been through. The hospital is checking with former patients, and I am relatively certain that new charges will be filed.”

Xenia and Bob looked at each other, and grimaced. They were the ones investigating. Trast had been let go from her former hospital, and they had not been forthcoming about possible patient abuse due to HIPAA rules that protected patient confidentiality when Trast was getting her foster parent license. So, eight years of child abuse had ensued before Xenia had enough proof to have her license revoked and bring her up on charges.

“You starved and neglected a child; you did not take her to receive any medical care when you signed paperwork. You acted this way when you understood she needed consistent medical care to receive her chronic pain condition, you falsified records about such visits and were reimbursed for them, and you told Dina and your other foster daughter that this child, Dina, a ward of the court, was lying about her pain when you had proof that she was not.” The judge’s eyes were almost black with rage. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Donna Trast glared at the judge. “I did nothing fucking wrong,” she said.

The judge slammed down her gavel. “What part of ‘do not curse in court’ is confusing to you, Ms. Trast? You will speak with respect in my courtroom.” Donna opened her mouth, and began shouting verbal abuse at the judge, including calling her a monkey, a spade, and a fucking idiot. She also ignored repeated bangs of the gavel. “Bailiff, remove this woman. In addition to the other charges, this woman is charged with contempt of court.” The bailiff pulled out the woman, her face bright red, screaming profanity and abuse at the top of her lungs.

“I am sorry, your honor,” said Ramon Cartliff, Trast’s lawyer. “I explained the court rules to her several times.” He held up his phone. “And I recorded those admonitions.”

“You are not at fault, Mr. Cartliff,” said Judge JJ. “That… person does not seem to be capable of decent behavior.” She pounded her gavel. “Court is adjourned.”

Xenia and Bob went out into the white, hammer-bright light. “Let’s get something at the diner. I need some food now,” said Bob.

“I’ll meet you there,” said Xenia. “You know, I thought I would feel good, seeing her put away. I’ve been trying to get her license pulled for years, but she keeps cleaning up enough and squeaking by. I think she has some sort of advocate that warned her about visits, like an admin or something. Anyway, I just feel sick and a little dirty, like I need a shower.”

Bob rubbed his wife’s back. “Let’s go catch some lawbreakers after lunch. Maybe you can get into a fistfight. Make you feel better.”

She grinned at him. “You are the perfect husband for me. You get my bloodthirsty side.”

“You are a Valkyrie,” he said. “Changing that would be like changing the moon.” He waved at her, got into his truck, waved goodbye, and beat her to the diner. They commiserated over pulled pork sandwiches, fries, and cherry Cokes. Bob touched his wife on the nose, their version of a kiss in public.

He went back to the office. Wraith was sitting on his desk, and doing dangerous things to his computer. She had her booted feet up on his desk, and was typing so fast her fingers were flying. “Hello, Wraith,” he said. “Get the system working yet?”

“I made several upgrades,” she said. “Your file systems now match Xenia’s systems.”

“She said they worked a lot better,” he said, and sat down in front of her. He grabbed a stack of things in his inbox, and started going through his messages and reports, putting them into separate piles.

“They do,” said Wraith. “I’ll be out of here outside of an hour. How did the arraignment go?”

“She lost it on the judge,” said Sheriff Bob. “She’s toast.”

“Did you know that someone adopted Dina’s foster sister Rayna?” asked Wraith.

“I heard. A Reno Valkyrie. Soccer enthusiast, too.”

Wraith snorted. “The woman played from age eleven through college, and professionally for two years. Rayna will get scholarships if she’s any good with Hjalmbimul.”

“Good,” said Bob. “Put your earplugs in.” Wraith grinned, flipped her braids (which made them clack together), and slipped in her gel earplugs. Bob got on the phone, and answered all his messages, while simultaneously signing reports and answering correspondence. An hour later, he’d made serious inroads into his paper piles.

He tapped Wraith’s hand. She popped out the earplugs. “Whassup?” she said.

“Want to go terrify some school kids into staying off alcohol and drugs?” he asked Wraith.

She grinned. “Give me two more minutes, and yeah, why the hell not?”

They went to the school, a middle school, holding a summer camp for kids with academic projects and games, and lots of sports. Wraith tried not to laugh through Bob’s presentation. When he was done, she stepped forward. “Drugs slow you down, or speed you up. They make you feel sick and shaky the next day. Many times, you can’t get out of bed. You can’t think straight. You say and do crazy things, scream at the people you love the most, and even get violent. Hit people.”

She looked around; taking note of the kids that understood all that. The ones that got it. It could be anything from a drunk parent, to one on crack, to one taking pain medication they couldn’t stop taking when the physical pain went away, just because they tipped over into addiction without realizing it. “Some go Incredible Hulk, but not in a good way. Hulk smashes bad guys. Not good ones. Or, you turn into a ghost person, not really at home at all.” Absolute silence reigned in the auditorium. Wraith stepped forward, moving like a panther. She had their attention. “Some people will be kids, offering you a pill, a drink. Some will be older kids. Some are kids that steal their brother’s medication he uses to focus, and uses it to send his friends out of focus. Some will talk to weightlifters, getting them to take something in order to lift more. Some will even be adults, on streets, in your apartment complex. They’ll say it makes you feel good. They’re right.” They looked at her shocked, stunned. No one else had admitted drugs felt good; no one else had been real, like her. “Then, they crash. And for every feel-good moment, the crash gets harder, like a plane taking off and crashing, taking off and crashing even harder.” She showed with her hand what she meant. “If someone you love is doing this stuff, talk to a teacher, the counselor here, or Sheriff Bob here. He’ll give you my number if you want to talk to me.”

She pulled up her shirt, showed the scars down her right side. The students gasped. She knew it was something they’d remember and she felt like it made sense.

“I got in a motorcycle accident. I could have gotten addicted, like that. Pain medication can also be an addiction.” She dropped her shirt, snapped her fingers. Some of the students jumped. “I didn’t because I’ve got friends who cared for me.” She grimaced. “But if you think I didn’t want more, you would be very, very wrong.” She sighed. “So, addicts get into it, some through stupidity, some through injury, and some because they had no idea what it would do to them. So, one pill, one drink, one snort, one spoon.” She scanned the room, meeting every eye, most of them round, some of them blank, and some sad. “But you know, now. And if I did those things, I would wrap my motorcycle around a tree, and be dead (or worse than dead) right now.”

She caught their eyes again. The room was in awe of her words. You could’ve heard a pin drop, they were so intrigued by her. Wraith had been in a position to become addicted and there was nothing more real than that.

“So, this is what I suggest. Walk away. Look down,” she said. They did. “You have feet,” she said. “Use them.” A smattering of giggles ensued. “Walk away; go do what you want to do. Go to the library, go to the gym. Play soccer, read a book, post a photo on Instagram. Ride a horse, or learn to code. Whatever. But,” she said, catching their eyes again, “find something you like. Something you want to do. And. Do. It. Enjoy it. If you stop liking it, find something new. That will keep you happy, healthy. Safe. Loved.” She grinned at them, turning on the charm. “I love all of you. Some of you know what I mean. That still, small voice inside of you. You know I’m telling the truth.” Some of them looked at her, hard-eyed. Most of them nodded. “So, I’m going now, and so is Sheriff Bob. We’ll sit down outside in the shade, for a minute or two, have a drink box.” They all laughed. “If you want to talk, you can. If not, don’t. You have an early out today, half an hour before the buses or whoever picks you up comes for you. Go play outside, or go to the library if that’s your thing. If you need to talk, swing by our bench.” She nodded, and Sheriff Bob put a stack of cards on a table. “Go away,” she said. “Run. Be free.” They stood, and vanished.

All of them did, except for one little girl, the one with the blank eyes. She wore worn (but clean) clothes, her brown hair streaked blonde by the sun, in braids, skin a lovely nut-brown. She went up to Wraith, and said, “I’m Sondra. My mom had an accident. The same as you. Can you come home with me?”

“Sure,” said Wraith. The girl took her hand, and Wraith let herself be led.

The house was behind the school on a side street. The homes were small but clean, most of them with rock gardens and spiky desert plants. The third house on the left was sand-colored adobe, like most of the other houses. Sondra opened the door, and a brown-and-white dog leapt into her arms. Sondra giggled. The dog was clean, so Sondra was probably giving it baths. But, its nails were a bit long, and it most likely hadn’t been to a vet in a while. Wraith followed the girl in. Sondra shut the door.

The living room had a couch and an older-model television. It was clean and worn. The kitchen was clean, but showed signs of a smaller hand missing spots. The same with the floor tiles, in large tan squares, with dust along the baseboards. A child wouldn’t remember to clean them.

Wraith opened the refrigerator, and found milk and orange juice, and some luncheon meat. White bread. Not much else, except for some ketchup, mustard, and mayo on the door. No vegetables. An open box of Pop-Tarts was open next to the toaster. So, here was a child surviving on breakfast pastries and sandwiches.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Nope,” said Sondra. “Mama said she tried, and failed.”

That held a world of hurt. Wraith understood the mother a little more. “Can you introduce me to your mama?”

Sondra filled up the dog bowl with a little food out of a bag. The bag was small, what a little girl could carry home. She also topped off the dog’s water. “Rimmel’s got food now, so, sure,” she said. She walked toward a back bedroom.

The smell hit first. Urine, vomit, cleaned up over and over with cleansers that couldn’t do the job. Sondra opened up the door. Sondra’s mother was laid on her side, her bony arms stretched out. A plethora of pill bottles and an opened bottle of water was on the nightstand, along with dust. Mama probably didn’t let her daughter clean next to her pills.

Sondra said, “Mama.” But the woman didn’t move.

“Sondra,” said Wraith, “can you get your mama a glass of orange juice?” She put enough pressure in her voice that Sondra left to obey. Wraith circled the bed, and looked into the gaunt face. She circled back, and touched the woman’s neck. There was no pulse. She put her hand in front of the woman’s mouth, and no breath hit her hand.

Wraith stepped out, shut the door, and pulled out her cell. “Bob,” she said, “call the coroner. It looks like we need to adopt another child. And a dog.” She sighed, and gave the address, and how to get there from the school. “I really hope Rimmel gets along with the cat.” She padded into the kitchen, and said, “Sondra.” Sondra carefully put down the orange juice. “Sit down,” Wraith said. “Did your mama eat this morning?”

“A little,” she said. “Half a Pop-Tart.”

“Good,” said Wraith. “I am very sorry to tell you this,” she said, as the sirens came out louder. “You did a great job of taking care of her, but your mama has died.” She held Sondra as she threw herself against her body and screamed.

Rimmel and all of Sondra’s possessions ended up in a rental car Herja drove over. They clasped each other’s neck and touched foreheads, and Wraith gave Herja her precious key to her Harley. “Treat her well,” she said to Herja.

“Same,” said Herja, gesturing toward the girl.

“Got paperwork,” said Wraith. “She’s mine now.” Herja and Wraith shared fierce looks, and Herja took the path to the school.

Bob came over. “Got it straight with Child Services. It’s good that you moved into that honker of a house. You can put her in with your other wounded one. Dina gained weight, huh?”

“And she’s also lost a parent,” said Wraith. “Callie actually thought ahead, and installed two pods in the girls’ room. I thought we’d end up with Dina’s former foster sister, Reyna, but she’s doing better in a soccer family. We’re more martial arts.” She sighed. “That girl’s losing her home, her mother, and her school, everything she knows, in a single hour. Have to shore her up immediately.”

“Go get ‘em,” said Bob. Wraith walked over and knelt. “I want to be your new mom,” she said. “And I have a daughter named Dina. Just like you, she lost her mom, the same way, too, to drugs. From medicines she took too much.” She showed Sondra a picture on her telephone. “This is Dina.”

“She looks like Mama,” said Sondra. “Too skinny.”

“She’s getting better,” said Wraith. “Lots of sundaes and shakes from Sonic.” She pulled up another picture. “This is War. He wants to change his name, and I showed him how to do a spreadsheet with the best names so he could figure it out.”

“Can I bring Rimmel?” asked Sondra, petting the dog.

“Of course,” she said. “But, we have a cat, and things might get a little loud.”

Sondra nodded. “It’s been real quiet here. For a long time.”

“Not anymore,” said Wraith. “Want to hit up Sonic before we head out?”

Sondra nodded. They got peanut butter shakes, chicken fingers, and fries. Wraith swung by a pet store, and carried the dog inside, Sondra behind. They’d bought a harness, which he liked, and dog treats, which he liked even more. Wraith also got a dog bed, a big bag of dog food, a dog nail clipper, a clip for the harness that plugged into the car seat belt, and blue poo bags.

“Put these in your pocket,” she said, handing Sondra a roll in a plastic blue tube, and she put one in her own pocket. The third tube was clipped on the harness.

They took him for a poo and pee behind the store, and Wraith taught the girl how to pick up the poo with her hand inside the blue bag, reverse it to cover up the poo, and how to throw it away. She ran back in and bought wet wipes, and used them.

They piled into the car, and listened to rock while Sondra sat in the back with the dog on his new bed, crying into his fur. She stopped to walk both child and dog, and held her as much as she could. But, it seemed that the girl was terrified of being in a car and it was better for her to cry in the back some more.

They arrived, and Sigrun, Dina, and War met them in the driveway. “Cat’s in the big bedroom,” said Sigrun. “Who’s this special boy?” She cooed over Rimmel, who kissed her. Sondra smiled.

Dina stepped forward. “This is Mom. That’s Mama. Mom says if you don’t want to call her Mama, call her Wraith.”

“Weird name,” said Sondra.

“Valkyries,” shrugged Dina. “I’m Dina. I lost my mom too. You’ll cry and do the zombie thing for about two weeks, maybe three. Just go for it. Don’t worry about it.” Sondra stepped forward, and Dina hugged her in her bird-boned embrace. “Don’t worry,” said Dina. “We’ll take care of you.”

War petted the dog. “Cool dog,” he said. “Sorry about your mom. I lost mine, too.” He grinned. “I don’t mind girls crying. I just go do a project in my room.” He stood. “Come on. You’ve got your own pod, in silver. You’ll love it.”

“What is a pod?” asked Sondra, confused.

“We sleep in pods, makes our rooms seem bigger, more room for our stuff,” said War. “Come in, guys. It’s too damn hot out here.”

Herja rode up with the bike as Sigrun led the kids back in. They traded keys, and embraced. “Follow me, and bring me back here. I’m taking time off to help you two. Three kids at the same time is a lot.”

“Thank you,” said Sigrun.

“Shut up,” said Herja. “You’re our sister. Now, get on your damn bike.” They clasped the back of each other’s necks and went to return the car.

Sondra loved her pod, and crawled in. Dina gave her headphones and her own MP3 player, and a box of tissues, with a trash can underneath. A steady rain of tissues came out of the pod as Sondra cried herself to sleep.

In the morning, they took her shopping, as her clothes were old and threadbare. They got Sondra her own tablet and MP3 player, wireless headphones, and school supplies, including a new backpack. They got more board games, and they played Dungeons and Dragons, Monopoly, Risk, Splendor, and more at the table, and watched stupid movies. They enrolled the kids in the Nighthawks’ school, and soon they were arguing about projects and doing 3D puzzles together. Herja went home, but came back for the funeral.

It took a while to close the case. Sondra’s mother had died of an aggressive cancer, discovered during X-rays after a car accident, and hadn’t explained either the diagnosis or the effects of the cancer drug to Sondra, probably due to not wanting to make her daughter worry, or being in denial about the seriousness of the cancer. The house was cleaned and sold, and the money went into Sondra’s trust for her college that Lily created for her. Sondra’s mother was cremated, and they went to Lake Mead to set her free. The Valkyries sang the song to sing her into Valhalla, and taught the words to Sondra. So, Sondra got to sing her mother home.

Reno

Freya’s kids, Chance and Rhodes, were enrolled in the Nighthawks version of school, on track to graduate high school as soon as they could, and to pass practice tests on all the segments of the Nevada High School Proficiency Exam. Freya was able to revamp destroyed bikes in her own damn garage, but that wasn’t eyes-on. So, she’d moved the equipment out and back to the porch, covered it over, and added a glass wall both inside and out. Three girls set up a station in front of the wall, on tablets while sitting on beanbag chairs. They took the kitchen table, which Freya could see through the window, for projects.

The girls had taken up arguing in Latin, so Freya was now proficient in Old Norse (and Latin cursing). She could hear with the door cracked, and alternately blew out the speakers Primal Scream’s Rocks and Wolfmother’s Woman, and listened to Latin dickering.

Her schedule was theirs, timers going off every half-hour. She enforced snacks and constant drinking of water and fruit juices, took turns through the rotating of chores, and made them run around, with the indoor Nerf basketball and the yard covered in fake lawn for the kids to kick around a ball. They preferred going all Valkyrie, and went after each other with padded swords and shields. She taught them lessons every day, and let them practice in the mornings and evenings so they could run around in the desert air without getting cooked.

She helped them with math, showing them how they needed it to build Roman roads and make Roman arches. They learned science, learned how those roads stayed in business thousands of years later. She took them down to Henry’s farm to see the hydroponics farm, so now they grew beets to use for horse feed, and stole Alo’s recipes, and their own corn, potatoes, bell peppers, three kinds of lettuce, spinach, and wheat. She had them taking measurements, checking the water sprays, and keeping scientific logs, twice a day. They wrote papers on their experiments. She had them learning Spanish, a relatively easy leap after all that Latin.

Herja would simply ride up and steal them. She’d refinished a sidecar, and the girls would compete to get more done on their checklists to decide who got to go in the sidecar.

At night, she laid on the couch as the girls called up YouTube videos, with the computer hooked up to the TV screen with a HDMI cable. They watched everything from Roman history, to wild rock, like the Dandy Warhols’ “Bohemian Like You,” jumping around like maniacs.

Freya did her accounting work, both keeping track of bikes she needed to pick up —she and some of the Soldier Pack split them, and the parts she needed to put in her garage-turned-part-warehouse, including the courses she took for her CPA. She figured the Valkyries needed a CPA, like Lily for the Nighthawks. She also traded bitcoin on her cell phone to build up things —the girls each had their own college funds, which came up fast with genius kids who would be taking university classes in two years. Freya had her own retirement, or lack thereof, to fund, not wanting to be a burden to her kids.

The last thing was for Freya’s own special project. Or a duplicate one. She wanted to fund a mixed Soldier Pack/Wolfpack dorm, complete with hydroponic beds around back, full of sweet corn and veggies, and all the bikes they could disassemble and reassemble, with a double garage. The Valkyries would match funds. They needed people to be legal foster parents. She’d taken all the foster parent and adjunct parenting classes, and found them quite useful. She wished all parents took them.

The girls danced around, and once her classes were taken and she’d tracked the bitcoin, checking whether to sell or buy, then Freya would dance wild dances with them.

* * *

Ghost sat very still on the balcony of the Ghostie’s apartment called Fire, for Orange and Thorn, in a plastic chair. She was beyond exhausted. Killa had her baby for the nice couple, so her wifey was exhausted too.

Little Bit’s best friend, China, eventually came over, after being stabbed in the side. Blue, Thorn, and Orange took parenting classes, and Blue became Thorn and Orange’s babysitter. D’Shawn and Rudy got into the Nighthawks school, and they were thriving in the rich environment. D’Shawn and Rudy both began learning Paiute, and learned how to ride horses on David and Henry’s farm.

They were cooking inside, making collard greens, red beans, rice, and gumbo. Killa sat at the table inside, showing Rudy how to finish his math segment before dinner.

Little Bit came out, and handed Ghost a pink lemonade. “Ya’ll K?”

“I’m good,” said Ghost. “I be chillin.’ Long damn day. Two bikes done gone to their homes, just today.”

“Chill,” said Little Bit. She popped the top on her Coke, and sat down next to Ghost. “You be happy wif da mini Harleys we been makin’?”

“I good,” said Ghost. “I be happy. Too much to do; not enough hours. Ya’ll are taking a lot offa me. I be happy.”

“We be makin’ da green. Da girls, dey not think we be makin’ the green by jus’ makin’ little stuff. An’ da ‘partment not cost dat much wif us all sharin’ and dat. An’ da Lily chick, she show us da budgeting program. We gots plenty fa food, an’ even nails an’ hair. Orange be goin’ inta hair, gettin’ her cosmetology license once she get past dat test she gotta take afore she git her GED. She says she kin do it, an’ still make da little stuff. Now, she braids, gets paid.”

“Good,” said Ghost. “Anyone wanna learn da big bikes?”

Little Bit laughed. “None ‘a us wanna not have our nails.” She held up her crimson nails with tiny golden flowers. “Cars, we think, could be good. Paintin’ em, not buildin’ em.” She grinned. “An’ makin’ da tattoos. China’s a really good artist.”

“Glad China showed up,” said Ghost.

“She came ta lay low,” said Little Bit. “Stayed ta paint da little bikes. An’ she thought of both, da cars an’ da tats.”

“She can do whatever the fuck she wanna,” said Ghost. “Pass the classes, and ya’ll kin do as ya want. Even go ta college, or getta certificate. We kin get scholarship money, like fo’ da boys goin’ to da Nighthawks school.”

“This is betta den sellin’ drugs on da street. Leticia scared da fuck outta me,” said Little Bit. Leticia ran the drugs in a certain part of town, and was heading toward the alphabet streets.

“Don’ get dead as much,” said Ghost.

“Word,” said Little Bit. They clinked cans.

They made it back inside, and headed in for dinner. The boys pushed each other, and ate like wolves. They passed around the food, and belly-laughed. They played music, and danced. Little Bit did nails and Orange did some braiding. Skuld and Rota came over with some peanut butter pie, and the boys ran around in circles. Skuld and Rota took them to the park, and let them run around like maniacs. They had a little karate lesson, and the boys threw each other onto the soft plastic surface of the playground. They went for a run, and came back gasping. They threw themselves on the couch, and watched some television before they threw the boys in bed with their tablets in their pods. The boys loved the pods, and happily played video games before falling asleep.

Lily came over, ate the last piece of pie, and gave them the lowdown. “Your rent and food is fine. Cable bill’s going up, so I suggest switching to Netflix. Much cheaper, and you can watch it on your phones and tablets.”

“Word,” said Little Bit.

“Works for us,” said China.

“Boys watch kiddie shows,” said Orange. “But we wear them out, so they don’t watch so much.”

“Works for their tablets too,” pointed out Blue.

“Is the problem,” said Orange. “Gotta regulate what they watch.”

“Block it on their tablets, or set times,” said Lily.

“We kin do dat?” asked Orange.

“Awesome,” said Thorn.

“Vote,” said Lily. They voted to take out the cable and add Netflix. “Good,” said Lily. “You got new ways to make money?”

Thorn nodded. “I got me a search engine. Da Soldier Pack don’ have da time ta find da parts dey need. I do da searches on da net, order da stuff. I’m gettin’ wif da Wolfpack ta build me a website. Dey got me doin’ Black Girls code, an’ Little Bit goin’ do it wif me. I kin make a good profit, findin’ parts.”

Lily’s jaw dropped. “That’s totally awesome,” Lily said.

“Ya gotta talk ta Bonnie. She has da good places ta go, an’ gets discounts,” said Killa.

“I will,” said Thorn.

“An’ talk ta da Soldier Pack,” said Ghost. “Dey always be lookin’ fo’ da smashed-up bikes.”

“Good,” said Thorn.

“I be wannin’ ta help ya,” said Blue.

“Be Soldier Pack in other cities,” said Ghost. “Dey be spreadin’ out. Kin help dem. An’ dey always need da new smashed Harleys. Or old ones, gettin’ dust in someone’s garage.”

“Be a crime ta do dat,” said Killa.

“Word,” said Ghost.

“Well, that’s a good business,” said Lily.

China said, “Still make more money flat on my back, or on da street sellin’ drugs or guns.”

Ghost glared at her. “An’ ya get dead. You wanna go dat route, dere’s da door. Ya getta GED, ya kin get all sorts o’ certs, from nails ta Harley building, o’ da college.”

China snorted. “No one be payin’ us ta go to college.”

“There’s funds for scholarships,” said Lily, “for both certificates and the community college, even universities if you can get into one.”

“What da fuck?” asked China.

“We kin find da scholarship money fa ya,” translated Ghost.

“Ain’t no one care ‘bout us,” said China.

Herja glared at her. “We’re here, trying to help you. We care because we’re here. You’re being an ass.”

China glared at her. “I be tellin’ da truf.”

“Naw,” said Ghost. “Ya be wrong. Ya gotta get ya head outta da street. No one cares dere, yeah. Here? Ya got a fuckin’ roof ovah ya head, food on da table, safe jobs to do. No one doin’ drivebys. No one puttin’ a shiv in ya ribs.” China glared back.

“Ya scared,” said Killa. “Scared ya be out onna street, scared ya gonna be kicked out. Ya actin’ da fool, so dat could happen. Ya grow the fuck up an’ be nice ta dose aroun’ ya, ya be fine, kin stay here. Quit bein’ da fool.” China ground her teeth.

“She right,” said Blue. “Quit bein’ scared. Just hang out. Ya wanna go out in da desert and get ya money on ya back afta ya get ya GED, whateva. But, give it a fuckin’ rest.”

“Let go a China,” said Little Bit. “Let her think. Now, we gotta find more ways to make da green. We wanna pay fa all da stuff we want. Tired a takin’ da bus.”

“Well, ya cain’t get a license yet anyhoo,” said Blue. “Ya still fifteen.”

“She has a point,” said Skuld. “You want to buy and refinish your own bike? You can ride a scooter. Kind of a baby bike.”

“Sure,” said Little Bit. “Cain’t bring home many groceries, but I kin put a backpack on my back.”

“Easier to save up for,” said Lily.

Rota grinned. “We’ll get you into a Harley when you’re old enough.”

“Any other new businesses?” asked Lily.

“Not now,” said Blue. “But, we gonna think on it.”

“That’s how it’s done,” said Lily. “Get some new ideas.”

“Thank ya,” said Little Bit. “Better, here. An’ da boys don’t get shot walkin’ down da street, and no one tryin’ to buy my ass on da way to da store. Be safe, here.” She giggled. “Even got school in da puter, don’ have ta deal wif da girls dat tink I’m somfin’ on da bottom of dere shoe.”

“It be good,” said Blue.

“Thank ya,” said Thorn, her eyes tearing up. “My brotha is safe. Don’ have ta worry ‘bout him steppin’ onna needle, or my motha givin’ him drugs, or hittin’ him when she be high.”

Blue and Orange both rubbed her back. “We be safe. And, that be good,” said Blue.

* * *

Herja came in, her certificate in hand. She was now a licensed foster parent, and could legally look after the kids. Freya made a peanut butter pie. The rest of the celebration dinner was more simple —fresh bread, grapes, grape juice, cheese, olive oil, including cracked black pepper and herbs for dipping the bread.

“This has been the meal people ate for thousands of years,” said Chance.

“And we’re fighters, and we need a lot of food,” said Herja.

“That’s why I made this,” said Rhodes. She brought over roasted red peppers stuffed with chicken and spices in a tomato sauce. Everyone clapped, and dug in.

“Leaving tonight,” said Freya. “Got the new bike all checked over and gassed up.”

“Henry will love the bike,” said Herja. “Off-road, just the way he likes it. That was smart. Poor Robert on the farm can’t keep up, and neither can Bonnie, with three of them sold a week.”

“So,” said Freya, “do we keep her or send her on?”

“Keeping her would open another slot in Vegas,” said Herja.

“But we have no room to put her anywhere,” said Freya.

“Who?” asked Rhodes.

“Soldier. Ex-soldier, as in, not currently in the military, but trained, highly trained,” said Freya. “Got her arm blown off and she has a blade leg. We sent her specs to Sigrun, have a lovely arm and working hand waiting for her. Take her a while to learn to use it, so she’ll wield a wrench one-handed for a while. Drop a few on her foot.”

Rhodes shrugged. “I’ll move out of my pod. Set up a tent outside, or inside in the corner here.” She pointed to a wide space at the end of the room; the bookshelves hadn’t gone up yet. “Read by flashlight.”

“Kind of a time-honored thing,” said Freya, “a kid reading in a tent by flashlight.”

“Hey!” said Rhodes. “Either one of us will give up our pods, or we can have a third one built against the back wall.”

“Or add one in my room, or the office. Mama, you mainly do my work on the couch anyway,” said Chance. “And what’s this about having one built?” Chance glared at her sister. “We can build it ourselves.”

“We can hear about real campaigns,” said Rhodes. “And, my bad. I’ll have Callie send us the specs, and her supplier. I hear they sell the kits now, since they asked what the heck she was building.”

“We’ll earn it, pay it off,” said Chance. “It can be in my room. We’ll dress in the pods, or the bathroom.” She shrugged. “She’s been with soldiers. She can hack it.” She grinned. “And then, when she’s in her own place, I can get me a little brother to boss around.”

Freya’s face froze, and Herja laughed, a big booming sound. “Gotcha,” said Herja. “Looks like I’ve got this gig in the nick of time.”

Freya pointed a fork at Herja while Rhodes stole grapes off of Chance’s plate. “You can disassemble it, and order the parts, but leave the putting-together to me.”

“Yes,” said Herja. “Not my first soldier rodeo. Got all of ours in houses, and they take up couch space while we get ‘em trained. Got them as far away as northern California now. Hoping to get a cold-state one so we can send them up into Montana, and Idaho, and Wyoming.”

Freya nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” said Rhodes and Chance. They all bumped fists around the table.

Freya pointed a fork at Rhodes. “Get that stuff ordered tonight. Use the credit card I gave you for your stuff. You’ll have to all earn your way outta this one, you hear me?”

“Yes, Mama,” the girls said together. Freya grinned fiercely. She’d built a compassionate (and wild) pack.

She rode out right after dinner, after helping the kids gear up. Rhodes and Chance had worked together to make the full Valkyrie fighting regalia. They included elbow and knee pads, vambraces for the wrists, and leather padding from the shoulders to the knees. Rhodes and Chance had wooden knives with a rubber coating, and they had designed and created their own shields of wood, coated with metal, the standard, round, Valkyrie shield. They also fought with staffs. They faced off in the backyard just outside the glassed-in workshop, and Herja helped them stand, center, and begin.

Freya felt a combination of a fierce joy and an equal sorrow at leaving her family behind. But, the girls needed new moves and new warrior knowledge, and a fierce aunt had a better chance of getting the knowledge into her girls’ hard heads.

She took the warm desert night into her mouth, and let out her breath. She put on her helmet, zipped up her summer-weight jacket, and hit the US 95. She flowed with the curves, reveled in the wide open spaces. The bike she’d torn down and rebuilt by hand flowed well. It could go off-road, so it was perfect for desert life. She smelled dust, creosote, and oil. She felt herself lean, curve, and then straighten out. She exulted in the road, and listened to AC/DC, perfect for hugging the road, and those straight shots.

She stopped off for an egg, cheese, and bacon sandwich, and orange juice at a diner. She ate at the counter. She got back on the road, and felt herself rush toward Reno.

Freya found the blue-roofed inn just outside of Reno with the attached coffee shop. The woman inside hid her hook within a light jacket. She caressed her coffee cup with her other hand, a metal carafe nearby. Her hair was still cut, military-short, a whiskey color that matched her eyes. She wore a battered, light brown, leather jacket.

Freya walked in and sat down. “Captain Reyes,” she said. “I am Freya.”

The captain nodded. “Freya.”

“We have two choices,” said Freya. “First, we can go to Pahrump now. My children want you to stay with me, and learn from me and from Herja. There are other female Soldier Pack there, Colonel Hicks and Major Thanos, and Private Ruiz too. Most of them are partway through; they all arrived at the same time. I’m assuming you will want to move into a shared house with them; they tend to rent houses and share rooms, or apartments. Or, they spin out; we think Hicks will end up out by Death Valley. She loves the heat. That means in a three-bedroom house or apartment, that you will get your own bedroom.”

“So, not Vegas?” Captain Reyes had a whiskey voice to go with the hair. Freya was surprised to find a hint of green in those eyes, giving them a khaki color. Reyes sounded as if they were talking about the weather.

“That’s still on the table, if you so desire,” said Freya. The server came over, but Freya kept her away with the tips of her fingers. “We have to give the bike to Henry in Vegas anyway, and Bonnie is there. Bonnie trained Herja, and I learned from her.”

“So no difference, one way or the other,” said Reyes. She took another sip of her coffee.

“Not really, except that you have multiple choices after your training as well. You can go up here to Reno, and Elko and Winnemuca in the north. Or, go west into St. George in Arizona, or farther north if you like snow, like to Boise, or you can hit up the seaboard if you want to get rained on, from Bend, Oregon on and over. We suggest small towns. You tend to make friends, and not have much competition with people rebuilding bikes. You can ship them all over, or ask and pay Valkyries, Nighthawks, Iron Knights, other Soldier Pack, or occasionally we use Gearheads to get a bike you’ve refurbished to where it needs to go.” Freya grinned. “Probably none of this is on your mind yet. So, the current choice is; to stay here and sleep in the inn, or head to Vegas now. It’ll take most of the night. Or, we can wait until the morning, and take about an hour longer and go through some natural forests on the US 395. Very pretty. Your choice, I love all the roads.”

“We both can stay awake,” said Reyes.

“We can,” said Freya. “I’m a warrior. I was never in the military. But, we don’t have to.” She grinned. “This bike will pay for a hotel room for the night.”

“Seems a waste,” said Reyes. “The open road and a warm night.”

Freya gestured to the waitress. “I’ll have some of her coffee,” she said. She poured some, and doctored it a little with a touch of cream, and a touch of sugar. “So, Vegas or Pahrump?”

Reyes shrugged. “Let’s figure it out later.”

“Good,” said Freya. “You want food?” Reyes shrugged.

Freya saw the hollows of her eyes, her cheeks. Before training, Freya guessed that Reyes was lush and curvy. Now, she was all hard edges. Some of that was from the nightmares. This woman didn’t want to sleep. But, all those hard angles needed fuel.

“You on macros, or any diet plan?” she asked Reyes.

Reyes snorted. “Nope, burn it up. Jogging.” She grimaced, and moved her blade infinitesimally.

“The Soldier Pack in Vegas does kickboxing. And, yes, with blades, before you ask.” Freya called over the server, and ordered one egg, bacon, and a biscuit. “You like breakfast sandwiches?” she asked. Reyes gave a tiny nod. “Same thing for my peep here.” Reyes gave a tiny smile. She ordered orange juice for them both. She reached into her pocket and brought out her cell phone. “Here are the kids.” She showed off Chance and Rhodes. “They’re learning Latin and loving Mediterranean food.”

“Cute kids,” said Reyes. It was a placeholder, what she was supposed to stay.

“Here is the pod they sleep in. They want to build one for you.” She showed the inside of the pod. “Standard, twin bed size. Like what you would find in the military. With a shelf at the head with a light, and a fold-down desk. Just push it up, and it locks back above you.” She showed a picture of it up, and one down. “Another desk at your feet. One side is stairs with storage underneath, or a ladder if you so desire, and the other side is a dresser. Directly underneath can be a couch, bed, or whatever. The girls have red for Rhodes and bronze for Chance. I’ve seen them in almost any color. I’d suggest gold for you, if you want one.” She grinned. “Or black.”

“Gold,” said Reyes, with a twitch of a smile. Freya sent Rhodes and Callie a text. It would be there in the morning.

They ate quietly. Freya paid the bill, and they used the restroom and headed out. “You know how to lean?” asked Freya, while Reyes split up the contents of her duffel in between the saddlebags, then slid it all in.

“I do,” said Reyes.

“Do you go by your first name, call sign, or just Reyes?” asked Freya.

“First name Christine,” said Reyes. “Prefer my call sign, Cobra. Was a tank gunner.”

“Okay, Cobra,” said Freya. “Let’s do this.” Reyes accepted the second helmet, put it on, got on the back, and held onto Freya with ropy arms. Freya let the Harley give out a throaty roar. They slid out onto the road, and were soon one with the desert night.

Shiva

Henry saw the bleary-eyed women, and cursed a little under his breath. He got why the ex-soldier didn’t want to sleep. Nightmares tended to ensue. Freya didn’t need to go on with no sleep.

“Freya,” he said. “Go bunk in the training office.”

“Yes,” she said. She handed Henry the key to the bike, nodded at Cobra, and ran up the stairs.

“You,” said Henry. “You can go without sleep, but Freya cannot.”

Cobra nodded. “I… should have chosen differently.”

“Yes,” said Henry. “Your nightmares aren’t another rider’s problem.” He looked her up and down. “Did you eat?”

“Just outside town,” she said.

“Good,” said Henry. “I’m Henry. You are?”

“Cobra,” she said.

“Cobra, take these helmets and the saddlebags, and go up to the office on the third floor, second door on the left. Take the elevator. Sleep on the couch for at least four hours. If you do have a nightmare, just wake up, touch the floor or the wall, and try to go back to sleep.”

“Yes,” said Cobra.

“Go,” said Henry. She took the helmets, slung the saddlebags over her shoulder, and headed in. He sighed.

His phone vibrated. Cobra’s going home with me, said Freya.

Good, he texted back. She’s sleeping in the office.

He put the bike away in the off-road bike garage. He then walked over to Bonnie. “That one’s going back to Pahrump. Call the next one on the list.”

“Already ordered,” said Bonnie. “She’s coming from Alabama, be here in a few days.”

Henry grinned. “How did you know that Freya would keep her?”

Bonnie snorted. “Bob told me he met Freya at an accident site by the side of the road. She had stopped to help. She offered to pick the woman up in Reno, and Herja’s ladies are partway through. Room in the garage, not sleeping spaces. I knew she had a couch.” She shrugged. “I guessed.”

“Excellent guess,” he said. He hugged her, making her snort. He headed back across the street to the Nighthawks’ clubhouse.

Tito and Nico were there, eating breakfast sandwiches and gesturing. “What are you two doing here?” asked Henry. “I know you have two separate offices…”

“On two different parts of town, and this is halfway between,” said Tito. “Besides, we needed to stare at each other. We’ve been running around like chickens for two months.”

“Two and a half,” said Nico. “Been rehabbing houses and apartment buildings like it’s going out of style. Invested, rehabbed, sold, just like clockwork. Hired a dozen new people from all across the spectrum, even got us a green engineer. She’s getting solar into all of our new places, got one geothermal.”

“And our cabinetmaker is making closets under stairs, or storage,” said Tito.

“And our safety engineer makes sure everything is safe, both for us and our clients,” said Nico.

“And everything’s up to code, have all the permits at least a week in advance in case we get a hole and can get someone in to begin demo,” said Tito.

Henry watched them talk, his head moving back and forth as if he were watching a tennis match. He scooted back his chair to see both of them more clearly.

Wayfarer, the huge man with the tiny hands, gave Henry coffee, straight black. “Thank you,” he said. He grinned. “So, you forgot what each other looks like.”

“We did,” said Tito. “And my kids and his don’t hang out together most of the time. Our wives actually see each other more than we do, and we work together.”

“Together, but separate,” said Nico.

“Please feel free to use the Nighthawks’ clubhouse whenever you want to see each other,” said Henry. “Do you have any Nighthawks business? Or Soldier Pack? Is there a home or apartment house we can purchase?”

“With what?” asked Nico. “You’ll be at it for years to pay back what you borrowed to buy the land and build the buildings next door, and create that motorcycle track of yours.”

“I’m busy, too,” said Henry. “I’m thirty percent over expectations, every month, at my school. Bonnie is churning out bikes with the Soldier Pack and selling them; the Pack pays their rent just fine, as well as eating well, buying clothes, and the like. We’ve got a new woman coming in, about three days out. One dropped off a bike that’s going back to Pahrump. Bonnie raised her own rent, because she has a brand-new place, and now I’m forty percent over expectations, every damn month.”

“I stand corrected,” said Nico. “Is that even with paying Gregory to do the Evade classes?”

“Yes,” said Henry. “That’s the key draw, or one of them. The other is Bonnie and her lectures on the brand-new Harleys. They let her tour their factory and she talked their ears off. Got names and numbers. She has people coming to her who wrecked their new ones, and she does work on them, while under warranty.”

“Whoa,” said Nico.

“Righteous,” said Tito. He bumped fists with Henry. “Okay. Well, I have an actual job.”

“And so do I,” said Nico. “And no, on the new structures. We have to rehab and sell a bunch of the other stuff to pay for another house. We’re about six weeks out from rehabbing another one. Hard to get a useful one at auction. Gotta send someone down to waste their time, do research. But, yeah, gonna do it,” he said. “I’m out,” he said, and then he stood, and went to throw the detritus of his meal into the trash can. Tito did the same. Henry hugged them both, and they left.

Henry put in an hour, keeping track of the school and the funds. He paid Gregory, and went to walk the track and check on the classroom. He sent out the electronic booklets to the next class, and taught the kids at the Nighthawks school Paiute and how to make dream catchers, the circles of wood woven with yarn, and beads and feathers, purported to catch bad dreams.

Henry met Alo for a late lunch at a barbecue joint; the young man came up with reusable bags and barrels of his horse and rabbit feeds, sold in local feed stores. Alo had purchased two more hydroponic beds himself, for the beets he used in the horse feed.

“I’ve nearly got my degree,” said Alo. “I’ve been going year-round. I’ve got so many credits for the stuff I’m doing that it’s just silly. I co-wrote the hydroponics eBook with Nantan and April, and April and I both got credit for that, too.” He stared at Henry. “They asked me to teach a class. An actual class. And I don’t have a degree yet! But, I know every bit of that equipment; even know how to fix it. No one at the university works with hydroponics like we do. Plus, we have it hooked up to solar, and that makes the green people wriggle like happy dogs.”

Henry laughed at the visual. “Teaching a class is making a presentation, cutting down your dialogue to only one to three points per slide, adding free pictures, and practicing. You should only talk for twenty minutes, and have something for the students to do, or talk about.”

“Like constructing miniature hydroponics systems?” asked Alo. “I can made 3D renderings in Sigrun’s lab. Kind of easy, actually. I need to buy my own 3D printer. Some kid’s not gonna be missing a hand because I was making my models. Then, I can do my models, and let them use the machine as long as they use their own supplies.” He grinned. “I can put in some time modeling, setting up, or packing the arms —we’re not fully understanding how to do blade legs yet, but Sigrun’s people are working on it. Anyway, I can get it done.”

“Your thought processes improve every day,” said Henry. Alo ducked his head and grinned. “What will you do when you have the official degree?”

Alo rocked back and forth, his way of entering into very deep thought. “I think I will want to work with Nantan and Chayton. Perhaps I can help the Montana Wolfpack set up and run their beds. I can also help them run my business up there, give me a little cut. Kind of like licensing.”

Henry grinned. “I have never regretted creating the Wolfpack. But now, just now, was one of my brightest moments.” Alo ducked his head and grinned again.

Henry said goodbye to Alo. In the parking lot he laid a kind hand on the young man’s shoulder. “You walk a good path,” he said.

“Thank you, Grandfather,” said Alo. Then, they went on with their day.

Henry worked on his website. He was getting close to needing an admin to do all of this for him. He could ask Wraith, but the woman worked what seemed like a million hours a day. He texted Tito. Where do I get an admin?

Contact Tanvi, was the reply. Tanvi was the admin for Tito and Gregory’s company.

Henry did as he was told. A gorgeous voice came over the phone. Henry explained his business. “I need someone, very part-time, who loves Harleys.”

She laughed. “You should ask the Valkyries.” She thought a moment. “My workmate Eir does not have the time. But, she will know someone.” She laughed again, and then gave a little gasp. “Wait, I know someone. She calls herself Shiva. She delivers Harleys to customers, and flies back, mostly around California. She says she wants new digs, that California is ‘expensive as hell.’ She may locate your way. If she does, she’ll want to be near water.”

Henry thought furiously. “I know I can find a place near Boulder City for her, but that’s pricey. There’s also Lake Las Vegas. Can get something cheaper there, but kind of cookie-cutter. A woman on the road may not care.” He grinned. “And we have Valkyries. Lots and lots of Valkyries.”

“I’ll contact her, and I’ll be in touch,” said Tanvi. “Have an excellent day.” She hung up.

Henry taught the same dream catcher lesson, and a far more advanced Paiute lesson, for the swing shift kids. He left them learning Mandarin, and realized he’d missed dinner. He stopped off at a waffle house, and loaded up on pecan waffles, bacon, butter, and syrup, with a glass of orange juice to wash it all down.

Henry knew Shiva when he saw her. She was dressed head to foot in black leather, vented for summer. Her skin was a deep brown, almost coppery. Her eyes were a huge and liquid black. Her hair was braided on one side, with tiny onyx and crimson beads woven in. Her wraparound shades were on her head. She walked like a lion, absolutely sure of herself.

“This isn’t an interview,” she said, plopping down beside him. “I spoke to Sigrun. She says this can help. I’ll still be on the road most of the time, but I’ll be there on class days, from breakfast to dinner. I’ll be useful to deliver bikes as well. The Los Angeles-Vegas route is a good one, but I think Lake Las Vegas can work. Boulder City works too, really don’t care. Found a place, with a pool, rent to own. Going to look at it after I eat.”

He wordlessly handed her a menu. She ordered a chicken sandwich and fries, with honey mustard and a Coke. “How did you find me?”

She grinned. “You’re one of the people under our protection. You need us, we’re physically there,” she said. The server brought over her Coke, and she drank deeply.

“An app on my phone, or my bike?” asked Henry. He sipped his orange juice.

“Both,” said Shiva. “But I didn’t get it until Sigrun gave it to me.”

“So,” said Henry, “what do you want to do with the business?”

“I want to add a day. Pay your debt off as fast as possible. But, in order to do that, I need to take the class from Gregory. Then, I can teach the class.” She sipped more Coke.

“You’re that good,” said Henry.

“I did it in the military,” said Shiva. “I can learn to do the same thing on my Harley. Or any one of them you give me to ride.”

“Excellent,” said Henry. “The call to Tanvi was the most intelligent thing I’ve done in a great while.” He pulled up all the information, and shared it with her. “How much do you charge?”

“What do you pay Gregory?” He told her. “I’ll take that, and five percent more for the admin work. I’ll cut that in a third if you throw in insurance.”

“Done,” said Henry.

“And more if I teach a third day,” said Shiva. “But we’ll renegotiate then.”

“Done,” said Henry. He let her into the website as an admin, gave her the keys to his digital kingdom, and showed her the financing. “I’ll have to pay you and Gregory once more, but then if it goes well, the poor man goes back to his real job.”

They ate quietly as she used his tablet to page through all of the information. She nodded twice, typed out a checklist and information that she sent to herself, and handed it back to him. They finished, washed up, and paid.

“I found an all-adult complex on the lake with a pool,” said Shiva. “I’m going to go look at it.”

“This late?” asked Henry.

She grinned. “Adult only.” She waved, and was gone.

Henry made it home, and found Damia and Inola looking at the moon and stars. He stood there at the fence and was silent. The owl hooted. Another owl answered. “Two,” he said, his voice nearly in a whisper.

“Two,” said Inola. “And different species, a great horned owl and a barn owl.”

“We have a barn owl?” asked Henry. “That would be exceptional.”

“The cave,” said Inola. There were caves on the property. He knew about the bats. They kept insects to a minimum.

“Excellent,” said Henry.

“Sshh,” said Damia. “One has a higher whoo, the other a lower one.”

They stood, listening, looking at the stars. David came out with iced chocolate and plastic mugs. From time to time, the owls “whooed.”

* * *

Mike came back the next day. He worked with Nantan all day, absolutely silently. This made the teens nervous, but Nantan told them that silence was important from time to time. He even ate lunch, soft chicken tacos with lemonade, completely silently.

Little Nico pulled aside his dad, Nantan. “What’s with Mike? He won’t talk.”

“Something happened,” said Nantan. “Do you remember when your dad died? How much did you want to talk about it?”

Little Nico’s face went still. “I didn’t,” he said, in a very small voice. “Not for a long time.” He took a deep breath. “Did something that bad happen to Mike? He went home to see his mother. Did she die?”

“Unlikely,” said Nantan. “But, he didn’t have a good time. I’ll watch, wait, and listen, just as I did with you. You spoke when you were ready, and not a minute earlier.”

“Listening is hard,” said Little Nico.

“It is,” said Nantan. “But, we must do it if we are to build connections among us.” He touched his son’s shoulder. “Those connections only become strong if we wait.” He thought another minute. “Bring the lime water he likes, or limeade, in a thermos with a cup. Be silent. Touch his arm, and walk away.”

“I will,” said Little Nico, wide-eyed.

Little Nico took his responsibilities toward Mike very seriously. He brought the limeade, and after chores, brought chicken empanadas for a snack, with sour cream as a dipping sauce. He touched Mike’s arm again, and left. He came back after his thirty-minute lesson to pick up the plate.

After a ride, Mike came back. He found Nantan in the barn, cleaning tack with Damia. “Your son is acting weird,” he said to Nantan.

“Which one?” said Nantan.

“Little Nico,” said Mike.

“Oh, he remembers being silent,” said Nantan. He stood, took the load of saddle pads out of the washer, and put them in the dryer. Nantan took out the metal polish, and went to work on the bits.

Mike pulled up a chair, sat down, and started with a cloth and the saddle soap on the long strips of bridle. “I… he… when was he silent?”

“His father murdered his mother, and then his father was, himself, murdered,” said Nantan. Nantan looked over at Damia. She seemed sanguine about the murders.

“That’s… that’s rough,” said Mike. Mike folded over his cloth, and dragged the leather through his hand. “You get in your head; you forget you’re not the only one who lost… people. Buddies. Whoever.” They all sat silently as the dryer tumbled. “My mom can’t see me,” said Mike. “I’m using my GI bill to get my horticulture degree. Already got the hydroponics certificate. And accounting, running the business. Lily’s helping me with that. And our recipes. I’ve taken a course to understand dieting and macros, all that stuff people use to gain or lose weight. Those people want healthy food. Our vegetables, soups, stews are good for that. I’ve been figuring how to put specific macronutrient information with a sticker on the container, or on our website.”

They cleaned more tack. Nantan and Damia stayed absolutely silent, allowing the man to talk. Damia was busy with her chores anyway. So she found it easy just to listen.

“My mom can’t see me,” Mike said. “She tried to regulate my diet. She threw away all my chocolate, and my good gloves. She saw them as battered. They fit me perfectly. I pulled the gloves out of the trash, and bought leather cleaner. Got them back to working right. Then, I let her have it. I told her how I was an adult who had both been feeding and clothing myself for a very long time. I told her I would no longer be staying with her, and moved in with my buddy, Rick. We played video games, and I trained for a short marathon. I fixed stuff around Mama’s house, took her shopping list to the store when she asked.” He cleaned more tack. “I trained for a race, a short one, a 5k, to raise money for GIs. For their care. Like I had.” He grunted. “Or didn’t have.” He grimaced. “She followed me to the high school where I was warming up, told me I was going to kill my health. I told her I was physically fine, and that I could double that little 5k and be fine. She lit into me about how I had no idea how to take care of myself. I told her that I was a squared-away soldier now, and that I was healthy. That I ate the food I grew myself, and that I was working on my agricultural degree… and I specialized in hydroponics.”

He stared into nothingness for a while, and then came back to them. Nantan and Damia did not react, they just listened. It was obvious he needed to let it all out. Sometimes people just needed to be heard.

“She looked at me like I was crazy. She said she raised me for better, better than her son blown up in the army. She wanted me to be a lawyer. Was pressuring me to be a legal officer. I told her I had to get through basic training first, and that was six to seven years of school I didn’t want. She never heard a word I said.”

They cleaned more tack. “Did she listen to you this time?” asked Nantan.

“No,” said Mike. “Not a word. Still wanted me to date Jenny Hardrow, and Jenny’s been sweet on Jake Williamson since high school. Jenny finally got the guts to ask him out, but since she doesn’t have a ring on her finger, so my mom thinks I should date Jenny.” He blew out a big breath.

“Some people do not have ears to hear,” said Nantan.

“So, I listed all her crazy, and walked away,” said Mike. “I told her I owed her for all she did for me when I was injured, but, looking back, Rick was there every day. He was a fantastic friend. He drove me to rehab appointments, doctors. An attorney; I had to sue for some of my care. She didn’t do that, he did. She acted as if she did it all, and used it to control me. Rick just used it to help.”

They finished off the smaller tack, and Nantan brought over the saddle. They all went to work on it.

“Rick says he’s damn glad I’ve got my shit together. He says my mom’s always been a controlling witch, but he didn’t want to run her down to me. He says he gets why I was suicidal, and had to leave to find my own path. He says he’s damn glad I’m here.” And then, Mike was finally able to cry. Damia went over, and patted his back. Nantan scooted over his chair, brought him a clean rag, and let Mike cry it out, his hand on Mike’s opposite shoulder.

“Does Rick need a job?” asked Nantan.

“No,” said Mike, after he had wiped his face with the clean rag. “He’s a teacher at the high school.” He laughed. “Coaches the track team. We ran the 5K together, came in second and third, me being third, but I got the most money for the vets. Turns out asking for money while wearing a blade leg is rather effective.” Both men laughed.

“Well,” said Nantan. “You can stay here. Do what you’re doing. You’re helping me spend time with my kids.” They all went back to finishing off work on the saddles.

“I am?” asked Mike. “That’s good. I like coming up with new recipes, like the acorn squash spaghetti. And the gazpacho; a cold soup is perfect for hot days. And the salsa. We make darn good salsa.”

“We do,” said Nantan. “I really like your macros, it’s a great idea. It will help the ones doing that sort of thing.”

“One tiny bit of pasta is the same as six zucchini in carbs,” said Mike. “I can talk to the guys I do weights with at the kickboxing gym.” He grinned. “Those bast… guys are trying to get me to do kickboxing with my blade leg. I talked to a physical therapist. He said that with special straps and padding, he thinks I can do it. But, I must be careful not to damage the stump.”

Damia smiled. “You should meet the Valkyries. They will teach you to fight in a new way.”

Both men looked at her. “I should,” said Mike. “I surely should.”

The next night, Mike went to work out. He did weights first. He then taped up and went after the bags. A woman was there he’d never seen, with the hugest black eyes and her hair in braids. She had on black shorts and a black cami top. Valkyrie, Mike thought.

He went over to her. “A little girl said I should ask a Valkyrie to help me fight in a new way.”

She looked him up and down. “Mike,” she said. “You work with Henry.”

“I do,” said Mike. “And you?”

“I’m Shiva, his executive assistant, and I’m going to take over teaching Gregory’s part of his classes.” They touched gloves. She looked him up and down. “I can teach you, but it may be irregular. I also ride Harleys to where they belong. I’ve been thinking of cutting back, but it will take time.”

“I work a lot,” he said. “Especially in summer. We’ve started making sarsaparilla. A soda made from a vine. And root beer. We’ve got ourselves some sassafras trees. We’re also looking at file powder, for gumbo. And we’re experimenting with mead, a honey beer.”

“Well, maker of food, spices, and drinks,” said Shiva. “Let’s teach you how to kickbox with a blade.” She looked at his leg. “For now, let’s just use the knee, shall we?”

“We shall,” he said. They went after the heavy bag as if it was trying to kill them.

Afterward, he took her out for gumbo at a Creole place he knew. They talked, laughed. He told her about the military. She told him about wandering California on a Harley. He told her about his failed attempt to build Harleys. She told him about her failed attempts to work at mainstream jobs.

He took her to Dirty Rock, and they danced. He got her outside, onto her Harley, and followed her in his truck to her place out by Lake Las Vegas. It was quiet, nearly silent in the desert night. She stripped down to her underwear, and jumped into the pool. He stripped down to his boxers, slipped off his blade, and jumped in with her. They kissed. She tasted of spices, cloves and cinnamon, with a hint of honey, like the best mead in the whole world.

They dried off while laying on the plastic beach chairs, and looked at the stars. When they were nearly dry, he put his blade back on, and dressed. She took him up to her room. She had only a queen mattress on the floor, and a single lamp, and a few sheets. She helped him take off his blade again, and stripped him. She rode him, slowly, gaining ground, as he got stronger and stronger, and then he stretched himself into her, blessing the Universe that he’d had a condom in his pocket, ready to go when she was ready.

She clamped down on him, and took his lip in-between her teeth. She rode him, up and down. He lasted longer than he thought possible, his fingers flying over her gorgeous coppery skin, his lips caressing the chocolate tips of her breasts. They were small, and fit perfectly into his hands. She came twice, bucking and moaning, until he came in a rush. She got wet wipes from the bathroom, and cleaned him off. They laid there; twisted a single sheet half-on and half-off of their entwined bodies.

“Don’t fall in love with me,” whispered Shiva, stroking his arm, his back. “I am Shiva, destroyer of worlds.”

“Too late,” said Mike.

“Some people can’t see their own guilt. Those people need to be separated from the rest of us, so they don’t rub off on others.”