Wraith hung up the phone. Saber was dead asleep in the bed, after another bout of sex. This one hadn't broken anything open, so Wraith called that a win.

She called Skuld. "Do you remember Las Malos Mujeres?"

"The Bad Women? Well, yeah. Took them down hard."

"Not fucking hard enough. Judge Jones let one of them out on bail."

"Oh, shit," said Skuld. "I'm coming over, and I'm bringing a posse."

Wraith hung up the phone, then said to Sigrun, "Guard him."

Sigrun nodded. "Can do. But he's good at guarding himself, too."

"Bring in his weapons, but let him sleep," said Wraith.

"On it," said Sigrun, heading down the hall to the bedroom, with a very determined kitten following in her wake.

Rota was there first, just as Wraith had finished dressing without tearing any stitches, and hidden all her weapons in her boots, hair, and in concealed places in her waistband. Like at her spine, and one in her pocket.

Wraith opened the door. Rota stepped in, and put Wraith's forehead to hers. "With your shield," she said.

"Or on it," said Wraith. "I'm letting our man sleep. Sigrun is bringing..."

Sigrun came out of Wraith and Saber's bedroom, guns and knives in a tray. "Rota," she said, nodding. "I've got his favorites." She moved down the hall, and opened her own bedroom door.

Skuld entered next, spiky with rage. "Why can't they bounce a seventy-one-year-old off the bench? Jerkoff Jones probably thought women can't run drug empires."

"Which one was it?" asked Rota, who was checking the windows.

"Does it matter?" said Skuld. "Sorry, love, just angry as hell. The one they call La Leoparda, Leopard Woman."

"Didn't she kill a DEA agent?" asked Rota.

"Two, actually," said Wraith. "Liena Ochoa and Divinia Ruiz. Both women found with their throats slit, their tongues cut out, their hands cut off to prevent identification."

Rota nodded. "So, she's coming after you two."

"Absolutely," said Skuld.

"How will she find you?" asked Rota. "Aren't the names and addresses of agents kept confidential?"

"I'm not an agent," said Skuld. "Not afforded the same protection. Made a temporary agent from time-to-time due to my military background and training."

"I am," said Wraith. "But Judge Jones and I have had run-ins before. He thinks men are smarter than women. He's dumb enough to give out info, have it overheard, or be hacked into. I doubt he'd deliberately give out my info, but he's very easily conned." She grinned. "If he did, I'll get him off the bench."

"Finally," said Skuld. "Silver lining."

"Should we run?" asked Rota.

"Fuck, no," said Wraith. "Bring it on."

"Guns," said Rota, holding up a Glock. "We need bigger guns. The ladies and her little purchased soldiers will be carrying Uzis and machetes."

Skuld grinned. "Wraith, aren't you married to an ATF guy?"

Wraith smiled and pulled off the couch cushions. "We got stashes, and the windows are..."

The windows started pinging. "Bulletproof glass," she said, popping open the box covered by a heavy gel cushion lid. "I've got H&K MP7s seized in a bank holdup." She passed them out, along with ammo. "Skuld?"

"They know," she said. "Texted everyone."

"Let's do this," said Wraith, as they all racked their slides. She put on her own body armor, and passed more out. They fanned out, and prepared for the assault as sirens wailed in the distance. Wraith wore her badge on her pants. "We get out of this, we go deep," she said.

"With your shield," said Skuld.

"Or on it," said Wraith.

Wraith sent text messages to any neighbors she knew for them to stay away from the house, or to hide under something heavy or get in the bathtub if they were home. She knew she'd have to go out there, but she didn't want any curious neighbors to get dead. The very clear sound of bullets hitting masonry should have been a clue, but not everyone understood that. Jackson sent her a text, a visiting DEA agent. He said he was two minutes out. Saber cursed in Thai, but was up, dressed, and loaded for war. He stayed in the back with Sigrun.

The crashing at the door wasn't Jackson. Skuld gestured, and Rota climbed on her back just inside the door, pistols pointing down. The door gave at the hinges. Two slight figures in full-on black entered. Rota shot each one in the head from above, and Wraith got the moose with the ram with three quick shots. Skuld knelt, Rota hopped off, and they grabbed the ammo and weaponry off the bodies. Someone threw in a grenade. Skuld had it out the tiny kitchen window, directly on the heads of two more black-clad figures, before it went off. Wraith threw out a flash-bang, and they were out. Skuld got it in the body armor, and Rota picked off another black-clad figure in the neck. Bloody spray jettisoned upward. Skuld grunted, and shot from the floor where she was. The sirens intensified. Dogs barked.

"Got one!" said Wraith, in Norse.

"Got her," said Sigrun, also in Norse.

Two shots sounded in the stairwell, then two more. Skuld and Wraith went out, with Rota guarding the door. Two black-clad figures came around the corner. Skuld went low, Rota high. They fell, legs and necks hit. Someone pounded up the stairs.

Jackson said "Here!" in Norse. He popped out of the doorway, H&K in one hand, a liberated Uzi on his back, with ammo making his pockets sag.

"Shoot them," said Skuld, also in Norse. She took the other stairwell, and Rota and Wraith both held where they were.

Jackson's phone vibrated, and he answered. "Put 'em away, SWAT is here."

Wraith, Skuld and Rota went back inside, and hid most of their arsenal back in the couch, except for the weapons they actually fired, and the confiscated ones. They put those weapons on the ground, and sat down on the floor. They awaited the calvary.

Both Wraith and Saber were interviewed by the FBI, their bosses present. Their bosses were furious with the judge. All the black-clad women had been released by the judge for being victims (not perpetrators), despite it being explained to him that the Leopard's whores were loyal to her, and despite being purchased from their parents. Their youthful faces gave Special Agent in Charge (Bryan Ulinov) fits. That was until bricks of cash and multiple passports for each woman were found in the stolen van they used to find Wraith's house.

"How the fuck did they know where you live?" asked SAC Ulinov.

"Be real interested to know," said Wraith. "Not something I give out."

* * *

Saber bitched the whole way to the farm. Wraith rode his bike up, with saddlebags full of his go-bag and weapons; Sigrun followed on Wraith's.

"You can oversee this whole house-moving shit," she said, as he sighed gustily in her ear.

"Fuck that shit," he said. "I need to be on the ground, shaking down my contacts."

She grinned into the wind; Born to be Wild was on the conduction headsets she'd bought. She could simultaneously listen to Steppenwolf and hear her loved one bitch. O joy, she thought. And what part of "You're slowing us down" doesn't he understand?

She pulled up to the paddock. A gorgeous golden girl carefully brushed a pony with nearly no pelt on it; it had been shaved close. A rescue, she thought. That must be Damia. The girl ignored the loud Harleys, something that must simply be background noise to her, by now. Sigrun parked Wraith's bike, and sat still.

"Be nice," said Wraith, turning off Steppenwolf. "That little girl over there is Damia. She has autism. She needs gentleness, kindness, patience, and tolerance."

Saber snorted, and swung himself off the bike with a groan. "All the things I suck at, then."

Wraith pulled off her helmet, and watched him stow his. She spoke in a low voice. "Get over yourself. That little girl crawled out of her shell long enough to tell her mom she wanted to live with her. That's terrifying for a child who needs structure just to get through the next fucking minute. You fucking got shot in the chest, asshole. People are after me, cartel people, the ones we go after every fucking day. But these are women who believe we stole their birthright from them, and their right to climb out from the streets that make the Alphabet Streets here look like fucking Candyland." She got in his face. "You. Will. Slow. Us. Down. Now, give back to these people who feed us intel, and who literally feed us. Put a fucking smile on your face and do something around here to help out, or, so help me, by Buddha's balls, I'll knock you into next week."

Saber looked into her ice-blue eyes and then shuddered. "I'm a fucking moron, aren't I?"

"You almost died, you asshole. Now, go in there to the main house and drop off your gear. They have you on the bottom floor. Then, go see if you can help the Owl Pack with their beading, or carding wool, or shell peas in the kitchen with Vi. I don't fucking care, but be nice. These people would die for you."

He reached up, grabbed the back of her neck, and pulled her to him. In Thai, he said, "With your shield."

"Or on it," said Wraith, in Norse. She gentled the steel of her eyes for a moment. "Don't get dead."

"Wasn't planning on it," said Saber. He looked her in the eyes, then shot a glance over to the main house.

Henry was standing in the doorway; the dog at his feet; a shotgun in his hand, with hair blowing in the wind past the collar of his battered, brown, leather jacket.

Saber gave a half-smile. "Good god," he said. "I pity the fool that tries to attack this place."

Wraith snorted. "And go against angry Paiutes? Even Las Malos Mujeres wouldn't do that."

She kissed him, then took out his go-pack, and slung the duffel over her shoulder, then the weapons, which she swung over the other shoulder, like bandoliers. Saber followed Wraith, who led them in the door, down the hall, and dropped them off in the guest suite just past the greenhouse, complete with its own small bathroom and shower. She dropped the bags on the bed, kissed her love, and strode out without a backward glance.

That's my woman, thought Saber. “If” I am smart enough to hold onto her. He reached down to unzip the bag with his clothes and toiletry kit. She'd packed an arsenal in the other bag, one he'd use to add to Henry's defensive grid. He saw the little girl in his mind's eye, carefully brushing the pony, a hand on its shortened mane. No one harms that little one while I'm here, he thought. He finished with the first bag, then started hiding the blades, guns, and ammo in various spots.

David came in, and helped him with the heavier weapons. "Fortress time," he said. "Anyone hurts a hair on those kids, they die."

"You sure about this?" asked Saber. "I may bring death to your door. Maybe I can lay low somewhere else."

"Here, you're just another long-black-haired, dark-skinned guy with a hammer or a currycomb, or shredding lettuce for chicken salad in the kitchen," said David. "Hiding in plain sight."

"Besides," said Henry, coming up behind David. "You stepped in front of a bullet for Ace. Literally. We owe you." He took a handful of grenades. "Flash-bangs or real?"

"Color-coded; red for real," said Saber. He pointed out the tiny drop of nail polish on the underside of each grenade.

"Nice," said Henry. "know right where to put these." He smiled with a touch of malice.

How the fuck did the white guys steal this country from underneath these people? Saber wondered, hiding a knife in its sheath behind the headboard.

"Let's do this, love," said David. He picked up both M7s, and they headed out.

"Hey!" said Jake, coming out into the hallway. "Share. I still know how to throw one of these babies." Jake cackled as Henry handed him a flash-bang. Carl stuck his head out. Henry sighed, and gave him another flash-bang.

Saber followed, looking for useful work. He stopped in front of Jake. "Put me to work, old man," he said. "Note that I just got shot in the chest and my ribs feel like someone's grinding them together."

"Noted," said Jake, opening the door. "Vu, show this man to a recliner."

Saber nodded, and headed for the indicated chair. Vu handed him a brown blanket and stared at him with avarice in her eyes. " Hear you speak Thai. Know any traditional Thai stories?"

Saber took the blanket. "Buddha's balls, but this is the softest blanket in the world."

Vu, Carl and Maia all laughed. Maia said, "After you tell her the stories, you get to translate them into Thai. Then she'll make you write a course in Thai. Or translate some Udemy courses."

"Not for free," said Vu. "We'll pay you. Need to open new markets."

Jake snorted, and hid a flash-bang under a table. "The Chinese and Taiwanese market will keep us in bank for years."

"Yeah, but Bao has only so many hours in the day," said Vu. "New markets are good." She handed him a tablet. "You need headphones?"

He stared at her, then pulled the induction headphones out. "Oh, Creator," said Carl. "Let's get some of those." He hid the other flash-bang deep in the right cupholder of his favorite chair, and sat down. "Hand me some of those beads, Jake." Jake handed him the tray, and Carl opened his pack of needles and selected one.

"What do I do?" asked Saber.

Vu pointed at an icon. "Open that, and start typing, or press the little mic icon and start talking."

She smiled as Saber pulled up a screen so he could change the keyboard to Thai. Soon he was typing madly. Vu smiled, and finished editing Bao's English in their newest book.

He stopped for a moment. "I only know gutter Thai," he said as he realized.

Vu's eyes sparkled. "Even better. Teach the street kids English for free." He smiled a blinding smile, and went back to work.

* * *

Wraith investigated each damn lead. The two surviving girls weren't talking. Three were dead, and they aimed baleful stares at anyone who dared look at them, let alone tried to interrogate them. They cursed in gutter Spanish laced with Mixtec words.

"Oaxaca," said Raul Surquillo, the DEA cartel specialist. "Your Leopardess is being odd."

"How so?" asked Wraith.

"She should call herself the Panther or Jaguar. Leopards are not native to anywhere in North, Central or South America."

"And," said Wraith, "I heard Creole. She's Haitian. Probably fled to Mexico after the earthquake, and made a living in Mexico the only way she knew how."

"Or her family came for work, and she went horribly wrong," said Surquillo. "Most Haitians are extremely hard workers. Don't see them as wanting their daughters to become drug mules, whores, gangsters, or cartel hit people."

"She didn't go any of those routes," said Wraith. "She joined with other women to make her own cartel. Cocaine, primarily, but then they got cute. They found themselves some chemists and started making pills. The kind that make you happy, sad, ecstatic, paranoid, revved up; you name it. They sell to college students and party-minded adults in very discreet buys. They still run the coke, though, and are quite willing to fund Shining Path Guerrillas in Peru, to get it. The Peruvian government has been slowly choking off their supply, hence the turn to pharmaceuticals. The problem is, their chemist is a sadist. Or just stupid. People die from their first dose, not their fifth or sixth, or fiftieth."

"And you took down this cartel," said Surquillo.

"With Skuld. We went in, posing as people with access to the rock scene. They were having a summit. We took them all down. Then Judge Stupid led one out. Her little killers went after my condo. The reason why we don't have dead people is because they shot during the day when most were out, and because Mrs. Messenger got in her tub with her little dog Teddy when I texted her to do so. Bastards shot right through the wall." Wraith pulled up the pictures, and projected them on the wall. "The ones we have are Little Trouble and Knife, both sold by their parents to be the Leopardess' slaves. Despite being slaves, they are absolutely loyal to her, because she didn't turn them into whores or drug mules. She turned them into assassins. No one thinks a pretty girl is there to kill you."

Surquillo nodded. "They're a mixed bag; we think some of them are the children of central American refugees, who died in transit. The ones that were sold by coyotes when they had no use for the orphans. They speak nearly every variety of Spanish there is to speak, except Spain or Cuban Spanish."

Skuld stood against a wall, her hands wide, ready to move, even here. "Selling kids into slavery is evil. Buying them is worse. We've gotta take that bitch down even harder. Throw away the key this time."

"We think the judge is dirty?" asked Surquillo.

"Judge Jones says he didn't see enough evidence to hold her. No drugs were found in her possession. But, she ordered some murders of her own. DEA. Both females were sent to infiltrate her organization to find out where they were getting the drugs. Both very-highly trained women," said Wraith.

"I trained them both," said Skuld. "On some very nasty fighting techniques. Each one took out some of the pretty-pretty girls La Leoparda sent to kill them. Ochoa was stabbed fourteen times, and Ruiz was shot in the head. Twice!" She bent her head. "They were Sisters. It will be challenging, but setting their murderer free should come with consequences."

"Lindy's on it," said Wraith. Lavinia Lucida, known as "Lindy," FBI, just loved going after judicial misconduct. Very little of it was deliberate, but some was so egregiously stupid that it needed investigation. "Setting one cartel kingpin free, and anyone having my actual address on the wrong side of the law, that makes it her business. She'll get him off the bench."

"We still don't know where that bitch is hiding," said Skuld.

Wraith raised her head. "What does she need to do?" She counted ideas out with her fingers. "She needs to fund her little vendetta. She needs to go to ground. She needs to pay off her little, loyal assassins. Every single one of those women had plans within plans. She's someplace close, but deep enough underground she thinks she won't get caught."

"Show me the money," said Skuld. "She'll flood the market with the pills she has access to. She needs fast cash to disappear permanently. This is not her territory, so she won't have caches all over the damn place."

Wraith sighed. "And we gave her a damn good idea of a market."

"Rock ‘n’ roll," said Skuld. "That's my wheelhouse. Let's get her."

Surquillo stood. "Can I come?"

Skuld looked him over, eyes slit. "Tall, thin, with long fingers. Let's get you some rock clothes. You can hold some sticks."

Surquillo grinned. "I always wanted to be a rock god."

Skuld snorted. "You look too preppy. You need to get dirty."

Surquillo laughed with his eyes. "Then let's get dirty." Skuld rolled her eyes. Wraith snorted laughter, and opened the door. "After you," she said.

They got him into some expensive, black-studded jeans, which he paid for. "I'm thinking of going into the Dirty FBI."

Skuld snorted, and handed him a shirt with a line of leather. It had large silver buttons down the front, a leather collar, and huge leather cuffs.

"Eight hundred dollars," he said. She stared at him, and he handed over the credit card. She added a studded collar and two silver rings, one Celtic, and one a red-eyed skull.

She asked him to sing while standing in line. He let out a throaty roar; the checkout teen jumped. He and Wraith entered into the chorus of Lita Ford and Ozzy Osbourne's Close Your Eyes. The shoppers clapped.

"Rocco, no. Maxx. Maxx Galactic." Wraith rolled her eyes. "Maxx Mystic."

"Maxx Dorado," said Wraith.

"Maxx Monolith," said Skuld. Both women doubled over laughing as Raul/Maxx signed the credit card, and groaned.

"Maxx Slade," said Skuld, leading them to a designer shoe store.

"Yeah," said Wraith. "Maxx Slade."

They got him out of FBI wingtips and into black short boots, with a double buckle and a high shine. They were in an outlet store, so Maxx didn't cringe so much at the cost. They got him dressed, and took him to see Raisa, the Russian wonder. She pulled his hair forward, and added a blue frost.

"Not to worry, washes out," she said. She shortened the sides, making the top look longer and more “floppy.”

She gelled and worked it, and showed him how to style it. He hated the hint of foundation… and the blue, metallic eyeliner, but he stood up straight when he saw himself in a mirror.

"I'm stylin,'" he said.

"Pay the lady, rock god," said Skuld. The three women laughed as Maxx cringed.

The Valkyries were saddened to take out their trademark braids. They both went for pulled-back styles with high poufs that made it look as if they had walked out of punk rock magazines. Raisa went for maroon for the tips of Wraith's hair, and the same metallic blue for Skuld. They both put in contacts. Skuld now had big brown eyes and Wraith leaned toward violet. They hit their go-bags and came up with rock band tops, metallic jeans, boots, and leather jackets. Wraith took some pics, and so did Skuld. They emailed them to Raul's handler.

"Limo time," said Wraith. They called for one; actually, an FBI armored vehicle. In the back they sang Rock Star. When they got to the part about popping pills from candy dispensers, Wraith stopped singing.

Wraith said to the driver, "We need a convenience or candy store," she said.

"It's just a song," said Skuld.

"The Leopardess doesn't know that," said Wraith. "I'll call Smythe." Smythe specialized in fake drugs for DEA operations. He had lovely sugar pills that looked like Black Beauties, Vicodin, and so many others. They brought him the candy dispensers.

He laughed. "That's a new one. Rock song turned real, huh? And, good news, I can use the candy for my work. Pulverize it, make it look good." They each stole handfuls of candy as he filled them with an evil rock god's pharmaceutical nightmare.

"Thanks," said Wraith. They filled their pockets, high on drugstore candy, and went off to find the Leopardess' minions.

They made a drive-by to Sonic to get some cherry drinks, and two (very obvious) agents dressed in suits that screamed "security," with ear, throat mics, and shades, got in. The male one was a former linebacker named Rudy Sarkes. Ricki, the female with ripped biceps showing up under her suit coat, slipped Maxx an envelope. Maxx found an English passport with many stamps for India, and purple cards inscribed in silver. With writing in English and Hindi, with a website, and earpieces.

They put the earpieces in. "Why is your name Samar Singh?"

Raul smiled. "My mother's last name is Singh. They took my real passport and spun it a little... left."

"Nice website," said Wraith, looking it up on her cell phone. "Looks like you're very popular in India, and catching on in Britain."

"Did they give the names of the songs?"

"One is called 'Maharaja's Daughter.'" She played a slow clip, instrumental only.

"Ah," said Raul/Maxx. "That's based on a very old story." He hummed it to himself. "I can do something rock with that."

They hit up two clubs; one on-Strip, one off. They danced, and ordered expensive, flavored drinks. The third one was more down and dirty, with more rock. Right away, they had the right vibe.

"Ivy said this would be the one," said Wraith. They ordered straight tequila, and they each downed a shot with salt and lime. The house band finished, and went on a break. The room booed, apparently needing music to thrive.

Ivy stood there onstage, resplendent in her leathers; gray on top, matte-black on the bottom. She held a guitar Wraith recognized from the wall at her own club. She gestured, and Wraith led the way, followed by Skuld and Maxx. Skuld sat at the drums, and Maxx the keyboard. Wraith took a mic and a tambourine.

"Maxx Slade, all the way from the far east," said Ivy. Then she played a riff, and Skuld a drumroll. Then, Skuld pounded out the well-known beginning to Paradise City.

Maxx stood up, grabbed a mic, and channeled a screaming Axl Rose. The audience, all in black leather or jeans with various rock tops, got into head-banging. Skuld morphed into Hazy Shade of Winter. The head-bangers banged. Wraith went into Lita Ford and Ozzy Osbourne's haunting ballad, Close Your Eyes, with Maxx at the piano. He then riffed into the fictional Maharajah's Daughter, telling a tale of a man in love with the Maharajah's daughter, who had been promised in marriage to one of her father's generals. He described moonlight on her skin, with her hair shining with the light of the stars. The story was beautiful; poetic.

The refrain was a simple but haunting, "I can't love you, I can't hold you, I can't love you, not now."

Then, Ivy slipped into Sam Smith's Stay with Me, substituting "is" for "ain't" in the song, and in keeping with the “two lovers held apart” theme. Maxx was keeping with the "I can't love you, not now" refrain, but playing the Sam Smith song on the piano. Finally, they sang the refrain from Stay With Me, together, and Maxx held the high note in a falsetto for an impossibly long time, then they ended, together. The crowd had been singing parts; first his, then hers, then they were absolutely silent for the final notes. Then, they went insane.

They bowed, and tried to go offstage. "Maxx Slade!" the crowd screamed, again and again. So, they played Nickelback's Rock Star.

The entire audience roared along. Wraith slipped Ivy a candy dispenser, and they held them up during that lyric. The audience loved it. Maxx did a very British version of Chumbawamba's Tubthumping, with Wraith doing a haunting Danny Boy in the background. Then, Ivy sang one of her favorites, What's Going On? They tried to leave again, but they were pulled back for one more set. They got off the stage to a deafening applause.

They filed past the house band. "Wish they'd told us they were bringing in a ringer," said the lead singer. "Fuck, dude, we've gotta follow that?"

"Sorry," said Wraith. "He wanted to play on your break. He's from England, been playing India. Didn't think they'd eat it up like that."

They ended up in a green room, Maxx unsure as to how they'd gotten there. They sucked on flavored waters scavenged from a small fridge. A young man with a shock of black hair and a clipboard wearing khakis came back in.

"The band wants you... Maxx Slade? Yeah, they want you to do a song or two. They're getting booed out of there."

Skuld downed her water, and so did Maxx. "Let's get back out there."

The band managed to keep up, following Ivy's guitar, wailing. The lights went out onstage, and they filed out, Maxx gasping for air. They filed backstage, and everyone laid backstage on the couches and poufy chairs. Skuld found a stack of clean towels and passed them around. Ivy threw out bottles of water, flavored and straight. They just sat there, saying nothing.

They half-carried Maxx out to the limo, his security front and back. He stopped in a spot just outside the light, and popped some of his Pez candy "pills." He was hustled toward the limo. Just before he got in, a beautiful woman stepped out of the darkness. She was eight kinds of beautiful, sleek and dangerous, hair in folds around a caramel-eyed, angel's face. Wraith held her head in such a way that the woman couldn't see her face.

"I've got what you need," the angelic woman said, her red dress tight against her caramel thighs. Raul recognized the accent, and he made the tiniest twitch of his fingers.

"Lady," said Raul/Maxx, his accent British inflected with India, "I don't doubt that at all."

Wraith grabbed Ivy's face, and kissed her deeply. Skuld laughed. "Let's go; let lover girls get into it," she said, pitching her voice into Scandinavian waters, dark and deep.

Their "security" hustled them into the limo, and Raul stepped back, letting the woman in with them. The limo drove out into the night.

The Hunt

In the limo, the woman that looked like sharpened, stained glass parted lipsticked ruby lips. "What would you like, lady?" asked Maxx, in a voice that was throaty from having been screaming into a mic for hours.

Skuld took a drink out of the bar, screwed off the top, and handed it to Maxx. "Drink," she said. She unscrewed the top off a second bottle, and handed it to the woman. "Cherry water," she said.

Maxx drank deeply, fumbled out his candy dispenser, and carefully checked which pill was next. He shook it out, and popped it. He breathed out and drank his water greedily. He put the dispenser away.

"How did you get those in the country?" she asked.

He snorted. "That's why I keep it in a candy dispenser. I have a friend who reseals them for me after they are filled." He laughed, his voice slurring ever so slightly. "Candy high, followed by real high."

"Got any of the red ones?" asked Skuld, unscrewing the top of her own cherry water. The woman watched them both with a soft smile on her face, taking tiny sips of her cherry water, her eyes as hard as tiger-eye stone.

"I think... the red devils are here," he said, shaking the dispenser, then putting one in her hand. She swallowed, then took a sip of her water.

"I can..." said the woman. "Get you... refills." She made the word sound like a sexual come-on.

"Well," said Maxx, "I can definitely use some... help."

She leaned forward. "I heard your name. Maxx Slade. Your performance was amazing. Raw." She touched his knee with a finger. "We can get you what you need to... perform."

Is she offering me uppers or Viagra? wondered Maxx.

"Shall I be ignored?" asked Skuld, dryly. "Pretty boy here is just the frontman. Lady, I control the purse strings. We only get, um, candy, if it's the absolute best, and only if… I. Say. So."

The woman laid back, and she crossed one leg over the other, then she smiled a predatory smile. "So, the tigress roars."

"You fucking better believe it," said Skuld. "I got a brick of fucking money for you every week, but you gotta have the right mix. Red, brown, white, the occasional triangular god. My boy has to fly at just the right height. Too high, the sun burns. Too low, that lovely voice ends in tears. Some tears on stage, great. Morose or whining, never."

"Then morose whining is banished," said the woman. "Very well. Little purple triangles in very small doses."

"It's the mix," said Skuld. "He likes just the right one."

"And you?" the woman asked.

"I take a lite mix. Gotta keep my head clear."

"That can be... arranged," said the woman.

"Well, stop coming onto me then," said Skuld, leaning forward. "Let's talk needs."

The woman laughed, a hard-edged sound. "He's relaxed," she said. Maxx wasn't actually faking it. He felt boneless after giving his very first performance since he was sixteen years old. He smiled gently.

"He likes to ride," said Skuld. "Now, let's talk money, honey."

The woman laughed, and they talked about a brick of money, and a mix of very high-level restricted drugs. They negotiated, and Skuld brought out the champagne. They laughed, and talked about business, then pleasure. They sealed their bargain with a kiss, an avid Maxx looking on. She leaned forward, stroked Maxx's leg, then ran a blood-red finger down his face.

"Later," she said.

"Where can we drop you?" asked Skuld.

"Wherever," she said.

"No," said Maxx, letting his words take on a dreamy quality. "A lady is driven where she wants to go."

"Someone has been reading the romances, no?"

"Our stories are older than yours," he said, letting the dust of Bangalore enter his voice. "They tend to end in blood."

"So do ours," she said. "My name is Carmela." She handed Skuld a tiny black burner phone. "Press one for... service," she said, growling the last word. She got out at the corner, and vanished into the crowd.

"Ivy’s place," said Skuld. "We have to dance."

"Mmm hmm," said Maxx, as Skuld ran a wand over the phone. It lit up. She scanned for prints. She held up her screen. It was Elena Vargas, with a list of aliases, and an equally long list of priors for solicitation, drugs, and suspicion of several murders in Mexico.

"Hmm," said Skuld. "More champagne?"

"Cherry water champagne," said Maxx.

"Ugh," said Skuld. "I hate it when you get high. Next you'll be asking for candied grape leaves."

"Hmm," he said.

"Well, fuck," said Skuld, and she poured the cherry water into the champagne glass, adding a hint of champagne. "Shall we," she said.

"We shall," said Maxx, letting his words slur more, with more Bangalore in his voice.

Ivy had everything ready. They left their "security" in the limo to silently analyze the phone. Ivy didn't seem exhausted from the performance at all. She sang Heart's All I Wanna Do, long and loud, and introduced "Maxx Slade."

Skuld took over the drums, the house band took a break, Maxx sat at the piano, and they went into a very long Guns N’ Roses’ November Rain, with the thundering piano and all the drama. The entire audience of bikers and tourists were singing along. The house band raised their glasses, so they took a drink, then went into a very torrid rendition of Chris Isaak's Wicked Game, with the audience howling along.

Ivy gestured for the completely exhausted Maxx to take a break. She sang Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit, then Skuld sang a very heartbreaking version of Heart's Alone, with Ivy. Maxx came back up for Creep.

Wraith met them out the back. "We followed her. She's got a tail. We've been taking video of you all night, packed your Maxx Slade website. The song is already on YouTube, with two thousand more hits an hour. We think it's going viral."

"When I went to work today, I thought I'd be analyzing voices." He took a sip of apple juice. "Now," he said, as he huffed a laugh, "I'm a rock god." He smiled wanly. "My voice to the world."

She pulled out her cell, then checked the website. "Good god. Twelve thousand hits."

"What the..." He commandeered the phone. "Damn! Thirteen thousand three hundred and six."

"What?" She took the phone back from him. "We just wanted to set up buys, not make you a rock god."

"Take them down," said Maxx/Raul. "That woman chilled me to my bones. I could see the knives hidden in their sheaths on her legs. She's got absolutely nothing behind her eyes. I've seen killers before, but she lives to fuck people up, leaves their broken bodies behind, with that nasty little smile on her lips."

"The scary thing," said Wraith, "is that's only one of her little posse. We need to get every single one of the Leopardess' little clones. Not one of them gets away. Not one."

"Agreed," said Maxx/Raul. They fist-bumped, and Wraith vanished into the night.

* * *

It took the coordinated effort of every Valkyrie in every branch of law enforcement (or ex-military) in the area, to track the "Vipers," as Wraith called them. "Cubs" didn't fit their deadly nature. They lived to earn money for their queen, deliver punishment to her enemies, and reap the benefits thereof. Each one had a boy toy, usually a customer that hadn't gone too far down the rabbit hole yet, and then that boy toy would be discarded when the Viper got bored, which was often when it came to sociopaths.

The boy toys knew very little; they deliberately got people who didn't speak their rapid, idiomatic Spanish. Once Raul analyzed their speech and got it down, he trained two Spanish-speaking Valkyries in what to say and how to say it for several hours a day. Special Agent Isabella Torturo was from Chicago. and Marine Instructor Ruela Diaz from New York; based in Bridgeport, California, on leave.

They watched video until they could get the swagger down right, and found someone to "kill"--Wraith. Skuld trained them, hour after hour, getting every move down. The padding was military grade, and "bleeding" wounds were created with false skin with spliffs underneath. Finally, they were ready to spring the trap.

Maxx had a new "girlfriend" called Isabella, a beauty with hair so black it shone blue. She had rippling biceps, and a killer smile. They played at Orange, and then did a set at Limoncello. The Viper named Carmela was at the back door. She attempted to sidle up to Maxx/Raul there. Then Isabella, the agent with the clipped tone and no-nonsense attitude, became a harlot, speaking gutter Spanish. Skuld convinced her to back down, and they all got into the back of the limo.

"This girl's our party," she said to Isabella. "She's got something in the bag." Isabella stroked her diamond tennis bracelet. A gift from a high-end lover, thought Carmela. This one has money.

The bag was a shopping bag from a high-end store. Inside were a mix of tiny bottles and glassine envelopes. "Coke, H, Black Beauties, some V, some X, Oxy. All in carefully measured doses to make you feel exactly the way you want to feel," said Carmela.

Isabella got an acquisitive look in her eyes. "Bonita," she said. She eyed the heroin distastefully. "Shooting up is for putas. Mi papi likes the coke sometimes, but ecstasy…" she said, purring the words, and ran a jewel-tipped crimson nail down Maxx's arm, "…makes the motor run. For hours."

Skuld let a hint of disgust pass behind her eyes, and curbed it in the crinkle of her nose, then it was gone. "She's right. No H. Don't need the Viagra." She laughed, an ugly sound. "He got a six-hour boner once, had to go to the hospital."

Maxx cracked her across the face. Her head went up and back. She had his musician's fingers bent back before he could pull it back to himself. "I'll break every single one of your piano-playing fingers if you ever hit me again," Skuld said, her eyes steel.

"Oww," he said, whining. She let him go. He cradled his hand as if it were a baby’s. Isabella kissed it and glared at Skuld. She glared back. "Never tell that story again," he said. He whipped out a candy dispenser and popped two pills, then washed them down with champagne. "It's nobody's god-damn business."

"Hey," said Isabella. "Let's party. Cuanto cuesta?"

Skuld took a block of money out of her own alligator bag and handed it over to Carmela. "This should be plenty. He'll want double the X. He uses it to unwind after a performance."

Maxx smiled, his voice slurring ever so slightly, a lot more Bangalore in his voice now. "I agree." Carmela took the bag back, made some adjustments using her own purse, and handed it back to Skuld.

"I know how we can party for free, baby," said Isabella.

"How?" he asked, with an expansive smile, the hurt hand forgotten in his pill-induced, pretended bliss.

"We gotta kill some bitch. Me and mi hermana are gonna do it." Isabella leaned in, nearly in Carmela's face. "Gonna wreck that bitch, hand her over to some woman who call herself Tigre, or some bullshit like that. Panther, maybe." She leaned back her head and laughed, mouth open, then held out her hand. Maxx shook a little blue pill into it, and Isabella swallowed.

Carmela smiled with absolutely no warmth. "It's La Leoparda. Who you gonna fuck up?"

"Some bitch everyone be talkin' about with hair the color of ice."

Carmela leaned forward. "Do you know where she is?" she hissed.

"I know where she gonna be." She pointed at the bag. "Get me one, and mi hermana and I, we will give you her body."

"Baby," said Maxx, the whine back in his voice, "I got a show. Can we do this later?"

"Of course, baby," said Isabella, kissing his neck.

"Mmm," he said. Both Skuld and Carmela looked at them in a thinly veiled disgust.

"I'll call after the show," said Skuld, pointing a chin at Isabella. "Her sister's some fighter, kickboxer I think. They could take out whoever you want; just give them a bag of your pretties." She stroked the bag appreciatively.

"I will stay and see the show," said Carmela.

Yeah, and sell coke to all the coke girls in the bathroom, thought Skuld.

Maxx opened a cherry water, downed it, then burped into his hand. "Let's sing."

"Of course, baby," said Isabella. She helped him out of the limo as it came to a stop in a dark alley. The band inside was playing Led Zeppelin.

"Oh, god," said Maxx, and he vomited onto the sidewalk. Skuld handed him a wipe, and he wiped his mouth, then threw down the towelette. Isabella dragged him into the club.

"How can you stand him?" asked Carmela, as the door swung shut.

Skuld smiled an alligator's smile. "Money, honey. He's got it, and makes more every fucking second on YouTube. Gotta attach myself to him until he crashes, then find another one of him."

Carmela handed her a tiny burner phone. "We get separated, call me. Only number on there. I'll give you back half the brick you gave me if you follow that bitch there and find out where the ice woman is. Finder's fee."

"Done," said Skuld. "Mama needs more diamonds. They are portable, and they go with everything." Isabella nodded, impressed. They followed the sound of Bangalore cursing into the back of the club.

The show was louder than an airplane, with the mixed smells of cigarette and marijuana smoke, both illegal in Vegas clubs. Then, alcohol, sweat, dirt, and drugs. Carmela did a brisk bathroom business. Thanks to the pin-sized mics and slightly larger camera lenses, focused only on the sinks. Skuld got an excellent record of the event while she sang onstage.

They went through a list of hard-rock and indie favorites. They did a twisted version of the deeply disturbing Death Cab for Cutie's song I Will Follow You Into the Dark. Even Skuld was feeling a little suicidal after that one. Then, a few more numbers before they took a break. They had three encores. They were exhausted by the time they got back in the cab. Thank god, the next part's not my gig, thought Skuld. They deposited the fawning Isabella and the seemingly-high Maxx, into the limo.

"Get that bag ready," said Isabella, laughing in Carmela's face. "He won't last long." She giggled. "No Viagra!"

She laughed at her own joke, and helped drag Maxx out of the limo. Carmela said nothing, just twitched a finger at Skuld. Skuld nodded. They entered the hotel.

They really did have a room, and it really was a comped suite; Maxx had given several performances in the hotel bar over the last two days. They needed a break, and to get ready. They also couldn't pop out of character. Skuld spotted two, separate, beautiful women in come-fuck-me dresses, with heels. They seemed to be eying them much too closely. She made the tiny hand sign that meant, "We have a tail." Maxx flicked acknowledgment with two fingers, and stumbled into the elevator, Isabella laughing on his arm. Skuld went in.

The agents inside were reviewing the video and audio, and typing up warrants. Skuld handed off the bag of drugs, and they started following the fake money.

"Gotta take them all at once, or this whole thing is blown," said Skuld, sinking into an overstuffed chair. She pulled out the tiny burner phone. "Gotta call Carmela when we're ready."

"Carmela has got six kills that we know of, and is wanted by Interpol," said Agent Arjun Virk, Isabella's partner in the FBI. He wore chinos and a white shirt. Topped off with a gold necklace to look like a hanger-on to Maxx. "She kills Wraith or Saber, she's going to get half a mil in mixed drugs and money." He fast-forwarded through some tape. "Looks like we have so many counts, keeping her in jail isn't that much of a problem."

Isabella worked on her hoochie-mama hair and makeup, giving herself that just-had-sex look. "She's going to kill me and my fake sister the minute she gets what she wants, and take the credit." She took off her dress, and added a very thin, bulletproof vest, then slipped it back on. She walked in it, and ripped her hose in two places.

"Better," said Skuld.

Raul/Maxx was laying on the bed, hands over his eyes. "Those eyedrops hurt, and now I want all the lights off."

"Get some sleep," said Skuld.

"You too," said Raul. "This next bit takes precision, and you're exhausted.

"Preaching to the choir," she said, and closed her eyes.

They went back out nearly an hour later, after they all downed caffeine pills to wake up. Skuld made herself look worse for wear; it wasn't hard. Hoochie-mama Isabella got on a bike with Ruela Diaz. They looked to be the same height, coloring, even the same tilt to the nose, in the light. Skuld called Carmela to say they were leaving, then rushed to her own bike, this one a rented crotch-rocket. There was no way she was bringing her beloved Harley to an op. She leaned into the curves, and easily kept up with the two agents.

They stopped for drinks, and Skuld dutifully sent a text. Then, they went outside the city and pulled off on a lonely stretch of road. There was a small natural bowl in the rock. Wraith was there, in a tent, a campfire going. She came out, and spoke to Isabella and Ruela. Skuld could hear the cars and bikes approaching, quite a few of them. Then, when they were sure they had enough of an audience, the fight began.

At first, Wraith held her own against Isabella, throwing her around quite a bit. Then Ruela stepped in, and fought dirty. Wraith's wrist was broken, her cheek gushing blood, when Ruela buried her knife in Wraith's thigh, then her chest. Blood spurted, and Wraith fell to the ground. It looked real.

Skuld was stunned when eight separate women came over the rise, from all angles, encircling them. La Leoparda herself, came over the hill, stalking her prey. She knelt beside Wraith, took her pulse, then stood, and moved to shoot her in the head. Wraith kicked up, and the night exploded into violence, with knives and guns, hands and feet. Agents hiding in hollows popped up, and took out woman after woman. Skuld went after the one on her left, and laughed at the sounds of battle. Two Vipers were shot as they shot at agents, their beautiful faces marred by holes in their heads. They fought savagely and with absolutely no rules. Finally, they were all under the spotlights, with women face down, and now with cuffs on them, except for the dead ones.

La Leoparda was swearing steadily at high volume. "Well, that woman's got a potty mouth," said Isabella. She took off her shoes, and changed into running shoes another agent handed her.

Agents rushed in with cameras; women were tasered as they tried to kick, bite, head-butt, and trip up the agents. It looked like a cross between a war scene and a dark comedy. They were put in wrist and leg chains, and taken away.

Wraith stood, holding her wrist in her hand. "Medic," she said. "Broke my wrist." She winced as the medic came forth with a portable x-ray machine and a wrist brace. "Gonna make typing up the paperwork a mess."

"You are a mess," said Skuld, coming over to her Valkyrie sister. "What did you do? Roll around in spliff blood?"

"Some of it's mine," said Wraith. She was smiling despite the blood running down her temple. "Ruela danced a good dance."

Ruela came over and looked Wraith up and down. "If you want to dance, call anytime," she said. "Now, I intend to take a real leave, before I have another batch of half-baked recruits." Wraith hissed as the medic immobilized the hand. "And I do mean half-baked. Making marijuana legal is not good for the future of mountain training."

"A few will get dead," said Wraith. "Call attention to the problem."

"Not my soldiers," said Ruela. "I'll kill 'em first. Or wash 'em out. Good news is, most potheads find advanced training not in their best interests, so they don't sign up all that often."

Skuld smiled. "Let them dance with us. They'll change."

"Might take you up on that," said Ruela. "With your shield."

"Or on it," said Wraith.

"You Valkyries scare the hell out of me," said Agent Virk. "I'll stick with Raul, if you don't mind." He looked entirely different in black combat gear, no longer the suave hanger-on he'd dressed up as, before.

"Where is Raul?" asked Skuld.

"Sleeping. Once the eyedrops wear off, he's going to help document this mess."

Skuld handed Wraith a towel to wipe off the blood; fake and real. They walked back to the bikes. "What about his singing career?" asked Wraith.

Skuld threw back her head and laughed. "One-hit wonder," she said. "Definitely." She helped her friend off the field of battle.

After a shower and medical treatment, including four stitches in her head, and a cast for her broken wrist, Saber was graciously allowed to come in and type Wraith's reports for her. She then had fun going after woman after woman, showing pictures of evidence, fingerprints, and photographs of cell phones that held the numbers of wealthy junkies and arms dealers.

They all cried for lawyers in gutter Spanish. Ximena Cabrero was all fire, demanding her clients be set free, the victims of entrapment. She looked just like them, with a red slash of lipstick, caramel hair, big brown eyes, but a killer suit (in black) rather than a dress. She pushed and pushed, but the agents held the line, leaving the room when the gutter Spanish got ugly.

La Leoparda was an ice queen, the only one who was absolutely ice-cold, despite the mounting evidence. Her face was bruised from her fight with Wraith. "Federal crimes call for federal time," said Wraith. "Your stupid vendetta took you down."

"They will deport me," said La Leoparda. "I will be home in two hours."

"Not after you paid off a judge," said Wraith. "Judge Jones' wife has wanted to divorce him for years. She knew he was doing something shady, so she asked for a federal wiretap on all her phones. Judge Jones got cute and used his wife's phone for your payout; it seems he wanted to divorce her as well. We've got him accepting two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. From you. Your voiceprint. Traced it and everything, and followed the money to the Cayman Islands." She sat back, watching the drug trafficker in front of her attempt to find a way out. "And, no deal, for anything. We've got you, and your little crew… all sewn up, with enough time that when you get out of a Supermax, you'll be in a pine box."

"I can give you the name of a man in Mexico. Policia, police. Our cookers here."

"Already got two out of three," she said. "Phone traces, remember? Your labs are shut down. And the police will let Mexico deal with it. Not my jurisdiction." She stood. "No deals," she said. "Have fun in an orange jumpsuit and wrist and leg chains."

La Leoparda lunged, and Wraith stepped just a whisper to the side as the woman attempted to claw her eyes out, screaming in gutter Spanish, with hexes and curses and vitriolic invective. Wraith gave her a little wave as she was carted off, then tasered as she tried to take an agent's gun.

"That one's going to try to buy her way out again," said Saber to Wraith. They were listening outside the room. "I also predict dead bodies in the Supermax. She's a scorpion, not a leopard."

"No bet," said Skuld. "They'll have to stick her in solitary, just to keep her from offing the other inmates."

"Couldn't happen to a nicer monster," said Herja, now smiling at Skuld.

"Word," said Saber wincing, holding his side. "Need a bed."

"We all do," said Skuld. "Let's collect your lady and go home."

"On it," said Saber, moving to intercept Wraith. She helped him to the car, then they drove home.

Saber walked in, absolutely delighted to be home. He looked around, touched things, and inhaled. Something smelled amazing.

Sigrun came out of the back bedroom, smiling. "Made baby pizzas with black olives and Italian sausage. Um, basil and pesto, and gorgonzola," she said.

"Shut up and come here," said Saber, and melted into her arms. "I fucking love you, woman. I missed you."

She laughed, and went silent as he grabbed the side of her face and kissed her deeply. "Welcome home," she said. "Omigod. Are you okay?" she asked Wraith.

"Welcome to you, too," said Wraith, as the kitten stalked and attacked her leg. "Missed you, little one," said Wraith. She picked her up, and scratched her tiny ears. The kitten purred so loudly that they all laughed. "I have a hairline fracture in my wrist and four stitches in my chest. I'm sorry, but it looks like you have two to nursemaid."

"No problem," said Sigrun. "Come and eat."

Wraith walked over and kissed Sigrun. "How was the art tour?"

"The Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles is stellar!" said Sigrun. "I did a project for school on it, and got an A!" She laughed and pushed Saber gently away as he began kissing her neck. "The pizza will get cold."

Saber mentally gave himself a cold shower. Sigrun's cooking was amazing. They all ended up at the kitchen island, munching the tiny pizzas and drinking cherry waters.

"I was hungrier than I thought," said Wraith. "I'm inhaling these."

"I knew it," said Sigrun. She kissed Wraith on the mouth first, then Saber. "There is something so not-sexy about needing love and touching, then having to stop halfway through because your stomach is eating its way out of your spine." She smiled. "I'll draw the bath." She picked up the kitten, stroking her head, as she swayed her way to the bathroom and the Jacuzzi tub.

Wraith kissed Saber, then said, "I don't know about you, but I suggest we finish up, fill up the dishwasher, and get into that bathtub in less than ten minutes."

"I am so glad you and I have a polyamorous marriage," said Saber. "I get the last gorgonzola."

"Pig," said Wraith. She pushed him --but gently. He was still healing from getting shot in the chest.

They ate, cleaned up, stripped, and put their clothes in the hamper, and made it to the bathroom in record time. Sigrun washed Wraith's hair, then put in conditioner. She then did the same for Saber. He was letting it grow long in his recovery period.

"I like it," said Sigrun. "More to wash, but more to play with."

Saber smiled. "I like being played with."

Sigrun laughed. "As do I."

Sigrun then washed them from head to toe. She carefully scrubbed Wraith's face, then helped her stand, and put a plastic bag over her hand. She scrubbed her body from head to middle, then helped her sit again for the legs and feet, and rinsed her hair. She did the same for Saber, minus the plastic bag, being careful with his sternum and ribs, now a pale yellow.

She then had Saber sit on the edge of the tub, his feet in the water, his back against the tile, and got in the water. She used her fingers, and tongue and teeth on his erection, making him scream and shout and come. She washed him off and helped him step out of the tub. Saber dried his body and hair while Wraith one-handedly washed Sigrun's hair, added conditioner, scrubbed her back, and carefully scrubbed her face. Saber came over to wash Sigrun's body, rinsed her hair, then sat back down to watch. Sigrun and Wraith kissed lovingly, then with more urgency. Wraith laid back, and Sigrun used her fingers to make Wraith come again and again.

Sigrun and Saber dried off Wraith. Sigrun blow-dried her hair and braided one side while Saber put lotion on her and helped her into a soft robe. They put her in their king-sized bed, and she fell asleep within moments.

Saber laid down, and Sigrun rolled a condom on him, then rode him, gasping and screaming into his neck when she came and he released. She used wet wipes to clean them both off. Saber laid in the middle, and held both his women in his arms. Wraith rolled over, and draped her broken wrist over his chest. He kissed her hair, then kissed Sigrun, and fell asleep in absolute bliss.

Aftermath

Ajai let the federal prosecutor grill her for another hour, then abruptly stood up. "I'm hot and sweaty, I'm thirsty, I'm exhausted, and if you ask me another question about how those bastards raped me for days, I'll remove your face."

Special Prosecutor Vincenza Varga leaned back from the look in her eyes. "I want you to be prepared."

"There's prepared, and there's mental torture," said Ajai, looking down at the woman. "Now, get the fuck out of my hotel room." Varga stood, grabbed her crimson jacked from the back of the chair, and strode out without a word, heels clicking on the floor. Herja, adoptive mother and bodyguard, let her out.

Skuld came over and looked into her daughter's eyes. "That woman is a great white shark in blood-red clothes. She smells the blood in the water from these human traffickers. This will give her a name people will remember."

Ajai snorted. "Hard to say, not to remember."

Skuld laughed. "She's an evil bitch, but she's..."

"Our evil bitch," said Ajai. "Only reason she's not dead right now." She peeled off her T-shirt. "Shower," she said.

"Good," said Skuld. "You stink so badly our enemies can smell you coming." Ajai threw a sock at her. Skuld ducked, laughing. Ajai took off the other sock and threw it at her boots, standing like sentinels in the doorway. She went in and scalded herself with hot water, scrubbing and rinsing and scrubbing again to get the stink of her past off her. She dried her hair with a towel, put on lotion, and dressed in underwear and a robe.

They put on skanky rock, and Skuld bade her daughter sit on a chair backed up to the bed. Skuld put in battle braids, with little metallic tips hidden inside the hair that could be thrown. Including a lock pick, a joss stick (with a sharpened end), metallic rings that had foldout spikes, and metallic beads to set the machines off. It would slow them down going in and out of security, but they wouldn't find them all.

"This is war," said Skuld. "They will try to wear you down. So far, the trial is all fingerprints, and video and trackers. The first two girls are too broken to testify much. You are stronger." She put in the last bead.

"Shower, Mother," said Ajai. "I will wind your weapons in your hair."

"This won't stop bullets," cautioned Skuld. "You will wear the ultralight body armor."

"As will you," said Ajai. "Go, shower."

Ajai carefully did her nails while her mother showered, the glittering silver shade of a child. They would see a Goth child, not a woman. She turned down the music and put on the movie called Suicide Squad. Her mother padded back in, looking like a lioness. Her creamy skin, blue eyes, thin build, and white-blonde hair made her look like a waif, and underestimation was something her mother cultivated.

After her shower, Skuld laid on the bed while Ajai smoothed the hair and braided the tiny braids, from her ear up to her forehead. It made her hair cascade over the other side of her head. She fingered her mother's earrings, crawling all the way up her ear, in small rings of silver, gold, bronze, tourmaline, garnet, and onyx. They propped up pillows, took out bags of caramel and M&M popcorn they had bought earlier, along with Cokes. They watched Harley Quinn tear up the screen.

* * *

The body armor came in two forms, the motorcycle jacket and the soft vest that went under the T-shirt. Ajai had traded in her Harley for a rental dirt bike, her mother following in on the Harley. They parked in a lot the back way from the courtyard, in case the assholes decided to bomb the courthouse. They went into the garage, and met Varga and her

entourage.

"You look like a biker," said Varga, dismissively.

"I am a biker," said Ajai. "A cute little Goth biker. Shall we?"

Varga sighed, and grunted when Skuld slid in, the last one in the elevator. "I get that your mother is your bodyguard, but Skylar here will protect you."

Both Skuld and Ajai looked him over. "Doesn't train with me," said Skuld. "Don't know him."

"He's been with me for years," said Varga.

"I thought you said Tim has been with you for years." Tim was Varga's paralegal. Privately, Ajai felt Tim was the smarter of the two, and did seven times the work.

"He has been," said Varga.

"Standing right here," said Tim. "And, yes. Seven, nearly eight years."

"Your boss always rip the rape victim a new asshole the night before the trial?" asked Ajai.

Tim glanced over at his boss. "I wondered why I wasn't invited to the 'late-night strategy session.'"

"Are you questioning my work?" Varga asked Tim.

"Yes," answered Ajai for him. "Now, if you play the cast-iron bitch in the courtroom, that might actually accomplish something."

Tim snorted. He whispered to Ajai and said, "It's not an act. She really is a cast-iron bitch.”

Security took a long time. This was because of the high-profile nature of the trial, the sheer number of other trials going on, and the fact there were only two security lines. The lawyers, victims, family members of both the accused and the victims, justice center employees, journalist, and looky-loos all crowded in. Ajai and Skuld's braids were examined, and they got through, but they held up the line, without too much grumbling. Ajai thought of all her invisible weapons, and held back a small smile.

Ajai was the star witness. She went over the leaving her birth mother and her mother's abusive boyfriend, catching a bus, hitchhiking to bigger bus terminals to get farther away from the res. The Russian woman at the bus station, the sting of a needle. Waking up in a warehouse, raped, being forced to have men for sex. All the times she resisted. X-rays of her broken bones. She picked out member after member, even speaking in Russian and Ukrainian to repeat verbatim conversations she'd overheard, naming dates, times, women and girls. All those who had disappeared and never returned.

The defense attorney, Danilo Davidovic, a Serbian with a penchant for getting Eastern European mobsters off on technicalities, tried to get her to break down on the stand. He asked how she could recite languages she'd never heard, word for word. She then repeated, word for word, his lunch order in Serbian to his Serbian driver. She'd been sitting right behind him. The audience thought it was funny.

Davidovic was infuriated. He went after her, despite objection after objection from Varga, trying to get her to recant, trip up, lie, break down, flip out, anything he could use. She just sat there, waiting on his next question. He painted her as a lost Goth, a biker, a drug user, someone who slept with anyone who walked by; anything he could use to impugn her character.

She simply said, "That's not true," except for when he called her a biker.

Varga asked her most of the same questions on redirect, and Ajai kept her cool... barely. She wanted to attack the prosecuting attorney more than the defense attorney. One was paid to defend his clients in any way he could find. The other was just a vicious, soulless bitch. She kept her voice calm, and only when she'd had enough did she show the brief flash of murder she wanted to commit in her eyes, right when Varga was looking at her. Varga stepped back, then covered it up by going to get a file off the prosecutor's table. She wisely wrapped it up.

Ajai was sweating under her double protection from bullets, and stood. A flash in the doorway had her leaping to the side. The bullet hit the chair where she had been. She knew her mother would keep her safe, but also that she had to fight back if she were to survive. She saw the hair of the shooter, that neckline under the mask, and knew it to be one of her rapists. She slid to the side, and saw the judge huddled down under his desk.

"Go into your office," she said. "This will be over soon." She heard the "pfft" of multiple guns, and she threw out two of her little metal "stickers," as she liked to call them.

The bailiff was down, her mother having trouble getting to the shooter with the panicked crowd pushing past her, and the three prisoners trying to bolt. Skuld couldn't let the prisoners bolt, so she kicked each one in the head.

Ajai threw the stickers. One lodged in his neck, the other in the skin between his glove and jacket. He screamed. She slipped on her spike rings, and lunged. She took two shots in the chest, but her double bullet protection held. Despite the kinetic energy from the bullets throwing her off course, she got him in the neck with one ring, and the exposed skin of his wrist with the other. He was wearing body armor, so she didn't bother with kicking him in the chest. It would break her own foot. But he wasn't wearing body armor on his vulnerable knees, so she cracked them both with steel-toed, biker boots. She grabbed his right hand with both the wire and her two spike rings, digging into his skin, making blood drip and pool on the ground. He howled.

Then her mom happened, and the man was down with a broken neck. Ajai dropped the wire and pulled the spikes out of the man's flesh, and, one by one, folded the bloody spikes back down. She felt as if someone had struck her with the pommel of a sword.

She said, "He was another of my rapists."

Skuld's eyes gleamed. "Then well met in battle. I got a chance to repay them for my daughter's pain and suffering."

Ajai smiled. "I made him bleed."

"That you did, daughter. Soon, he would not have had a hand, a fitting punishment."

They stopped their bloodthirsty talk when police rushed the courtroom. They checked on the prisoners. Two were out cold and one was moaning. Their lawyer was dead; a bullet had taken him in the eye.

"They meant to kill him," said Ajai, gasping as she stood up.

"They considered Davidovic a failure," said Skuld. "He couldn't shake you." They started walking toward the door.

Wraith ran in, and slid on the bloody floor trying to get to them. Skuld reached out, stopped her forward slide, and held her up. "Sister," said Skuld. "We are well, but my daughter was shot twice. Her bruising will be severe."

Wraith pulled back Ajai's hair on the other side from her battle braids. "Your daughter has been perforated. I think they took out a chunk of skin and muscle." She put her hand on the wound as blood seeped out.

Skuld grabbed her daughter, and walked her out the door. "Medic!" she screamed.

"Conference room to the right," said Wraith, and they went there double-time, one on each side of Ajai. Ajai concentrated on moving her booted feet as quickly as possible. "There's a medic in there tending people who haven't actually been shot."

"Medic!" said Skuld again, banging open the conference door and putting her daughter on the table.

The medic was wrapping someone's hand in a flexible bandage. He stepped over. "Shot in the neck. Call 911." He reached into his medical bag, and brought out a pressure bandage. Wraith whipped out her phone and started yelling into it.

"Just need. Stitches!" said Ajai, concentrating on the words so they came out clearly. The room was turning black at the edges.

"Fuck, girl," said the medic. "I see bullets in... what is that? Body armor that looks like a motorcycle jacket? You most likely have severe bruising."

"With your shield," said Ajai.

"Or on it," said Skuld. "Rest, daughter, the battle is won."

"I am so sorry I wasn't there," Wraith said to Skuld and Ajai. "Other trial went way the fuck over, then we evacuated." She smiled grimly. "I knew it had to be you."

"Yay us," hissed Ajai. "Doctor now, please."

"On it," said Wraith. Then, the EMTs burst in the door, saw the blood, and got Ajai on a stretcher just as the room narrowed into black.

She woke up in the hospital. The sheets were white and scratchy. The lights were too bright. There was an I.V. in her hand. She felt the pain snap into focus, right then. Two separate elephants, one on her chest, and her neck...

"Turn off the fucking light," she said. Rota stood, pulled a chain, and a light went out. "Thank you, Mom," she said.

"Alvitr," she said, "My all-wise daughter." She sighed, and touched her own forehead to her daughter's. "You are the one who told me to finish the climb, that I would be back by the time it was over." She lifted her head, looked into her daughter's eyes. "You were right about that. I was driving when Skuld reached me. She told me where you were. We shall have a battle feast," she said, wiping her eyes, "when that purple chest of yours heals."

"Mom, I got shot, I get to cry. Get over yourself."

Rota laughed. "Four stitches in your neck. You must be in terrible pain from your bruising. And my terror," she smiled, watery-eyed. "It means nothing. I have my warrior daughter." She stroked her daughter's braid. "I will bless your mother all the rest of our days for the battle braids."

"With your shield," said Ajai/Alvitr.

"Or on it," said Rota. They touched foreheads again.

Rota helped her daughter sip water from a cup with a straw, then brought over a tablet and earphones. "I loaded it with Suicide Squad," she said. She put the earphones in her daughter's ears.

"Get me some Sonic, Mom," she said. "A cherry lime thingy."

"I'll text your mother," said Rota. "She is singlehandedly destroying your attorney. She'll practice law again, but she's gotten in trouble for how she treated you with her superiors."

"Good," said Ajai. "Now, I need Sonic and my homework. I have a test in patent law in three days."

"Gods," said Rota. "Have it pushed back."

"Last face-to-face class," said Ajai. "Then it's all online. I'm going to move to Pahrump for a while to work in their garage while I get finished with the business degree. Herja wants to do the soldier thing, teaching them to buy junk bikes and refinish them, and I want to get in on the ground level. I want to do that, too. The trikes are fun, but making something old new again? Way cool! I can do the miniatures business with Willow, and split the orders; do the stuff that isn't Ghost's top-secret Harley project. Willow and Ruby, and whoever else can do the grunt work with pouring stuff into molds."

"All right," said Rota. "See if you can take the test electronically, with Henry or Callie proctoring. Your life is going to suck for a few weeks as you recover."

"Since I'll be flat on my back anyway, might as well get this stupid class out of the way. I'll talk to the professor about accelerating it somehow, and about a camera in the classroom next week so I can 'attend' on Skype."

"All right," said Rota. "I am so glad you know what you want. It makes the path all the more clear."

"It does," said Ajai. "Now, let me sleep, woman."

"Will do," said Rota. She kissed her daughter's brow. "Will do."

* * *

Ajai took the test in her own bed, propped up on pillows, nice and slow and easy, arms held at just the right angles, because all the other angles made her want to scream. Henry sat in the corner, his eyes a little puffy, like he wanted to cry with her moving so slow. She took it, and aced it. She asked her teacher to let her come in virtually.

He sighed. "You're getting straight A's. All my lectures are online. Did you review them?"

"Yes," she said. "Read every reading, too. And you've got all three of my papers."

He ran a hand over his eyes. "So, next exam, three weeks. Go over all the lessons. I'll send you two practice tests. Ace the second test, and you get an A."

"Thank you, Mr. Dao," she said.

"And, remember to get enough rest. We can always push it back a week."

"I know," said Ajai. "I won't."

"You're the first student of mine that got shot and lived," he said. "I lost two in Detroit, one in Chicago. That's why I moved here and decided to teach at the college."

"I'm sorry you lost your students," said Ajai.

"I'm sorry you got shot," said Mr. Dao. "Now, rest. I'll give you the last exam three weeks from today. Goodbye." He hung up.

Henry came over to her bed. "Sleep," he said, gently taking the little table with the tablet off her stomach and turning it on its side. He stood. "And don't ever scare me like that again." He leaned down, then kissed her forehead.

"I'll try not to," she said. Her cocoa was cold. "More cocoa?"

"With the little marshmallows?" asked Henry.

"Is there any other way?" asked Ajai. He smiled, and went to make her some more. By the time he got back with a filled thermos, she was asleep.

Five days later, her chest moved from black and blue, to yellow and orange, with traces of purple. Her neck wound itched. Her mama Rota added a Kevlar collar to the neck of her bulletproof motorcycle jacket, and on the vest, itself. Ajai patented it --she had taken the class, after all, and suggested her mother sell the patent back to the manufacturer for a lot of money.

Willow, Ruby, Alicia, and Gwen from the Wolfpack all came over with cards, streaming movies and TV shows, sodas, popcorn, and molds. They poured the parts for the miniature bikes Ajai was supposed to make in huge batches. They watched a movie together, ate sodas and popcorn, popped out the parts, put them in the bins Ajai had under her pouring and assembly table, poured some more, and then ran through a season of Game of Thrones together. Willow and Ajai showed the other two how to assemble them, and then they opened the window and wore masks as Ajai and Willow showed them how to paint them. They were set out to dry, and if Ajai was silent or slept, no one said anything. Willow and Ruby got them caught up, and showed the other two how to carefully pack the miniatures, print out the shipping labels, and put them by the front door on a shipping table. Ready and waiting out there to be picked up by a package service.

In one of her more lucid moments after a good nap, Ajai told them her plan to move. Willow and Ruby cried. "I want to be on the ground floor of helping Herja and her crew with the new bikes, and I'm going to learn as they do. It's too damn crowded with Ghost and Killa. Besides, I can pour, assemble, and paint anywhere. Herja's found me this really cool house, a two-bedroom on some property. Some guy did a drug deal and got killed there, so they can't sell it. They've had it cleaned up after the violence, but they need someone to watch it, keep it up, maybe make some improvements."

"I'm going," said Willow. "I can switch to all-online, too. Like you, I've got only one offline class, the math one. You're a math whiz. Please, please let me come with you."

Ruby stared out the window at nothing for a long time, then said, "I'm staying. I love Helaku. He's a friend, and he's strong and smart, and funny. Oh, and we're super busy with work and school. We might date, we might not, but we're building a life together."

Willow hugged her close, then Ajai hugged her very carefully, trying not to re-injure herself. "That's the most beautiful thing I ever heard," said Willow.

"It's wonderful," said Ajai. "He's worthy."

"He really is," said Ruby. "We've gotten closer since we were beaten up by those guys a couple of months ago. He let me heal in my own way, you know? He uses his brain and his heart. And, he is kind, and funny, and works like a horse, with a big heart."

They all thought a bit, and wiped away a few tears. "Let's finish this, and then get back to the Stark family," said Ajai. They finished the packaging, and ordered a huge pizza with everything.

Two days later, Ghost came by with boxes, and sat them on Ajai's clean work table. "This is all you'll need fo' da pours an' da painting fo' 'bout six months," she said. "I unnerstan' we real-crowded at the shop. I be busy wif da top-secret project, da new line, makin' da miniatures. Can you an' dem girls do all the rest o' dem?"

"Yes, but I want a bigger cut of the profits. In fact, I want to be your partner," said Ajai. "Not fifty-fifty. You are far more talented than I am. But at least twenty-five percent. I have money saved up; I can buy that much equity from you. I've talked to Lily, and it can be done. I'm going to business school and Lily's doing the books. I'll do the easy stuff, the stuff with less intricate work. The stuff that takes your hand, you do that. I'll look into new product lines very, very slowly. I need to recover and you're training the ex-military people."

Ghost grabbed a chair and sat down. "I been thinkin' on dat. I love what I do, both the miniatures an' da puttin' together bikes, but both gotta be da best, you know? This be savin' us both a world of mess. Do it, baby. Partners." She held out her hand.

"Partners," said Ajai, and she shook Ghost's hand. "Now, Ghost, unload one of each of those damn boxes. I've got a chest that feels like a horse kicked me."

"Yes, Ma'am, partner-girl." They both laughed.

Two and a half weeks later, Henry and David came over with the truck, and loaded up the sorting table, the shipping table, all the stock, all of Ajai's things, and all of Willow's things (except her sleeping pack), her school bag, and a duffel of her clothes. Rota rode Ajai's bike, and Skuld rode hers. They flowed down the highway, blasting Running Down a Dream into their ears.

The house was on a sad sand lot. It was small, of white stucco, and looked to be run-down. They unloaded the truck, then made a punch list of things they needed. They spent two days fixing up the house. They tiled and re-grouted the small bathroom and replaced the toilet, the sink and the mirror. They refinished the wood floors, and scraped and repainted inside and out; white on the outside, yellow in the kitchen, blue in the living room, and a paler blue in each bedroom. Skuld used Callie's plans and made sleeping pods in each bedroom with desks underneath, and they bought a couch, two recliners, a kitchen table and four chairs, and bean bags for the bedrooms. They got the Internet working, and by the time they finished, Ajai felt at home.

They took her out for barbecue, and Ajai wasn't surprised to find Sheriffs Xenia and Bob there, along with Herja and her crew. They did the Valkyrie thing carefully with Ajai, touching foreheads. They all ordered drinks and ribs.

"How did Herja steal you away from your mothers?" asked Bob.

"I got shot, then I thought, why am I here? In Vegas, I mean. I can do my homework online, and Pahrump is close enough so we can all visit. I love being with Mother and Mama, but we need... I need to be my own woman."

Rota and Skuld both nodded. "It's true," said Rota. "She is so strong and intelligent. She must make her own decisions now." She kissed the ends of Ajai's braids, and Ajai teared up.

"I also was really tired of going to class. I can get the entire rest of my degree online. I also wanted to work on bikes now, rather than wait until I hit Colorado to get my Harley mechanic certification. They're going to be super-crowded at the Nighthawks shop, even with three shifts, with all the ex-soldiers. Herja's garage is huge, because they got a deal on the space. I can also work night shift; I love being awake in the dark, even in winter with the wind hammering against the side of the house. I can take my time, purchase dead bikes and bring them back to life, build them from kits, build them from parts, whatever excites me. I want to learn it all, not just trikes. That's Ghost and Killa's specialty. It's awesome, but how will I know if I like something better? Or what if I want to do a different kind of project each week or month? And making miniatures is one of the more portable professions. My income from one, will allow me to have the seed money to buy dead bikes, parts, or kits, and sell completed bikes when done. Plus, I get to work with the soldiers. I got shot, many of them got shot. We can kind of hang together, you know?" Ajai stopped talking, and sipped her peach tea.

Xenia and Bob sat open-mouthed. Henry, Rota and Skuld smiled with pride. Herja smiled with the pleasure of acquisition, and her crew members took turns punching Herja on the arm in congratulations for taking on Ajai.

Xenia narrowed her eyes, and said, "Run for mayor in ten years, woman. We could use someone with your brains running this town."

Ajai sat back and smiled. "I'll think about it."

"Do not set the guilty free, or you have given them permission to prey on others once again."