In Pahrump, Ajai and Herja cornered Xenia at a convenience store just out of town. "We've got a case," said Herja.

"What case?" asked Xenia, reaching for two honey lemon teas and a cherry water. The weather was warming up, and she needed to stay awake.

"Girl got herself scammed," said Herja. "Not one of us, sister of one of ours. Jeanette Wilson, in Crystal, Nevada. She found herself an asshole on a dating site, and checked him out on social media. Didn't do a background check. He took her for nine thousand dollars, and stole her truck, then another couple thousand. Turns out his name and profile aren't real."

Xenia paid for her drinks. "Happens," she said.

"Found data that makes us think he's done it before," said Ajai.

Xenia turned toward her, interested. "Show me your data." Ajai handed it over.

Ajai said, "I used facial recognition software. The lady in question took some pics of him, despite his growling about not wanting his picture taken. I found him on six other sites, including some closed accounts, with different names, different profiles, all around the same age profile."

"Says he's someone with money," said Herja. "Owns a small accounting business. A stockbroker, real estate broker, the kind of thing you can work from home and fake. He uses the money and things he stole from the last mark to charm the next one, and to buy her small but expensive gifts he's stolen."

"The watch he gave her, he stole from a woman named Tricia Pacer, from Victorville. He's worked his way from LA, and across the desert to here. We need to nail him before he gets too far out." Ajai scrolled through the pictures.

"Is he here?" asked Xenia, looking at a bad boy, with blonde surfer hair, blue eyes, a narrow nose, and thin lips. He'd been dark-haired in Victorville, with longer brown hair in Barstow, and blonde and shorter hair in Halloran Springs. "Asshole is taking the 15."

"He's here," said Ajai. She pulled up a current picture. A blonde, surfer cut, longish on top, wire-rimmed glasses. "He's lonely, and looking for love," she said, in a voice dripping with acid.

"I think one of us needs a date, and we need to take out our braids for the op," said Herja smiling.

"No, not one of us," said Xenia. "We're all too hard-edged to be believable. But Connie, our dispatcher, the sweet and loving woman that she is; it could work."

Skuld snorted. Connie Blanchard wasn't sweet or loving. She had a pretty, heart-shaped face and wore summer dresses that made the men swoon, and wore leggings and long-sleeved shirts under them in winter. She had little, blue, cowboy boots, and blonde hair, and the bluest summer-sky eyes. She could also drink a man under the table and arm-wrestle him to boot. She was a rancher's daughter with a shotgun and a .44 in her truck and desk, respectively.

"She'd take him in, and get him all hot and bothered, and her daddy did give her some quite expensive things over the years," said Skuld.

"Let's go talk to her," said Xenia, a gleam in her eyes. "She'd love to be doing something fun like this."

They converged on Xenia's office. Xenia led the women to her desk, and gave Connie a cinnamon coffee and a sticky bun from Ray's. Ajai showed the pics, and Xenia made the pitch.

"You'd wear a wire, and we'd get him just down the road a tad. Scare him with something, cut this thing short."

"We'll also need his prints," said Skuld. "Find out who he really is."

Connie narrowed her eyes. "He can't know what I do. It will scare him silly."

"What about your hobbies? Meetups?"

Connie stared into space. "Church stuff will bore this bad boy to tears, and Habitat for Humanity will make him run for the hills at doing actual work. That leaves hiking and photography."

"Or both," said Xenia, pointing at the perfect photo of a flowering cactus on Connie's desk.

"That could work," said Connie. "But he has to steal some of my stuff. I know these cases. Women afraid to testify, afraid to look stupid. He might even have pictures of 'em in the buff, and threaten to release them. He has to steal something of mine with a high enough dollar amount to put him away, real-good. Like my lenses, and I've got some antique cameras. And the stuff my daddy gave me. Be worth a lot, I think."

"Over ten thousand," agreed Xenia. "Will you do it?"

"For those women, abso-freaking-lutely. Now, leave me alone to do my magic." She called up several dating sites where he liked to troll, and she worked a profile. "Gonna need some time off, if he bites," said Connie.

"I'll even pay you," said Xenia. "Bring in Dani. She's been begging for some overtime, anyway."

Connie snorted. "That girl's addicted to college courses. She's gonna have so many credits that she'll have two bachelor's degrees and a master's, before long."

Ajai laughed. "Better addiction than most, I'd say."

Connie pointed a finger at Ajai. "Unless you forget to date or have any fun, which she does. Gotta get that girl to lighten up." She finished her profile, and pressed Send. She went to another site, and finished that one, and the first one dinged. "It's him. Come to mama, idiot boy. By the time we're done with you, you're gonna wish you'd stayed in LA and surfed, you stupid son-of-a-bitch."

Xenia looked at Herja. Herja smiled. That boy's in for a world of hurt, thought Xenia. Skuld looked at them and laughed. Ajai added hers, too.

Connie met him at a coffee shop. She said she was a "Good, Christian girl looking for a husband." He said he wanted a wife, and wanted to settle down; tired of doing accounting all damn night… and day, wanted to have a little fun. He took her for ice cream. Their "love" developed, and Connie caught him going through her lenses once, and her jewelry box another time, but accepted his ridiculous explanation that he wanted to know her to know how to please her, and buy her gifts.

They ran his prints. His name was Todd Raymundo, a grifter from Torrance, California. A man with a long record of petty theft. He kept getting let out of prison due to overcrowding, or embarrassed women refusing to testify.

Connie met them at the coffee shop, spitting mad. "Bastard gave me a little, gold, heart necklace. Turns out he stole it from a woman in Barstow, and said that it was a gift from his dead mother. Also, it's getting harder to say 'no' about sex, and his taste in wine is atrocious."

"Time for the 'intentions toward my daughter' speech," said Xenia.

Connie nodded. "Already called Daddy; told him the whole thing. He wants to destroy that guy as much as I do. Said he'd join the posse to arrest him."

Xenia laughed. "We'll nail him. He needs to take the truck to haul all your stuff."

Connie took "Jack Williamson" to meet her father. Connie's father, Willis Blanchard, owned a lot of property. He was a rancher and a condominium developer. He gave his daughter a diamond and sapphire tennis bracelet right in front of the con artist, and noted the avaricious gleam in his eyes. Connie ran off to, "…call her best friend" about the gift, and Willis poured Jack two fingers of Scotch, and took three fingers for himself.

"What are your intentions toward my daughter, Jack?" asked Willis. He then said something that he knew would make his daughter livid. "She's not getting any younger, wants to settle down, and have babies."

Connie was watching through a hidden camera, and was listening to (and recording) the conversation. She put her hand over her mouth and tried to be silent. Daddy better let me have that bracelet for real, she thought, eyes narrowed.

Jack smiled an oily grifter's smile. "Nothing would make me happier, Sir."

"Would need to be fast," said Willis. "I'm wanting grandchildren, and announcing a May wedding and a June pregnancy, now that would be perfect, wouldn't it?" Jack's eyes got huge, and Connie had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing.

"That... would be lovely," he said.

"Excellent," said Willis. "Welcome to the family, Jack. I suggest you propose tonight, or tomorrow. I've got some rings set aside, or you can buy your own."

"I'll... look tomorrow morning," said Jack. "Want it to be perfect for her."

"Make it a big solitaire diamond," said Willis. "My little girl deserves the very best."

"Of... of course, Sir," said Jack. "I'll get right on it."

"Excellent," said Willis. "Excellent."

That night, Todd posing as Jack took a wax box, and made a copy of her house key, while she went to fix him key lime pie for a late-night dessert, with coffee. He slipped the key back in her glass bowl she used for them, had the pie and coffee, took his leave, and came back at three in the morning to break in.

They got it all on video. He crept upstairs and stole her jewelry box with the new tennis bracelet, then crept back down and stole her three most expensive cameras and her case of lenses, and snuck out to his truck.

Xenia followed him out of town, and her husband Bob (rather helpfully) blocked the road as Xenia tried, and failed, to pull him over. They arrested him and charged him with enough robbery charges to land him in prison for the full ten years. He pled guilty, especially when various women from Los Angeles to Pahrump testified on videotape. Xenia, hyped up on coffee, watched Todd try to weasel out, his confidence obvious, until she showed him the tape of his victims testifying under oath. They found jewelry from the women, in boxes. All cleverly attached to the bottom of his stolen truck, which had been repainted and the plates switched. He pled guilty, and the judge gave him ten years for each Nevada charge, to be served consecutively.

In chambers, Judge Peters said, "Xenia, you know damn well overcrowding will have him out after the first one."

"Yeah, but the consecutive sentences will get him in for at least ten," she said. "He preyed on vulnerable women. One had just lost her mother to cancer, another had a brother in the armed forces she was worried about. A third was an orphan. He took everything of value they had that he could carry. He deserves worse."

"A lot worse," he agreed. "Thought his face would keep him out of trouble. Now, he's gonna be baking in prison, both here, and in Arizona."

Xenia smiled in triumph. He'd passed through Arizona and had gone to San Diego first, then Los Angeles, and was working his way back in a giant loop. He'd stolen over twenty-five thousand dollars in precious and semiprecious stones from a gem dealer in Phoenix; he didn't know the worth of what he stole, and he only got a few thousand dollars for them. That made it a Class 2 felony in Arizona, and he'd be sent to Arizona to be convicted, then to serve his time, and be sent back.

"Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy," she said.

* * *

The so-called "baby" Valkyries had a hell of a time preparing for their induction ceremony. Sisters went around speaking to each other in Old Norse, driving everyone else crazy. They trained whenever they weren't working, volunteering, and/or sleeping. They learned how to use swords and a knife's longer cousin, the dirk, as well as hand-to-hand fighting from Skuld. This included archery with both ancient and modern bows. They swam in the ice-cold lake, ran obstacle courses, went on long runs, learned free climbing from Rota, and spent a lot of time kickboxing at the gym.

Those in the Iron Knights went on jumps --bungee, base and sky, along with long hikes, as well as punishing sessions, with Skuld and Rota. Several of the Soldier Pack got new prostheses that didn't wear well on them. The grill was always cooking or smoking something, at their respective apartment houses. The nightmares faded into a haze of exhaustion. Iron Knights who liked Valkyries had to earn their attention, so the training got quite intense.

The Valkyries' ceremony was held in the desert near Mesquite, halfway between Reno and Las Vegas, with rings of fire and women to tend them. They fought within the rings in full regalia, with helmets, necklaces that blocked cuts to the throat, breastplates, greaves, and bare feet and legs. They fought each other with both wooden and edged swords. They also shot arrows, and fought and fought. Blood spilled in the sand. The loss of a hand or foot in battle was considered to be an asset; metal parts were stronger than bone. They all survived the fighting, and took vows of sisterhood.

Herja stood, blood on her brow. "I have spilled blood. Have you?" There was a great cry from the women. "Mingle your blood with those of your sisters!"

She stepped forward to Ajai, who bled from a cut on her cheek. She swiped her blood onto Ajai, and Ajai swiped her blood onto Herja. Herja went one direction, and Ajai the other, and they mingled their blood with one another. Then, the older members struck the pommels of their swords on their shields three times, then raised their swords in one hand, their shields in the other.

"With your shield!" they screamed.

The new members answered the cry, "Or on it!"

Swords were sheathed, shields struck into the sand, and the old members greeted the new sisters with clasped forearms. With hands on the back of each other's heads, they touched foreheads. They talked about the fights of that day, praising this woman or that. Then, they had a great feast, the spit-turners finally able to stop turning the spits. They had a whole pig and roasted chicken. They sang songs, drank mead, and ale, and honeyed water, and told stories; lots and lots of stories.

They set up tents, and slept under the stars. They spent three days in the desert, teaching the new ones all they needed to know, and how to conduct themselves with honor. Honor in all the things they were doing to strengthen each other, and warrior women, everywhere. They decided to talk to other Valkyries, to get other programs like the Soldier Pack started elsewhere. Women volunteered to go all over the country to help others begin. They decided to have a rally to fund the program. Then, they trained some more before going back out into the world, once again.

* * *

The Iron Knights celebrated their induction of new members with a huge skydiving drop into the desert. This included a hike, a bungee jump, rock climbing, and an insanely fun, four-wheel-drive desert adventure. They put up tents and grilled food, and swam in the river near Laughlin, Nevada. They had a huge campfire, and the retired General Mack "Trey" Thalton swore them all in, for service to each other, and to others. They decided to have a rally to raise more money for Project Rubicon, the Soldier Pack in Las Vegas, and expanding the motorcycle training for ex-soldiers. They came back, sunburned, bruised, and laughing.

* * *

The Nighthawks went on a ride to Lake Mead. They had a sweat in a nearby lodge, and went to the lakeside for a huge feast. Henry and Ivy gave them their jackets with the Nighthawks' grinning skulls on the back. The new members received hugs, drinks, pulled pork sandwiches, and stories of the road. There was singing, guitar playing, and drumming. The dancing around the campfires went on, well into the night. They pitched tents, and fell asleep when the first fingers of dawn kissed the height of the mountains.

Sparring

Sigrun packed the padding into the "company car" as Wraith characterized her DEA SUV. Wraith added the spears, wooden swords, wooden knives, and staffs, free of her cast.

Saber kissed them. "I'm so glad I'm not part of the Valkyries," he said. "I got back to work after three broken ribs. Don't want to go on sick leave again."

Sigrun held his face, then kissed him. "I need to be able to defend us, love."

"I am a manly man, and will defend you." Sigrun snorted, and gave him a quick poke in the ribs. He winced, and she smiled evilly. "I win." She sailed toward the passenger seat, and hopped in.

"Ow," said Saber. He walked up to the window. "You don't fight fair," he said.

She grinned again. "People don't fight fair."

"You can say that again," said Wraith, hopping in the car. "Come over here and kiss me, stud muffin."

Sigrun barked laughter. "Stud muffin?"

Saber was laughing so hard he had trouble running around the car. He got there, and kissed her. He forgot his amusement as her tongue teased his lips. He kissed her deeply. Wraith pushed him away, and started the SUV. She pretended to turn the wheel to run over Saber's toes, and he hopped back onto the sidewalk to protect his feet. They waved, and he waved back.

"Have fun stormin' da... field!" They waved again, and then they were gone.

They met at a huge field attached to a park, a lake hiding nearby over a small rise. Skuld was already there with Rota. They were sparring with swords, their leather greaves shining when the silver lashings caught the light.

Wraith helped Sigrun into her padding; shoulders, stomach, hips, greaves to protect the forearms, and gloves. They went out, ready to fight. Skuld was in black, Rota in gold, Wraith in silver, and Sigrun in red.

Skuld halted Rota, and walked over to Sigrun. "Well met, sister," she said. They clasped hands. "Let's start with staffs."

Wraith came around and opened the back of the SUV. She put her sword on the truck and took out the staffs. She handed one to Rota, and showed her how to hold it. They went out into the sunlight, and Skuld had Rota stand at her side and mimic her movements. Rota came over as Wraith picked up her sword, and she tried to cut off Wraith's head. Wraith easily blocked the blow, reached back, then slid a wooden knife into her belt. She grabbed her shield, closed the trunk, and pressed the attack. The Society for Creative Anachronism showed up, and they attacked the Valkyries. More Valkyries showed up, and the fight was on, in earnest.

Finally, they called a halt, and drank out of tankards from their belt pouches. Most had water, but a few had ale or mead. Then, they went at it again. There were bruises, some cuts, and a lot of sweat. Saber roared up in his Harley, his saddlebags stuffed with rotisserie chickens. They passed them out and ate with their fingers, then they washed them in the lake. The huge rabbits that live in the hedges came out, hopping about as the people rinsed their hands and disturbed the bushes.

They went home for showers, and Saber was ready with towels, cream for the bruises, ointment for the cuts, and massages. He started with their feet. He massaged Sigrun first, who groaned and moved around her ice packs. He went to her right knee, which was sensitive. He got a bandage and wrapped it, after massaging in pain cream, and then worked on her other knee. He flipped her over and massaged her buttocks and back, and was going to flip her over again, but she fell asleep. He covered her with a soft blanket.

He turned to work on Wraith. He got as far as her thighs, with her moaning out in pleasure, before she fell asleep, too. He covered her, then slipped in the middle. He stroked their backs, read his book, and fell asleep himself.

He woke up with a hand on his cock that wasn't his, another one on his balls, gently squeezing them. A third hand stroked his chest, and lips kissed his neck. He kissed her hard and strong; his wife's lips tasting of her cherry lip balm. He turned his head, and Sigrun tasted of mint and lime.

He noticed the bottle of nonalcoholic mojito on the side table. He approved. The kiss deepened, then the hand on his scrotum was full, and tightening. He gasped and closed his eyes. The hand on his penis also tightened. He gasped, then moaned as someone started sucking on his cock, then nibbled on it. Then she sucked even harder, and he arched his back. He stroked her hair, careful of the braids. He realized it was Sigrun when Wraith kissed her way down his neck, then his stomach. She nibbled, and he stroked her hair with his other hand. He tried not to grab hair and pull, just stroke, and then he found himself straining back, and screaming.

He felt hands clean him up, and Sigrun and Wraith began kissing each other. He laid back, gasping, and watched them kiss. They touched and kissed, stroked each other's arms, played with each other's braids, making them tinkle. I knew sleeping between them would work out well, he thought.

They kissed more deeply, their breasts rubbing up against him. He relaxed, and stroked their arms. They bit each other's lips, then worked their way down. Sigrun sucked Wraith's neck, and then she made her way down to her breasts. Sigrun laid over Saber, and he stroked her back and her buttocks, as she made Wraith moan. He used his other hand to reach down, and stroked Wraith's belly. Both women gasped and moaned. Then Wraith came, explosively, bucking wildly.

Sigrun changed breasts, and Wraith began moaning again. She came again, and Sigrun rolled over. She swung around, and began sucking Wraith. Wraith began kissing and licking the inside of Sigrun's thighs, making her gasp. They came together, in big, rolling, shaking gasps, and loud, lustful cries. Saber reached over and grabbed the wet wipes. They ignored him, coming again and again. He turned on his side to watch.

Finally, the spent Sigrun held out her hand, and he passed her the wet wipes. She cleaned both herself and Wraith. Wraith was already slipping into sleep, so Sigrun flipped back around, and covered her with the soft blanket. She then turned over, and kissed him deeply. She tasted of sex and mojito.

"Hello," she said.

"Hello," he said. She reached down and grabbed his cock. "Shall we begin again?" He wasn't able to answer. He gave a strangled gasp in reply. She laughed and then kissed his neck. "I'll take that as a yes," she said.

She nibbled his ear, and he felt himself becoming hard in her hands. She reached over him and took the condoms out of the drawer in the side table.

"Mint, my favorite," she said.

She rolled it on, and mounted him. She crushed him with her tightness, biting him. He came in a great, gasping whoosh. She cleaned up both of them and threw the condom away. She was the one in the middle now, cradling them both in her arms.

Saber's last thought before sleep claimed him. It was… I love sparring days.

They were awakened by a call. Wraith grabbed the phone off the table and answered. She sat up, stood, and grabbed underwear, socks, and jeans, and threw them on the bed. Sigrun rolled out of bed, and helped her dress.

Saber went to dress, and Wraith shook her head. She said, “Mmm hmm,” and “Yeah” into the phone, then hung it up. She grabbed a shirt and put it on. Sigrun held up both sets of keys, the truck and Harley, and Wraith grabbed the Harley keys. She kissed Sigrun, then blew a kiss to Saber. Then she was out the door.

“What was that all about?” asked Saber. Sigrun shrugged.

* * *

Wraith unlocked the seat, swung it open, put on her helmet, swung it back down, and strapped the strap under her chin. Spear sounded… rattled. Angry. Confused. And, that wasn’t like her. She had started sleeping again, with all the Harley rebuilds, and keeping her team working together without dissolving into angry shouts, or frigid silence. It was very easy to rub people the wrong way when you were a porcupine, and everyone around you had quills, too. Keeping them all working together, was hard. The volunteering, training, eating properly, sleeping, those with prosthetics learning to use them in new ways. The ride had opened her eyes to things she hadn’t thought about the soldiers, for sure. And other Valkyries and Iron Knights had the nightmares and flashbacks, especially when the past seemed so real, so right there, so… right now.

She hadn’t expected to learn anything about herself. Her own nightmares, or her benevolence in chasing after cases others had shunted aside, in terms of “bigger fish.” She did it in order to give closure to the victims… or to beat her own head against walls? Or to give her something to do? Not that she didn’t have plenty to do. Undercover cases, being seen here and there making certain buys, doing certain things, to enhance her multiple identities. Then, staying out of sight in certain places when she was supposedly in jail. That alone would make most people schizoid. Her first partner, Casey, dead at forty-one in the single second it took for a bullet to hit his brain. The woman she’d rescued from rape and torture, who had killed herself five days later. She’d hung herself, rather than live with her own nightmares and flashbacks. Should have reached out, and told her that they fade over time, with enough help, she thought. She decided to do as Saber had done in his copious free time; look up cold cases. What free time? she thought to herself. But there were so many victims, so much she had left to do.

So many bodies. But, she wasn’t a soldier, was she? But she was. She was fighting an unwinnable war against greed, corruption, and the taint of fast money, all overlaid with murder, mayhem and blood. The people she sought weren’t the addicts, twitching and burning, and hurting down to the hair on their arms for another fix. Those people needed medical help, programs she’d personally donated money to keep going. They weren’t those willing to sell themselves for something; anything, to get them out of their prisons of poverty and hopelessness… and casual cruelty. They just ended up in other prisons, in chains they couldn’t see, keeping someone happy so they didn’t have to live “out there” again. Then they ended up in real prisons, in real chains, still taking the prisons and their skulls with them, wherever they went.

No, she was up against sharks. Not the tiger sharks. The hammerheads and the great whites. The ones that consumed people in order to get what they wanted, instead of fish. Those who saw people as fish. As thoughtless about others as sociopaths could be. And she had to admit it; she loved it, reveled in it. Enjoyed putting the monsters away. Enjoyed piling up mountains of evidence in piles so high their high-priced lawyers couldn’t get them off. It was usually so easy. Sociopaths left trails, trails of those they’d harmed. She had six US Marshals she trusted with the lives of her witnesses. They were that damn good. Plus, drugs, money, cyber trials, now that she had lots of cyber help from her blue-haired genius, and now Lily’s friend, Daisy Chain. She had passed all her background checks and was on the payroll, too. She and Saber had tools; amazing tools, to break open the shells the hammerhead people hid under… and moved around to hide themselves, their crimes, and their assets. She liked the chase, she liked getting her teeth into a case and not letting go.

She flowed around a truck, then back to her lane. Neon from casinos and stores threw rainbows across the pavement. She dodged a tourist, willing to step out into the street and be flattened by traffic. His drunken buddies pulled him back, then gave him a little shake. The idiot just laughed. She dodged a suddenly open door. She waited at a light, and thought about Sigrun. Best decision I ever made, she thought. Sharing her bed sounded insane to those who didn’t understand the benefits. Not sexual, although that thought made her grin. But, someone to keep the home fires burning. To feed the cat, study on the couch, with toes tucked under a soft alpaca blanket. One colored in white and brown, and someone to laugh and make coffee… and hold onto, deep into the night.

Sigrun was a liability, though. Must accelerate her training, she thought. She’s good with a knife, fast with an elbow. Maybe we should go to the shooting range, shoot guns and crossbows. The thought of Sigrun pulling back a crossbow made her smile.

She stopped at another light, then turned right. She could see Spear’s body up ahead. Then, the truck crossed three lanes of traffic, one of those rental jobs, white paint on yellow and blue, and a touch of black. She had space; she took it. Then, she was flying through the air. She tucked in her body, tried to roll on her landing. This is gonna hurt, she thought. Then the blackness took her.

* * *

Half an hour later, Saber and Sigrun got the call from Spear. Wraith wasn't answering her phone, and she wasn't at the coffee shop where she was supposed to meet Spear. Saber and Sigrun dressed, got on their Harleys, and drove the route --Saber went one way, and Sigrun the other. He heard the ambulances before he turned on his wireless headset.

Sigrun said, "There was a truck. It's bad." She gave him the name of the intersection, but all he had to do was follow the lights and sirens.

Spear was already there, a stone-cold look on her face. Saber coasted up to her and hopped off his Harley. "This was no fucking accident," she said. "That guy over there said the truck guy swerved to hit her, and got out and ran away. Black leather jacket, scars on his face."

"Gotta be cameras," said Saber, willing himself to think, as he ran toward the ambulance. Sigrun took his helmet as he threw himself in, and she closed the door behind him and struck it once, then twice.

Sigrun then ran back to Spear. "I'll call the alphabet agencies. You call Skuld, then Henry."

"Called Skuld, but I'll get onto Henry." Spear put her cell phone to her ear, and so did Sigrun, as the red and blue lights flowed over their faces. They were all in shock.

"A woman scorned is the most dangerous creature on the planet."