Wraith, Henry and Nantan arrived at the hospital, their Harleys loud. They parked, locked up their helmets and weapons, and moved swiftly into the hospital. They ganged up on the emergency room nurse, a thin woman with wide-set blue eyes and curly hair.

"Where is my son?" asked Henry. "I am the guardian of Helaku Standing Hawk. He is of the Pauite Nation."

The woman stammered. "We can't give out information on..."

Wraith took out her credentials, and flashed them in front of the intake nurse. "What part of ‘guardian’ did you not understand?"

"He's... um…" She pointed vaguely at the intake door.

"Let us in," said Wraith, "or be arrested for impeding an ongoing investigation. Your choice." The nurse sighed, but buzzed them in.

Wraith stepped in the door, Henry and Nantan on their heels. "My son," said Henry, in Paiute.

"My father," said Helaku.

They went to his cubicle, surrounded by a sheet, and they found him handcuffed to a bed. His face was swelling from bruising. His bloodied hands had not been wrapped. His wrist was swollen. There were no tubes running into his veins.

"Medic!" yelled Henry, rushing to Helaku's side. "Get me a doctor, now!"

Wraith stood in front of a nurse and refused to move. "Get me a doctor, now, on the double," she said.

"He's seeing patients," she said.

"Not anymore," said Wraith. "And get me a hospital administrator." She unlocked her phone and threw it to Nantan. "Take pictures for the lawsuit," she said. She held her badge in the woman's face. "Get. Me. A. Doctor. Now. And the idiot who chained an eighteen-year-old assault victim to a bed."

"That would be me," said a tall man. He had wide shoulders, pinched eyes, and a pulled-forward face; making him look like a boxer dog. "Officer Jude Lohn. And you are?"

She held her badge in his face. "Annika Jensen, DEA. You in the habit of handcuffing eighteen-year-old assault victims to the bed? And why hasn't his broken wrist been x-rayed?"

"He's not the victim," said Officer Lohn. "He assaulted someone else."

"Bullshit," said Ruby, from the next bed. Wraith put her head in the curtain. A nurse was wrapping her arm in a blue bandage. "I tried telling Officer Lohn that the two guys jumped us at the ATM. He has stones in his ears."

Nantan stopped taking pictures and handed the phone to Henry. Henry took more, then handed the phone back to Wraith. Nantan pulled open the curtain and went over to hold Ruby's hand. She was not in handcuffs.

"Unlock this young man," said Wraith, her voice now ice-cold.

"Not your investigation," said Officer Lohn.

"Looks like you're not investigating anything," said Wraith. "Did you take their statements? Get them proper medical care? Arrest the perpetrators? Call their next of kin?"

Denise came flying in, eyes narrowed. "What is the meaning of this? Unlock my client. He is a danger to no one, and why the fuck isn't he on pain medication? And why hasn't he been x-rayed?" she bellowed. Her eyes were wide, and rounded on Officer Lohn. "Unlock. My. Client. Now."

The doctor came over; a short, fat man with wisps of brown hair combed over his balding, bowling ball head. "What is the meaning of this… hubbub, in my ER?"

"Good question," said Wraith, turning her laser stare on him. "Why is this eighteen-year-old assault victim handcuffed to a bed? Where is his pain medication? Why hasn't he been x-rayed?"

"There are priorities..."

Wraith flashed her badge. "He is a priority." She rounded on Officer Lohn. "Who is your supervisor? Where is your partner?" She took a photo of him, and of his badge number. "Why haven't you uncuffed the victim?"

Denise took out her own phone and began taking pictures of the officer, her clients, and the doctor. "Lawsuit city, here."

Wraith pulled out her phone and called the officer's division. "Yes, this is Special Agent Annika Jensen, DEA. May I please speak to the supervisor of one Officer Lohn with your precinct? No, I can't hold long; this idiot has handcuffed a teenaged assault victim to a bed and won't unlock him. Yes, I see." Denise kept taking pictures as the doctor ordered the obstinate nurse to get the patient to x-ray.

Officer Lohn's phone rang. Wraith smiled her famous, sarcastic smile. "It's for you," she said. She turned to the doctor. "I want complete bloodwork done on the boy. This idiot here will try to cover his tracks by claiming he was drunk or high, and I know for a fact that's not true."

She still had on her sarcastic smile; the doctor quailed. "Um, yes. CBC, chem panel, and... um…"

"Pain medication," said Wraith. "He better not feel a thing."

"I'll go with my client," said Denise. "Confer while he's waiting for the x-ray."

"Got a portable one here," said another nurse, rolling it over. Everyone; Nantan, Denise, Henry, and Wraith rounded on the doctor. He visibly quailed and found it difficult to concentrate on his job, for a miniscule moment.

"You had a portable x-ray, and didn't bother taking pictures of his obviously broken hand?" Denise was first with the shrill statement. "Negligence!"

A hospital administrator; a woman with black hair pulled back tightly against her scalp walked in. She had chocolate brown eyes and a tiny nose. She was wearing a maroon suit and an ivory blouse under it.

"What seems to be the problem?" she asked.

Wraith plastered her definitive smile on her. "Doctor, see to your patient." She rounded on Officer Lohn. "Why. Isn't. He. Uncuffed?"

Officer Lohn was sweating, the phone still at his ear. He held out a key, and Wraith uncuffed Helaku. She wordlessly handed the cuffs and key back to the officer.

Now, Wraith rounded on the administrator. "Get us another doctor. This one is useless and incompetent." She turned to Officer Lohn. "Get someone else here who will actually investigate."

The administrator tried to speak but her mouth just made the shape of an “O.” Officer Lohn said something into his phone, and hung up.

Wraith looked at the officer. "Now, you and I are going to have a little talk about proper police procedure." She smiled again, and he finally realized that he was in waters he shouldn't have swum.

“Okay,” he said plainly.

"Denise?" asked Wraith.

"On it," she said. "My client will be treated like the assault victim he is." She cackled. "Lawsuit city," she said again.

The administrator quailed. "Lawsuit?"

"Several," said Denise.

"I'll get you another doctor," said the administrator.

"See that you do," said Wraith.

* * *

Ace, Chayton and Gregory found the ATM easily. Tito's truck was there. He was talking to a cop, and gesturing angrily at two people, both cuffed, in a cop car. They parked, and got out.

Ace went straight to the cop talking to Tito. "Any reason why those two yahoos who beat up two kids aren't in jail?"

"Step back," said the cop, hand on his gun.

"Why?" said Ace. "Public sidewalk. Also, where are the crime scene techs? Henry says both kids have broken bones. Denise's talking about a lawsuit."

"Step back," said the cop, again. He was short, with dark brown hair, green eyes, and a mouth pursed tight.

"Why?" asked Ace again. "Are you going to do your job and call CSI, or shall I get the DEA involved like they are at the hospital?"

Chayton took pictures with his cell phone. "What are you doing?" asked the cop. "This is an active crime scene."

"Doesn't look like one," said Chayton. "The bad guys are not in jail, the blood of my little brother is on the ground, and you haven't even put up police tape. What kind of cops are you?"

"Step away," said the cop, growling.

"Is Tito under arrest?" asked Ace. "He came in after the guys beat up the kids."

"Not at this time," said the officer.

"Then why is your hand on your gun?" asked Ace.

"Shooting video," said Chayton. "Denise's gonna love this."

"Take lots of the crime scene," said Ace. "Since no one thought to secure it."

The officer took out his weapon and pointed it at Ace's face. "Step away!" he said.

"Got this on video?" asked Ace.

"Got it," said Chayton. Gregory was speaking rapidly into a phone.

"Name and badge number? For the record," asked Chayton. "To go into the lawsuit."

"Why are you pointing a gun at me?" asked Ace. "I'm not pointing a gun at you. Or any other weapon."

Tito got out of his truck and stood up. "Looks like you've pointed a gun at a man standing on a sidewalk. Looks like you refused to listen to every word I said. His name is Officer McCann, and he's sent his lovely partner off to call in my truck license plate. He did this while he should have been securing a crime scene. Or making a single note, or recording what I have been telling him."

"Down on the ground!" Officer McCann screamed at Ace.

Ace kept his hands just above his hips, palms open. "Why? Am I under arrest? On what charge? Standing on a public sidewalk? Asking you why you aren't doing your job?"

A Harley, throttle open, roared into the lot. All four men smiled. They knew that particular bike.

"Down on the ground!" Officer McCann screamed, stepping forward.

"McCann!" said a woman, exiting the police vehicle. "Holster your weapon. The car is recording everything, and you're in the wrong," she said.

"We're recording it too," said Chayton, helpfully.

A Thai man with rippling biceps approached. "Arlen Thanh, ATF. Any reason why you're pointing a gun at a man who is not pointing a gun at you? Did he make a threatening statement? Did he pull any weapon on you?" He held out his credentials.

"You're with them?" Officer McCann asked, keeping his weapon trained on Ace's heart.

"It doesn't matter if I am or I am not, you are in the wrong. Lower your weapon." Saber walked closer to the man, and stood by Ace. "You invite me to all the fun stuff," he said to Ace.

"Trying not to," said Ace. "Was asking the man why he hasn't taken the two criminals in the back there to jail. Also wondering why they haven't been tested for alcohol or drugs yet. You've got to take care of that pretty quickly."

Saber looked over at the bloodstains on the concrete. "Camera at the ATM should have gotten the whole assault. Bothered to look at that yet?" asked Saber.

"Lower your weapon, McCann," said the female officer.

"Fuck, no," said Officer McCann.

Saber shook his head then stepped in front of Ace. "Want to kill an ATF agent? Well, technically, we're the ATFE; we added explosives to our acronym, but no one calls us that."

McCann did not take this well. He pulled the trigger. Ace caught Saber as he fell. The female officer pointed her gun at McCann with one hand, and shouted things into her radio on her shoulder. She was holding the mic open with her other hand. Gregory scooped up Saber's credentials and knelt beside him.

Tito got on the phone and began screaming into it. Chayton grimly kept recording. Another cop car pulled up. The officers got out, and pointed their guns over their doors at McCann.

"Drop it, Officer McCann," said a black cop the approximate size of Ferdinand the Bull. His voice was like granite. "Put it down, and step back. You are under arrest."

McCann continued to point the gun at Ace and Saber, but his hands were shaking. "He stepped in front of the suspect," he said.

"First of all, you just shot a DEA agent who clearly identified himself to you. Second, what suspect?" said Ace, his fingers on Saber's neck. "I was standing here, asking you why you didn't take in the perpetrators. And why there was blood over there, or why there was no crime scene tape up. What did I do to you?"

Saber choked, wheezed, then choked again. He grasped his credentials from Gregory. "That's gonna leave a bruise," he said, choking out the words. Ace helped him sit up. Gregory and Tito visibly sighed with relief. Chayton kept recording.

"Drop it," repeated the granite-voiced man. "Put it down on the ground, McCann. Now!"

McCann slowly holstered his weapon. "I... he's alive. He's fine. I didn't..."

"McCann," said the huge man approaching him. "You're under arrest for the attempted murder of a DEA agent. And probably a lot more once we review your body cam, the cam from the vehicle, and these... people's cell phones." He took out the man's weapon and put on the cuffs. "Acton, take him away."

The tall, African-American, female officer approached. "Yes, Sir," she said. "I don't suggest talking until your lawyer shows up," she said to McCann.

"He... he lived," said McCann. "I..."

"What part of 'shut up' don't you understand?" asked Acton. She dragged him away to her police vehicle.

Saber choked, spluttered, and groaned as Ace helped him sit up. "You need a bus?" asked the huge, mountain of a cop.

"Pictures," he said. "My lady is gonna kill me for almost getting killed." He wheezed a laugh. "She's more terrifying when she's angry than you probably are."

"We'll take pictures," said the officer. "I'm Sergeant Joe Pocero. We would have been here sooner, but we were on another call." Another police car came flying into the lot. "We've got multiple crime scenes here, it looks like. Let's get you some medical attention; rule out broken ribs, why don't we?"

"Bring me to Valley," said Saber. "Might as well have my lady kill me there, where they can resuscitate me." He coughed wetly into his palm. "Think something... got punctured," he said, blood on his hand.

"Fuck," said Ace. "Get him there now. I'll go with, check in on the kids."

Sirens wailed, and an ambulance ripped around the corner and into the lot from the far side. "There's... my ride," gasped Saber.

"Shut up," said Ace. "If you die, I'll find you, bring you back, and kill you again."

"What he said," said Gregory. The EMTs hopped out, one with a black box, one opening the back to pull out the gurney.

"What do we have?" asked the EMT.

"ATF agent," said the sergeant. "Shot with a police-issue weapon. Must be some fine-grade body armor under there, but that .45 packed quite a punch. Think broken ribs and a punctured lung." They worked on him, and Ace went with them in the ambulance.

"Well, that was horrible," said Gregory. "Anyone actually going to secure the crime scene, get those assholes over there to jail, get them some drug and alcohol tests?" He pointed to the back of the cop car where they were, staring out the window, bug-eyed. "Those guys beat up two kids taking money out of an ATM." He swiveled and pointed at the ATM. "Camera there. That's Crime number one. The two teenagers are at Valley, getting treatment from broken bones from where those yahoos beat them up. Got hate crime all over it. They kept yelling about Mexicans taking their jobs. They're Native American, not Mexican."

"On it," said the sergeant. He started handing out orders, and the officers in the other vehicle rushed to comply.

“Good,” said Gregory.

Crime scene tape went up. "Crime number two was witnessed by you, and several cameras," said Pocero. "We'll get that squared away too. Realize there's a time crunch on getting the two perpetrators their drug and alcohol tests," he said. "But, shooting an ATF agent is up there in seriousness. We've got to get everything, and I do mean everything, locked up tight as a drum on both cases." He called over to an officer talking rapidly into her mic. "Rodriguez, ETA on the crime scene techs?"

"Ten minutes, Sir," she said.

"Good," he said. "Go with Davis and put the two yahoos under arrest for assault with grievous bodily harm; hate crime too, and take them to the lab for blood and alcohol tests. Run their prints through AFIS, they've got to be in there somewhere."

"Yes, Sir," said Rodriguez.

"Excellent," said Pocero. "Now, gentlemen. Which one of you was here first?"

"I was," said Tito.

"Let's get your statement first, shall we?" said Pocero.

Chayton stopped recording, and sent the files to several people. Gregory stared at the bloodstains on the wall by the ATM. It was horrible; the fresh, bright blood on the ground. His face was thunderous. Chayton put a hand on his arm.

"We kill someone," he said, gently, "then the yahoos win."

Gregory sighed and unclenched his hands. "I know." He smiled brokenly. "Merry fucking Yule," he said.

"Good news," said Chayton. "It's the shortest night of the year. Dawn will break sooner than you think."

Pocero was thorough. All three men were questioned at the scene by both Pocero and other officers; in cop cars to keep warm. All three men offered to buy coffee for themselves and the other officers. Pocero let Tito buy coffee for the Nighthawks, and he bought coffee for himself and the other officers.

Chayton's phone was taken. He knew he'd never get it back, because it was now evidence in a federal case. He uploaded pictures on his cell to his online backup before they got their hands on it, as well as the recordings. The pictures and video were damning.

"I am sick and sad to tell you," he said, "That I was that boy's training officer. I trained him in proper procedure, and he took several tests proving that he knew it. I am so mad, I could tear that idiot's head off."

"Stand in line," said Gregory. "But, I'd rather the courts do their work."

"Won't be a trial," said Pocero. "And, I'm certain you have a lawsuit ready to file. Pay for those kids' tuition with it, you hear?"

"Saber's money," said Gregory. "The shooting part. The rest; hell yeah."

Pocero sighed. "Two lawsuits in one night."

Wraith came up, Denise at her back. She locked up both helmets. "You done freezing your witnesses to death, Pocero?" she asked.

"What does the DEA have to do with this?" asked Pocero.

Wraith held up a single finger. "One, joint task force." She held up another finger. "Two, that was my man your guy shot. He's in surgery to re-inflate his lung."

She looked to the wall at the first bloodstains that were being photographed by a crime scene technician. She looked at the other bloodstain on the sidewalk where her love had coughed up blood, and a death look came over her face.

Pocero's eyes grew round. "Well, fuck me sideways. McCann better get him a damn fine attorney. He's about to get on the elevator and go all the way down."

"To places he can't even imagine," said Wraith.

"Good," said Gregory. "We're leaving. We've got kids in the hospital, a fuckton of kids back at the ranch, and we're cold and exhausted. You want anything else, talk to our lawyer."

Denise stepped forward, and helpfully handed him a business card. "These men are leaving," she said.

Wraith said, "Tito, Gregory, back to the party. Chayton; spell Henry or Nantan at the hospital. Keep switching until everyone has a nap." All three men nodded and moved toward their bikes.

"Way to clear a parking lot," said Pocero.

"Take care of this," said Wraith. She waved her hand across from the ATM to the truck Tito backed up, looking behind him so he didn’t hit a cop car or CSI vehicle. "Or I will."

"Will do," said Pocero. "Anyone ever tell you that you're terrifying? Your man said that. He said you're more terrifying when you’re angry, than I am." He looked into her ice-chip blue eyes. "I think he was underestimating the case."

"Absolutely," Wraith said, and looked around, hands in the pocket of her leather jacket, as Denise took more photos. Then, they got on their bikes and were gone, into the freezing, desert night.

Wraith went back to the hospital, and Denise went to file several lawsuits. Her fellow Valkyries, Skuld and Rota, were there in the surgical waiting room.

"He's out, the lung is re-inflated, the broken ribs where they should be," said Skuld.

"Intensive care," said Rota. "Only for the chest tube. He'll be closely monitored for about twenty-four hours, then he'll be moved."

"Ugly bruising," said Skuld. "Peeked in the operating room window and took pictures. Sent them to Denise."

Wraith looked at the women. "Gonna hold his hand for the ten minutes they let me."

"Five minutes," said Rota.

"Bull and shit," said Wraith. "Then, you two take turns."

"Where will you be?" asked Rota. "Thought they got the guy."

"His elevator is going way down," said Wraith. "Wanna be there when he figures it out."

Skuld clasped Rota's neck, and they touched foreheads, then did the same with Wraith. "The battle is already won, sister," said Skuld. "Do not jeopardize it with your rage. Be cold, sister."

"Revenge is a dish," said Rota.

"Best served cold," they all said, together.

"I'm ice," said Wraith. She smiled, and went to hold hands with her injured sweetheart.

He was heavily doped up on pain medication, and he took deep breaths from time to time. Wraith knew it was to prevent pneumonia.

He cracked an eyelid at her. "The guy's already going down," he said, his voice a thin thread. "Don't fuck it up by going all Valkyrie on him."

"Why the fuck did you step in front of Ace?" asked Wraith, as he took another deep, tortuous breath. "Don't answer that. You had a vest, he didn't." She sighed. "Don't worry. I'll make his elevator go down."

"Asshole," gasped Saber. "Ruined my op."

"Didn't," said Wraith. "You got picked up. Tons of cops there. Who's to say different? Besides, being shot looks good on your evil-guy resume."

He gasped another deep breath. "Talk to Marty. Dirty FBI. Knows my case. Take down. Tiger."

Wraith smiled a tiny smile. She knew exactly who Tiger was. Tomas "El Tigre" Carchero was a nasty little drug lord with a disturbing habit of killing off his rivals. He did it in such a way they could never trace it back to him. There was a joint DEA/ATF/dirty FBI task force to bring him down. Wraith had just wrapped up testimony in two of her previous cases, and was now free to join the task force.

"Huge target."

Saber heaved in a breath, then let it out. "Go big or go home, right?"

"Get some sleep, stupid," said Wraith, kissing his forehead. "Let me take down El Tigre."

"You get killed," he said, gasping, "I'll come after you and bring you back."

She smiled. "I'll have my sisters watching my back," she said. "You just make a buy?"

"You'll find the money hidden in the usual place," he said. "Mix of guns, grenade launchers, some drugs thrown in for fun."

She smiled, kissed his forehead again. "My kind of fun," she whispered in his ear. "Sleep, or I'll make you pass out by putting a pillow over your face."

He grunted laughter, then winced. "My... warrior," he said. Then, he closed his eyes.

The nurse tried to drag her out, but even Armageddon Nurse couldn't move Wraith while she made sure Saber's breathing eased into drug-induced sleep. She stood, strode past the stuttering woman, and went to take an elevator down. She had things to do, and this was the shortest night of the year.

She rode to the park near their condo, got off the bike, phoned her boss first, then phoned Marty. "Got the money for the drop before that stupid cop put Saber in the hospital."

"Hello to you too," said Marty. "Tell me where it is, and we'll come dust it for prints. Hear rumors at least some of it is funny money."

"Follow the sound of my voice," said Wraith. "Go to our apartment, two lefts, one right. Little park."

"Ah," he said. "Wondered why his tracker had him there."

"In the sculpture that looks like metal cigarettes that have been snuffed out," she said. "He usually uses the one on the right, but he might’ve picked the middle, just to be contrary."

"He texted me a list," said Marty. "Already got the guns lined up. Could use a little blow from your side."

"Consider it done," said Wraith. "I'm the girlfriend, will bring the stuff."

"You joining the task force?" asked Marty.

"As of three minutes ago, yes," said Wraith. "I'll even throw in a little black tar heroin. Confiscated a nice stash a while back. Idiot pleaded out, no trial."

"Nasty shit," said Marty. "When's the drop?"

"Saber didn't say, but he never takes more than twenty-four hours to turn and burn," she said. "Got some more stuff to take care of. You here yet?"

"Gonna remove the liver of the cop that shot your man?" asked Marty, stepping out of the shadows.

They put their phones away. Wraith turned to the sculpture, dropped to the bottom, and removed a panel on the right side.

"Whoa," said Marty, pulling out the plastic cylinder of cash. "Got to be two hundred thousand here. Gotta pull in more from the warehouse."

"Black tar heroin and coke," said Wraith. "Also, got some stuff that'll test positive for ketamine, but isn't. Leaves you woozy for just a few minutes."

"Oh, yeah," said Marty. "He's gonna love that. Loves raping women when he's coked up. Did it to a family friend's daughter. Both the family friend and the daughter are dead though, now. Seems they both fell off a boat, but were dead before they hit the water."

Wraith grimaced. "We'll take him down." She gave Marty a little nod. "Things to do, people to see. Catch you at daylight, or a little after. Get your stuff, I'll bring mine."

"Fuck," said Marty. "I hate deadlines."

Wraith smiled. "It's Saber's get-better present. El Tigre on ice."

"Good present," said Marty. "Let's do this." They both melted into the night.

Taking Care of Business

Pete McCann sat in an interview room, handcuffed to a table. Two Internal Affairs officers were questioning him; Jackson and Wycliff. Wycliff was Native American, and made Pete very nervous.

"It's a favor for you to look in on this," said Sergeant Pocero.

Wraith gave him a flat stare. "I'm watching, not participating."

"I can see that," he said.

"Didn't know you had First Nation people in the LVMPD."

"We have several," said Pocero. "Wycliff isn't actually IAB, but he's making Pete so nervous he's spilling the beans."

"Latent prejudice?"

"And then some," said Pocero. "We didn't know this, not even the department shrink did. It seems that Officer McCann here, forgot to mention that his sister was the victim of a violent crime. Or criminal, probably multiple crimes."

"Let me guess, Native American with long hair that wore a motorcycle jacket?"

"Part Apache, part Huron," said Pocero.

Wraith looked at him in surprise. "That makes no sense," she said. "How would the two tribes meet?"

"Dunno," he said. "Geographically very far away from each other, I know. Anyway, it seems little sister and her boyfriend liked to get stoned and beat each other up. McCann broke up several of these fights, until the boyfriend took off. Was part of Los Locos."

"They're all in prison," said Wraith. "Took down one of their cells myself."

Pocero looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Well then. The ex is not in prison. He's six feet under. Got in a bar fight and tried to use a broken bottle on the wrong woman. She took him out, and the bar had a camera. She walked without a scratch, former Navy."

"So, shouldn't he be sympathetic to women? One of the victims was Ruby. Not a big girl, but tough and strong."

"Didn't kick in, apparently. He bought the little white supremacists' story that the 'crazy Mexican' attacked him. He saw the motorcycle jackets and the logos, and his brain went... somewhere else."

"He's going to try to get off on a temporary insanity," said Wraith, her eyes lighting from within with a definite rage.

"He's not getting off of anything," said Pocero, holding up a hand. "He shot an ATF agent who identified himself to him on tape. He may get treated in prison, but he's going down."

"Where are our cute little white supremacists?" asked Wraith.

"Got their blood. Breathalyzed them, too. On Jim Beam and some nose candy. They won't be walking out of anything. Found their bikes, found meth in the pockets of the bigger one. Swabbed their hands, got blood from several donors. More time to match the DNA, even with the faster tests. Backlog."

"I'll personally pay for any fucking test you need," she said.

"Private lab it is," said Pocero. "Stick your fingers in your ears." He dialed a number, and spoke rapidly into the phone. He called someone else, and had that person ship the evidence to a lab in Pahrump.

Wraith paid attention to the questioning of McCann. He kept talking about the "Indian boy" who assaulted the white men. "White men, both twice their size?" asked Wycliff. "You made this determination on what evidence?"

McCann spluttered his words, "I've already told you. They showed me where the kid hit them in the face. Repeatedly."

Detective Jackson opened a red file folder. "Did you, at anytime, call to get the ATM footage?"

"No," said McCann.

"What, if anything, did you do to preserve the scene?" asked Jackson.

"I arrested the perpetrators and had Jude; Officer Lohn, follow the ambulance to the hospital."

"So, you split with your partner," said Detective Jackson. "Is that procedure?"

"Officer. I forgot her name... she showed up."

"So, a female officer showed up. You did not answer my question. Is it procedure for you to split with your partner?"

"It was an evolving situation," said McCann.

"So, what did you do after the bus left?" asked Jackson.

"I waited for backup," he said.

"You had backup," said Detective Wycliff. "The female patrol officer, Rodriguez. Did you help her put up the crime scene tape?"

"No."

"Interview the perpetrators?"

"The perpetrators were at the hospital."

"The suspects in the back of your patrol car," said Jackson.

"They weren't suspects," he said. "I put them in there to calm down. They were angry."

Jackson and Wycliff looked at one another. Wraith knew neither one of them were believing what they were hearing. "Did you interview the men in the back of your patrol car?" asked Jackson.

"I was talking to some Mexican. Drove up in a truck. Asked me where I took the kids. I told him they were under arrest. I was attempting to explain to him that they were the perpetrators, but he wouldn't listen."

Jackson took out the photos, labeled one to twelve, and laid them out in front of the officer. "These are from the ATM camera you didn't call about. Rodriguez did. They clearly show the young people depositing money into an ATM. They received it from the man they worked for that day. You mean, the man who tried to tell you the Native American kids were attacked, not perpetrators? The two white men clearly assaulted the woman first, breaking her arm. She defended herself, kicking one in the balls. The other young man protected her and stood in front of her, as the two men beat him."

"That's not... true," said Officer McCann. "I..."

His union rep and his lawyer both looked at the pictures. "I would like a moment to confer with my client," said the lawyer. "This is new information."

"This information has no bearing on the actions of Officer McCann," said Detective Jackson. "He did not see the tape before making certain... assumptions. His making the assumptions are the problem."

"They were dangerous," said McCann.

"They were teenagers," said Detective Jackson. "Both had recently turned eighteen. Did you check either one for identification? Discover their ages?"

The union rep turned white. "McCann?" he asked.

"I... no, I did not," said McCann.

"Is that correct procedure?" asked Detective Jackson.

"I..." said McCann.

"If they had have been under eighteen," said Detective Wycliff, "you would be in even more trouble than you are currently." Detective Jackson pointed to two of the photos. "You arrested a kid with a broken wrist and didn't bother to discover whether or not he was a minor, let alone whether or not he committed any crime."

"I... he didn't look badly injured. The girl did. Broken arm."

"So, how do a girl with a broken arm and a boy with a broken wrist become perpetrators in your mind?" asked Jackson. "How does that work, exactly? Blaming the victims? Blaming teenagers instead of grown men much larger than they are?" She took out a photo, then laid it on the table. "This is the sap the man used to break the girl's arm and the boy's hand. It's being tested for the blood of the victims. Who were the victims here, Officer McCann?" She put away all the photos as McCann looked forward, uncomprehendingly. "Let's move forward in time. What happened after you spoke to the young people's employer?"

"The motorcycles came," said McCann. His voice had an odd, flat affect.

"I think he's already broken," said Pocero, looking through the glass.

"Was before he got here," said Wraith, with utter disgust on her face.

"Three men came over in gang jackets," said McCain to Wycliff.

"What made you think they were gang jackets?" asked Detective Wycliff.

"The skulls on the back."

"Did you know the club the skull represents?" asked Wycliff.

"What? No."

"So, you assumed they were a gang."

"They were."

Wycliff made a buzzing noise with his mouth, making both McCann and his lawyer jump. "Wrong. They are part of a motorcycle club called the Nighthawks. Do you remember a briefing about the Nighthawks?"

"No," said Officer McCann.

"Strange," Wycliff said. "I've attended two briefings and one workshop on motorcycle clubs. It was explained to us all three times that the Nighthawks, Valkyries and Iron Knights are sprinkled through with law enforcement, ex-military, and/or other people that work for, or have worked for, the city or government. You don't remember any of that?"

"No," said Officer McCann.

"Did you have occasion to draw your weapon?" asked Jackson.

"I told the suspect to back away repeatedly," said McCann.

"What suspect?" asked Jackson.

"The motorcycle guy," said McCann.

"Was he walking toward you?" asked Jackson.

"He would not follow my orders," said McCann.

"Was he speaking to you?" asked Jackson.

"He said some stuff. Something about crime scene tape. I kept telling him to back away."

"Did he step forward at any time?" asked Jackson.

"No."

"Did he draw a weapon of any kind?"

"No."

"Did anything else happen?" asked Jackson.

"Another one of them rode up."

"With the same jacket?" asked Jackson.

"Yes," he said. "But no logo on the back."

"So, how did you know that the new person was from the same group?" asked Jackson.

"They knew him," said McCann.

"Did he identify himself as ATF?" asked Jackson.

"He showed an ID," said McCann. "Obviously fake. He looked like them."

"Officer McCann," asked Jackson, "do ATF agents ever go undercover?"

"What? Guess so," he said.

"Did it occur to you that the ATF agent was breaking his cover to protect someone from discharging a firearm at a man that was not threatening you?"

"That's... that's preposterous," said McCann.

Jackson opened a yellow folder, and took out a picture of an ID. "Are these the credentials he showed you?"

"I guess so," said McCann. "Picture looks like the guy."

"Did you ask his name? Who he worked for? Get a name to call to verify who he was?" asked Jackson.

"No," said McCann.

"Did you ask to take a closer look at his credentials?" asked Jackson.

"No," said McCann.

"These, Officer McCann, are valid ATF credentials," said Detective Jackson. "Now, let's continue. Did you have occasion to discharge your weapon?"

"Yes. The suspect would not get down on the ground."

"Was he stepping forward?"

"No," said McCann.

"Did he pull out a weapon?" asked Jackson.

"No," said McCann.

"Did he verbally threaten your life or the lives of those nearby?" asked Jackson.

"No," said McCann.

"Did you discharge your weapon?" asked Jackson.

"Yes," said McCann.

"Did you hit the man you keep calling a 'suspect,' or the one saying he was the ATF agent?"

"I hit the guy that was with them that called himself an ATF agent," said McCann. "He jumped in front of the other guy."

"Where did you shoot him?" asked Jackson.

"In the heart," said McCann.

"And, is he dead?" asked Jackson.

"No," said McCann.

"Why not?" asked Jackson.

"I think he was wearing a bulletproof vest," said McCann.

"Do you know where the ATF agent is now?" asked Jackson.

"The guy waved supposed ATF credentials," said McCann. "He was lying. He was with them."

"The man that you shot," said Jackson. "Where is he now?"

"I heard he's in the hospital," he said. "Probably circling the drain."

Wraith sucked in a breath. Pocero grabbed her arm. "Girl, don't stop the train now," he said, then immediately let go. They continued watching and listening from behind the one-way glass.

"He is expected to recover," said Jackson. "But, he has broken ribs and a punctured lung that had to be re-inflated."

"Too bad," said McCann. "Can I go now?"

"My client doesn't understand these proceedings," said the attorney.

Detective Jackson raised her hand. "Officer McCann, who am I?"

"Jackson, IAB," said McCann.

"And why are we meeting here today?"

"Officer-involved shooting. I shot someone."

"Was it a good shoot?" asked Jackson.

"Yes," said McCann. "Are we done?"

"Officer McCann," said Detective Jackson, "Since you shot an ATF agent, you will be charged with a federal crime, of attempting to murder a federal agent. You will be immediately remanded to the federal authorities."

"He wasn't an ATF agent," said McCann. "He was one of them."

Wraith was out the door before Pocero could catch her arm. She stood quietly at the door as two federal agents entered the room and handcuffed Officer McCann behind his back, and stood him up.

"Let's go," said the one on the right. "We've heard enough."

Wraith stood, staring laser beams at him, as they frog-marched him out of the room. "Who the fuck are you?" asked McCann.

"The undercover ATF agent you shot," said the one on the left, "that's her man. She's DEA."

"Fucked up a sting we had going, to take out a nasty guy who's killed a lot of people," said the one on the right. They looked like bookends in their black FBI suits, both African-American females.

"I'll get him at first light," said Wraith. "I'm on the task force. I'll make the buy."

"Good to know," said the one on the left. "Let's drop him off and get some waffles," she said. "I'm buying."

"Can I come?" asked Wraith.

"I demand that my client see a psychiatrist for evaluation," said the attorney from inside the room.

"Hate to agree, but he's as twisted as a rope," said the union rep.

"I'm not crazy," said McCann.

"Good to know," said the one on the right. "Counselor, you can see your client after we drop him off and book him on federal charges. One hour, Federal Building."

"Thank you," said the lawyer, shutting his briefcase with a bang.

"You're one of them," said McCann, as they pulled him down the hall.

Wraith smiled sadly. "Used to be. Now, I'm a Valkyrie." She followed the FBI agents down the hall. She smiled her eerie smile. McCann, who had twisted around to take a look at her, visibly quailed, making his cuffs jingle.

"Watch it," said the one on the right. "We could drop you. Be by accident, of course."

"Of course," said the one on the left.

"Meet you at the waffle place," said Wraith.

"Pecan," said the one on the right.

"Strawberry," said the one on the left.

"Got it," said Wraith.

Pocero watched her go, then stuck his head in as the attorney and the union rep passed him by. "Guy's gonna walk? On a psychiatric?"

"'Fraid not," said Detective Jackson. "He'll see a psychiatrist. A prison psychiatrist. Can't let a guy like that out anytime soon." She turned to Wycliff. "Thank you for letting me take the lead, Bodaway," she said.

Wycliff looked at the other two. "I will go now, and visit these young ones."

"Thank you," said Pocero. "Tell them the LVMPD does not condone or tolerate the actions of Ex-Officer McCann."

"I will," said Wycliff. "I will have them call me Wycliff. I heard a very dangerous Bodaway left the Wolfpack with bad memories."

"The Wolfpack?" asked Pocero.

"The young ones were raised on a farm near the res for the last few months. They call themselves the Wolfpack. I expect that many of their members will come by the hospital to help."

"Better hurry," said Pocero, "they may have already been discharged."

"Still there," said Detective Jackson. "We have to get their testimony on tape, lock that fruit loop up and throw away the key."

"I'll let you go, then," said Pocero. He followed them out, relieved that Wraith hadn't removed McCann's lungs through his nose.

* * *

Wraith made the meeting with the FBI agents. Both were Valkyries, and both had recently been promoted to Las Vegas. Tammy "Track" Lucerne was a fast runner and had an even faster mouth. She could talk her way into, and out of, anything. Megister "Mouse" Rwanche was smart, tough and tiny. She could also kick anyone's ass, even the asses of her instructors. She'd been training in mixed martial arts since she was a child.

"Did he fall down a lot?" asked Wraith. She ate the tip off her crispy bacon.

"Nope," said Track. "Been as meek as a kitten. Went for his psychiatrist appointment. His lawyer is livid. Thought he had a client being railroaded somehow, the guy 'sounded so certain.' Now he's got a whack job for a client and he is seriously pissed off."

"Union rep didn't say much," said Wraith.

"Was watching in another room," said Mouse. "Wasn't much the guy could do except to tell our little monster to answer with as few words as possible, and only answer the question being asked. The monster did that."

"Shot an ATF agent in front of witnesses and on tape," said Track, eating a strawberry out of her crepe. "Who does that?"

"Stupid or cray-cray," said Mouse.

"Who still says cray-cray?" asked Track.

"I do," said Mouse.

"Thank you, sisters," said Wraith. She finished her bacon, then the last bite of pecan waffles. "Hate to eat and run, but I've got to make a weapons and drug drop to El Tigre's guys."

"Ooh," said Track. "Can we watch?"

"You've got to get a lot less ‘FBI squeaky-clean’ and a lot dirtier," said Wraith.

"We can do that," said Track.

"See you in ten," said Mouse. They stood up, both dropping twenties on the counter, and strode back to the restroom, briefcases in hand. Wraith paid up, and sipped her coffee; nectar of the gods.

They came out looking like entirely different women. Track was sporting bruises all up and down her arm that looked exactly like track marks. Her hair was down and messed, and looked to be cut with manicure scissors. She wore a torn top and faded jeans. Her socks were worn and falling down onto her scuffed white sneakers. Her makeup had been removed, and now there were dark circles standing up under bleary eyes.

Mouse was wearing torn jeans and a yellow polo shirt that looked to be from a thrift shop. It was two sizes too big, and scuffed sneakers. Her hair was now plaited in three braids. Annika was stunned; she knew exactly how long it took to plait them. She also was missing makeup; her lipstick appeared to have been bitten off.

"Fuck," said Wraith, "you guys get dirty fast."

"We're Dirty FBI," said Mouse. "Now, let's go get the Tiger before some up-and-coming DEA agent gets him."

Wraith snorted. "I'm not up-and-coming. Been in seven years."

They picked up the guns and drugs from the drop, and separated them across all three women.

"I keep the drugs," said Wraith. "I'll pay you a little fake snort or some fake ketamine," she said.

"Coke to her, ketamine to me. Remember, I shoot up," said Track.

"Okay," said Wraith.

They met a muscular, Rodrigo Sanchez Portilla and a very terrifying man named Scar, with scars bisecting his face and arms, behind a laundromat in Alphabet City. It was in the not-so-nice section of Las Vegas. Rodrigo laughed as the stumbling Runner had trouble lifting her saddlebags full of guns. Scar went over and removed the boxes stuffed in there.

"Good," said Rodrigo, as he saw the serial numbers had been removed with acid. "Your boy is good. Heard he got shot by a cop."

"Fucking cop," said Wraith, her rage real. "Gonna cap his ass when he gets moved somewhere."

"You're short," said Scar, his voice soft and high-pitched. A Michael Jackson voice coming from a guy the size of a wrestler was bit odd.

"No, I'm not," said Wraith. "My man said you could move this real-easy." She dangled the bags of black tar heroin in one hand, the half-kilo of coke in the other hand. "Got something you'll like," she said.

Runner lunged toward the heroin, but Mouse held her back. "Hold up, girlfriend," she said over her shoulder. "Got something real-nice for when we get back."

Rodrigo nodded to Scar, who took out a testing kit. He tested the heroin, then the coke. "Good," he said.

"What else you got?" said Scar.

"Ketamine," said Wraith. She took out three small bottles, and a case of needles, and handed them to Scar. "One for you," she said to Runner.

Runner was at her side in a second, drawing out a blue rubber band to put around her ankle. She took off her shoe and sock to reveal a dirty foot. Rodrigo visibly recoiled. Wraith gave her a filled needle, and Runner shot up, right there. Mouse had to catch her when she fell on her ass, and she put the sock and shoe back on Runner, cursing fluently in Spanish.

"Well," said Rodrigo, "looks like we're even."

"Not even close," said Wraith, her voice hyped up as she passed a baggie to Mouse. "Later," she said, waving a finger in front of Mouse's nose. "Get us back in one piece first." Wraith turned to Rodrigo. "You asked for grenade launchers, I'll get you fucking grenade launchers."

"How?" asked Rodrigo.

"Been selling real-good knives to a military guy. Fucked him a time or two, too. Know a way to get the stuff as it's being transported."

"You don't fool around," said Rodrigo.

"I know how to get what I want. I know how to get what everyone wants. For a price. You get what I'm downloading to you?"

"Fuck, yeah," said Rodrigo. "Finally, some people with some motivation. You get me what I want, the first price is nothing. I'll pay up to half a mil for a really good shipment."

"Want a good mix? And not that black tar shit. It's what I had on hand when lover boy got shot."

Rodrigo grinned. "A good mix. I like it." He stepped forward.

Wraith had a blade at his crotch before he could get too close. "My man dies, then, hell yeah. But now, he's mine. And I'm his."

"What about that military guy you're fucking?" asked Scar.

"Oh, that's just business," said Wraith. "Saber told me to do it, said we could score big. So, no biggie." She made the knife disappear. "But," she said, wagging a finger at Rodrigo, "you can look but no touchie."

"Spitfire," said Rodrigo. "I know someone who likes spitfires."

"If he likes money and likes to share, we can talk," said Wraith. "My guy's circling the drain, but I'm the one that got him his fucking contacts, you know? I gotta do well, stand on my own, if he dies."

"When he dies, girlfriend," said Runner, and giggled.

Wraith backhanded her in one swift motion. "I get to say it," said Wraith. "You don't."

"Get me my guns," said Rodrigo.

"No problem," said Wraith. "Heroin? Blow? Uppers? Downers? Ecstasy?"

"All that, and more ketamine," said Rodrigo, watching Runner swaying back and forth, and giggling, despite the blood on her mouth.

"Thought you was cartel," said Wraith. "My bad."

"We are... branching out," said Rodrigo. "And, you can never have too many drugs."

"Amen," said Runner, and she giggled again. Mouse led Runner back to her bike, and tied her with a long scarf to her back. Her previously pristine bike now looked like she'd forgotten to polish the chrome for months.

Wraith went to her pretty bike. "Looks like I'll have to get cracking on the order," she said. "Later."

They coasted out, Runner cackling. They got back on the highway, and Wraith led them to another park. She sent a coded text with the order, to both her boss and Marty (with the dirty FBI).

Runner wasn't bleeding when they stopped. "Sorry about that," said Wraith.

"I bit myself to get some blood," said Runner. "Bleeding's already stopped."

"You're fast," said Mouse. "I like it."

"Now," said Wraith, "we gotta set up a fake military heist and steal some really powerful weapons in order for me to prostitute myself to a killer. One who likes to shoot up feisty women with ketamine, and rape them." The women stared at her. "Am I leaving anything out?"

"Nope," said Runner, "but, I suggest we bust this Tiger before he gets to the ketamine and raping part."

"Was planning on it," said Wraith. "Anybody got any military contacts?"

"I do," said Runner. "Used to run with a guy that got pretty high up from Edwards Air Force Base. I'm sure he knows how to make really bad weapons look like they really work."

"How does he know that?" asked Wraith.

"Former ATF," said Runner.

"Usually, it's the other way around," said Mouse.

"Call him," said Wraith. "Let's get a plan together. One that survives first contact with the enemy."

Mouse snorted. "Good luck with that," she said.

New Year

Wraith made it back to the Shortest Night celebration, Mouse and Runner in tow, by mid-morning. Those who had to work, went. Some packed up to go to stay with relatives; most stayed. Helaku and Ruby were back in the dorms, sleeping off a long night, with pain medication, and the pain of broken bones.

Nantan and Chayton were over there with their boys; Tam and Nico, overseeing the Wolfpack, old and new. Chayton made Nantan give up responsibility for the greenhouse for the week. His computer would tell him if anything was wrong. The Nighthawk and Wolfpack kids were all off school, but most did something anyway. The coders loved to code, Skuld loved to teach martial arts on thick mats, and there were dogs, horses, trail rides, hikes, movies, crafts, video and board games, and perpetual food to interest children, teens, and adults.

Bonnie came with Alicia. Ajai stole her to quiz her relentlessly about going to Harley school in Colorado. Bella drew Ivy to the other side of the room. Ivy didn't need to hear about Alicia attending the same school her dead lover, Arsenal, had attended as well. They soon got into baby trading, and Bonnie came over to join in with a very wide Ghost. Killa made her sit down, and fed her snacks.

"Baby," said Ghost, "sit down. Let one o' da Nighthawks wait on us."

Keiran showed up with a dog, and made the dog lay down at Ghost's feet. "What do you need, ladies?" asked Keiran.

"More soda, no caffeine," said Killa. "And a plate of goodies."

"No problem," he said. "Stay, Shadow," he said. The dog lolled her tongue.

"Maybe we shoulda brought our dogs," said Ghost.

"They trained to fight inna ring," said Killa. "Better off at home."

Wraith, Mouse and Runner all ate the delicious-smelling cinnamon buns. Runner got a blue ice pack for her face, and told the story of the buy, using no names, in detail, to the fascinated Valkyries. Wraith had to put up with some ribbing for not hitting Runner in a better way.

"Bruise is more authentic this way," said Skuld.

The ladies changed into less destroyed clothes, and Runner removed her makeup and wig. They practiced hand-to-hand combat, getting sweaty in the field near the paddock, despite the icy wind. The non-Valkyrie teens came out to watch, cheer, and sometimes participate. They set up camp chairs, a portable heater, and thermoses of hot chocolate.

All the moms were waited on hand and foot. The babies were passed around, sometimes stolen for hours while moms and dads slept. Keiran and Pavel waited on Katya hand and foot. They stole the babies, and trained their dogs as the other kids watched or helped. They participated in the hand-to-hand combat training, and were on opposite teams in a viciously-contested soccer game. Henry asked them to tone it down after there was a black eye, a bloody nose, some arguing, and a pulled muscle. They ignored him, and Pavel and Keiran's team won, to no one's surprise.

First Nation people came by all day and into the evening, to talk, sing, cook, eat, ride the horses, play with the children, talk to the teens, and run off with the babies. Henry heard Ute, but also Hopi, Dine, Apache, and more. Many people wanted to duplicate the success of his farm. Including horse and pony rescue, greenhouse, Wolfpack program, the Owl Pack with their stories and crafts, and the numerous businesses, both on and off the farm. Ghost proudly showed off her miniature Harleys, Bonnie and Killa showed off the dog boxes, and the Goat Girls came to the ranch with cheeses and more alpaca wool for Numa. Phone calls and emails were shot out, to many reservations. From Florida to California, and to Huron and into Canada. David spoke to many people, both the ones present, and on Skype, and they all went for a sweat to the lodge at the edge of Henry's property.

* * *

The entire contingent of Valkyries and Iron Knights took turns with Saber so Wraith could sleep, eat, rest, and continue to testify in cases. It was the last round before court closed for the holidays. Her absolute icy calm was disturbing. She used the evil grin on a defense attorney, and he stumbled twice while questioning her for a deposition in an old case. Mouse got her a tape of the psychiatric session with McCann. McCann opened up about his sister, but he didn't put any of the blame on Sheila McCann. He blamed her boyfriend for everything, but also denied having any prejudicial feelings about anyone.

"What's with the partner?" asked Mouse.

"His partner, Officer Jude Lohn, kept a teenage victim of an assault handcuffed to a bed."

Mouse looked at Wraith. "He pleads thinking McCann was right.” She looked to Wraith. “McCann had four years to McCann's two, and felt he needed to listen. IAB has him jammed up on not following proper procedure. He's on desk duty. He'll get suspended, desk duty, moved to night shift. I hear your Nighthawks lawyer got a deposition from him already for her lawsuit against the city."

"That will be settled out of court," said Wraith. "I talked to Pocero. He says McCann is nuttier than a fruitcake, his words not mine, and the kids will get their college funded."

"The words of his psychiatrist are, 'Officer McCann is unable to tell right from wrong, and is unable to admit his fault,'" said Mouse. "Doubt he'll stand trial."

"No bet," said Wraith, and rubbed her eyes. "The lawsuit on our side is a little murky. Saber is a government employee, so technically McCann shot another officer in the line of duty. He intended to kill Ace, who is not a government employee. It's a little sketchy, but I think Saber will get every dime of his hospital stay recovered, along with rehab. His condition is intensely painful and there's a risk of pneumonia, so the hospital is gonna keep him for now." She rubbed her eyes again.

"When was the last time you slept?" asked Mouse.

"Not important," said Wraith. "What if McCann's faking? He knows he's wrong, but is pretending to stand by everything he did in order to keep from going to prison?"

"A padded cell is no picnic," said Mouse. "Besides, how are you going to find out? You're not allowed anywhere near him, because you might kill him."

"If he's out of his mind, then no killing," said Wraith. "If he's faking..."

"Then boom," said Mouse.

"Boom," said Wraith.

"How we gonna find out?" asked Mouse.

"I have an idea," said Wraith.

"I'm all mouse ears," said Mouse. They laughed.

Mouse interviewed the union rep, his partner, his commanding officer, and anyone else that had contact with McCann. All with Pocero in tow. No one saw any evidence of psychiatric distress, or even knew about his sister and the biker gang. His commanding officer, a highly intelligent woman named Gina Laski, showed proof that he had attended training concerning, among other things, motorcycle clubs in Las Vegas. They built an airtight case, and presented it to the district attorney. Since he was in federal custody, Wraith was able to see the transcripts of these interviews.

"Either he snapped," said Mouse.

"Or he's savvy," said Wraith.

"Give him some stew time," suggested Runner, back at the Dirty FBI shop, off of Harmon.

They were in a business office in the back of a slowly decaying office building, one used by several federal agencies for undercover meets and ops. A porn studio had the entire bottom floor, and the jokes were continual and never-ending about what was going on below them in the building.

Runner rolled her eyes. "Besides, we've got a military heist to plan, drugs and guns to deliver, and a food chain to work ourselves up. And, I need to buy my mom a Christmas present."

"Good luck with that," said Mouse. "Mine's in Heaven with my papi. My little brother's in college; I just send him Amazon coupons so he can buy whatever the hell he wants online and have it delivered."

"Not a personal touch, but doable," said Runner. "Back it with some flowers, or a potted plant. That could work."

"Add cooking dinner," said Wraith. "Take her out on the town."

"I knew I liked you ladies for something," said Runner.

Wraith stopped rubbing her eyes and sat up. "Girl has an idea," said Mouse.

"Got a nefarious plan?" asked Runner.

Wraith grabbed her cell phone and dialed. "Major, you busy? No? Well, we've got some bad guys who want us to hijack an imaginary delivery of military weapons, including rocket launchers, two of them. Trying to take down El Tigre. Yes. Yes. No. I think so. Between the holidays is too dangerous, too many people on the road. Yeah, I know that road. Three am? Doable. Yes, that'll work. Just make sure the RFID tags don't sing until we trigger them. Yes, I know, but El Tigre is nasty work. Yes, ATF will supply the rest of the weapons, DEA the drugs. Hell, yeah, you can drive the truck. Want me to shoot you? Got some spliffs? Okay, we're set. I'll have Mouse record on her cell. Three women. Gotta shoot you all to make it look good. Okay, thanks. Bye."

"He's in, I assume," said Runner.

"And raring to go. He wants to do this tomorrow night."

"Fuck me," said Mouse.

"No, you too skinny," said Runner. Mouse punched her in the arm.

"Practice is tomorrow morning," said Wraith. "I've got to call ATF and my boss. They already have the list."

"Let's do this," said Runner.

Wraith hit up the hospital and told Saber what was going down. "Sounds like fun," whispered Saber. "You should wait and take me with you."

"And ruin Girl's Night Out? Screw that." She kissed him, and left him to sleep.

He was out of the ICU and breathing well, but in a lot of pain, even still. Wraith didn't want to take him home until she was sure he was farther along in his healing.

They all hit the showers at Wraith's place, and crashed there. At “oh god thirty,” they went down to the remote Bellchambers Road, and practiced the fake heist. Wraith brought sodas, coffees and donuts. Everyone was laughing, completely decked out in military gear except for the three women.

Major blocked it out, step by step. From the two-truck convoy, Wraith setting caltrops to blow out the tires, the women coming up on their bikes and shooting all the drivers and support staff, and Runner getting to drive the getaway truck. The Iron Knights greatly enjoyed pretending to be active military, ribbing Major about having to wear an Air Force BDU. They went through it in slow-m0, then faster, then full speed; twice to be sure.

"You know we'd have people inside the trucks that would come out shooting, right?" asked the Major. "There's about six things wrong with this scenario."

"Drug dealers," said Wraith. "Not US military experts."

They moved to a service road just behind Nellis, and warned the military of their nefarious plan, and went for it. They used two cell cameras, and both burner phones were used by Runner and Wraith. They only needed to act it out once, the fake parts out of the cameras' fields of view. The girls acted out the assault, broke into the trucks, stole the weapons, and got away.

Wraith stopped the video, pulled over, shot pics of the booty, and sent the heist video and the pictures of the guns to Rodrigo. He sent a time for the drop-off, two hours later. They stopped off for breakfast, and drove the rental truck to the meet.

"Return the truck within twenty-four hours," said Wraith, watching as Runner hopped out of the truck.

Runner was mimicking someone on amphetamines, jumping up and down, twitching, and blinking her eyes rapidly. A Mexican man in a blue watch cap, dressed from head to toe in black leather, took the keys. Runner gave them to him, and stumbled toward Wraith.

Wraith and Mouse each had hidden cameras as Rodrigo opened boxes, counted weapons, and found the stash of drugs. He was especially careful with the ketamine. He handed over a tube, the kind you use to mail posters. Inside were rolls of money. Wraith counted stacks, and then returned them to the box. Wraith gave each woman packets of pills to sell.

Wraith dragged Runner close, by her ear. "You gotta sell these, not eat them." Runner nodded her head like a bobblehead. "You'll get one pack for yourself for free when you bring the money for these." Runner nodded again.

"We want in," said Rodrigo. "In on your contacts, your distribution network. Add it to ours."

"I'm nobody's fucking employee," said Wraith. "You want product moved, I get it moved. Give you back your investment."

"Can give you a meet with someone who can get you what you want. Hear your man 's been moved."

"Not a fucking lot they can do for him. Kind of hospice stuff. They wanna move him there. I said no. Not walking by a bunch of bitches with their hair all falling out to get to him." Wraith's eyes flared bright, making Rodrigo take a half step back.

"I can get you into see someone. Someone big. He's looking for a new woman." Rodrigo looked Wraith up and down and leered at her.

"I don't share," said Wraith.

Rodrigo laughed. "No one asked you to. But, he can help you with a pipeline you've never even dreamed up. Keys of coke. Primo hash."

"Get that legal here," she said. "Price is falling fast."

"Other stuff, too. Not that black tar, the best heroin. The absolute best."

"I got pharmaceuticals," said Wraith. "Got those skinny bitches in the clubs partying hearty. What I need coke for?"

"Them skinny bitches need more and more," said Rodrigo. "More pills, higher highs. Lower lows. They graduate to nose candy and China white in no time. Be good money coming in fast and hard. We take our cut, you charge as much as you want. Sky's the limit."

"I can do a lot. Give you some of this back, get the stuff." She took out two bricks of money. "But I wanna move up. Live big. And, I don't share."

"I've got me a man for you," said Rodrigo. "Love a feisty woman like you. The man I got in mind, he hangs around other women, does blow with them. They hang on him, but he ignores them. He'll have his eyes on only you. I swear it."

Wraith thought of El Tigre's eyes on her, and she wondered if she wanted to shower or vomit. "I'm worth fifty of those coke whores. They're replaceable. I'm not."

"Can see that," said Rodrigo.

His eyes said something entirely different. He had the eyes of a reptile. They'd pump her full of drugs, use her girls to get to her network, take it from her, then El Tigre would wrap his hands around her throat. After that, he’d have a man throw her body in a dumpster. She could see it all in those reptilian eyes.

"Sounds good," said Wraith. "All Trucks on Harmon. Get it back intact, and no one knows nothing."

"Done," said Rodrigo. "What about the China white?"

Wraith put the two bricks back in the tube. "I'm interested in the guy you want me to meet. I'll hand it over, then I’ll discuss distribution."

"One. To be sure you're serious." Wraith sighed and handed Rodrigo a brick. "Be seeing you soon, chica," said Rodrigo.

"Very soon," said Wraith. "Mama wants to start the new year off right." She turned. "Let's go, amigas. We got to par-tay!"

They moved out and took the video into the office. They typed up the reports, and each woman stumbled off to bed. Wraith went to the hospital, and a cot, the others to their homes.

* * *

The New Year bash started early, with what was called a Day of Contemplation. The alphabet-agency and military Valkyries had their phones with them as they chanted, danced, and sang before sitting down with notebooks to write their pain and suffering from the old year. They also made clear their hopes for the new year. They burned their pain papers in the fire, and several relationships were ended that night as Valkyries decided who and what to bring with them in the coming year. The Wolfpack and the various visiting tribes had a similar process, with a sweat followed by singing, dancing, and welcoming the new dawn. They blazed a new trail through Henry's land, to symbolize the opening of new possibilities. The Old Ones left, and they sat around the fire.

"It's been a terrible fucking year," said Ace. "Shot, lost the baby, the kids attacked, a cop shot Saber."

"Good thing he's off the police force," said Helaku, waving his right wrist in its blue cast. "And the guys who jumped Ruby and I are gonna see prison time."

"They had to plead. Their story made no sense," said Ivy, relaxing under a pile of blankets, the babies asleep in her arms under baby blankets. "Hear they're charged with a hate crime."

"They will do serious time," said Henry. "Let this be an example to show that hate has no purpose but to harm the one doing the hating."

"I don't hate those guys," said Ruby. "Five years in a federal prison is no joke. They're violent offenders, so no white-collar prison for them."

"I'm not happy about it," said Nantan, under a blanket with Chayton. "But, I accept it as what happened. We must all move forward."

"Is the universe attacking us?" asked Inola. "I mean, what the fuck? Hospitals, shootings, all sorts of crazy stuff. The only good that came out of all of that is the babies."

"Yeah," said Bella. "Lots of them." She took a drink of her cola. "I saw a sperm donor." There were several loud indrawn breaths. "For next year, maybe the year after that, for me."

Nantan looked at Chayton. Chayton nodded. "I will donate. Then, the child will be Apache as well." Bella and Inola stared at Nantan, jaws open.

Lily laughed. "I donated an egg and Ace donated sperm, and now we're getting one from Katya a few months before the other one. We're going to have a little trouble explaining twins two months apart."

"It will be good to have multiple First Nation people in this house," said Henry.

David nodded. "We realize we will give up sleep for many moons, but it is good."

Ace laughed. "We sleep in on Sundays, knowing that will be a thing of the past soon."

"Sunday mornings with the paper," said Gregory. "The distant past. Now, I read my news on the computer in between checking emails while changing diapers. I've been spit-up, peed, and pooped on more times than I can remember. My dry cleaner can send her own kids to college with the money I've paid her."

"Yeah," said Inola. "How do they get it all into their tiny bodies?"

Ivy laughed. "I have no idea."

Callie nodded. "Try teaching them. Sneezing and coughing on you. I make the sick ones wear a mask. Cut down on everyone getting sick."

"And I thank you," said Tito. "My youngest has stopped making the rest of us sick. Even wears the mask home in the house."

"How the fuck did we go from Hell Year to Heaven Year?" asked Ace.

"New life," said Henry. "Turns all hell into heaven."

"No sneering at what we've been through," said Inola. "It was terrible for all of us." She reached over and squeezed Henry's hand. He squeezed back. "But, Nighthawks are strong."

"We are," said Henry.

"Fuckin' A," said Ace. "I just wonder, will it ever stop coming?"

"Doubt it," said Tito. "We wear skulls on our jackets. It stands for death and life, to seize the day. What we've accomplished is to raise our profile. Being shot at isn't a good way, but it happened. We're targets. Most people misunderstand us, like this idiot that shot Saber. People who react with fear, seldom react sanely."

"We sure got the death/life thing right," said Gregory. He glanced through the patio doors at his wife. Katya was inside, asleep; the babies in portable cribs. "We keep toward the light."

"I miss my brother," said Lily. "I wish he were here to see these babies, become the uncle I feel he could have been." Ace held her close, kissed the top of her head.

"Saber should be here, telling stories," said Gregory. "The man can tell stories. And, he's helped us so much this year."

"The man literally took a bullet for me," said Ace. "I would not be sitting here, awaiting the births of my children, without him." He took a drink of his hot cider. "How the fuck do I repay him?"

"Pay it forward," said Gregory, putting a marshmallow on a stick to roast it.

"Yeah," said Inola. "What charities does Saber like?"

"He's putting two kids through school in Thailand," said Bella. Everyone swiveled their heads to look at her. "I wanted to donate on Kiva, the website where you donate twenty-five dollars, and everyone pools their money to make loans. I'm sending a Cambodian kid to college. Anyway, there's some sort of Thai agency that kind of does the same thing. Keeps poor kids in school. He donates to that. Have no idea what the name is."

"Save the Children is kind of close," said Ivy. "Kiva is great. Or donate for refugees. Stuff like that. He'd love that."

"He works a dangerous job," said Gregory. "He loves what he does. He was wearing a vest, which is why he is alive, and why he walked in front of you." He finished cooking his marshmallow and blew on it to cool it. "He is a professional, and he was literally trained to do that."

Ace snorted. "I'm not the president."

"Well, you are that important to me," said Lily. They kissed, a hot one that it went on and on.

Several people threw marshmallows at them. Gregory ate his. "Get a room," he said.

"I think we will," said Ace. He stood, handed out the blankets, and took Lily inside.

"We won't see them again for three days," said Gregory.

"Way to clear a room," said Ivy.

"Let them go," said Bella. "They won't have time later."

Ivy snorted. "We do."

Inola snorted. "That's because your kids are the cutest fucking babies on the planet, and Bao is a built-in babysitter."

"And because I am a champion scheduler," said Callie.

"So that's how you do it," said Gregory thoughtfully. "Well, fuck! Gotta get me a calendar."

"Your cell phone has one," said Bella. "Try working swing when your wife is feeding horses at five am. Either you schedule, or you don't get some."

Henry put his fingers in his ears. "La la la," he said. "Not what I wanted to hear."

David laughed and pulled out his cell phone. "Saturday night?" he said. Everyone laughed as Henry turned a bright shade of pink.

"Stupidity comes in many forms. When it comes in the form of those supposed to protect us, watch out."