Chicks Kick Butt

before I said, “You’re okay. Olivia’s okay.”

“Hey.” Adam caught me by my waist and I winced when he pressed one of his thumbs into my abdomen, right where the bullet had gone in. “Feeling better this morning?”

“What?” I looked up at him, confused. Adam didn’t know what had happened. Couldn’t have.

“Last night you said you weren’t feeling well so you didn’t want me to come over,” he said. “We were going to watch Body Double before you went tracking.”

I laughed even though it hurt my belly.

An eraser pinged off my backside and I looked at Olivia, who’d loaded another one. “Start talking, Nyx.”

I told them both most of what had happened last night. No matter that they were two of the people I cared most about here or in Otherworld, I was sworn to secrecy about the Paranorm Center— humans were never to know about it.

“Why didn’t you call us?” Olivia asked when I finished massaging my story to the part about getting shot. She put her hand on her own handgun. “I don’t like it when you leave me out of things, and you know it.”

“That’s right, Nyx.” Adam’s voice was calmer than Olivia’s, but it held disapproval, too.

“It all happened so fast that I didn’t have time to call you,” I said, looking from Olivia to Adam. “That’s the truth.” More or less.

Another eraser pinged off of me, this time off the back of my head.

“No wonder you were worried something happened to me and Olivia.” Adam took me by my arms and ran his hands up and down them, causing a pleasant shiver to skim my body. “What happened to the real council members?”

“Two other Trackers—Ice and Joshua—located them,” I said as I rubbed my scalp. “Wiped out the Metamorphs who’d kidnapped the council members, and saved the hostages.”

“Thank God everything worked out all right.” Adam brought me into his arms and hugged me. I winced again. I hadn’t told them the part about getting shot.

“I know my job.” I wrapped my arms around Adam’s waist. “But thank you both for caring.”

I knew another eraser was headed my way and I turned my head just enough to see it and catch it. She gave me one of her looks.

Adam cupped my face in his hands and brushed his lips across mine. “I think that what Olivia’s telling you is that it goes without saying that we care about you.”

A happy sigh filled me, and I breathed him in as I rested my head against his chest before rising up to kiss him.

“Give it a rest and get to work,” Olivia said, and I turned to watch her shove another file on top of the ones teetering on her desk. “We got a call first thing. Something about a Succubus. I stuck a note on your desk. Check it out with Rodán.”

“Succubus…” I kissed Adam one more time, then headed toward my desk, which was covered in pink sticky notes. “Now this ought to be interesting.”

A ROSE BY ANY OTHER NAME WOULD STILL BE RED Elizabeth A. Vaughan

Red gave a quick tug at her black leather gloves before she pounded on the ironbound wooden door. Her breath hung heavy in the cool, misty night.

Muffled voices came from within the guardhouse. She puffed out a breath impatiently, adjusting her black cloak to cover her armor.

“Try talking first.” The High Baron had said. “Use your blade only if words fail.”

A slot opened at eye level on the wooden door. “The slave market’s closed,” came a growl. “Come back at first light.”

“Message from Swift’s Port,” Red said softly. That made the damn slaver pause, as she’d known it would.

The one eye she could see squinted at her. “Who be you?”

“What does that matter?” Red snapped. “Since I’ve never been here, and I’ve orders to deliver it direct? Open the damn door, I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

The eye blinked, and then the slot closed. There were more muffled noises, talk mostly. Three of them, from the sound of it.

Good. She could handle three well enough.

A rattle, then the door opened just wide enough for her to slip inside the hot, stuffy room.

The place was dark, lit only by flickering oil lamps and the fire in the hearth. A table, a few chairs. Red wrinkled her nose at the smell. Sweat, smoke, and underlying it all, the acrid scent that went with selling slaves.

There was a rope dangling from the ceiling in the corner behind the door. The warning bell, no doubt.

“Master ain’t gonna like it, being disturbed this late,” the man muttered as he secured the door behind her. His armor was open in front, as if he’d just shrugged into it for the watch. He was between her and the rope.

“Did the royal messenger come through before me?” Red demanded.

“Oh, aye.” One of the men seated behind her chuckled. He was in leathers, a tankard in one hand, gathering up dice with the other. “Bearing a royal decree from Queen Gloriana about ending slavery.” He rattled the dice in his hand. “Tried telling us that the High Baron of Athelbryght had returned, too. The Master gave him short shrift. He’s naked, whipped, and thrown in with the worst of them.”

“He’ll not be so pretty come market day, if he lives through the night.” The one against the fire laughed. He was also still in leathers, but with no weapon at hand. “Not with those monsters.”

Well, that made her task that much easier, now didn’t it? Red smiled, throwing her cloak back, clearing her leathers and weapons. “Your Master should have listened.”

“How so?” asked the first one.

“Because,” Red said, drawing one of her daggers, “I’m enforcing the Queen’s command.”

It was laughable, watching the muckers react to her blades. Damn fools, for letting her through the door in the first place.

The doorman went for the rope, but Red grabbed his collar as the others scrambled for their weapons. “Give them a chance to comply, Red.” The High Baron had said.

She’d give them as much chance as they’d given their “wares.”

Red jerked the doorman back and thrust her dagger deep into his thigh. He collapsed with a cry, and she spun to deal with the other two.

The one by the fire was quick, reaching for a sword. The dicer was still rising from his chair. She shoved the table hard with her free hand, sending him sprawling.

The faster one came at her, snarling. Not calling for help, the fool was intent on taking her on his own. She dodged, and scored his cheek with her dagger as he moved past. He cursed, starting to turn as he reached for his face. She rammed the short blade into his lower back, punching through the leather armor.

He dropped like a rock.

The dicer was on hands and knees, scrambling for the door. Red flipped the table aside. The dice went flying across the floor as she took two steps and drove the toe of her boot up between his ass cheeks.

He collapsed with a high-pitched squeal, grabbing for his “injuries,” so to speak.

Red stood still and held her breath. There was no alarm.

“Damn you.” The one by the door had his hands clasped around his thigh, trying to stop the bleeding. He glanced up, but the rope was well out of reach.

Red knelt before him, her dagger pointed at his throat. “How many guards?”

He stared at her, and licked his lips. “Eight, counting us.”

“Near as I can figure, lady, there’s about fifteen regulars.” The innkeeper had said.