“Stay out of my way, human!” it hisses.

I want to drop out of freeze-frame and kick this monster’s ass all the way to dead. I haven’t seen her since the night Mac saved me from her, and forced her to give me back my good looks. I almost died that night, too. I almost die a lot. Superheroes do.

“You stay out of mine, you ugly old bitch!” I hiss back at the Gray Woman.

Then she’s gone on her way and me on mine. She’s off to hunt and kill and I’ve got an itch I can’t scratch. My hand closes on nothing at my waist.

I need my sword like I need to breathe.

I detour into a sporting goods store, jam shoes on my feet, grab an oversized fleece pullover to pull on over my sweater because its fecking cold for May, and dash off again, heading for my best shot at success. Trying to take on Jayne and his men with Christian trying to kill me is a weak shot. I don’t have any idea where he’s taken my sword. There are times, like Ryodan said, when Batman needs Robin. Well, I don’t need Ryodan, but he sure will make it easier. He can watch my back like Mac used to. I’ve got no time for pride. I want results and I know how to get them. He’s always telling me to ask. Tonight I’m asking.

I feel naked without my sword.

I feel exposed. It’s throwing me all kinds of off balance like I don’t even know who I am anymore without it.

When I blast into Ryodan’s office, I’m going a million miles a minute, feet and mouth. Every one of his dudes scowls at me on the way in, even Lor, and I have no idea why. Guess Ryodan told them to be pissy to me or something. You never know what’s coming next with him.

I blurt out what happened with the frozen car and Jayne and tell him how we have to go get my sword back like right now, like this very instant.

“Drop down, kid,” he says without raising his head from his stupid paperwork. “You’re messing up my office.” Papers are flying around his head.

I drop down from hypermode and he looks up. He’s looking at me weird. Takes me a sec to figure it out. It’s like he’s looking at a stranger. One he doesn’t like and is thinking about killing. Why the feck is he mad at me?

“You reek of Highlander. The whole club can smell him on you. You’re wearing his clothes.”

I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk so soft. “Dude, who cares? Didn’t you hear anything I said? Inspector Jayne took my sword!”

“Explain why you’re wearing his clothes.”

Softer still. If I wasn’t so hot with temper I’d get a chill. I don’t understand him. What does what I’m wearing have to do with anything that’s actually, like, relevant? How could it possibly matter? I don’t even understand why it registers! But I can tell by the look on his face he’s not budging until I explain, and if I don’t get my sword back soon, I’m going to go crazy. I also know if I tell him Christian killed some woman and I was next, he won’t pay any attention to the problem of my sword, he’ll go after Christian, when I need him to go after Jayne. I’m not sure he can take Christian. Not with what he’s turning into. But with my sword, I know I can.

“The explosion cut up my clothes. He gave me some of his.”

“You were together at the explosion.”

“He found me after.”

“And you changed in the street.”

“Huh?” Stymied is me. This isn’t where I expect the conversation to go at all.

“Elucidate upon where you changed.”

“What the feck does that have to do with anything?”

“Answer me.”

“I ducked into a convenience store. That’s why they call them that. So they can be, like, convenient.”

His gaze shivers up and down me. “If ice splinters tore up your clothes so badly that you needed to change, I’d think your injuries would be greater.”

I gape at him, baffled. Somebody took my sword and he wants to talk about what I’m wearing and where I got dressed, and that he doesn’t think I look hurt bad enough!

“He healed me. I was bleeding a lot. Holy hurrying hurricane, how’d you get next to me so fast?” Ryodan isn’t behind his desk anymore. He’s standing practically on my toes. I didn’t even see him move. Or feel a breeze or anything! “Give me some personal space!”

He drops his head forward and smells me. “Healed you how?”

What is the deal with everyone sniffing me? If Dancer starts doing it, too, I’m so out of here. “I drank his blood. Got a problem with that?”

“Three.”

“Huh?”

“I have three problems with that.”

“That was a rhetorical question. Maybe you can’t hear me talking or something so I’ll say it again: Jayne has my fecking sword. I’m in deep shit without it and need it back. You going to do something or not?”

Just like that he’s back behind his desk, head bent over his paperwork, all but ignoring me. “No.”

I’m incredulous. “What? Why? You know I’ll go after it myself! Is that what you want?”

“Jayne stopped by a few hours ago.”

“That took a fecking lot of nerve! He left me for dead. In the middle of a street. Wouldn’t even give me a fecking candy bar. Did he tell you how bad off I was? Why didn’t you come help me?”

“You look fine to me.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“He told me why he took the sword, and agreed not to kill any Fae within five blocks of my club. That’s more than you do.”

“Why would he agree to that? Jayne hates all the Fae!”

“He knew you’d come to me and ask me to help you get it back.”

“And you’re on his side?” How dare Jayne predict my moves and avert them while I’m busy dying and then being chased by a homicidal maniac! All of which was his fault to begin with!

“Truth is, kid, I prefer you without it.”

“Why?”

“You can’t kill my patrons. And now maybe you’ll start exercising caution. Or at least learn how to spell it.”

I glare at his bent head. “I’m asking for your help here, boss. You keep telling me to, and I’m asking.”

“I also said how you treat me is how I’ll treat you.”

“What am I doing wrong?”