“They all love Anvil beer, too.” Val grinned. “You look exhausted, Blair.”

He grimaced. “Drove all over the city today, delivering last-minute kegs when bars ran out. Apparently, your patrons aren’t the only ones who love our beer.”

“Who can blame them?” Yuka hopped down from her seat with surprising agility, considering she was several inches shorter than Blair. She slammed the passenger door. Her emerald-green hair was almost hidden under a baseball cap.

“I don’t.” Val grinned. “Thanks, guys. I know it’s late.”

“Anything to keep our customers’ customers happy.” Blair winked. “Let’s unload this lot.”

He opened the back of the truck, and Val grabbed a keg in each hand and stomped into the bar with it. The two dwarves followed, each balancing a keg on their shoulders.

“Love the truck, by the way.” Val set the keg down behind the bar.

Yuka waved at Enzo, who was too busy taking orders to the bar to notice. “It’s great.”

“Anvil must be doing well,” Val observed as they went outside.

Blair beamed. “We are, and we largely owe that to the Iron Fist. Since the Anvil Brewery evening you hosted, orders are streaming in from Avalon and Earth alike.”

“I reckon our guest the other night had something to do with that.” Val hoisted two more kegs.

“I can’t believe the queen drank our beer.” Yuka had stars in her eyes. “The queen!”

“I didn’t think she was a beer girl,” Val confessed.

Blair chuckled. “I don’t think anyone did, but I disagree with Yuka.”

“This again.” Yuka rolled her eyes.

“No one saw the queen there except us, and we didn’t post about it on Parabook.” Blair folded his arms. “Nadia Stewart was the one who popularized our beer.”

“Her endorsement didn’t hurt, but I’m telling you, the queen did something,” Yuka insisted, hauling a keg onto her shoulder. “She’s amazing like that.”

“She saved the world, Yuka. I don’t think her marketing skills were required,” Blair grumbled.

Yuka glared at him as they returned to the bar, so Val decided it was time for a change of subject. “What’s under that new truck’s hood? I heard diesel when you drove in, but that won’t run in Avalon.”

“Oh, it’s a hybrid like Genevieve. It’s got a magic battery in it, too,” Blair told her. “Cost a fortune.”

“Yeah, well, at least it was a fortune we planned for,” Yuka grumbled, letting the keg thump to the ground. “Unlike the tires.”

“Tires?” Val asked. “You guys got a flat?”

Blair grimaced. “Not...exactly. Yuka, we don’t need to bother Val with this.”

They strolled outside, unhurried now. They’d unloaded all the beer. Val knew she should get back to the bar, but the set of Yuka’s shoulders worried her. “Val isn’t bothered. What happened?”

“It was nothing.” Blair shook his head.

Yuka’s shoulders stiffened. “I don’t think it was nothing.”

Blair’s expression softened at the hitch in her tone, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I know it was scary, my jewel, but nothing’s going to happen to us.”

Val folded her arms. “What happened?”

Yuka bit her lip and looked away. Blair’s arm tightened around her shoulders. “We came out of a bar in Queens after a meeting with the owners and found all four tires slashed.”

Val stiffened. “Slashed?”

“With something sharp. There were big gashes in the sidewalls.” Yuka shivered, her eyes glassy. “Someone did it on purpose.”

“It was a dodgy neighborhood. Probably a junkie with a boxcutter chasing delusions.” Blair kissed Yuka’s forehead. “It’s okay, jewel. We’re okay.”

Val wasn’t as sure. “Do you guys have any enemies? Anyone who would want to hurt you?”

“Yes,” Yuka muttered.

“No. We have business competitors, not enemies.” Blair shook his head. “I’m telling you, Val, it was a one-off crime. For Merlin’s sake, maybe someone doesn’t like short people! People are screwed up. I don’t think we were targeted then, and I don’t think we’ll be targeted again.”

“I hope not.” Yuka wiped her eyes.

“I’ll keep us safe. I promise.” Blair gave her another squeeze.

Val shrugged. “Look, I don’t want to alarm you, but if you see or need anything, you know where to find me. I’m only a phone call away.”

“Thanks, Val.” Blair smiled. “We’ll call if we need you, but I’m sure we’re fine.”

“Thanks, Val,” Yuka mumbled. Her shoulders loosened. “Let’s go home.”

“Let’s do that. Takeout first, though,” Blair suggested. “KFC.”

Yuka’s smile returned. “That sounds good.”

They returned to their truck, and Val watched them drive away, biting her lip as the diesel engine rumbled into the dark.

Val’s feet ached as she stepped out of the 1971 Mach 1 Mustang in the familiar quiet of the garage behind her house.

“What a night, Genevieve.” She stretched, rolling onto the balls of her tired feet.

Genevieve honked in agreement, then revved her engine.

“Maybe we’ll have time for a drive tomorrow.” Val patted the gleaming pewter roof.

She let herself into the living room and kicked off her hobnailed boots. The deep carpet soothed her tired feet as she strolled into the kitchen and pawed through the fridge, looking for something quick and easy for dinner. The numbers on the microwave read 01:24, and Val was more than ready for bed.

She grabbed leftover pasta from the fridge, shoved it into the microwave, and flopped into a chair at the kitchen table. With one foot on her knee, she massaged her tired muscles. Her eyelids drooped.