“I meant that order,” Val added. “She’s priceless. Don’t hurt her.” She patted the dash.
“She’s a car!” Tetra roared.
Genevieve opened her door and tilted her seat to unceremoniously dump Tetra out on the sidewalk.
“Hey!” Tetra yelled.
Val got out. “Here are two more orders while we’re at it. You will not hurt anyone except to defend yourself or someone else. You will not reveal your magic or the paranormal world. Got it?”
“How could I not get it?” Tetra got up.
Val almost yelled at her to lose the attitude but stopped herself in time. “Let’s go.”
They stormed into the bar, which was empty except for Jeff and Enzo. The former polished glasses behind the bar. Enzo rolled in a fresh keg of Gold Pilsner from the storeroom.
“Evening, ladies.” The orc straightened and grinned, displaying tusks. “Ready for your first shift, Tetra?”
Arms crossed, the faerie did not respond.
“Don’t worry. I’ll help you and show you the ropes,” Enzo promised. “Jeff, this is our new barmaid, Tetra. Jeff’s our bouncer.”
Jeff offered his usual easy smile and held out a hand. “Great to meet you.”
“Fight me,” Tetra snapped.
Jeff lowered his hand and retreated a step. “Ah.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t think you’ll need my protection from difficult patrons.”
“Tetra—” Val began.
Enzo wrapped an arm around the faerie’s shoulders. To Val’s surprise, Tetra didn’t protest.
“Don’t worry, girl. Let me show you around.” He led her toward the back of the bar.
“Good luck,” Val muttered to Jeff.
The bouncer gave her a terrified look, and Val left them to it. She strode to the tiny office, squeezed into Enzo’s desk chair, and opened his ancient PC to check the bar’s books. She and Enzo had been so busy serving drinks over the past few weeks that their admin tasks had fallen by the wayside.
As Val worked, the sounds of patrons entering the bar filtered through the closed door. She stayed vigilant, eyes on the spreadsheets and ears open to explosions, screaming, gunfire, or other signs that Tetra was causing shit, but the only sounds were those of revelry. Music pumped, conversation flowed, and the Iron Fist filled with customers.
She paused for a bathroom break and peered into the bar. It was pleasantly full, with patrons leaning on the bar and laughing in the booths. Tetra shuffled to the bar with a tray of drinks and dispensed them in stony silence. Enzo gave her an encouraging smile, and her shoulders relaxed.
Enzo, the faerie whisperer, Val mused. Works for me.
She returned to the desk and plowed through another endless spreadsheet of scrolling figures, wrestling with invoices and sales tax. Her eyesight blurred. Was this a typo, or had they spent a thousand dollars on paper napkins?
Tires screeched outside. Someone screamed, and a splintering crash ripped through the cheerful sounds from the bar.
Val was out of the office and rushing to the door before she could think. Patrons milled to the door, their voices loud and high-pitched in panic; she shoved them out of the way. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Tetra stepping out from behind the bar.
“Stay here!” she barked.
There was no time for guilt as the faerie froze in her tracks. Val pushed the door open and strode onto the sidewalk with a crowd of customers spilling behind her. She froze for a second as gasps and cries rose from the group.
“Shit,” she whispered. “Yuka.”
The fancy new Anvil Brewery truck stood in its parking spot, back doors open, driver’s window shattered. Yuka slumped in the front seat. A trickle of blood ran from beneath her baseball cap and down the side of her face.
“No!” Blair screamed from the loading door. “Yuka!”
“They’re getting away!” Enzo barked at Val’s elbow.
A silver sedan roared down the street away from the bar. It drifted around the corner, tires skidding, and sped along the far side of the plaza.
“Get Yuka!” Val shouted. “I’m going after them.”
Genevieve started her engine as Val ran toward her. If the humans in the crowd noticed, no one commented. Her driver’s door banged open, and Val’s ass had barely hit the seat before Genevieve took off.
Acceleration pinned her to the seat. She fumbled for the seat belt as the steering wheel turned itself, sending Genevieve into a long skid, smoke rising from her tires. The Mustang steadied, and her gas pedal jumped out from under Val’s foot. Her engine roared as she sped down the plaza.
“There it goes!” Val yelled, grabbing the wheel. The silver sedan raced onto Williamsburg Bridge Road.
Genevieve snarled an affirmative and jerked the wheel from Val’s hands as she skidded after them. She gained several yards as the sedan darted through traffic, horns blaring all around, and charged west toward Manhattan.
“Oh no, you don’t!” Val yelled. “Punch it, Gennie!”
Genevieve thundered with a strength far beyond that of the V8 Cobrajet under her hood. Her engine snarled, then screamed, then whistled with speed. The road zipped past. Taillights flared in Val’s vision, and Genevieve darted left, then right, missing a red hatchback by mere inches.
Val left the driving to Genevieve and strained her vision beneath the streetlights, seeking the silver sedan.
