by Bella Knight
Judge Jannie came back up, tears streaming down her face. "Sondra won't put them down," she said. "We've both taken our maternity leaves, and the baby nurse is coming home with us to teach us how to handle three." She laughed. "Two, five-pound girls, and the boy is just a hair under. They say he's small, but fine. One hell of a set of lungs on him, too. And a shock of brown hair like Sondra's." She smiled through her tears. "The girls look like me, and the boy like her, God help 'em."
"Good," said Ghost. "We good?"
"We're good," Judge Jannie said. She held out an envelope, and Ghost took it. Inside were printed online tickets, and hotel reservations. "There's this hotel in the Dominican Republic," she said. "With this pool that is right outside the door to your room, running like a river through it. Gorgeous grounds. Palm trees, warm sand. An all-inclusive resort, you have everything paid for, even two massages each."
"This is moah den we agreed on," said Killa, eyes huge.
Judge Jannie laughed. "I've been putting away money for a long time before I met my wife, and I make awesome money as a judge. We went to the same hotel for our babymoon, just last week." She barked out a laugh. "Super-glad we did. Figured we wouldn't be sleeping when the babies came, and triplets are usually early. Anyway, we loved every minute." She held out an arm with a golden tan. "Loved the sun. Anyway, we were so over the moon about triplets, we made the tickets open for your flights. Hotel stay too, it's an off season. Go when you're ready, and remember you are amazing, ladies."
"Thank ya," said Ghost. "We'll have us some fun and some rum."
"Mojitos," said Killa, stroking her own belly. "This little guy's gonna pop out, and we be on a plane, lover." She smiled at the judge. "Thank ya, judge, ya done right by us."
"Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts," Jannie the new mother said. She stepped back, and closed the door behind her.
Judge Jannie was happy to have a life besides the criminals and fraudsters she dealt with every day. This was her good karma, that’s how she felt about her luck, anyway. It was pure and loving. That was what she and Sondra had craved for; for a very long time. They were full now. Of love and light.
“Vengeance is a dish best served ice cold... and don’t get caught.”
3
New Life
"New life brings joy, peace, love, and sometimes heartache.”
Ajai put the tray of clam chowder, artisan bread with cheese, olives, butter, and hot chocolate down on the bed next to Ghost. "Girl," said Ghost, "you be gettin' your own life. You part of da Valkyries, ain't you? Ain't you got somewhere else to be?"
"I ate myself. Why shouldn't I heat up yours at the same time I heat up mine? And, I got two orders to complete and send out by the end of the day. I may as well study here while the paint is drying." Ajai made sure there was a napkin on the tray.
"Screw that," said Ghost. "You been doin' de floors, ain't you? And no reason why de bathrooms clean, 'cept you."
Ajai shrugged. "Can't work in a dirty environment, can't I?"
"An dem dogs come home, dere tails waggin,' laughin' dere doggy smiles. You been walkin' 'em, huh?"
"Twice a day," said Ajai. "Have to. Otherwise they're kissing me half to death while I'm trying to work."
Ghost sat up, pulled the tray on her lap, and picked up her spoon. "Girl, you be chargin' me fo' dis time. And I ain't hear nothin' more 'bout it. Keep track o' da hours, an' we pay you."
"Yes, Ghost," said Ajai.
"An' you get some 'o dem udder girls ta help ya," she said. She bit into the bread, and nearly moaned. "And be sure da Wolfpack bein' paid," she said.
"Do you want to hire me as your accountant?" asked Ajai.
Ghost thought a minute. "Never needed one 'o dem before. Always hand ta mouth. Now we livin' large. Nah, call Lily. Ask if she do ours. Save us from paying some damn fool’s bill late."
"On it," said Ajai. Ajai texted Lily, after leaving the bedroom. “Care for a new client?”
“Maybe. Is it personal or business?”
“Kind of both. Ghost and Killa,” Ajai replied.
“I'll make time,” replied Lily. “And a damn good idea. They actually run several businesses now. I'll be by to set up their online accounts and investments in a day or two.”
“No rush,” texted Ajai. Ghost is still in bed and Killa hasn't popped yet.
“I haven't either,” texted Lily. “Still got some time to go. Spring baby.”
“See ya soon,” texted Ajai.
Lily came by, set up electronic banking, got all the bills on automatic pay, and was shocked to find out how much money Ghost was making... and just depositing, doing nothing with it. She got some investments going on; Killa and Ghost were willing to have both the standard portfolio of stocks, bonds, certificates of deposit, and a money market account for ready cash, and to fund some of Tito's real estate projects in exchange for charging interest on the money. All to be paid back when each project was fully paid for, or sold in the case of the houses being flipped. Tito was delighted to have plenty of winter projects to keep both his regular crew and a rotating crowd of Wolfpack members busy. He was thrilled that he could buy more real estate for rock-bottom prices to restore and sell.
Ajai worked with Lily to organize the miniature factory room; installing shelves, baskets, and several wider tables, so multiple projects could be done simultaneously. They hooked the laptop up to a monitor to project the latest orders, and set up a spreadsheet tracking orders coming in, finishing, and shipping, and another to track the materials on hand.
Ghost was amazed. "Be lookin' like some sci-fi movie, all da stuff ready to go, and labeled," she said.
"Got to have your tools at hand," Ajai said. "Henry says it all the time, and so do Inola and Nantan."
"Alrighty then," said Ghost. What you workin' on?"
Ajai showed her the projects on the screen, and how they went from bench to bench. From pours, to painting, to boxing, and to shipping with labels from the printer.
Ghost teared up. "Ain't no one worked that hard for just me before, 'cept Killa, an' she my wifey," she said. She hugged Ajai. That seemed to help Ghost relax somehow; her depression eased.
Ghost got used to having Ajai in the house all the time. Ajai learned everything Ghost had to teach, including how to feel her way into a great Harley. She heated the soups and artisan breads the Wolfpacks and Goat Girls made, and made sure Ghost ate. Ghost was exhausted and sore and slept nearly all the time, waking to watch television and to eat ice cream.
Ajai kept up with the orders, with Willow and Ruby ready and willing to help. Other Wolfpack members cleaned the judge's house, so Ajai was able to tell Ghost that the babies were fat, happy, and pooping and peeing, even when their diapers were being changed. Ghost smiled momentarily, and went back to sleep.
Ajai did her coursework, cleaned Ghost and Killa's condo, walked their dogs that spent all the rest of their time kissing Ghost in bed. She put in time with Killa and Bonnie at the Nighthawks garage, and occasionally cleaned houses when one of the other Wolfpack members needed a break. She made plenty of money to pay for school, and her part of the rent, and was shocked to find herself actually building a savings account.
Ghost finally worked her way out of her depression and exhaustion, and went back to miniatures, if not the shop. Bonnie came over for dinner twice a week, bringing hamburgers, pizza, or fried chicken. Killa was gentle with Ghost, and became, as she put it, "as wide as a barn door." Killa gave birth two weeks earlier than her due date, to a huge nine-pound baby girl. The parents were over the moon, and they got new luggage and a coupon for free clothes at a gorgeous little boutique off Harmon. They bought swimsuits and pareos, after Killa spent her own two weeks in bed. Ajai came around more, keeping both women fed. She gave them chocolate to ward off the depression, and organized their closets. That made Killa very happy.
"No more tings be fallin' on ma head," she said, rubbing her now-empty womb.
Killa recovered one morning, hopped out of b
ed, grabbed her laptop, and looked up flights. Ajai moved in, to take care of the dogs and run the miniatures business, and off they went.
In Pahrump, Skuld and Rota were up visiting Herja, because Skuld had to do police training. Sheriff Xenia Poloulakis, both Valkyries, took great pleasure in throwing each other all over the room, demonstrating techniques. Both Sheriff Bob Hunter and Xenia enjoyed rotating their people through the training. There were a lot of bruises and some cursing, but they all learned how to take a suspect down with as little violence as possible, only taking out a gun when absolutely necessary.
After the last class, they went to the local coffee shop to nurse their bruises and commiserate. They ordered apple pie with caramel on top for Xenia, and apple pie with cinnamon ice cream for Bob.
"What's eating you?" asked Xenia, resigned to her decaffeinated coffee. At least it's hot, she thought.
"Wish Avery could have had this training," he said. "Might have gotten through his thick head."
"Might have," said Xenia. "Did you teach him anything different than what Skuld did?"
"Not a thing," he said, sipping his coffee, nearly scalding his mouth on the heat.
"Your former deputy dressed up like he was going on military ops when he went to arrest a woman for unpaid parking tickets, and shot the family dog without provocation," said Xenia. "And, just for fun, drew on a civilian in a crowded hospital," she added. "And, he lost a civil case against you in court. Think that ship has sailed."
She took sip of her coffee, and Francine, the server and part owner of the coffee shop, filled up her cup. Francine was as old as dirt, with fire-red hair, green eyes, a curvaceous body, and a smart mouth.
"Thanks, Francine," she said.
"Couldn't help overhearing," said Francine, putting away the coffeepots and handing them the two plates of pie goodness.
"You could overhear if we were down the street at the flower shop," said Bob. "Bat ears."
Francine laughed. "True. Now Bob, don't take this the wrong way, but you sittin' here givin' yourself fits when I saw you, right here, in this booth, going over the law with that boy, telling him about procedures, many a time."
Xenia stared at her husband. "Been trying to tell him that, Francine," she said. "Bet Bob here read Avery the riot act, many a time."
Francine nodded like a bobblehead. "Yes, he gave him what for lots of times. Told Baby Avery to straighten up and fly right, but that boy had his ears closed. Cement in his head, I think."
Xenia had stopped listening, and had closed her eyes. The pie actually made her want to swoon, whatever swooning was.
"My god," said Bob. "My woman's having a foodgasm."
Francine laughed so loud that people in China could hear her, let alone everyone in the diner. "Be glad she's craving apple pie with cheddar, Bob. Don't want to go mixing gummy worms and blueberry yogurt, or other such stuff."
Bob cringed. "She gets like that, I'm moving out." He'd finally moved in with his wife; he had a bear of a time getting rid of the sheer amount of stuff he'd had no idea he'd accumulated over the years.
Their forks clattered to the plates as the first shots rang out. "Get down! Under the tables!" bellowed Bob, as Xenia grabbed Francine's arm, dragged her down with one hand, and unholstered her gun with the other.
She got up into a crouch and dragged Francine under the table. Just as she began to peer around the corner, she saw the people at the counter start to fall, cut in half by short bursts of machine gun fire.
Baby Avery, she thought. They'd been able to take away his service weapon, but he legally kept the rest of his arsenal. Bob was yelling into his shoulder mic as Xenia took aim at the metal she could see past the shattered remains of the plate glass window. She pulled the trigger, twice. A bullet pinged off the gun, and a second hit Baby Avery in the shoulder. People ran, screaming and crying, out the back. Xenia aimed again, and fired off two more shots.
She held her fire when something in blue streaked down the street toward Baby Avery, leaping past and over people running away. Skuld, thought Xenia, and she reached over to hold Bob's gun hand as he prepared to fire. The blue thing sent Baby Avery sprawling. Skuld's got this, thought Xenia, as she holstered her weapon and knelt to start giving first aid to the victims.
Bob saw the blue thing, and registered that Skuld had been wearing the police issue, blue-fleece pullover that morning.
He pointed his gun at the ground and ran toward Skuld, screaming, "Stay down!"
He tried to open the shattered glass door, but was blocked by the glass. He used his elbow to clear out the glass, and stepped through the door. He was too late to help. Skuld tore the gun out of Avery's hand and struck him with it. Avery fell, his legs suddenly refusing to work. He hit a parking meter with a sickening crack, then crumpled to the ground. The gun was strapped to Avery; Skuld undid the closures and handed it to Bob. Bob holstered his gun and took the submachine gun, a black thing heavy with the weight of death.
Skuld knelt, and touched his throat. "Dead," she said.
He knew Xenia would have called it in, but he did it as well. He called dispatch. "Irma, this is Sheriff Hunter. Get me the coroner, and every damn ambulance in the county. This is a mass shooting at Francine's Coffee, and we need every officer here double-time." A cop car came screaming around the corner, and Officers Yasmine Bleeker and Tommy Trudeau hopped out. "Get in there and help the wounded," he shouted at them.
He looked at Skuld. "Take out your cell phone and record this," he said.
Skuld finished her text, a Norse battle cry that would get every Valkyrie nearby there double-time, while simultaneously imparting the information that all the current Valkyries remained alive.
She pulled up her camera, and recorded Bob. He said, "I'm putting this in the trunk of my car, while simultaneously getting out my first aid kit. The suspect is dead, and the living need help, first."
He signaled for her to stop recording, then he rushed to his police car, popped the trunk, took the ammo out of the submachine gun, slid the murder weapon into an evidence bag, and took out a first aid kit, police tape, and a bullhorn. He slammed the trunk down, and ran back to the diner. He gave Skuld the police tape, and rushed into the mess of glass and crimson.
It was like a war zone in there. People were cut by glass, ripped apart by bullets. Food was everywhere; blood was sprayed on the walls. He rushed to Elemina Doherty; everyone called her Emmie. She was eighty if she was a day. He saw the bullet wound in her shoulder, opened the first aid kit, and put on gloves.
"Emmie," he said, pulling out a pressure bandage, "this is going to hurt like a bitch."
She nodded. "Already does, Bob," she said. He applied the bandage. She moaned, and he got her wrapped up tight. "Fastest way to get you to the hospital's gonna be a private car," he said.
"I'm on it," said Joe Fairsteen, an ex-student of the ex-teacher Emmie. He lifted her as if she were glass. "Anyone who can walk and you're hurt, come with me," Joe bellowed. "I've got a truck." Neighbors picked up neighbors, and carried them out to Joe's truck.
Reynaldo Alvarez was dead; his mother wept over him. Bob checked her for injuries and moved on. Peaches Chiros was shot in the leg; he tied off and bandaged the mangled mess and squawked at Bobbi Timerlee, the EMT running in the door, to get Peaches to the hospital double-time. He grabbed what was left of his kit and pawed through the bodies, looking for survivors. He heard a scrabbling overhead, and called up.
"Whoever's up there, the shooter's dead." He went over to the nearest grate, and ten-year-old Jason Guggio popped out. "Smart boy," said Bob. His mama, Gina, was already being seen by Trace, from the fire department.
"Can you get to your daddy?" he asked the boy. Jackson Guggio ran a fruit stand not five buildings down the street. "We got your mama covered, so go take care of your dad." Jason nodded.
Bob ran over the closest shattered window with his jacketed arm, bringing down the rest of the glass. He passed Jason out to the waiting hands of Henrietta Stone, w
ho owned the pizzeria next to the fruit stand.
"Get him to his dad," he said to Henrietta.
"Will do," she said. She turned and ran, the boy clinging to her like a burr.
Omar Dreyovich, the cook and half owner with Francine, was alive. He had the presence of mind to turn off all the stoves and ovens, and was using stacks of clean napkins like bandages, folding one up and tying a bandage napkin on top of whatever wound presented itself. Bob grabbed a stack and went off to the right; his wife was on her knees with another stack on the left. There was screaming and crying, but mostly everyone just worked as fast as they could to stop the bleeding and get everyone out.
The first of the motorcycles roared up. They could be heard over the sirens. The calvary, thought Bob. Then, he thought, Skuld's text. He sincerely doubted his wife had time to text anyone. Women in motorcycle leathers and steel-toed boots poured in, first aid kits in hand. They spread out in a search pattern, looking for survivors. Cries of "Medic,” “Triage One" and "Triage Two" were heard as they found survivors. More children were handed out windows into waiting hands.
The room emptied as EMTs, fire department, and search and rescue people came in with stretchers and got people out. Yasmine and Tommy switched from saving lives to preserving and recording the scene. The coroner drove up, saw the body outside, then came inside as Bob began to help Yasmine and Tommy with the evidence markers, and the pictures. Xenia stood, took photos, and then sat down in a booth that was, miraculously, free of either glass or blood. She poured herself a coffee from a carafe on the table into a clean cup, and began making phone calls. She pulled out her laptop, and began taking notes.
The Valkyries filed out, except for two. Special Agent Rhona Seirdon, FBI, had been in transit from Reno to Las Vegas, to give a deposition on a case. She called her boss, pushed back the deposition, then got herself assigned to the scene. She wasn't going to be allowed to go anywhere, anytime soon. She coordinated with Bob and Xenia, and took Xenia's sidearm as evidence. Ruger Thallesion was a technician with the county coroner's office. She worked with Bob to identify the bodies so next of kin could be notified right away.