‘That sucked fucking balls,' said Dawn as we walked through a light rain. It was mizzle really, cutting down visibility to tens of metres and giving the streetlamps a cozy glow. ‘I’m gagging for a drink.’

'People are panicking. Can't be helped. They're all fucking arseholes. Thought you'd have learnt that by now.'

'Well, yeah. But it's you. You're an Agent. You work for the Merlins.'

'Reason enough to be dicks towards me,' I interrupted.

'So you can't be the killer.'

'Can't I? Why can't I?'

'Well, because, I,' she stammered, clearly confused by my question, 'because I know you're not.'

'Yes, you know. They don't. They can't know. For all they know you're in collusion with me. The Shifter's pet human.'

Which was something I’d already heard was being said about her. I would never tell her that though, it would have destroyed her.

'It's still bollocks,' she was panting slightly. We were walking up a hill towards Western Way and no matter how fit someone was, it was still a good climb.

'It's the way things are. Nothing we can do about it apart from capturing the bad guy.'

'What was that?' she stopped, cocking her head as she listened for something. Shifted, I'd have heard a gnat's fart from forty yards, but it seemed that she had better hearing than me at this moment in time.

Ah, to be young again.

A cry, faint, choked off, from the multi-storey car park to our left.

'Shit, what the hell?' Dawn said.

The cry came again, filled with pain.

'Move, we're sorting this.'

Dawn nodded, throat working as the adrenalin kicked in. She knew there was a fight coming and her body was reacting the way nature intended. Already I could see her embracing it, letting the adrenalin help rather than hinder her.

'Sorted. Ready.' Stilted speech patterns were also a sign of adrenalin. She gave a tight smile as I patted her arm.

'Try not to kill anyone. Unless they deserve it.'

We jogged lightly to the path that led into the car park. As we did so the cries got clearer. Whoever it was, was begging, I could hear it in their tone. I could also hear their fear and pain. Just the thought of what was happening filled me with anger. It was obvious that this wasn't a fight, or a kicking. It was going on too long. Whoever was hurting the voice was doing so because it enjoyed it and wanted to make the pain last.

'Fucking Shifter!' said a voice coming from a car park level below us. More pain-filled cries.

'Fucking hell, Jane, did you hear that?' asked Dawn.

'Yep. Broken bones are fine, okay? These fuckers are Magical, so be careful. If they escalate beyond hands and feet, up the ante, let loose with Spells. Hold back on them otherwise.'

More angry voices, egging each other on. Swearing, laughing. Drunken. Clearly enjoying the misery they were causing to another sentient being.

I fucking hated bullies. My whole life had been full of them. At first I’d thought it was my fault they were picking on me. Then, I realised it was because they were pieces of shit that needed nothing more than a good kicking. I hadn’t stopped kicking since.

We kept jogging, down a ramp and then turning into the parking area. A group of men and women stood in a circle around a single person lying on the ground. They were taking turns to punch, slap, kick, and stamp on whoever was in the centre.

'I'll take the nearest three on the left, you take the two on the right. Punch right through them and cross the circle into the others opposite, then I'll peel left, you peel right, and we'll fight whoever's still standing.'

'Roger that,' said Dawn.

Not one of the bullies saw us coming, they were that focused on their victim. Having chosen the three on the left, I decided that I was going to take the one in the centre, then attack right and left. A left-handed punch to the kidney caused him to arch his back, mouth open in a silent scream. My right hand pulled his chin up and back, opening it up for a left-handed chop to the throat. As he fell to the ground, I was already moving to the one on the right. A backhanded knife-hand hit them hard on the carotid artery. Blood pressure maxing out, they dropped to the ground, unconscious before they even knew what was happening.

'What the ...' the woman on the left was waking up to what was happening. I spun, skip-stepped towards her, then sunk a shin kick into her mid-thigh. She dropped with shriek, clutching where I had kicked her. Obviously more used to dishing out pain than taking it.

All hell broke loose following that. Dawn had dealt with her targets, and we moved through the circle to the people opposite. Unfortunately, what I hadn't see was that there was a second group beyond the far side of the circle. There were a lot more bullies than I had thought there were.

Shit. I ducked under a wild haymaker, punching my attacker in the groin then elbowing them in the side of the head as they folded over in pain. Someone else punched me in the face, rocking my head. Immediately I covered up, forearms guarding my head as I soaked up their follow-on blows. One, two, three hard hits crashed into my arms. No harm was done, to me, but I was certain that they broke at least one knuckle on the second punch as they hit my elbow. Amateurs.

It's a little-known fact that if you can see someone's feet, you can touch their head without having to look. Just one of those things. There was pause as the pain of the broken knuckle from the second hit sank in. Using it to retaliate, I threw a right hook to the head, then a left shin kick to the side of the knee. Turning away, I left them to fall to the floor. It was vital in a situation like this to be fluid, and to use as little energy as possible.

Something hit my left side, crushing my ribs with its power, intense pain making me gasp. Another blow hit my head, sending me staggering with its power. Whoever I was facing knew how to punch. Dawn cried out from my right, then launched into swearing and shouting.

I could barely take time to see how she was fairing as whoever had attacked me was closing in. More blows crashed in, and I tried to weather them as well as I could. Ducking, bobbing, and weaving I tried to make myself as hard a target as possible, throwing out blows as quickly as I could. More hard punches landed. Sucking in a deep breath I dropped trying to defend myself and went on the attack.

To my surprise I saw that I was facing a man no bigger than me. He was fast, lead hand licking out in jabs that continuously landed, each one taking that little bit more strength from me. Boxing matches are won by jabs. They drain the person being hit, building up the shots to the head, weakening them so that the one heavy punch can finish the fight.

One of my instructors had taught me that the most important thing I could do was not show pain; to not let the person I was fighting know that they were hurting me. I'd already done that with the first couple of blows, given them the idea that they were winning. Now, we traded blows as quickly as we could, hard punches straight to each other's face. It was pugilism at its most basic. No skill. Just punch, after punch. And a kick to the balls. That was another trick I was taught. Make the opponent focus one area, get them used to being attacked there, and then attack a different area. He dropped with a squeal. Which was when I was blindsided by what felt like a rhino rugby tackling me.

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We skidded along the concrete, my cheek bouncing off the hard floor. More pain, in my face and the shoulder which had taken the brunt of the landing. There was no time to worry about that though. I was on the ground, an enemy on top of me, and I was surrounded by an unknown number of their comrades. I had no idea as to how long it would take before they were stomping on my head.

She - my opponent was a she - was between my legs, attempting to get into a mount position so that she could ground and pound. That sort of thing was perfectly fine if you were on the mats, or in a cage. On a concrete floor however, her punches could be fatal.

Every time she hit me in my face, my head would snap back, and I would hit it on the floor. Secondary impacts, doubling the effect of her strikes. Adding to that, she was striking downwards, able to put her not-inconsiderable weight behind each strike. I was fucked if I let her gain true dominance.

Bucking my hips was the first step. It threw her weight forward, causing her to put both hands out to the side and above my head. Sweeping my arms out into hers and removing them as a support was the second step. Unable to stop her forward momentum she crashed down into the floor, face and forehead slamming into the concrete with a clunk, tits hitting me in the face. Step three was wrapping my right arm around her left arm, pulling it in tight and then bucking my left hip up and over, reversing our position. Before she could react, I grabbed her head with both hands and smashed it onto the floor as quickly as I could. As soon as her eyes rolled back into her head, I was rising. Straight into a kick to the face.

My vision went completely with the blow, my face felt utterly smashed. Break falling was completely out of the question, which meant that my head cracked into the ground. I was fucked. I couldn't even call to Dawn for help. Didn't even know if Dawn was even still fighting. Someone kicked me in the ribs, then as I curled around the pain, someone else kicked me in the spine.

A roaring filled my ears. I couldn't tell if it was blood in my ears, or a real sound. I didn't much care. All I could do was try to limit the damage being done, and to try to get to my feet. And then everything stopped.

No shouting, no hitting. Just a roaring in my ears, my heart pounding, and each and every nerve screaming at the damage they’d received. Not that I could do anything about it. All I could do was try to work out what wasn't broken. To try to get the pain under control. Every rib on the left side was broken. A few on the right. Breathing was hell. Fiery, stabby hell. I was getting sick and fucking tired of having broken ribs.

'You look like shit,' said a woman's voice which sounded like melted milk chocolate with a husky Scandinavian accent. Boots, slightly scuffed but with signs of polish appeared in front of my face before the owner knelt down. 'My, aren't you pretty?'

I tried to answer, to come up with something witty, but all I managed was a 'mhmgmg'. Then everything went dark.

*

'Jane, time to wake up dear,' said Marcus's voice, his breath tickling my ear. With an epic effort I managed to open my eyes. There was no pain, which meant that I must have been Healed. I could see Marcus's face, smiling, and the wallpaper of a safehouse that I owned in Exeter. Yes, I owned more than one house in Exeter, and even more around Devon and the country. This one looked out over Belvedere Park from a quiet private drive inhabited by people who mostly kept their noses out of everyone else’s business.

Eyelids feeling as though they had lead weights hanging from them, I struggled to keep them open. Healing me had certainly taken a lot out of my physical reserves. 'Good to see you and Dawn awake again. I thought I'd let you know that we've caught the reprobates who did this to you. Well, the ringleaders and those you incapacitated before you were rescued. And I’ve brought breakfast. Full English. Eat, have a shower, then come down if you will. I need to introduce you to someone.'

I wasn't hungry before he mentioned the food, but as soon he did my stomach felt like it had an all-consuming pit in it. it smelt wonderful. Pushing myself up, I grabbed the tray he had left on the bedside table and tucked in.

It was a proper full-English. Sausages, bacon, mushrooms, beans, hash browns, black pudding, fried eggs, toast, fried tomatoes, and brown sauce. Utter heaven.

*

'Jane, wonderful to see you up and about. Dawn's in the kitchen making another brew. Our guest will be arriving in a few minutes,’ said Marcus as I entered the lounge. My safehouse was decidedly comfy. I rotated it with the others so that I could rent it out as a holiday let. I’d given Marcus the renting schedule, which was how he’d known to bring us here.

We sat in companionable silence. I was too tired to talk; Marcus was always happy to sit in silence if there was no need to speak. The only noise was that made by Dawn as she beavered away in the kitchen, followed by the doorbell ringing.

'I'll get that,' said Marcus as he sprang to his feet, surprising me with his eagerness. Normally he'd leave something as mundane with a lowercase em as answering the door to me. I'd then delegate the duty to Dawn.

Shit rolls downhill, I thought, picking a piece of bacon out from between my teeth.

'Okay. I'm too tired anyway.' I was close to entering a food coma, and wished I was either young- or old enough to take a nap.

He chuckled as he left the room, muttering something which I thought sounded like 'Wait until you see this'. Closing my eyes, I let the sounds of life wash over me, trying not to think about how closely I'd come to being kicked to death by a bunch of low-life thugs. I didn't open my eyes as Marcus stepped back into the room.

'Hello again, Agent Doe.'

This time I had no trouble snapping my eyes open. It was my rescuer from last night. The woman with the kind of voice that I could listen to for hours on end. Perfect for narrating audiobooks. Or whispering sweet nothings in my ear. Twisting in my chair, I felt my jaw drop open.

Be still my beating vagina, I thought as I took her full glory in. She must have stood at least 6’4’, with a short bob hair style, piercingly blue eyes. A scar which ran across her face only served to enhance her beauty. A short-sleeved shirt showed off her impressively well-toned arms. A perfect poster girl for CrossFit if ever there was one. Her age was hard to guess, but I would have put us at roughly the same age, give or take a couple of years.

‘Jane darling, it’s rude to stare. This is Ragnhild,’ he actually pronounced it as something closer to Rungenell, only much cooler, ‘she was the one who rescued you. Sorry, Jane’s a bit tired.’

‘Not surprised considering the amount of Healing the two of you needed. Where’s the other one?’ said the Goddess.

‘Here,’ said Dawn coming out of the kitchen with a loaded try. It was heaped with cakes of all kinds, and a teapot and cups which looked as though they’d been added as an afterthought. She was obviously still feeling hungry from the Healing. Then again, when cake was involved, she was always able to find some space.

‘Please, sit down. I’m sure Jane’s wits will return to her at some point. Probably after the first slice of Battenberg,’ chuckled Marcus. My stomach rumbled at that, most certainly not feeling as though I’d just demolished a full-English. ‘And there we have it. Signs of life.’

Heat filled my cheeks, and I was finally able to tear my eyes away from her as she sat down in a club chair opposite.

‘Pleased to meet you, I’m sure,’ I said as I accepted a plate from Dawn.

‘I bet you are,’ Dawn whispered as she dropped onto the settee next to me.

She grunted as I dug an elbow into her side.

Ragnhild smiled, it was perfect. No need for a dentist for her. I was utterly dazzled. ‘Good to see Apprentice and Mistress so close. Are you together in other ways?’

‘No, just working partners,’ said Dawn before taking a bite of cake and giving me a look.

‘Oh, good to hear,’ said Ragnhild, bestowing another of her smiles upon me. I felt warm every time she did it and had to smother a giggle that threatened to escape. I didn’t know what had come over me. It felt as though I was in the middle of some schoolgirl crush.

‘No doubt you’re wondering why Ragnhild was in the area,’ said Marcus. ‘She’s a Contractor, freelancing. They don’t have Agents in Norway, the Allfathers preferring to have a little less regulation when it comes to such things.’

‘Pleased to meet you,’ I said, wincing as I repeated myself. ‘What was it about this case that attracted you?’

‘Beyond you? The fact that it’s a fellow Were.’

I almost didn’t catch the second sentence as I was still trying to parse the first. ‘I’m sorry, fellow Were?’

Marcus and Dawn both laughed, ‘Of course my dear. Isn’t it obvious, Ragnhild is a Werebear!’

My jaw well and truly hit the floor. Completely blindsided by her beauty and my – I’ll be honest – my lust, I’d completely missed the fact that she was Were. Or maybe I hadn’t, it would explain her height; and her build wasn’t exactly waif-like either. Ragnhild could have easily deadlifted me. Still, even then my Shifter senses should have warned me. From the look on Dawn and Marcus's faces, they were finding this somewhat amusing. Another blush warmed my cheeks.

'Darling, close your mouth,' said Marcus, smile turning into a grin.

'It's okay. People often stare, either in the gym, or when they hear I'm a Werebear. We're not exactly common outside of Scandinavia.'

Mind racing, I forced my brain to get back onto track. Dawn and Marcus's faces were really starting to get on my tits. Dawn’s especially, as she couldn’t keep a smirk off her face. I needed the ground to open up and swallow me.

'Why do you think this is a Were, and not a Shifter?’

‘It’s something that we’ve seen back home, Oslo. The Hammers were never able to find out who they did it. The killings stopped last year, thank you,’ she said, taking a cup of tea from Dawn, ‘but our investigations then eliminated all Shifters.’

‘Who are the Hammers?’ asked Dawn.

‘They’re the equivalent of your Merlins. The Hammers of Thor are the ruling Magical Caste, with the Council of Allfathers sitting above them. We don’t have Agents such as yourself, so people such as me make a very good living by Bounty Hunting. I was the lead on the investigations on Oslo, so as soon as I heard about the situation over here, I naturally knew I should get on the first flight I could.’

‘I want you to work with Ragnhild on this case, Jane. She’ll be able to open doors you can't.'

'Right now, I'm thinking that after last night lots of doors are well and truly closed.’ Depending on the connections our opponents had, we had most likely pissed off a lot of influential people. I sighed and shrugged. Pissing off people seemed to be a natural talent.

‘The message has well and truly gone out. You seriously injured a number of them, and the Merlins are making a scapegoat out of the ringleader. Turned out he was a pain in their arse anyway. Liked taunting Mundanes with Charms and suchlike. Sadistic too, liked dishing it out. From the way he was crying, he certainly doesn’t like receiving it.’