Fortunately—since Wolfe’s car had to be towed away—Miriam wanted to continue to hang with Wolfe, and she was prepared to lend them her skull-motif limousine to do it.

In fact, she seemed downright determined to continue to be around him. She said she felt safer with him. While Miriam wasn’t nearly to Fern’s level, the situation clearly seemed to have taken a toll on her as well. She was sitting with her arms wrapped around herself in the back of the limousine, with Derek next to her, across from Wolfe and Shel, who were arm in arm, with Shel laying her head across his chest.

Fern sat in the far back, breathing oddly and talking to herself while typing away rapidly at a keyboard. Malviere was against the window dividing the occupants from the driver. Cereboo lay on the floor.

The whole place smelled faintly of blood and fear-sweat, no doubt from the clothing even though Shel had utterly healed everyone with her impressive new Nurse of the Chosen powers.

“So…” Wolfe said, breaking the awkward silence of the last few minutes as the limousine headed toward the Hellmouth Institute.

No one answered.

“Look, I get that the situation was scary, but I need answers,” Wolfe tried again. “What happened? Why were you attacked, and how did they know to come after Fern in the first place, or even where she was?”

“They were after Fern?” Miriam said, looking up at Wolfe, her eyes strangely happy. “Why do you think they were after Fern?”

“Because some dude that threw me from a third story window asked for her?” Wolfe said, half a statement, half a question.

“Nathan?” Fern asked, glancing up from her laptop. “Nathan said he wanted me?”

“Yeah, that douche-canoe. The ‘right hand man,’ or whatever. I mean, why would he have even been there if they weren’t after you, Fern?”

Miriam leaned back, slowly recovering her aplomb. “Well, Ahmad said that Dustin was offering a reward for my death since I stole a bunch of money from the Weeds.”

“Who in the Infernal realms is Dustin?”

“Newly promoted head of the Weeds, once third in command,” Miriam said, smiling at Wolfe. “He was the one whose head you removed from behind instead of the front.”

Wolfe grunted at that.

She glanced over at the man nest to her. “Derek, would you be a dear and fix me a martini, please? Beaten, not stirred.”

“You get over shit fast,” Wolfe said.

Derek just rolled his eyes and reached for a glass in the corner of the limousine.

“Given my family, I credit a genetic predisposition to being able to deal with darkness,” Miriam said. “But also, I thought this was my fault. I thought my decisions led to Victor’s—and a couple more of my people’s, for that matter—death. But without Nathan being there, Me, Derek, and Shel could have beaten everyone, and now that you’re saying that, I can see the whole thing.”

“The whole thing?” Wolfe asked.

“Of course,” Miriam said. “I mean, think about it. How would Nathan get a strike team together, and hide his involvement? He could only do it because the Weeds had an excuse to go after me! He was just using that to get Fern.”

“So, then, wouldn’t it kinda still be your fault?” Wolfe asked.

Miriam stopped, frowning.

Shel pretend-slapped the back of Wolfe’s head, then snuggled back against him even harder.

Wolfe frowned, and gently rubbed the top of Shel’s head for a moment as he digested everything.

Then he looked back at Miram again. “Why was Ahmed working for the bad guys?”

“The bad guys, huh?” Miriam asked. “What are we?”

“The less bad, bad guys. Just answer the question.”

“After we got back from the dungeon, Ahmed proposed to me,” Miriam said. “The bastard claimed he wanted to be exclusive with me. When I said no, he became angry and stormed off. I assume that was when he decided to sell me out, although he claimed it was to the Weeds.”

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Fern turned her computer around, showing an almost incomprehensible series of bank transfers, her head down, her breathing still odd. “It wasn’t for that—it was for me. This here is a record of a two-million-dollar transfer from one of Adam’s bank accounts to Ahmed’s account.”

Wolfe stared at it. “That looks way more complex than a bank transfer.”

Fern nodded once. “It is. But its three dummy accounts and a walking transfer.”

“Walking transfer?” Wolfe asked. He had thought he was part of the underworld, but this was new to him.

“Someone clearly took it out at one bank, and put it into an account at another. To break the trace,” Fern replied matter-of-factly.

“Then how do you know?” Wolfe asked, fascinated despite himself.

“We have both ends. Anyone tracking the account would just see a withdrawal. But we see the exact same amount of money enter a person-of-interest's account thirty minutes later.”

Wolfe decided to drop it—Fern was really good at what she did, he guessed, and he’d trust her.

“So they’re still after you, in other words?”

Fern nodded, and her breathing went ragged. “The computer in my lap, the seat I’m on, Cereboo licking my foot.”

Wolfe looked down—Cereboo’s left head was indeed licking Fern’s sandaled foot. “Knock that off.”

“I don’t mind,” Fern said. “It tickles. It helps keep me grounded.”

“Continue,” Wolfe said, and his dog let out a series of huffs that sounded suspiciously like laughter to Wolfe.

“So, Ahmed shot Victor, then?” Wolfe asked.

“Yeah,” Derek replied, then rubbed his chest. “He shot me first, but apparently, I wasn’t dead before your wonderful fiancée managed to bring me back with her incredible healing. I’m still busted up inside, despite her healing removing some injury levels. I feel like I snuggled up to death before getting brought back.”

Miriam leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Well, you’re alive now.”

“But Victor got shot?”

“Yeah, while I was pulling my deck, Ahmed got another shot off and hit Victor in the head,” Miriam said, angrily wiping at one of her eyes as she talked. “After that, he managed to retreat, and we couldn’t go after him since the thugs were attacking us.”

Miriam shuddered, then accepted the glass Derek gave her and took a long sip. “I nearly died of gunshots multiple times, but Shel saved me.”

“Well, you and Derek kept the thugs off me while I did,” Shel said.

As the limousine turned into the parking lot of the Hellmouth Institute, Wolfe slashed his hand through the air. “Wait, none of that matters. Are we sure that they were after Fern, ultimately?”

“They were,” Fern said. “Although they’re after you now, as well.”

“Right,” Wolfe said. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to find a safe place for Fern to stay. Genuinely safe, with someone I can trust no matter what.”

“Who’s that?” Shel asked again.

Wolfe sighed. “My favorite person in the whole world.”

***

Wolfe rapped on the white door in front of him. It was older, slightly cracked around the edges, as was the concrete walkway leading from the driveway to the front door. But the yard was recently mowed and trimmed, and the flowers all looked healthy.

The driveway was even swept.

The door opened, and Rhett Walker stared out at Wolfe. “What the hell are you doing at my house at nine at night, William?”

Rhett was dressed in workout shorts and a white t-shirt, and Miriam whistled. Wolfe grimaced—Rhett was the same height as Wolfe, but a touch younger and even broader of shoulder and more pronounced of pec.

Wolfe was never sure why, but Rhett’s looks had always irritated him. Probably because Wolfe knew that Rhett had once had a thing for Shel, even if he’d helped Wolfe rather than getting him out of the picture.

“Just use my nickname, 'Wolfe,'” Wolfe responded to Rhett’s use of his fake name ‘William.’”

Rhett scowled. “Who are these people with you?”

Wolfe motioned to Miriam. “This is Miriam Grimm—” Rhett’s eyes widened at that name before Wolfe motioned over to Fern. “—and this is Fern, um…”

“Wachowski,” Fern said.

“Right,” Wolfe said, then faced the lieutenant again. “I actually need to ask you a huge favor, Rhett. I can pay.”

“What’s the favor?” Rhett asked, his face suspicious.

“The mob is after Fern,” Wolfe said, keeping it simple if slightly inaccurate. “They tried to kill her at the Ekron Eternal today—”

“Oh my gods,” Rhett said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Was that you? Of course that was you.”

“He saved my life,” Fern whispered.

“And mine,” Miriam said.

“They found fifteen bodies,” Rhett replied.

Wolfe did a count in his head. “I think I was only responsible for a bit more than half that.”

“You crack me up,” Rhett said, but his voice was legitimately angry. “I thought you were going straight. It sounds like, in the last forty-eight hours, you’ve been responsible for more than twenty deaths.”

Wolfe grimaced. “Every one of those came looking to die.”

He carefully didn’t mention the fight with the Weeds on the boat.

“Should I arrest you?” Rhett asked.

Wolfe tensed. Rhett was a good guy, but his position always made things a tiny bit dicey between them.

Wolfe motioned to Fern. “Look, she’ll explain everything to you. If you want to arrest me after that, I won’t resist. But please at least look at what she has, and you’ll understand what I’m up against, and what she is up against as well. Just listen to her, okay?”

Rhett stared at the mousey girl in front of him, breathing carefully and clutching her laptop close. His face softened as he watched, some combination of pity and tenderness.

Wolfe would have bet anything that Rhett recognized the signs of abuse.

He turned back to Wolfe. “Alright. Tell me everything you talked about was hypothetical.”

Wolfe almost laughed—it was a throwback to another conversation. “It was all hypothetical.”

Miriam stared between them and then burst into laughter. Wolfe was reminded that she was now a law student, nearly graduated, and still first in her class. She obviously got what Rhett was doing.

“So, where are you guys off to now?” Rhett asked. “Or do I want to know?”

“Actually, nothing nefarious. We’re gonna run a dungeon I found, outside your jurisdiction,” Wolfe said.

Rhett glanced up. “Wait, really?”

Wolfe nodded.

“Actually, can I ask that you repay the favor by taking me on the run? I could use some levels, badly.”

Fern glanced up and tentatively raised her hand. “Actually… could I get in on that as well?”