Jasmine cracked her neck, happy to notice she felt lighter now. Her senses were still alight and tingling. If the moon had cranked her abilities to eleven earlier, they were at a five now.

  She faced the wall and focused her senses on the group in the kitchen. Three males. Unsurprising. She slowly opened the door and stalked out into the corridor. It was easy to find the others. It was the only room where light spilled out into the hallway. She paused with her back to the wall, out of sight. The men muttered to each other.

  “Wouldn’t be a bad idea, you know?” one of them was saying. His voice was higher-pitched than the others. “Playing poker night after night gets boring. At least his way we can have some fun.”

  “She’ll already be out on the street by now.” She recognized the voice as the group’s leader, Darwin. “If he’s done his job, which I hope he has, she’ll be crawling back home to her sad little life and existence. Junkie bitch.”

  Jasmine raised an eyebrow. Is that the pot calling the kettle black?

  One of them laid a card on the table. Its papery snap reached Jasmine’s ears with crystal clarity.

  Another voice joined the conversation. “He has been a while, though. It’s quiet in there.”

  “Well, if you’re that worried, maybe you should go check,” Darwin suggested.

  Jasmine took that as her cue to step into sight. “No need to check, boys. I’m right here.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence as they turned her way. They all held cards in their hands. Chips, cards, and small bottles of hard liquor littered the medium-sized circular table, and beside each man was a handgun.

  Shit.

  She identified the boss. His round face and dark sunglasses in the gloomy kitchen were a dead giveaway. He glanced from Jasmine to his firearm and made his move. He was quick, like a viper striking, but Jasmine was faster. She raced toward him and drove her knee up into the side of his body. He toppled off his chair and smacked into the nearby refrigerator.

  The other two had reached for their guns when he did. One of them shot Jasmine in the hip. She twisted with the recoil and snarled at him.

  The other man froze.

  She flipped the table toward them. The heavy wood and iron legs knocked them over backward in their chairs before it pinned them beneath its surface. Chips flew everywhere with a clatter and glasses smashed on the floor. The scent of booze filled the air.

  She turned her attention to the first man, who was struggling to spin around and fire a clear shot at her chest. Jasmine snarled, and her bone claws appeared on her fingers as she dropped on his body. She plunged them into the man’s chest as power thrummed within her.

  The scent of the children’s fear filled her nostrils and drove her anger. What kind of assholes could put children in this position and see them as currency rather than sentient beings? What kind of human would value another’s life so little?

  The man gurgled as blood bubbled between his lips. She retracted her claws and turned her attention to the other two pushing free from the table. The third man finally found his balls, aimed at Jasmine, and fired several times. The onslaught was deafening. Some bullets went into the wall, one hit the first man, and a couple struck Jasmine in her leg and chest.

  She grunted with each hit. The initial entry was painful, but as Jasmine was growing accustomed to, the pain quickly subsided. The first bullet was already forcing itself from her skin, and when she looked down at her hip, a small piece of metal appeared before the slug popped out and clattered on the floor.

  The two men looked at her in disbelief. Jasmine grinned and shrugged before leaping at them and making quick work of their bodies.

  When they had taken their last breath, Jasmine rose to her feet. Quiet fell over the kitchen. The smell of blood and flesh rose to her nose and her mouth filled with saliva. She stared longingly at the blood pooling on the tiles. Her jaw throbbed. She smacked her lips.

  Slivers of the moon shone into the kitchen, but not directly on Jasmine. She avoided their rays, terrified of what might happen if the moon powered her hunger, broke her control, and unleashed her on this wet mess of chaos.

  She tore herself away from the temptation, wandered to the sink, and ran the faucet. Her claws retracted into her fingers, and for the next few minutes she cleaned herself up. She rubbed the worst of the blood off. The last thing the children needed was to be greeted and rescued by a monster. Hadn’t they had enough of that already?

  She glanced at her reflection in the glass-fronted oven to confirm that she looked somewhat presentable. She turned to the stairs, and the children’s outlines returned to her view.

  She went upstairs and halted outside their door. She could still smell the blood but fainter now. She wondered if this was what it was like to be a shark, able to smell blood from kilometers away, their focus and attention hooked by the sweet red nectar.

  It was quiet inside the bedroom. Although the shooting had been loud, it hadn’t woken the exhausted children.

  The door was locked, and there was a small keyhole below the knob. She forced her claws to grow and poked the tapered tip of one into the opening. Her tongue peeked out the side of her mouth as she wiggled her claw around and waited for the confirming click of the lock opening.

  Nothing happened. Jasmine rolled her eyes and settled on the more destructive path. She slammed her shoulder into the wood, and the door sprang free of its clasp with a rain of splinters.

  Milky light from the hall poured into the room to reveal a huddled group of a dozen young children in the corner. Some of them screamed and muttered. A few were in tears. The youngest couldn’t have been older than five. The eldest was perhaps nine.

  Jasmine held out her hands before noticing her claws were still out. She quickly retracted them and motioned placatingly. “It’s okay. Don’t worry. I’m not with the bad men. I’m here to help you.”

  No amount of talk would buy their trust. Jasmine knew this, but at least she could try. “I’ve gotten rid of the bad men for you. I promise I’m here to rescue you. Come with me quickly, and I can take you somewhere safe.”

  “What was on your fingers?” a young girl cried.

  “She’s a monster!” another wailed.

  Jasmine looked down at the floor and ran her fingers through her hair. She got down on her knees, having once read that to speak to children you had to come down to their level and put yourself at the same height as them and their peers. “I promise you that I’m one of the good people. Those men who brought you here, they’re gone. You’re free.”

  “How do we know?” one of the children asked.

  Jasmine smiled. “You’re going to have to trust me.”

  She went to the door and waited for the first to follow. There was an understandable hesitancy. One of the older boys took a tentative step toward her. “Will you take us back home? Back to our parents?”

  “I will try.” Jasmine met the boy’s eyes, and she poured all of her innocence, her intention, and her kindness into her gaze. Even Jasmine knew that at a young age it was easy to tell the assholes from the saints. Not that Jasmine was either of those things.

  He walked toward Jasmine and stood by her side. He turned to the others and urged, “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  Jasmine smiled again. One by one they stood and followed the boy. She kept them tucked behind her, leading them like ducklings.

  Their fear oozed off their auras. Her senses swallowed it, and her stomach knotted as she led them down the stairs. It was like poison, like knowing you’d eaten something bad and having to wait for the consequences, unable to do anything else but sit with the knowledge of the pain that would come.

  She led them halfway down the stairs, then realized she had left the kitchen door open.

  “Wait here.”

  They followed her direction, for which she was thankful. She went ahead of them and pulled the kitchen door shut.

  “Come on,” she hissed as she waved them the rest of the way.

  They moved in single file down the hallway and joined Jasmine at the back door. An engine rumbled outside, and Jasmine breathed a sigh of relief. She could smell Eddy in the air, arriving exactly when he was supposed to. There were still a few more steps in the plan, but at least the part where she had to rely on someone else had gone smoothly. If it all kept going this well, she might pull this off.

  Jasmine opened the back door to lead them through the yard toward a road behind the house. She was thankful the thick clouds had once again covered the moon, but her head was beginning to swim again.

  A dark transit van was waiting for them on the road.

  “Not another van.” The boy stepped back and sent a ripple of anxiety through the children.

  “No, no, it’s okay,” Jasmine reassured him as Eddy opened the door and stepped onto the street. “This man is with me. He’s here to protect you, to get you back to the authorities so you can find your way back home.”

  A young girl stepped forward. Her pixie cut showcased her sparkling eyes. “My mommy’s dead.”

  Jasmine sighed. She knew what it was like to lose a mother. At least she had been older when her mother died, so it was easier to comprehend and understand.

  “You’re going to be okay,” Jasmine replied. “Go with my friend Eddy. He will take you somewhere safe. He will look after you and make sure these horrible people never find you again. You’ll be okay.”

  The boy looked hard at them before making a decision. With a final disdainful glare at the house, he walked toward the van and climbed in the back. One by one, the others followed.

  Jasmine met Eddy by the back door. “Look after them.”

  Eddy cocked an eyebrow. “What the hell do you think I’m going to do? They’re children.”

  “They’ve been through enough. Make the journey smooth. Make it quick. Ensure they get where they need to be in one piece, please.”

  Eddy held her gaze for a moment, then nodded affirmation. He shut the door and climbed in the front.

  Jasmine followed him to the driver’s side window. “I mean it, Eddy.”

  “Again, what the hell do you think I’m going to do? I’m the one who wanted this whole operation to go ahead. I’m the one who pointed Perry in your direction. Or have you forgotten that?”

  Jasmine gave him a knowing look.

  “I knew Perry was going to tell you.” Eddy shook his head before starting the car.

  He flashed his headlights, and Jasmine stepped back. The van took off down the road in a direction she didn’t know.

  She waited until it was out of sight before returning to the house. In the kitchen, she righted the table and returned the chairs to their places. She helped herself to an unopened beer left on the side counter. Her eyes rolled back in ecstasy when the drink touched her lips, and she found that for the first time in a long time she could taste.

  Maybe my luck is turning. Savor it, Jasmine.

  She sat and waited in the stink of blood, shit, and gunpowder, holding a handgun she had taken from one of the men.

  Thanks to Perry’s information Jasmine knew the next part of the kidnappers’ plan. Others would arrive to take the children. Cash would be exchanged. The children… Who knew what came next for them?

  Jasmine’s expression soured, and she gritted her teeth. Her job wouldn’t be complete until these men had been brought to justice and could not hurt any more kids. While she waited and stewed, the moon sank lower and the first lines of dawn approached. She imagined each child's face, allowing the anger to fuel her.

  The front door opened, and footsteps sounded in the hallway.

  “Hello? Anyone home?”

  Someone thumped someone else. “Do you need to shout? What happened to ‘low key?’”

  Jasmine straightened and faced the door as the footsteps slowly advanced. “Boss, I don’t feel good about this,” another voice fretted.

  Jasmine waited patiently.

  The door handle twisted. The door opened. A face appeared in the light.

  His eyes met Jasmine’s. “Hello?”

  “Hello,” Jasmine replied innocently.

  The man looked from Jasmine to the bodies on the floor to the white tiles covered in blood.

  “Why don’t you take a seat?” Jasmine patted the one next to her like she was inviting an old friend over.

  The man’s eyes widened. She sensed the people shuffling around behind him. He pulled back and reached for the gun at his side, but before he could get to it Jasmine shot him three times in his chest.

  He slammed into the wall behind him and slowly slid to the floor. There was a commotion and the metallic clang of more guns.

  She rose to her feet and entered the hallway, where three men met her with guns pointed at her. They started firing without a word. The bullets sprayed into Jasmine, hitting her shoulder, chest, forearm, bicep, hip, stomach, and thigh, each one a tiny niggle of pain before it numbed and subsided.

  She made a show of it and fell back onto her ass. Once they had hit her with enough bullets to take down an elephant, they stopped shooting. The echo of gunfire faded into reverent silence.

  A man with a deep voice emerged from behind the group. “Is she down?”

  “You can guarantee that, boss,” another voice confirmed. “We put so many holes into her that there’s only organs and bone left.”

  “Still, check for a heartbeat,” the leader commanded.

  A man knelt beside Jasmine and placed clammy fingers on her neck.

  “There’s nothing,” he verified.

  “Good. Dispose of the body.”

  Strong arms scooped Jasmine up. She let her body stay limp, but she opened her eyes and locked onto the leader of their tribe. He was a greasy little turd at least two feet shorter than the others but twice as big around.

  At first the boss didn’t register her. When he did see her eyes, he staggered back and pushed the others in front of him.

  “She’s alive!” he shouted, but it was already too late. Jasmine had taken a gun and shot one man in the head, then another.

  The man carrying her dropped her, but she was ready and landed on her feet. She casually spun, placed the pistol's muzzle on his chest, and pulled the trigger.

  Two more men ran through the front door. When they saw Jasmine they dodged out of sight. The little man ran after them and ducked into the room where Jasmine had dispatched Jim.

  Someone fired more shots toward Jasmine. One hit her shoulder and threw off her aim. She shot back but only hit the banister and walls. She balanced herself and thought of the children before she pulled the trigger and finished the enemy.

  The final active target fell. Jasmine stalked forward, smelling the fear of the man who had terrorized children. There was something poetic about that. She stepped over the fallen bodies, stopping to fire one last shot at a man crawling toward the front door.

  Maybe the police would come soon. Jasmine needed to be long gone by then, and there could be no evidence that she had ever been here.

  She approached the bedroom she had slept in and kicked the door open. The small man was climbing out the window.

  Outside, the sky was turning to pinks and oranges. It was going to be a beautiful day.

  She dragged the boss back into the room, threw him against the wall when he attempted to punch her, and pressed the gun’s muzzle to his ear. “I’d stop fighting if I were you.”

  The man spat in her face.

  Jasmine growled and raised a hand. Claws slowly emerged from her fingers.

  The man’s eyes were huge. He trembled as she reached down and cupped his testicles with the razor-sharp tips of each claw.

  “I suggest we have this conversation like civilized adults,” Jasmine advised. “Here’s what’s going to go down. You are familiar with the name Perry Natchios, correct?”

  The man remained quiet, but his eyes confirmed that he was.

  Jasmine continued. “You are going to write your friend Perry the best fucking recommendation letter you have ever penned. You will list his exceptional qualities. You will help him forward it to find a better job that isn’t under the withering glare of scumbags like yourself. You will deliver this to Perry first thing tomorrow morning, and you will not make a fuss. Understood?”

  The little man nodded eagerly.

  “Once you’ve done that,” Jasmine pressed on, “you’re going to run. You’re going to run until you don’t know the way back. Run until your little legs are tired and you feel like you can run no more. Then run another mile. Do you understand that?”

  The little man nodded again, eager as ever, although something betrayed the truth in his eyes.

  “Should you not…” Jasmine knew she needed to drive the point home. She looked down at the little man’s chest and stroked it with one claw.

  She jabbed the claw into his skin an inch or so and dragged it down a centimeter. She looked down at her chest, at one of the bullet holes. She reached in and withdrew the bullet.

  She grabbed his jacket lapel, slipped the bullet inside the inner pocket, then closed it over his new wound. “Should you ever forget our little conversation and make your way back into this city, I want you to look at that wound and bullet. I want you to know that no matter where you are, no matter what you do, nothing will stop me from finding you and finishing this job by ripping your heart out of your chest. Are we in total, unilateral agreement?”

  The man nodded. This time there was no lie in his eyes. Jasmine’s nose wrinkled as she caught the scent of urine. She looked down at the darkening patch around the man’s groin.

  She stepped back and retracted her claws. “Run.”

  There was no hesitation. The man sprinted through the house and opened the front door so hard he slammed it against the wall before disappearing into the dawn. A moment later a car engine revved, followed by tires screeching and fading into the distance.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Chances

  Solitary clapping greeted Jasmine as she entered the Stryga’s Nest. Ivan was waiting near the door as though he had been expecting her. To Jasmine’s surprise, he hugged her.