“Fine!” Annis screeched. Tanith kicked the shackles over to her and Annis clicked them on around her wrists, the chain dangling. Immediately she felt her powers fade. Her skin began to lose its blue tint, and her teeth and nails shortened and her jaw relocated.

“I hate you,” Annis said.

Tanith nodded. “A lot of people in shackles do.”

“If I ever get out…”

“You’ll come after me? Tear me apart? Cut off my head? I’ve heard it all before, Annis. It doesn’t impress me.”

“If I ever get out of prison,” Annis said, ignoring her, “I’ll find you and eat you.”

Tanith smiled. “Well, OK then. Haven’t heard that one in a while.” She took hold of Annis’s arm and pulled her to her feet. “I’ve got a sack outside,” she said. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wear it until I get you to the van, just to keep the sunlight off. Hope you understand.”

Annis perked up. “Is it a nice sack?”

“It’s pretty stylish, as sacks go.”

On their way out, they passed Scrannel, who was snoring peacefully in the dirt. Annis gave him an affectionate kick, and he mumbled something and went back to snoring.

“Boyfriend?” Tanith asked.

“Pet,” Annis answered.

Tanith nodded. “All the best ones are.”

Friday Night Fights

he was food, she was told as they dragged her to the cell. She was lunch. She was little more than a snack, thrown to the beast to reward it for blood spilled. The men were strong, and she kicked at them and they hit her, but still she kicked. She would not go gently to her death. Not her. Not Valkyrie Cain.

Her knees scraped over rough stones and rubble and bled through her jeans. The cold shackles dug into her wrists. Her struggles echoed down through the concrete corridor, as wide as the school running track. The sunlight was too far behind to throw shadows. The darkness was too close in front.

The man holding her arm let go, and keys jangled as he went to the cell door. He slid open a hatch before he unlocked it, to check on the beast. She felt the other man tense, and for a moment his attention was away from her. She twisted from his grip. The light was too far away, so she ran into the darkness. Laughter followed her.

She ran fast. Her tennis shoes splashed in dark pools of stagnant water, and the uneven ground threatened to cut short her escape. She kept her shackled arms up, like a boxer, to protect her head should she run into a wall or a low-hanging pipe. Her eyes were adjusting to the world of shadows, and she couldn’t risk a backwards glance.