But I was still restless and fidgety and spoiling for some kind of fight, enough so that I found myself grabbing my car keys and heading out the door with dauda-dagr on my hip and Stefan’s buckler in hand.

If I wanted an opponent, I knew where to find one.

Okay, so I felt a little silly walking into the Wheelhouse carrying a shiny round shield in addition to my magic dagger, and it didn’t help when Cooper set down a pool cue and came over to greet me with a broad grin.

“Well, if it isn’t Joan of feckin’ Arc,” he said, giving me the once-over. “If you’re looking for the big man, he’s not here. He’s off meeting with some fellow at that fancy microbrewery down the road.”

“Maybe you could help me,” I said.

Cooper’s pupils dilated, glittering in his angelic blue eyes. “What did you have in mind?”

Yep, that helped. I raised my shield—my mental shield—holding it blazing between us in my thoughts. “I guess you could say I’m looking for a sparring partner.”

There was an abrupt shift in the atmosphere in the bar. Since the rebellion earlier this summer, Stefan had solidified his position as the undisputed leader of the Outcast in Hel’s territory and those under his command had been careful not to treat me and my super-size emotions as a potential all-you-can-eat buffet. Well, that and the fact that I’d dispatched two of their number to a final and lasting death.

This was different. There was a new measure of respect in the eyes that gleamed out at me from the depths of the bar, and a measure of speculation, too. They recognized a challenge when they saw one. Or sensed one, I guess. Anyway, if I wanted a fight, there were half a dozen ghouls ready to give me one.

And . . . that was a bit much for my fledgling skills. My mental shield faltered and vanished.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Cooper angled himself to block me from view of the others. “You’re a piece of work.”

I hoisted the buckler and rekindled my mental shield in the same motion. “Are you going to help me out or not?”

He glanced around. “Yeah, all right. Let’s go out back.”

I followed Cooper outside and around to the rear of the building, where there was an area of hard-packed dirt adorned with cigarette butts.

“So that’s what himself’s been up to with you?” Cooper asked casually, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. He wore a pair of lace-up construction boots that looked too big for his scrawny frame. I still had a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that teenaged-looking Cooper was never going to grow into his feet. “Seems you’re a good student.”