“The character based on Warrick himself hooks up with a new girl in every story,” said Kelly. “He also has more muscles and brains than the real Warrick, doesn’t run from every fight like the real Warrick, is—”

“Nothing’s been published yet,” Warrick interrupted, “but I’m hopeful. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll do it all as a web comic. That’s the plan. But my point is, I’m a very visual person. I mean, I’d just love to … What colour are you, for a start?”

“Red,” said Amber.

“Red,” said Warrick. “The classic red. You don’t find very many reds around. You’d think you would, but they’re mostly different shades of grey. Do you have, uh … y’know … do you have … uh …?” He touched his forehead.

“Horns?” Amber prompted.

“Yes,” Warrick said meekly. “Do you have horns?”

“Yes,” she said. “Do you want me to show you?”

He stared at her, and bit his lip. “Could you?” he asked softly. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I mean?”

“Sure,” said Amber. “Will your dog mind?”

“Two will be fine once he sees how cool we are with you.”

“Okay then,” said Amber. She looked around, made sure no one was walking by, and then her skin turned red and she grew taller and stronger and her horns curled over her head.

Warrick’s mouth dropped open. “Golly.”

“You’re beautiful,” said Linda.

Ronnie didn’t say anything. He just stared at her, up and down.

Only Kelly moved. She walked right up to Amber, stood toe to toe with her. They were of equal height now, if the horns weren’t taken into account. Kelly raised her hand. Traced her fingertip along Amber’s cheek, down to her chin, let it drop.

“You know what?” Kelly said. “I think I prefer you the other way.”

Amber blinked at her.

Then she reverted, and Kelly looked down at her, and smiled. “There’s my cutie,” she said, just as a police cruiser turned on to the street.

“Shit,” said Kelly, and grabbed Amber’s hand and bolted into the shadows. Lights flashed and a siren yelped and she glanced back, saw her friends hightail it in different directions. She wasn’t worried about them. They could all take care of themselves.

She ran with Amber until they came to a narrow, curving street, then they hopped a wall and waited, catching their breath.

“What if the cops search the van?” Amber asked, still panting. “If they find Milo, they might kill him.”

“Ronnie won’t let that happen,” Kelly assured her. “The van is technically Warrick’s, but Ronnie takes care of it and he is very protective.”

“Then we need to get Milo’s car,” said Amber. She took out her phone, brought up a map. “The impound lot is three blocks away.”

“What is so special about this car?”