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these guys are just rich werewolves or some bullshit.”
    “They’re changelings, Kris. Not werewolves. Their blood can assimilate the blood of other living things. When that happens, they can take the form of anything they’ve assimilated.”
    “So…” Kristen rubbed her neck. “Werewolves are a thing?”
    Jane’s lips twitched the start of a response, but she hesitated and started over. “That wasn’t a werewolf, okay?”
    “But they’re a thing?”
    Jane pinched the bridge of her nose again. “Look, you are a thing, okay? Just consider that. That’s going to answer pretty much every question like the one you just asked me.”
    Kristen looked at the pieces of jewelry box in her hand. She tossed them over her shoulder. “I still don’t get this. Why do you want this ring? And if it isn’t about money, then I want to know who you actually work for. Before you refuse to answer my questions again, remember: I’m a thing.”
    “Was that a threat?”
    “You’re the one blackmailing me.”
    Jane rolled her eyes. “I’m not blackmailing you.”
    “No, I guess it’s pretty normal for a stranger to show up at someone’s house uninvited with their fucking medical records. It’s definitely not blackmail when you wave my identity in my face and show up in the company car to make me kill werewolves or whatever.”
    “I’m sorry, okay? There’s no good way to make introductions when it comes to these things. People in your position treasure their secrets. No matter what I do to earn trust in these situations, people react—” Jane stopped, looking down. She pointed her flashlight at the ground to illuminate spots of blood. Her light followed the trail until it settled on Kristen’s stomach. Kristen twisted her body and held back her chest to see it.
    Jane cursed. “Holy shit. Why didn’t you say something?”
    Kristen touched her stomach and held up her hand. Blood. “Is this mine?”
    “Judging by the holes…” Jane’s voice trembled. “Yeah. Pretty sure.”
    As if her body had been waiting for the confirmation, a flood of sensations hit Kristen like a wave on a breakwater. Pain. Wet blood. Exhaustion. Panic. Her hands trembled. Her legs failed, dropping her to her knees. She felt warmth drain from her face like an emptying funnel. “I don’t—” A wave of dizziness made her sway, and she fought for balance. “What’s going on?”
    Jane ran to her, tucking away her flashlight. She laid Kristen back, putting pressure on her wounds with one hand, the other snatching a radio from her belt. She held it to her mouth and the words raced from her lips. “Gabby, I need you in here ASAP. Just learned Muscles can’t deflect bullets. It’s bad.”
     

Chapter 3
    Kristen bolted upright. Her eyes fought to take stock of her surroundings: a bedroom with puke-yellow walls and furnished with items that seemed too small, like miniature versions of the real things or those meant for a child. Against the far wall sat a little writing desk with a matching chair. Next to it, a squat cabinet made of dark wood. Along another wall stood a low chest of drawers that matched the rest of the furniture. Every piece looked beat to hell with nicks and notches that testified to long life. The wooden blinds on the window—the old-fashioned type made of swinging wooden slats—carried the same sense of age.
    A duffel bag in faded military green blocked the door. On top of it, a folded notecard stood at attention with Kristen’s name scrawled across it.
    So creepy. She shuddered.
    She shifted to crawl from the bed—and it was a bed, albeit an exceedingly soft bed—and froze as it rocked dangerously, as if on legs too thin to hold itself up. Inching to the edge of the mattress, terrified the entire thing would collapse beneath her, she cast away the blanket. Mind still fuzzy, she realized she was naked save for a layer of bandages wrapped around her stomach. She whimpered, heart racing, breaths rapid. Rushing to the