We got into the Bentley and Aria had to move her seat back to account for her new platforms. Marko still looked annoyed.

  “I’d like to say that was a profitable stop,” he said. “But that old man was a skinflint. I hope we can find another place to sell.”

  “That can’t be the only shop,” I said.

  “Probably not. It’s the first one we’ve seen, though.”

  “Bound to be more in other sectors,” Aria said. “My boots are sick, by the way.”

  “One thousand credits!” Marko said. “If you can afford that, you’re buying lunch.”

  We got back on the road and before too long we could see trees ahead of us. About the same time we passed a sign welcoming us to the Pine Ridge Reservation, a message popped up.

  Entering Pine Ridge Sector

  “Nice,” Aria said. “Now where’s the control point?”

  I pulled up my area map and scrolled around until I could see all of Nova Sector. It looked to me like the safehouse/control point was close to the middle of the hex.

  “If this sector is like the last one, the control point should be in the center,” I said.

  “That’s an excellent working theory,” Marko said. “Let’s test it out.

  The road was surrounded by trees on all sides, and we passed the occasional picnic area and a dog park. I could see a paved path winding through the trees, but with the gray skies, there weren’t many people around. We came to a four-way stop with signs pointing toward facilities in different directions. A nature learning center to the left, park management offices to the right, and a golf course straight ahead.

  “Straight?” Aria said.

  “Should be,” I said.

  She drove ahead straight and, maybe five minutes later, we came to a sign for the Pine Ridge Golf Course. Unfortunately, that sign was paired with a road closed sign, just in front of a bridge that was currently under construction. We could probably make it across on foot, but there just wasn’t enough bridge for the Bentley. Aria pulled to the side of the road and turned off the car.

  “Ah, man,” Aria said. “I’m gonna get my boots dirty.”

  “I hope it doesn’t rain,” Marko said, getting out and looking up at the sky.

  “It’s looked like that all day,” I said.

  “And yesterday, and the day before,” Aria said. “Just like home.”

  “Detroit isn’t exactly the sunshine capital, either,” Marko said.

  I opened my mouth to tell them how much sun we get in San Diego but closed it again. Why annoy people? Instead, I led the way to the partially constructed bridge and stepped around the roadblock. A rough, plain wood walkway spanned the distance, probably put in place for the construction workers, who were nowhere to be seen. The walkway didn’t have a railing, and I peered down to look at the river flowing below me.

  It wasn’t much of a drop, but I wasn’t interested in taking a swim. We made it across and started walking, continuing to follow the road. Rounding a corner, we saw a tee area with a half dozen people in three golf carts waiting by the tee, just on the other side of a thin row of trees. I checked, and their dots were green.

  “Must be another way to get here,” Aria said. “Which means I walked for nothing.”

  “It was maybe a quarter mile,” Marko said. “Stop whining. Let’s go ask those guys which way to the clubhouse. I’m guessing that’ll be the control point.”

  As we approached, I could see two of the people were shiftlings, one was a fane, and the remaining three were jann. Every jann I’d seen to this point had been totally bald and extremely large, either in height or frame, and these were no exception. All three of them were over six feet tall, bald as a cue ball, and looked like they could bench press their golf carts. Two of the jann were blue, like my taxi driver had been, and the last one was a deep red, like the Lux’s doorman. Faruq, the security guy for the Black Orchid, was brown, and I hadn’t seen any other colors. I wondered if that was the full range and made a mental note to ask later.

  Most golfers I’d seen tended to look presentable when they went to play, even if their outfits were horrible. Not these guys. Only the shiftlings lacked long, greasy beards, which I suspected was a result of their shape changing. The fane had dirty gold hair, tangled and matted, hanging down around his shoulders. Even their clothes had seen better days. Their golf shirts were wrinkled and grungy, and their pants were mud splattered. If they hadn’t been on a golf course, I’d have assumed all of them were homeless.

  The shiftlings went around to the others, handing out bulbous, metal clubs, likely making them the group’s caddies. The fane was up first. He stepped onto the tee area, teed up a ball, and just stood there, looking at the fairway. I checked to see if he was waiting for someone, but nope, it was empty. We’d been approaching the group when the fane got up to play and politely waited for him to be done. That meant we were close enough to hear the shiflings talking, and my heart sank.

  “Look at the bunker on that,” one said. The caddie wore a faded orange shirt and was currently presenting as male.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “Bet it plugs real easy,” the other one said. He also looked male and had on a salmon-colored shirt that was covered in food stains.

  Aria tensed, her eyes narrowing.

  “I’d like to get hold of that big iron he’s swinging,” orange shirt said.

  “I wouldn’t mind getting a grip on it, either,” salmon shirt replied.

  Aria cocked her head to one side.

  “Are they talking about one of you?” she said, quietly. “Cause I was about to tell them to get wrecked."

  "Shh!" the red jann said.

  “Shh!” the caddies and other jann echoed.

  The fane looked over at Aria and sniffed, giving her the expression I’d come to expect from most fane. Dismissing her, he took a practice swing, addressed the ball, waggled the club and… just stood there. Not swinging. These guys were giving me the heebies, so I checked the mini-map again. Their dots had turned yellow.

  “Um, their dots?” I whispered.

  “Shut up!” The nearest blue jann yelled. He had on a black golf glove with the fingers worn through.

  “Eat a dick!” Aria responded. “Hit it already!”

  Their dots turned red. The fane turned toward us, shifted his stance and finally hit the ball, aiming directly toward Aria. It smacked her in the middle of the chest and she gave a wheeze. The force of the shot staggered her and her Health bar dropped to 91%.

  “Fore!” the fane screamed, and charged us, his club raised in both hands.

  I saw the other golfers and their caddies headed toward us as well, the jann with clubs in hand, shiftlings morphing their arms into blades. I summoned my tanto and activated Sanguis Vita. Aria gave another wheeze but still managed to tangle the charging fane in grapevines, causing him to trip and slam onto his face. Marko hadn’t shifted form, but he did have his kanabō out, gripped like it was a baseball bat. I’d have to fix that.

  “Spread out!” I said and took a couple of big steps to the left.

  I didn’t trust Marko to be able to control his swings, and the golf clubs would definitely have some follow through, so more space was better. I stepped to the side as the red jann reached me, ducked under a wild swing and chopped deep into his side. Blood sprayed and a name plate appeared. Feral Golfer (46%). I didn’t have time to follow up because I could see the caddie with the salmon shirt rushing toward me, his blade-arm changing to a spear shape.

  “Have some fucking decorum!” he shouted, as he tried to impale me.

  I twisted, but still took a nasty cut across my shoulders, my Health dropping to 94%. The caddie’s attack caused him to overextend, and I took the opportunity to slice through his spear-arm. Blood spurted from the stump, shockingly red against the shiftling’s gray skin. The limb hit the ground and remained in the shape it’d taken, also leaking blood. A message appeared and immediately minimized, to start blinking at the bottom of my vision. The caddie snarled and his body got thinner as he regrew his arm, the wound vanishing. The nameplate above him and read Creeper Caddie (86%).

  A blue form hurtled backward across the grass, windmilling its arms as the jann with the black glove slammed into the caddie’s side, knocking them both down. I saw Aria, one boot raised, in the direction he’d come from. She’d Punted him. Not pausing to gloat, a ?korpion appeared in her right hand and she unloaded on the snared fane as he struggled to rise. A few feet safely to her right, I saw Marko wind up and crush the other blue jann’s ribs with a swing that would’ve done Babe Ruth proud.

  Returning my attention to my own problems, I stepped toward the tangle of bodies and started stabbing down with my tanto. It wasn’t elegant, it had no finesse, but blood flew in all directions. The gloved jann got the worst of it and his Health dropped to 23%, though the shiftling didn’t completely escape and was at 72%. I was about to stab down again when pain exploded in my back. I tripped over the mess of bodies in front of me but managed to turn as I went down. The red jann I’d wounded had recovered and smashed me in the back with his club. My Health ticked down to 82%.

  The gloved jann and the shiftling tried to grab me as I fell on top of them, so I activated Blood Mist for the first time. It was an odd sensation. I could still feel my body, but it felt, I dunno, dispersed. Like I simultaneously took up more and less space than usual. I could still see my surroundings and watched in satisfaction as an attack the caddie had meant for me sliced into the gloved jann, knocking him down to 5%. I drifted to the side, trying to get some distance for when the ability wore off.

  Rain started to fall, passing harmlessly through my body, and drenched my three attackers. Something seemed off, and it took me a moment to notice, but rain isn’t usually red. The downpour stopped as suddenly as it started and when my body reformed, I could smell alcohol in the air. For some reason, the two feral golfers and the caddie had stopped paying any attention to me and were pummeling the shit out of each other.

  “Get away from them,” Aria called. “If you don’t get close, they’ll keep attacking each other.”

  I hadn’t seen that ability before and berated myself for not asking Marko and Aria about their milestones. There was just so much happening I’d forgotten. I stepped away from the brawl and looked around to see how the others were doing. The jann Marko had been fighting was down and unmoving, his Health zeroed out, but the other shiftling caddie was all over him. Marko was weeping blood from multiple cuts, and his Health was moving down toward 60%.

  “Flee,” Marko commanded, his voice going all echo-y.

  The caddie turned and ran, but stopped almost immediately, and whirled around again. Marko took advantage of the temporary reprieve by switching out his kanabō for a ?korpion. He took aim and fired a long burst. Bullet holes stitched across the caddie’s faded orange shirt and his Health bar suddenly dropped to half. Vines burst out of the ground and wrapped around the caddie, rooting him in place. I started moving in Marko’s direction, seeing the fane at Aria’s feet was dead. She hadn’t taken so much as a scratch.

  I took up position behind the rooted caddie and aimed a stab at his back, but he reshaped his body to face my direction and managed to parry. I raised my tanto ludicrously high, as though readying for a massive attack, but it was just to keep his attention. Marko’s kanabō smashed down on the caddie’s head, driving it into his neck. The shiftling collapsed. Creeper Caddie (0%).

  The chatter of gunfire came from Aria’s direction, and I saw her shooting at the remaining caddie. He was the sole survivor of the three-way fight with the two jann and didn’t look so great. Bullets tore into his legs, knocking him to the ground, his Health nearly gone. Aria put away her gun, pulled out her thyrsus, sauntered over to him, and neatly bashed in his skull. She turned in our direction and pointed at me.

  “You!” she said. “Warn a bitch! When you did that mist thing I thought you’d exploded.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I was just thinking we should have talked about our milestones.”

  We started looting the bodies, but there wasn’t much on them other than credits and junk golf accessories. Marko was still bent over the feral golfer he’d killed when he lifted his head and looked around.

  “Do you hear that?” he said.

  I listened. I did hear something, and it was getting louder. It sounded like a lawn mower with the throttle wide open. Maybe multiple lawn mowers. Two machines shot out of the trees that screened this hole from the next. They were big, winged industrial mowers and some genius had rigged them so the blades faced forward. I could see a crusty figure driving each of the mowers and I thought they might be foaming at the mouth.

  “Uh oh,” Marko said. “Run! Run for the carts!”