Angie’s bottom lip trembles as her sky-blue eyes dart between us. I can taste her fear in the smoky air of her apartment. Christie’s rage-filled energy swirls around her like wildfire, dancing across my skin until it nearly burns. We’ve been working on control, but right now, holding back is beyond her. I place a hand on her shoulder, warning her to keep herself steady and pull back the fury. Christie bows her head, her dark hair spilling around her pale angular face to hide her anger.
I let Christie go after I think she’s summoned a little control. It’s tenuous at best, though. I step closer, my height allowing me to look down at Angie with a mixture of pity and frustration. Her sweet, cherub cheeks flush with embarrassment.
“No one should ever lay a hand on you like that, Angie. It’s unacceptable.” The way I say it, there is no room for argument.
That doesn’t mean she doesn’t try. She opens her mouth, clearly at a loss for words. Tears begin welling in her eyes. “He didn’t mean it,” she says, pleading for understanding. “He’s just having a tough time at the plant, and—”
I snort again. “The only kind of man who beats on his woman is a dirty little bitch.” My voice is low and dangerous. Angie gasps and takes a step back.
She swallows hard, looking between Christie and me. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to give him a bigger bitch to fight,” I say with a smile.
Angie gives me a once-over, sizing me up. I know I’m not big, and I’m thin as a rail. I came into the world as a woman, but I’ve lived my life as me. I’m neither man nor woman. Sure, I’m wearing a man’s dress shirt and slacks held up with suspenders, but my body still reads female. Her husband will probably think I’m a simpering freak. He’ll never see the pain I plan to deliver coming.
The door slams open, and Angie’s husband, Hank, stumbles in. The smell of alcohol hits me before he even speaks. His eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of Christie and me. “What’s going on here?” he slurs. “What are you doin’ here? Come for some medicine money?” The mocking tone of his voice made me want to rip off his face.
Christie looks like she might set him ablaze with her mind. She joined the Kiss when cancer had brought her to the brink of death. Desperate to survive long enough to rescue Angie, Christie sought the aid of the Nightlord of Baltimore. Now, we are here, and this fool has no idea how close he is to his end.
Angie takes a step back, her fear palpable. Christie stands her ground, her fists clenched at her sides. I step forward, placing myself between Angie and Hank.
“We’re here to have a conversation,” I say. “You’ve been hurting Angie, and that stops now.”
Hank laughs, a cruel, mirthless sound. “What goes on between a man and his wife ain’t your business.”
“I make women dealing with wife beaters my business,” I say. “Besides, Christie is part of my family, which makes Angela my family. I take care of my people.”
“And how are going to stop me?” He steps closer, his breath reeking of whiskey. “A little girl in boy’s cloths? You’re disgusting.”
