Free Grim Tidings by Caitlin Kittredge

into the blow, make a good fist, and follow through. If you do that, no matter how small you are, hit the right spot and you’re going to put a dent in whoever pissed you off in the first place.
    Still, it was a dumb thing to do. Aggressive and impulsive. I didn’t go around hitting people just because they made me mad. At least I hadn’t before I met Leo and started caring whether or not people wanted to hurt him. If you hit someone, with that perfect right hook gained from decades of fighting dirty, you’d feel better for the few seconds they staggered and their mouth blossomed with blood.
    Then the girl caught herself on a side table piled high with sodden mail and empty pizza boxes, and let out a low snarl as she came back at me. That’s the part where you get your ass beat, and the stupid decision you made when you lost control and hit them in the first place launches you into a world of hurt.
    I braced myself for the ass-kicking, but Leo stepped between us, leveling a snub five-shot revolver at the girl’s forehead. She pulled up short, panting, her lower teeth coated with blood like she’d just torn out someone’s throat.
    â€œHere’s a tip,” Leo said. “You’re going to keep a gun between your seat cushions, make sure it’s where you left it when you get out of the car. And you,” he said, looking sideways at the tree trunk. “You’re gonna pat down another dude, don’t be all delicate avoiding the junk.”
    â€œThat gun isn’t even loaded,” the girl snapped. Leo actually let out a laugh.
    â€œHoney, my old gig was carrying a gun for a living. I can tell it’s loaded just by the weight.” He pulled the hammer back. “Now I’m guessing none of you assholes can hit anything smaller than him”—he jerked his head at Tree Trunk—“so this is probably loaded with hollow points. At this distance your skull will be a Halloween pumpkin if I shoot you.” He stretched out his arm and pressed the barrel into the girl’s forehead, leaving an oily halo. “So how about we all calm down?”
    The girl didn’t have to think long. She put her hands up and backed away. “Yeah. Okay.” Her tongue flicked out, licking the blood off her lip.
    Leo turned slightly to me. “Ava?”
    â€œIt’s over,” I said, my temporary insanity receding and the usual block of ice that had kept me alive this long growing back. Leo put the hammer up on the pistol and handed it to me, butt first. “Nobody needs a loaded gun in this place, least of all me.”
    Tree Trunk regarded Leo again, then turned to our driver. “It’s gotta be him,” he announced, stroking his braid.
    â€œYeah, I’m me, hoo-fucking-ray,” Leo said. He slumped with a sigh onto a gold velvet sofa that was so swaybacked he sank practically to the floor. I unloaded the revolver, sticking the slugs in my pocket and the gun itself in the back of my jeans.
    â€œSorry,” the driver said to Leo. She at least had the grace to look embarrassed. “But we’ve had a couple of false starts since the rumors about you started.”
    â€œRumors?” I said, and she bared her teeth.
    â€œWas I talking to you, bitch?”
    Great. Even when I hooked up with the king of the reapers himself and rolled into town in style, I was still at the bottom of the pecking order.
    â€œViv,” another woman spoke up, from the door. Behind her, I saw a small clot of four or five more people anxiously peering at Leo. Viv spun on her, a fleck of stray blood flying and landing on my cheek.
    â€œ What, Raina?” she shouted. “You going to make me put a dollar in the swear jar?”
    â€œIf I did, we’d all be rich,” Raina said. She was as willowy as Viv was solid, long rainbow-colored raver braids curled in a messy bun on top of her head. She was gorgeous, like a live-action Crusty Punk