Free Bloodstone by Nancy Holzner

keeping norms home at night, but once the story of her escape hit the news, even one witness could threaten Juliet’s safety.
    Juliet’s face clenched with pain, and she didn’t say anything else. I assumed she was okay with my plan.
    But I wasn’t—not quite. A pile of boxes wasn’t exactly armor, and I couldn’t leave her alone and vulnerable with the Old Ones after her. We hadn’t been followed, but I couldn’t be sure she was safe. For all I knew, her enemies could track her by smell.
    I thought about leaving her Brown Robe’s sword but decided against it. If the Old Ones arrived, it’d be too easy for one of them to use it against her.
    I unwrapped the silver chain from my waist. The Old Ones wouldn’t get within lashing distance of it. As long as it didn’t come into direct contact with Juliet’s skin, she could use it to fend off Brown Robe. Unless he arrived with an army.
    The robe’s sleeves were too long for Juliet’s arms. I knotted the right sleeve at its opening so it couldn’t slip up her arm and expose her skin. Then, feeling through the cloth, I closed her fingers around the chain’s shackle end. “If that Old One comes, whip the chain at him. Show me you can do it.”
    “If an Old One comes, you’ll never see me again.” But she flailed the chain a few times. There was more strength and energy in her movements than I’d expected. Good. And I’d get her out of here in a couple of minutes.
    Working quickly, I surrounded Juliet with a stack of empty boxes. I checked from several angles, rearranged some boxes, added a few more. Then I hurried to the end of the alley and down the street to Creature Comforts.

    AS SOON AS I OPENED THE FRONT DOOR, ANY HOPE THAT Axel was having a slow night fled. Laughter and music blasted out. Creature Comforts was packed with women, dressed for a night of partying. They filled all the tables and spilled out of the booths. As I stepped inside, I was hit by the bar’s characteristic perfume of beer, tobacco, and a slight whiff of human blood—shot through tonight with a strong scent of musk. On tables at the back, two half-naked, human male dancers performed an athletic bump-and-grind routine.
    Oh, great. I’d walked into a werewolf bachelorette party.
    Massachusetts was one of a handful of states that recognized marriages between paranormals. Other states had passed laws restricting marriage to humans only. Although some norms in “Monsterchusetts” objected to paranormal marriage, no one seemed to mind the money it brought the state. It had become fashionable among werewolves to have a norm-style wedding in addition to whatever ritual they performed at the full moon. In Boston, a whole industry had sprung up offering destination weddings to werewolves.
    I scanned the crowd but didn’t see a face I recognized. I knew most of Deadtown’s werewolves through Kane. These were definitely tourists.
    “Hey!” A woman pointed at me. She wore a tight, supershort, low-cut black dress and a crooked tiara sparkling with pink and white rhinestones. She flipped her glossy blond hair over her shoulder, managing to make the gesture an act of aggression. “This is a private party. The bar’s closed.”
    Damn territorial werewolves. When they traveled in a pack, even out-of-towners acted like they owned the place.
    I ignored her and walked toward the bar.
    She was in front of me before I got halfway across the room. Her nostrils flared as she sized me up in a few sniffs. She bared her teeth—not a very impressive gesture in her human form—and growled. “I said it’s a private party.”
    “Do I look like I’m here to crash your party?” I gestured at my ruined dress.
    She didn’t look at my outfit. She stared at the sword in my hand, the one I’d taken from the Old Ones.
    Oh, that. Well, yeah, I could see how that might be interpreted as a threat.
    I didn’t have a sheath for it, so I stuck it under my arm, where I hoped it seemed less dangerous. I stepped