“She's beaten up pretty bad, but nothing life-threatening. Maybe some breaks. Tarloh, go get the first aid kit." Talia sent Tarloh because she knew just by looked at her distressed face that Jane would never leave Red's side.

"She's going to be okay?" Jane whimpered.

“Physically, yeah," Talia said, rubbing her eyes. "But mentally .

I don't know what set this off. I knew she wasn't happy about the move out here but . . . I've never seen her like that. And I've never seen her drunk. Not ever."

Tarloh returned and they cleaned up and bandaged what they could.

Tarloh built a fire in the center of the cave while Talia and Jane tucked Red into bed.

"I'll stay in here until she comes around," Talia told the big man.

She looked at Jane. "I know you'll be here, but I should be around if she needs more medical help. I'm the best we've got until Arthur gets back."

Jane nodded. She didn't care who else was there. She curled up and tucked herself into the crook of Red's arm, her hair wrapped up Red's body and keeping her warm.

Twelve hours later...

Red had only had a hangover once before in her life. She remembered suddenly why she didn't drink. But last time, she was pretty sure that the only symptoms had been nausea and a headache. This time, her entire body ached as if "Wait," she mumbled. "I WAS in a fight." Bits and pieces of her night on the town were coming back to her.

"Red?" came a voice at the end of the bed. Jane had been reading and had fallen asleep again in a chair next to the bed. The younger girl quickly moved to Red's side.

“What did you do? What happened? What . . ."

“Red?" This time it was Talia at the mouth of the cave. “Good God girl, what the hell did you do last night?"

“I... went patrolling," Red said.

“By yourself?!" Talia said. “Dammit, that's just the kind of dumb-ass stunt your brother would pull!"

“I had everything under control," Red grumbled. She tried to sit up but her ribs objected mightily.

"Oh really?" came Tarloh's voice from the door. Suddenly, all the remaining Strays piled into the cave, and Red had to pull a blanket up to cover her mostly naked body. She wasn't ashamed of her body.

She was ashamed that she'd been beaten up so badly.

Anya sat on the bed and dropped a paper on the bed. Red picked up.

On the open section, someone had circled a police article about a "disturbance" at a local bar where, according to a traumatized bartender, a red-haired woman had gotten into a fight of biblical proportions with three well-dressed men. His description of the fight was jumbled as he talked about the woman having fangs and claws and the men's eyes were glowing and their teeth gleamed. The woman managed to brutalize the three men before taking two bottles of Jose Cuervo and disappearing into the night. The bartender had hidden behind the bar but also claimed that other men, dressed the same as those killed, had arrived and collected the bodies. While the police agreed that there had been a struggle, no sign of the supposed victims had been found.

Croc was the only one smiling. "Next time you go to the bar, invite" he said. “It sounded like one hell of a. . . ouch!" Anya had elbowed him hard in the ribs.

Tarloh's face was hard to read. "Do you have some kind of explanation for this? And don't say you were patrolling again."

Red closed her eyes and leaned back. "I had to do something. There are still monsters out there, and getting a job as a bouncer isn't going to make them go away."