"Mum. Mum! For Light's sake!" That landed as if I'd slapped him across the face, but my ribs hurt, I didn't sleep well, and I was starting to feel trapped, so I didn't much care. "This isn't a negotiation between you and me, it's you telling me what you want to do clearly and concisely so that I can make a smart decision, okay? If it's a good idea, then you can do whatever it is with my blessing. Or curse. Whichever you consider is better."

  Calista came in the back door right at that time, and I knew I was pissed off because, for once, I kept my focus. "Explain it to Calista. If she understands it, you're aiming at the right level." Bless her black heart, she looked so cute when she was surprised.

  "Did I do something wrong, my Lord? Please don't do this to me." Was that fear that I saw in her eye?

  "Sit." I got out of my chair, grabbed her by the bicep, and sat her down.

  "Ohhh, Captain, you could have just asked." No. No, no, no. The look she gave hit too close to the mark, but I was staying mad. Focus, Chuck. Focus.

  "Now Mum, explain. Don't look at me, look at Calista."

  "Well, you see, I came up with a plan."

  "Oooo, I have one of those too."

  He looked at me plaintively. I made a 'V' with two fingers, pointed them at my eyes, then pointed them at Calista. He got the message and looked back at her.

  "Well, I was thinking that we might not be able to get the village council to approve Captain Chuck as Lord Protector of the village, but we might be able to get individual villagers to seek his protection. I could go door to door and offer protection contracts to each property owner individually. So the village may not recognize the captain as their Lord Protector, but the villagers might.

  "Oh, that's much more complicated than my plan. Let me tell you—"

  I filtered Calista out as I mulled over what Mum had managed to state in two sentences that he hadn't been able to explain in the previous thirty minutes. The gears were spinning in my head as I blocked everything else out and stared at Mum, who was torn between nodding his head to whatever Calista was saying and trying to determine if I was about to kill him. The gears finally all clicked into place.

  I grabbed Calista by the arm and pulled her out of the chair so that I could sit again. "Ohhh, Captain, you're so strong." Thinking better of my original plan, I pulled her to the back door, opened it, and pushed her through. "Does this mean you like my plan?"

  "Yeah, sure, hop to it. Go now, I need to speak to Mum without distractions."

  I shut the door in her smiling face (more dimples!), then I sat back across from Mum. "Let me make sure that I'm getting this right. You can get villagers to recognize me as Lord Protector, even if the village itself does not."

  "Correct."

  "And those villagers would be under my dominion, insofar as Hell is concerned."

  "Correct."

  "So we could make a patchwork nightmare of the ownership of the village, which Vorghammul would have to navigate when he attacks, or face mountains of demonic paperwork."

  He beamed. "Yes, my Lord, you understand completely."

  I stood up and started pacing. There wasn't much room for it in the kitchen, but it's what I had to work with. It was a rather good metaphor for my current situation. I looked out the window and saw Calista taking off on yet another jog.

  "But that won't actually stop Vorghammul from attacking, will it?"

  "No, it will not."

  "So why bother?"

  He looked at me for a long moment. I could tell he was debating what to say. He was trying to figure out what would be most likely to sway me. I hate salesmen. I braced myself for a bunch of bullgrix. I tried to talk myself out of punching him in the nose after whatever he was about to say, even before I heard it.

  "If there is a patchwork of ownership involved, and you are defeated, then I should buy myself a year or two to find a way to get out of my death sentence while everything is unwound. It's not likely to help you much, and you may well end up dead, but it makes an enormous difference to me. I do need your authorization to proceed, since it is your dominion."

  Damn him. That was the exact thing he needed to say.

  * * *

  Calista jogged into Thornwell, her ponytail swinging with each stride and skin glistening with the first traces of sweat. Captain Chuck approved her plan, and she was just giddy. She'd demonstrate proper combat techniques to the villagers, build community bonds, and show everyone the squad meant no harm and was, in fact, here to help. It was a perfect plan. Perfect.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The village square was mostly empty when she arrived, but she saw a group of strapping young lads standing around the alarm bell. They all looked to be of the age necessary to serve in the militia, so the group was exactly what she had hoped to find.

  Calista bounded toward them, her athletic outfit drawing immediate attention. She didn't notice the way their conversation stopped mid-sentence or how their eyes tracked her approach.

  "Good morning!" She planted herself in front of them, hands on hips, grinning. "I'm Calista, from Captain Chuck's squad. I'd like to demonstrate proper hand-to-hand combat techniques. Who wants to learn?"

  The militia members exchanged glances. There were maybe eight of them—young men mostly, with a couple older veterans. One of the younger ones, a farmer named Wilhelm, spoke up.

  "Combat techniques?"

  "Yes! Grappling, holds, defensive maneuvers. Your militia should know how to fight if demons attack." Calista stretched her arms over her head, limbering up and inadvertently thrusting her breasts forward, where they strained the fabric of her top. "I've trained in all sorts of grappling techniques. Of course I was trained to achieve submissions, but in a real fight you can simply not stop once you control your enemy. Get 'em on their backs and don't stop even if they beg you is what my instructor always said."

  An older militiaman frowned. "This is proper where you're from?"

  "Of course. Being able to lock up an opponent so that they can't escape is a common technique, and there's even no need for props if you know what you're doing with your hands. Legs too sometimes." Calista waved dismissively. "I was so good in my grappling classes that none of the other girls wanted to train with me. So, who's first?"

  Wilhelm volunteered immediately. "I'll try."

  "Excellent!" Calista dropped into a ready stance. "Now, when facing an opponent in close quarters, stance is critical. Feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent for mobility. Like this." She demonstrated.

  "I'm a little unclear unclear on that position," said one of the other young men. "What does that look like from the side?"

  She spun on her heel until she was side on to the group. "See, stance wide but not too wide, and low so that you can keep your balance." She demonstrated how she could move her posterior around and not lose her balance. "Get it now?"

  "What about from behind?"

  She spun again until she was facing away from the group, missing the exchange of looks and appreciative leering in the group.

  Wilhelm mirrored her positioning, his eyes not quite focused on her footwork. "Like this?"

  "Almost, but not quite." She came over and adjusted his position. "Butt in a bit more or you'll get knocked over backwards. Good! Now, basic grappling starts with grip control. If your opponent reaches for you, you want to redirect their momentum." Calista stepped close, taking Wilhelm's wrist. "Feel how your stance lets you resist my pulling you around? If you stand up straight—there—see how now I can flip you?"

  She executed a perfect hip throw, sending Wilhelm tumbling to the dirt. He landed with a grunt but immediately scrambled up, face flushed.

  "That was amazing! Can you show me again?"

  "Of course!" Calista beamed. This was exactly what she'd hoped for—enthusiastic students eager to improve. "But this time, you try to counter. When I grab your wrist, try to break my grip."

  They practiced the technique repeatedly. Calista guided Wilhelm's hands, adjusted his positioning, demonstrated the proper hip movement for the throw. She was completely focused on teaching correct form. Her audience was enraptured. It she had no shortage of volunteers for a second demonstration.

  As she worked her way through the group, more militia members joined, forming a circle to watch. Soon they were all taking turns, practicing throws and holds under Calista's expert instruction.

  "No, your hand placement is all wrong. You'll never throw me if you grab me there. Remember—use your opponent's body and momentum against them. Don't rely on pure strength. Technique is the key." She grappled with a stocky blacksmith's apprentice, demonstrating how proper technique let her flip someone twice her weight. "See? Leverage and positioning beat raw power every time. Even against a strong man like yourself, and you are clearly strong." She ran her hand over his well developed chest.

  The training continued into the early afternoon, with more and more men joining the training. Calista worked with each militiaman individually, correcting stance, adjusting grip, explaining the biomechanics of joint locks. She praised their efforts enthusiastically whenever someone executed a technique correctly.

  "You're all naturals." She wiped sweat from her forehead, not noticing how the men's eyes followed the gesture. "With practice, you'll be able to defend yourselves against most demon types. The key is drilling these movements until they become instinct."

  She clapped her hands together. "Same time tomorrow? You men clearly need more practice. Your hands were all over the place today."

  * * *

  Elanthe and Buttercup made their way through the silent streets on their nightly wanderings. "I like walking with you, Buttercup, but even elves need to sleep once in a while. Tomorrow I'm going to hide in the barn with you and grab a nap. Will you join me?"

  The mare huffed and swung her muzzle to be within Elanthe's reach, gently pushing her with it. "Good, that's settled then. Maybe you'll take me to see what your dreams are like for once."

  Their path brought them close to the church, but Buttercup was reluctant to go down the street past it. She stopped and pawed at the ground, her color sliding towards black as she sawed back and forth across the road.

  "Shhhh, shhhh. There's a good girl. It bothers you to go too close to it, doesn't it?" She may grant sweet dreams, but she was still a demon, and being close to the church clearly discomfited her. "There, there. Just turn around. There you go. Don't worry about this street. You do enough as it is. There's a good girl."

  Buttercup turned back the way that they'd come until a point where she settled down. "That's okay, sweet girl," Elanthe breathed into the horse's neck. "It's okay. I need to go down this street, but you don't have to. You can wait for me here, and when I come back, we'll go back the way we came, okay? Good girl."

  With a last stroke of the palomino, Elanthe merged into the shadows and made her way to Father Yaqub's house. It was small, having one or maybe two rooms on a single level. It had a well-tended garden and even flower boxes, though the flowers looked a little sad, so she paused in her approach and touched the dirt within the box with her fingers. She murmured elvish words below her breath, revitalizing the soil, then quickly repeated the process with the box beneath the other window.

  Distraction complete, she withdrew a package of papers from under her cloak and tried to slide them under the door. Failing to do so due to the thickness of the package, she leaned it against the door so that it would fall in when the door was opened. Vladimir's papers delivered, she once again disappeared into the shadows and into the night.