Of all the words in all the languages in all the worlds, there's a combination of three which guarantees to arouse and incite the higher passions in any woman ... three little words, just three: sale on now.

But between Scarlet and Kushinsky's temple to high-end fashion footwear are Dhou'radii.

Mistake.

Their last.

The trick, though, is that the fancy doors shut tight at midnight and Scarlet has six minutes forty seconds to slide inside.

"Sorry, gonna have to skip the banter tonight, boys." Scarlet shakes back her braid, feeling adrenaline ignite in her nervous system. "I have a date with destiny, and you're in my way. Ciao."

Maybe Dhou'radii are not familiar with conversational Italian. Brawn usually doesn't go with brain and these boys are big, bordering on huge. Evolution's gift to them is a double-heart; the twin beats make them slalom-speedy for all their linebacker bulk. They're the thugs of the preternatural world, human enough to pass in low light and back alleys, feral enough that they never travel without their buddies.

Scarlet sighs. "Okay." She draws her blades and falls into a crouch, letting the pack rush her.

Damn, they're fast.

Except greater numbers are a disadvantage because it means that any of Scarlet's strikes will find flesh and with her blades sharp enough to slice sunshine, she can inflict serious damage even while her opponents stumble over each other trying to reach her.

That's when the real disadvantage of owning a double-heart works in Scarlet's favour. A double-heart pumps blood faster around the body; it also sprays blood faster and further from a wound.

Dhou'radii can and do bleed out in seconds.