And there was a lot of blood.

Blood was everywhere: on the walls, on the ceilings. Newer-looking blood, older blood, and lots of… other substances. The place stank to high heaven, a horrifying combination of fear, sweat, blood, excrement, and death.

Ryu put a protective hand on the small of my back, and I didn’t resent his touch. I took a series of short, shallow breaths through my mouth, concentrating on not getting sick.

Suddenly, a tremendous groaning sound echoed through the space. Anyan, Ryu, and I backed up hastily toward the safety of the doorframe. The clear plastic cells all shuddered as one, straining at whatever anchored them before they ripped off the floor. The panes of plastic hovered, rotating slowly onto their sides, then stacked themselves up midair.

A dark-skinned figure, lovely and elegant, strode into the center of the room. Power, Alfar power, swirled about us, and I felt confused.

I also felt horrified that this must be Capitola. The woman was beautiful. She was long and lean, with a catwalk model’s body. Her face was carved from jet-black ebony; an artist’s rendering of the perfect female. She was a queen, a Nefertiti, and I knew the barghest must be in love with her. I was a little bit in love with her.

Julian and I exchanged wide-eyed looks, wondering at this woman and her magic. Her dark braids slithering around her shoulders, she calmly stacked the panes of Perspex against a side wall.

“C’mon, Moo-Cow! Let’s get rolling! That took you ten whole seconds!”

Out of the shadows from the other side of the lab came a short, voluptuous woman. Her long brown hair bobbed in a ponytail, and her succubus juju was prominent and powerful. Unfortunately, she, too, was beautiful, in a polar-opposite way from the other woman in the center of the room. The newcomer’s lush shape promised naughty evenings and naughtier afternoons, her beautiful almond eyes framed by thick liquid eyeliner and even thicker black lashes. She was like Aladdin’s Jasmine, only chubbier and sexier. And definitely not G-rated.

The smaller woman saw us standing in the doorway and she waved. “Hey, Anyan!” she called, before turning toward the back of the radically refurbished clinic. “Capitola!” she hollered. “Anyan is here!”

“Why must you be so loud all the time, Shar?” the tall woman asked, her voice Alfar-calm.

“’Cause somebody has to put a fire in your belly, Moo-Cow,” the shorter woman said, giving her friend a vicious grin before turning to us. “Excuse Moo-Cow,” she said to me. “She lacks social skills.”

I blinked at the woman who seemed to be named Shar, unable to believe that the statuesque beauty beside her was called “Moo-Cow.” I was also very pleased to find out that neither of these two luscious ladies was Capitola. Hopefully this Capitola was ungainly, maybe wart-ridden, perhaps walleyed or hunchbacked…

Or she was the goddess striding forward out of the darkness.

Seriously? She was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. And she was everything, and I mean everything, I wanted to be. Exuding strength and capability, no one would ever take this woman anything but seriously.

She looked to be of mixed race. Unlike my own pale pallor, her skin was a perfect, healthy café au lait. And instead of my weak softness, she was all hard athleticism… with curves. Basically, she looked like the heroine on the cover of one of those urban fantasy novels. She was terrifying and sexy, with six-pack abs and Victoria’s Secret model boobs, bulging biceps, and a big juicy ass.

I hated her, and I wanted to be her, and I knew I could never compete, in anything, ever, with the perfection that was Capitola.

At least she has a stupid name, I tried to comfort myself.

As if in response, she ran a hand through the kinky chestnut Afro that stuck out proud and gorgeous around her perfectly sensual features, her green eyes shining, and the name “Capitola” sang in my heart.

She made it beautiful.

Dammit.

“Uncle Anyan!” she called, smiling a huge, brilliant smile.

Uncle? I thought, even as I felt myself growing smaller and shabbier with every step she took toward us.

“Hey, Cappie,” he said, beaming with affection and pride as he strode forward to give her a hug. I realized, then, just how tall Capitola was. She must have been a good six feet tall, and she and the barghest fit together perfectly.

I only fit with oompa-loompas, I thought sadly. Even Ryu had forgotten he was currently trying to win me back, his gaze going from beautiful woman to beautiful woman—excluding me—as if he couldn’t decide which Baskin-Robbins flavor to choose from.

To be honest, I couldn’t blame him. All three women were seriously hot.

Only Julian appeared unfazed by the attractiveness of the ladies. If anything, he was looking at them with a face full of… hope? He was standing there, peering at the women like a nerdy little kid watching the cool clique from afar.

He wants to play, I thought, but not play, like Ryu.

I filed that thought away, fully intending to have that long talk with Julian about what sort of life he’d lived, growing up halfling in the Territory. His reactions to everything in the Borderlands so far suggested to me it was going to be a fairly bleak tale.

It must be something to go from viewing halflings as tolerated to seeing them so free here. Not to mention wicked strong, I thought as I felt another blast of power, and all the gurneys that had littered the cells suddenly crunched together to make a massive, twisted ball of steel. The Moo-Cow woman floated the ball of steel to rest next to the Perspex, and suddenly the middle part of the room was nearly empty.

Her friend Shar snorted and rolled her eyes. “How are we supposed to get that out of here now? It needs to fit in a Dumpster, Moo.”

Moo’s dark eyes flashed again, but her voice was still calm when she spoke. “I can make it fit into a Dumpster. And still leave room for a fat succubus-halfling,” she added, causing Shar to do a double take.

The two started arguing, and Capitola shook her head.

“Sorry about them,” she said, acknowledging Ryu with a wary nod. “Ryu Baoban Sith,” she intoned, before turning toward Julian.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, brother.” Capitola grinned, all wariness gone, as she clasped both of Julian’s hands in hers. “Welcome to the Borderlands. We hope you feel at home here. You are among friends.” Her words were richly laced with portent, her large green eyes locked on Julian’s, whose gaze flicked uncomfortably between Ryu and Capitola.

“And you must be Jane,” she said, turning to give me a warm smile as she let go of Julian’s hands to extend her own to me. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you. I’m sorry it had to be under such circumstances. Please accept our condolences.” She shook my hand, her grip firm but gentle, and I hated myself for ever having criticized her. I started to thank her, when there was a roar from behind us.

The short woman had the tall woman in a headlock. Capitola sighed.

“Goddammit, quit it! What the hell is wrong with you two?” She strode off to referee the wrestling match as Anyan chuckled.

“So that’s Capitola?” I asked the barghest rhetorically.

“Yup. Everyone calls her Cap or Cappie, though. You should ask her about her name. You’ll like the story; it involves books.” Anyan nodded toward the other two women whom Capitola was physically separating.

“The other two are Emuishere, or Moo; and Shar. As you probably felt, Emuishere is an Alfar-halfling. Her father set himself up as an Egyptian deity and forced her to serve as his daughter-consort.” I made a face and Anyan nodded. “Yeah, they did things differently back then. The other is Shar. She’s half succubus. And all trouble.”

I smiled, liking all three already. Julian cleared his throat.

“So they really are halflings?” he asked. Anyan nodded.

“And everyone here in the Borderlands is halfling?” Julian continued when he saw Anyan nod.

“No, there are purebloods aplenty. Here in Borealis there are quite a few who followed halfling or human partners away from critical parties in the Territory. But they’re all registered. That’s what I was doing when I called Carl as soon as we landed. There’s a lot of infighting in the Borderlands, but one thing everyone agrees with is that they want to keep Alfar intervention nonexistent. So they pool resources.”

“Resources?” I asked.

“There are a slew of halflings like Peter Jakes out here, only far, far more powerful. They’re called Sensors, and they monitor power, even unused power, reporting any unregistered power signatures they come across. If we hadn’t reported to Carl, who cleared our presence, we would have been greeted by quite the welcome wagon.”

“I take it they’d be bearing less-friendly gifts than muffin baskets?” I quipped.

The barghest’s lips twitched. “Far less friendly than muffins, yes.”

“But that would mean—” Julian started to say, just as Capitola finally separated her two friends and they all three came forward. I registered Julian’s protest, knowing he was probably about to raise the same questions I had. But right now we had to meet the rest of Tryptich… now that they weren’t trying to kill each other, that is.