Free Agent by J. C. Nelson

a goblin. Stupid muscle, but cheap. “Give us the box and do not scream.”
    Evangeline walked forward toward the group, a sway in her hips. “Oh no, I don’t think people will hear me if I scream,” she said, holding her hand to her mouth.
    I giggled, knowing how this was going to go. The goblins advanced on her, surrounding her. Evangeline put her hands on her hips. “Oh, wait. I meant, nobody will hear you if you scream.” Then she attacked. If all the women in the city fought like that, muggers would take up safer occupations, like wrestling rabid tigers.
    â€œGraaabbaaaragggh” said the lead goblin as Evangeline kicked him in the crotch. The longest piece of literature in goblin language was only ten syllables long, so for a goblin that was practically a soliloquy. Evangeline tripped the next one and broke his arm.
    I had my own problems of course. Two of the beasts decided they’d have better luck with five foot eight, hundred- and-fifty-pound me. I didn’t carry a nine millimeter for nothing, and I hit the lead one in the leg three times as he approached.
    â€œAlways shoot in the feet,” Grimm once told me. “They’re so heavy it cripples them.” Evangeline preferred to break their knees, which worked equally well. The remaining one made a lunge for me, closing his leathery hand around my wrist. It crushed my arm under its fingers and tore the gun from my hand. “Die.”
    I felt into my pocket with my free hand and grabbed a tiny object the size and shape of a walnut. Grimm said we should always be polite. “No, thank you.” The only thing I detested more than Jehovah’s Witnesses were goblins, so I sank my fist into his stomach with every bit of force I could muster.
    The shell in my hand disintegrated, and lightning shot through him, making his ears steam. If I had even a shred of magical ability I could have fired it like a bolt from a distance, but given my past history with magic I was just happy it shocked him and not me.
    â€œCome on,” said Evangeline, and we hurried back toward Main Street. “We’d have been fine if your phone hadn’t given us away. Why do you even have that on?”
    I took it out of my purse and pulled up voice mail. “I’m not built like you. I have to talk to them to get their attention. You just have to walk by.” I listened to Liam complain about sitting through a tax meeting with his accountant and grinned at his frustration and the sound of his voice.
    Evangeline looked through me, her face blank with boredom.
    I snapped the phone closed. I knew Grimm would want confirmation that the delivery was done. Inside Kingdom it was hard to get a hold of him. Too much interference, I think, like too many cell phones in one area. The moment we passed the gates, he waited in an oily puddle.
    â€œTrouble?” It wasn’t a question.
    Evangeline dug bits of goblin flesh from under her fingernails. “Not until after the drop-off. We left a bunch of goblins under the Eleventh Street Bridge. Might want to call animal control and let them know.”
    â€œAh yes. Well, they may have been misled about where they would find you,” said Grimm. “Are you hurt, Marissa?”
    My arm had a bruise like an ink blot on it where the goblin had grabbed me. The shape reminded me of a tattoo I’d considered getting to celebrate surviving my first year at the Agency. If I was going to draw on myself with permanent markers, it wouldn’t be Asian characters that meant “Free Fried Rice” or Celtic writing that said “Riverdance Sucks.” It’d be the thing that best represented my life: a bruise. “I got squeezed, but I’ll live. I fried the bastard for it.”
    Grimm frowned. “That was completely unnecessary, wasting magic. Haven’t I trained you in self-defense? I want you to stop by the emergency room and get that x-rayed. Is this going to