The woman wearing it was now on stage, her hair a vivid, impossible purple, her eyes glowing in the dark. She was moving on the pole not like a stripper, but with the fluid, powerful grace of a trained athlete, a wrestler.

She was putting on a show, and the club's regulars were hooting and cheering.

The goon's jaw went slack. This was... not on the "hedge-witch" briefing.

Hanavari saw him. Her smile was all teeth. She finished her move with an athletic flourish, then jumped, landing on the floor directly in front of him, silent as a cat.

"Looking for me, boys?" she purred. The second goon had just entered behind the first. "I know a place that's much more... private."

She turned and, without looking back, walked toward a red-lit "VIP" hallway. The goons, their professional training warring with their absolute confusion, glanced at each other and followed