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“Only too well. It’s one I tried and tried to learn but it kept backfiring on me. We need to sit down and have a long talk when this is over, about what you can do, and what spells you know. We might be useful to each other.” She pointed to the door. “I think that’s our only option. I don’t see any other exits.”
“We could send Rodney down for us. Send him to check it out. If nobody is on the other side—and we have to hope for that—then maybe a twelve-inch-high skeleton won’t be noticed.” Morio rolled his eyes. He was back in his human form now.
“Oh gods, do we have to?” Camille grimaced.
“Remember, Grandmother Coyote told you that Rodney may save your life someday.” Delilah snorted as she said it, and I had the feeling it was more to get a rise out of Camille than anything else. Although Grandmother Coyote had definitely done exactly that.
“Oh fine. If he can keep his mouth shut and not draw attention to himself.” She crossed her arms and moved away. “Little freakshow pervert.”
Morio grinned and opened his bag. Within the messenger bag, he kept a skull—which he needed to have near him in order to shift forms. But he found what he was looking for, and pulled out a miniature coffin. Delilah frowned and moved over by Camille. Rodney hadn’t made such a good impression on the women of the family. Or the men. Or anybody really. In fact, Rodney was in line for our least favorite jackass ally award.
As Morio opened it, there was a slight stir, and then, the twelve-inch-high bone golem slowly sat up and looked around.
“Hey, bitch-boy, what you up to?” And he was off and swinging.
Rodney could easily have been the love child if Howard Stern and Rodney Dangerfield decided to procreate. He fancied himself a comedian and a hot date—as much as a genital-free bag of bones can be a playboy, but he’d managed to come up with some creative—if gross—suggestions.
Rodney reveled in the crude, lewd, and rude. In other words, he was an unwelcome, unlikable companion who happened to be under a geas to obey Morio. And he’d been a present from Grandmother Coyote, which meant no arguing and use him for what we could use him for.
“Shut up and listen.” Morio picked him up by one bony arm and set him on the floor. “I want you to go through that door when we open it, and providing nothing blows you to smithereens, you sneak down the hall. Then come back and tell us what you see. And you keep your mouth shut while doing it. No drawing attention to us. Got it?”
Rodney glared at him. The light in his eye sockets was disturbingly intelligent. “And what if there happen to be traps on the other side of that door?”
“Then you might find yourself in a dozen pieces. Any other questions?”
“Fox-butt, you’ve got a hard heart.” Rodney turned to see Camille, Delilah, and me standing there. “Maybe I can plead a little sugar from the boobs brigade? A kiss for the road? A ride up the river of your pussy before I go?”
Camille looked ready to beat the shit out of him. Delilah sputtered. I just moved forward and smoothly snatched him up to face me at eye level.
“Maybe we should hand you over to the Maiden of Karask for a play toy? How’s that sound, bone-brain?”
Rodney sniggered. “I’d take her on. Skin is skin and cunt is cunt. Give me a willing broad and—”
It was no use. No matter what we said or did, Rodney would be Rodney. I brought him close to my face, but not close enough for him to reach me with his now-flailing arms.
“If you don’t behave, we stick you in a dollhouse, dress you in a frilly apron, and make you listen to Martha Stewart reruns all day.”
Delilah meandered over. “Or better yet, we’ll have a craft marathon and see just how sparkly we can make you. We’ll get a Bedazzler and glitter and—”
“Whoa—now, Pussycat, hold on there.” Hands on his hipbones, he let out a long, put-upon sigh. “Bitches, you really know how to wound a man’s ego, don’t you?”
“Oh trust me, we can think of far worse torments.” I grinned now, enjoying watching the little son of a bitch squirm.
“Fine! Fine! I’ll behave.”
And that was that.
Rodney waited by the side of the door as Smoky and Morio prepared to open it. We all tensed, waiting, drawing what weapons we had and thought would be effective against the daemons and hellhounds.
As Morio inched the door open, Rodney peeked through. A second later he popped back in the room. “Nobody out there, Fox-butt.”
“Then get your ass down the hall and remember which way you went. Don’t take a lot of twists and turns. We’re looking for a jail area, with a few Fae locked up there. Or Fae and Supes. Doesn’t matter—we’re just out to find the cells in this dungeon.” Morio leaned down. “Remember—you fuck up, you blow our cover, you’re bone dust in a graveyard.”
“Or so sparkly you’ll make Liberace look Amish.” I wiggled my finger at him. “I don’t make promises lightly, remember that.”
“Remembering!” But as he slipped back out the door, I heard him mutter, “Bloodsucking bitch, I’ll give you something to suck on.”
I didn’t bother responding. Instead we waited, on pins and needles, hoping he wouldn’t blow it for us, hoping that the little trash-talking skeleton could keep his fucking mouth shut.
