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The use of names was relaxing the kid a little.
They met the relief sentry on the way, a man with no less than nine Old World jujus around his neck, a mixture of car manufacturer iconography and bandless watch faces. Valentine recognized a Rolex and Bulova dangling from gold chains. Valentine remembered some of the decorations as Gulf Coast Reaper wards.
"Keep your mouth shut, Sunday," Valentine said.
"That watch post has blind spots right and left," Valentine called. He kept Sunday Trent between himself and the sentry as they passed.
The relief looked distinctly unrelieved at the news.
"Hollup!" the relief called belatedly.
The camp was contracting like a turtle tucking in its limbs for the night. One of the poachers guided a captive to a tent, his hand firmly on the back of her neck. She didn't struggle-a pregnancy was a guarantee of life in the Kurian Zone, both as proof of fertility and for the sake of the new member of the human herd.
The gunmen stood up at Valentine's approach, swapping eating utensils for guns and clubs.
"Easy now, Easy Crew," Valentine muttered. "Just relax, Sunday. All I want to do is talk a bit."
Sunday led him into camp and people gathered, naturally curious about the stranger. Weapons were readied but not pointed.
Sunday pointed out the leader of the headhunters.
Valentine had to admire the big man's sartorial taste. From the dirt pattern on his extremities, Valentine surmised he drove the ATV. Valentine hadn't seen a beaver hat since New Orleans at least, if not Oklahoma, and this one had a lush shine to it that spoke of either recent purchase or tender care.
"Careful, tha, with that gun, stranger," Blitty Easy said. Everything on him looked bright and expensive, from the silver tips on his shoes to the diamonds fixed to the skin in the place of one shaved eyebrow.
"I'm here to talk, not shoot," Valentine said.
"Even shooting off your mouth can be dangerous around me, Injun Man," Blitty Easy said. "What's the matter, we grab somebody's heir? You the big tough man they sent to get him back. No, her back."
"I think bigger than that. I want the whole bunch. Leave the bonds. I want to present them wrapped up like a big bouquet."
Blitty Easy laughed. "You talk pretty big for a man with nothing but a dumb kid in his sights. You can shoot him if you like. Serves him right for letting himself get snuck up on tha in that tree."
"What direction you going, Sunday?" Valentine asked, poking the kid in the lumbar with the barrel of his gun.
"South. Mem-"
"Shuddup, Sunday," Blitty Easy said.
"South," Valentine said. "Good. You won't have to circle around to avoid us; you can just keep on track."
Blitty Easy stood up, thick legs holding up a stomach that jutted out like a portable stove. Not flab, exactly, but the heavy center of a powerful man.
Valentine walked Sunday around the circle of onlookers. Each took a step back as he approached and held his right fist cocked so his brass ring was at eye level. The circle of men and guns around him widened and spread and thinned as though he were rolling dough.
They eyed the submachine gun at his hip. Carrying a quality firearm like that openly marked one as either a tool of the Kurian Order or someone operating outside it. Easy's Crew maintained their well-armed independence by living on the fringes of the masquerade of a civilization beneath the towers.
Deadly as his weapon was, some would say the brass ring on his finger was the deadlier weapon. It was the mark of Kurian favor. A wearer was owed respect, for the fear and favor of the Kurians hung about the ring's owner like a king's mantle.
"Who do you think you are, threatening my crew?" Blitty Easy barked.
Valentine held his brass ring high. "Who am I? A man tested by the only law that lasts-that of the jungle. I speak three Grog dialects and have a foot pass for half the tribes west of the Tennessee and Ohio. I've watched Twisted Cross tubs open, ridden the cannonball St. Louis to LA, and flown with Pyp's Circus. I've sailed the Caribbean and the Great Lakes and Puget Sound, humped hills in Virginia and Baja, tickled lip from Albuquerque to Xanadu. I've won a brass ring and the power to put you all in unmarked graves. I'm your last chance, Blitty Easy."
Easy had a good poker face. "Why you bothering with us, then, Mr. Big Shot?"
"The Old Folks are interested in Kentucky right now. They don't want to see another state fall to the guerrillas. We're on our way to talk some sense into the more friendly locals. I thought my goons would have to forage for heartbeats, but you went out rounding up strays and did the job for us."
"We get paid for them?"
