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“Where?”
“Right in town. You remember the Springheels?”
“Charm makers. Used to be high-and-mighty but aren’t held in much regard anymore.”
“If there were any left, you’d be fighting over the same stale pretzels and moldy Big Macs.”
“What happened to them?”
“The last son, Jack, he had a fetish for demons. He called up an eater one day and the party didn’t go the way he planned.”
“The eater got him?”
“Technically, a High Plains Drifter, a zombie—”
“I know what a Drifter is. Just because I live in the boonies, don’t count me as stupid. Now go on.”
“Anyway, a Drifter got him in the end, but if it hadn’t been one of them, an eater would have done it sooner or later. He was begging for it.”
She thinks about it for a minute.
“I suppose we look quite respectable compared to that.”
“Yeah. You’re mother of the year and I’m king of the Mouseketeers. We’re a couple of lottery winners with money to burn.”
“You’d have killed my boys back there, wouldn’t you?”
“Every one of them.”
“Is that how you got that face? Doing things of that sort?”
“This? I was skipping through a field and fell on some dandelions. They hurt more than you’d think.”
She looks at me.
“Who’s the little Lurker?”
“Don’t worry about her. She’s with me.”
“I thought so. The face of a killer and a Jade on your arm. Your mama must be proud.”
“My mother wouldn’t know a Jade from a lawn flamingo.”
“Once we drop you off, you won’t be coming back, will you?”
“Much as I enjoyed the room service, I have another hotel to get back to.”
“I have your word on that? We won’t see you again?”
“Hell yes.”
“All right, then.”
“So, you’re calling it off?”
“You mean my boys killing you all and leaving you here in the tunnels? I expect I will.”
“Good call.”
