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“Draw her to you. Brilliant!” Jonny said, saluting me.
I saluted him right back.
“The question is, how?” Lilith said.
That was the part I hadn’t figured out yet. “Well, she’s vain. We know that.”
“I say we insult the hell out of the Shitty Whore,” Stella suggested. “Likereallyinsult her. We could put up posters all over the Darkness with her face on them… BUT we draw mustaches, warts and boogers.”
“Umm… not sure that’s going far enough,” I told her, trying not to laugh.
“What if we put it on the Demon Network?” Jonny suggested. “There’s a fine chance she’ll see that. The boogers will kill her.”
“Demon Network?” Sean asked, intrigued.
Lilith chimed in. “Is a television network for Demons. It’s accessed by a code on any enchanted computer.”
“Like that one?” he asked, pointing to the glowing laptop Abaddon had given him.
“Yes,” Lilith confirmed. “However, the line-up of shows—and I use the word show lightly—is appalling.”
“It was created and run by Pandora,” Abaddon told my brother. “She tends to broadcast torture, violence and lewd sex acts.”
“She also broadcasts herself talking, or rather, threatening her people,” Stella added with a snort of disgust. “All the time.”
“Not sure posting crappy photoshopped pictures will bring her to us,” I said, racking my brain for something far worse.
“I tend to agree with that,” Lilith added. “Also, I’m unsure how we’d put anything up on the Demon Network anyway. I’m quite positive Pandora has the broadcast building locked down tight.”
Sean turned and looked pointedly at Man-mom. Our dad blushed a deep red and ran his hands thorough his hair. “Do you have anything to add to the conversation, Bill?”
“It’s been a long time,” my dad admitted sheepishly.
I wasn’t following the conversation. “Been a long time since what?”
“Shall I? Or shall you?” Sean asked with a shit-eating grin.
“I shall,” Man-mom said, rubbing his hands together and sighing dramatically. “Well, umm…hmm. Not sure how to say it.”
“Words would be good,” I suggested, wondering what the heck was going on.
He chuckled. “When you were onCamp Bites,I had a job of sorts.”
“You taught art,” I reminded him.
“No, actually I didn’t.”
I looked at Sean. He was loving this. I was not.
“Okay, I’ll bite. If you weren’t teaching art, what were you doing?”
“CIA,” he whispered.
I squinted at him in disbelief. “CIA? Like in the Central Intelligence Agency CIA?”
“Yes,” he replied. “I’m a trained international hacker, for lack of a better way to put it. Got out when you kids hit high school. It became a little too dangerous for my liking.”
A feather could have knocked me over. My attention snapped to Sean. “Why do you know this and I don’t?”
