Al listened to Bronwean and also the message from Ex-Gladius. The guy seemed pretty sharp, if maybe overly impressed with the utility of Satan-worship.

“Well, scamp, reckon I understood about half o’ that, which I’m gonna view inna glass-half-full kinda way. I’ll allow as any degenerate as burns little girls deserves blades in considerable more places than jist they throat.”

Al swerved, deftly avoiding some sort of bomb crater in the highway. It hadn’t been there last week. He noticed a stack of traffic cones peeking out of a drainage ditch. People had all sorts of ideas about how to have fun.

“Anyhoo, if’n yer gon’ git into all this, then you lucked out stumblin’ on Tanya. Woman’s got some deeply strange ways about her, but I can guarantee she’ll do ya right. How’d ya git mixed up with her?” A pack of Lucky Strikes appeared in the hand he’d been steering with. He shook one loose and proferred it to the girl.