Mary was not pleased to have her own words used against her, but the skinjacker was right. Mary was breaking one of her own rules of etiquette. She took a moment to compose herself. "I'm sorry if we got off on the wrong foot," Mary said. "You know who I am, but I'm afraid we've never been properly introduced. May I ask your name?"
"I'm Jill," she said. "My friends call me Jackin' Jill."
"Well, Jill," said Mary, "I suspect things will be changing around here. I sincerely hope you do well with change."
Jackin' Jill nodded, but said nothing. Even so, Mary felt that they were both on better ground than when they started. Of course it didn't change her opinion of skinjackers, but if there was to be a shining new world order, everyone would have a part to play.
Mary found that she had free run of the fair. She could explore all places, interact with all of Pugsy's Afterlights-- but one place was off-limits. The glass-domed agricultural building. All entrances were perpetually guarded, and when Mary questioned Pugsy about it, he merely said, "It's my business. If you got a problem with it, too bad."
On her third night of freedom, Mary decided it was time to rid Chicago of its secrets. She went to the agricultural building alone, circling it, counting the entrances--five in all--and searching out the guard who looked the least intelligent, and most unhappy in his situation. She found the perfect specimen at the northeast entry.
"Good evening," she said, as she approached. She tried to get past him and through the door without slowing down, but the guard put out his hand and she intentionally bumped into it. It had the desired effect--he looked embarrassed at having touched her.
hugs took their place behind him, and folded their arms, taking on a posture of invulnerability and arrogance. There was also someone else present--a girl who lurked in a corner, looking on with mild interest. She had waves of unkempt blond hair filled with nettles and thorns, skin so tan it was difficult to determine her race, and a gaudy pendant with a sky-blue gem hanging around her neck. Mary found the girl's cool gaze more disconcerting than Pugsy's bug-eyed glare.
"I'm willing to listen to your pleas of mercy," Pugsy said in a voice that would forever crack between octaves, having not finished changing while he was alive.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you," said Mary, "but you'll be hearing no pleas of mercy from me."
Pugsy shifted uncomfortably in his big armchair.
"What have you done with my children?" Mary asked.
The thug in the gray suit spoke up. "Who said you could ask questions?" But Pugsy put up his hand to silence him. "I've put them in storage until I decide what to do with them. As for you, I was thinking it might be fun to chain you to the center of the Ferris wheel and watch you go round and round. What do you think?"
Mary fought back her urge to scold him for being such a thoroughly vile little urchin, and instead offered him her kindest smile.
"Come now," she said, "surely the Death Boss of Chicago is above such pettiness. You must realize I'm far more useful as an ally than an ornament."
That gave him pause for thought. If he hadn't realized it before, he was ready to consider it now. Here was the chance Mary had hoped for!
"You've built quite a civilization here in Chicago," Mary told him. "You are to be congratulated."
"Flattery from the Sky Witch! You really must want something from me!" He chuckled softly, and his henchmen took it as their cue to chuckle loudly.
"Do not call me that," she said, forcefully but respectfully. "My name is Mary Hightower, and it is the only name I answer to,"
"I know your name," said Pugsy, with an air of disgust in his voice. "So are you gonna tell me why you trespassed on my property?"
"I believe it's best if we discuss matters of importance alone," Mary said. His thugs looked ready to stand their ground, and Mary noticed the girl in the corner smile, perhaps impressed with Mary's boldness.
Pugsy looked to his thugs. "Send us up to the top, and wait for me on the ground," he told them.
"Yes, boss," they said, ever obedient.
Then he turned to the girl. "Why don't you go skinjack someone, and get today's sports scores."
It was the first thing that Pugsy said that really caught Mary by surprise.
"Whatever you say," said the girl with a toss of her crazy, nettle-nested hair, then she sauntered out behind the three thugs, eyeing Mary all the way.
In a moment the Ferris wheel grinded into motion, and the large car began a long, slow arc up and away.
"You trust a skinjacker?" Mary asked him.
"Sure," said Pugsy, "she comes in very useful--no matter what you say in your books."
"So, you've read my books, then?"