“Do they get college credit?”
“Of course.”
“For helping destroy the world?”
“Mostly it’s for assisting the senior associates.”
“So, a lot of typing and filing.”
“Among other things,” he says.
“What other things?”
“You know. Animal sacrifice. Elementary soul binding. Demon summoning.”
When we’re at the edge of the grove I turn around, letting Roger bump into me.
“Are you a senior associate?”
He shakes his head.
“Upper midlevel.”
“Impressive.”
“Thank you,” he says warily.
I put an arm around his shoulders.
“Roger, just between you and me, did you ever murder anybody for Wormwood?”
He clears his throat, not sure how to answer. I can feel the gears in his brain turning as he works out the lie.
“Never.”
I look at him.
“When I say murder, I don’t mean did you stick a knife in someone’s ribs, I mean kill. Magic. Poison. Maybe you just filed the paperwork for a hit.”
“No,” he says. “Never anything like that.”
“Okay.”
I look back at the mansion.
“Are any of your other friends—the other roaches—are they killers?”
“Nope.”
“I find it hard to believe that Eva and Barron would surround themselves with a bunch of helpless baby birds. Are you sure none of you are killers?”
“Positive,” he says. Then, “We’re not all like you, you know.”
“Like what?”
Now that we’re close to home, Roger’s growing an extra set of balls.
“A maniac.”