“The commission sounds like a good thing for you. You’re moving up in the Tick-Tock world.”
“Yeah. Things are going okay. You didn’t come by just to check up on me, did you?”
Up until now I’ve been holding the 8 Ball under my arm like a loaf of bread. I take it and hold it up so he can get a good look at it.
“Nothing like that. I was wondering if you’d look at something for me. It’s a fake mystical object I’m guessing someone paid a lot of money for. I was hoping you’d have some idea who made it.”
Mike takes it gently, like he’s handling a baby duck.
“I’ll have a look but I mostly know animals. Those charm- and talisman-making assholes won’t give us the time of day. They talk about Tick-Tock Men like all we make are big-ass Tamagotchis. But we’re artists, you know?”>“Not even a little. See you around, Mr. Muninn.”
“It was nice meeting you,” says Candy.
“Good-bye, my dear. I hope we meet again.”
“Me too.”
I pull Candy through a shadow and a wave of nausea and we come out in the living room in the Chateau.
Kasabian looks up from his computer.
“Where have you two been? You smell like something a dead raccoon horked up.”
I look at Candy.
“Told you so.”
“WHO ARE YOU calling?” says Candy.
I’m dripping on the carpet and she’s still toweling off from the shower. I’m turned away dialing the phone so she doesn’t have to look at the new scar I picked up from Garrett’s lucky shot.
I say, “Manimal Mike. He might know who made the fake 8 Ball.”
She comes out of the bathroom, takes the phone from my hand, and tosses it on the bed.
“Stop it,” she says.
“Why?”
“Because you just got shot. Because you just got blown up and we just came back from Hell.”
“I had a donut this morning.”
“See? I didn’t know that.”
“You were sitting right there.”
“I wasn’t paying attention.”
I know what she’s getting at even if she doesn’t want to say it. Days like this I can maybe catch a bullet, she can maybe get her laptop murdered, and maybe we can go to Hell, but doing them all the same day isn’t exactly normal, even for someone as fierce as Candy.
I nod. Get a glove to put on over my Kissi hand.
“Okay, country mouse. I guess getting to Mike’s in the next ten minutes isn’t going to save the world. What did you have in mind? Shuffleboard or coupon clipping?”
She pushes me down so I’m sitting on the bed.
“How about sitting still for a whole sixty seconds. I think you have this illusion that you’re a shark. Like you think you’ll choke if you stopped moving all the time.”