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330 pages, Paperback
First published September 23, 2013
I shook a cigarette out of the pack and managed to miss my hand. It rolled away into the dark, and I tried to pretend that had been the plan all along.
Her voice was smooth, powerful, like good scotch with a gasoline chaser.
"Verb please," Daisy said, sighing, which in that low cut dress was practically a humanitarian mission.
"That's the problem with hiring a human dick, ma'am."
There was a long silence while we stared at each other.
Finally, I said quietly, "It's just a figure of speech."
"You're a dick."
"But you're not a werewolf."
I shook my head.
"Then what the hell are you?"
"Clean it up, I come in, I have a beer." He smelled like Halloween, even through the door.
"What was I, born yesterday? You don't want a beer. You want to turn me."
"Being a pumpkinhead is great."
"Your head is a pumpkin ."
Crawling eyes saw everything. If I sprinted into the wilderness, he'd see me clear as day and I'd be finished. He'd know I was human instantly, and then I'd be wishing I let Sam Haine turn me into a pumpkinhead while I lived out the rest of my days as a giant eyeball.
I reached into my pocket and whipped out my robot prevention: a postcard with M. C. Escher's Relativity on it. Gortran stopped in his tracks. The face flickered, spun, wiped, and suddenly was an empty prompt. His face said "LOADING..."