They left the Bucket of Blood to get the gas from the dead man’s truck. Behind them, the red-haired hag scuttled over to the table they’d left and watched the fly buzzing around in the upturned glass. She suddenly picked it up and snatched the fly as it tried to escape, and before it could get loose from her hand she shoved the fly into her mouth and crunched her teeth down on it. Her face contorted. She opened her mouth and spat a small glob of grayish-green into the fire, where it sizzled like acid. “Nasty!” she said, and she wiped her tongue with sawdust.
