“You rang?” the fallen angel said in a pleasant tone. “No.” V punched at Butch’s pecs. “You did not text him.” “He did.” Lassiter gave the straw another suck. Then he metronomed his head back and forth, his blond and black hair swinging. “He did, he did, he did.” To the tune of Hocus Pocus’s “amuck, amuck, amuck.”
