“You smell vile,” I tell him. “Good,” he says simply. “I take a bath every day but when you fill the tub with bat’s blood, the smell is bound to rub off on you.” I still. Oh my god. I can’t tell if he’s joking. “Now,” he goes on, reaching into a pocket inside his hood, “that we’ve made an agreement, struck a bargain, we still have to get you back to my home at Shadow’s End.” “Is this the place you bathe in bat’s blood?” “Where I what?”
