My pen scratched on the paper until Bob blurted, “Mab? The Mab, Harry?” “Yeah.” “Queen of Air and Darkness? That Mab?” “Yeah,” I said, impatient. “And she’s your client?” “Yes, Bob.” “Here’s where I ask why don’t you spend your time doing something safer and more boring. Like maybe administering suppositories to rabid gorillas.” “I live for challenge,” I said.
