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“You can have faith in anything,” Vardy said. “Everything’s fit to be worshipped.”
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The strike paralysed large sections of occult industry. The economy of gods and monsters was stagnating.
The computers within the adjacent building had long ago achieved self-awareness and their own little singularity, learned magic from the Internet, and by a combine of necromantics and UNIX had written into existence little digital devils to do the servers’ bidding.
The best thugs were all psychologists.
While they were online Billy had poked around to find and check Marge’s MySpace.
They carried bottles. Their most important weapon a household cleanser.
