“I smile, and for the first time in a long time, I send thanks to Mama Luda’s God. My smile slowly turns into a chuckle as he continues to stare at me, uncomprehending. I shake my head. “I’m well aware that my father is dead,” I tell him. “I wasn’t talking about Ivan or Ace. I was talking about someone much worse.” “Who could be worse than the Undead?” he muses, seeming entertained by my apparent confidence. My smile widens. “My own brand of Heaven and Hell,” I tell him honestly. “The Undead aren’t nearly as cruel as the living, and he’ll be coming soon.” I know my man. He’ll always come.”