The Holy Death

Chapter 33

The troll returned to the dining room, his large, furry hand clamped around Douglas Campbell's left arm. Doug, of course, was protesting much of the way.

"Gee whiz! You don't have to manhandle me, big guy!"

"I apologize, sir," The troll said, "but there are procedures that must be observed."

As soon as they entered the room, Doug's eyes grew wide as he saw his brother seated there. "Scott? What the hell? What... what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to rescue you, brother!"

"It doesn't look like you're doing much of that!"

"Ah," The Santa Muerte said, "welcome to the table, Doug. Canute will show you to your seat. I do hope that we may continue our breakfast in the spirit of civility and taste. Canute, please, another serving of huevos rancheros and chorizo for our guest."

Doug took his seat across from Jack. "Ah, the gang's all here. Dawn, you look lovely today. And Jeremiah, it's great to see you again. So I take it you're part of this rescue operation?"

"Yep," Dawn said, "As are the rest of us."

"Not me," Jack snarled. "Personally speaking, I couldn't give a shit whether you live or die."

"Jack?" Scott said, "remember, I still have the remote, and you still have the collars?"

"Oh, Jesus, not that again. Okay, I apologize. I didn't mean to not care."

"So!" Doug said, "You're Jack! Ol' Santa Muerte has mentioned you. Seems we're both on his shit list, but apparently you're at the top of it. So, as long as he's gonna kill us both, maybe we should try and get along, right?"

"Well, you are a fellow southern gentleman, so, yeah, fine."

"And there's a third lady I do not recognize. Believe me, I would never forget a pretty face like that!"

Grace rolled her eyes. "Oh god. He's like Jack, but his teeth aren't as sharp. My name is Grace. Grace Montoya."

"Well, you are lovely, no matter what you say. Are you part of this rescue operation too?"

"I am. I'm also a cop."

Doug immediately looked away from her. "Oh. Okay."

"I did not know we had a member of law enforcement here today," The Santa Muerte said, "believe me, I will not hold it against you, Grace Montoya."

"Yeah, sure."

"And Cressida!" Doug said. "Well, you look well rested today. Of course, you actually get a real bed to sleep on, but hey, who am I to complain, right?"

"Correct," The Santa Muerte said. "Who are you to complain? You are still alive, and your brother is here. What have you to complain about?"

"Right, my vampire brother, right? That's what they've told me, Scott. These guys keep telling me you're a vampire. Real funny, right?"

"Oh, yeah," Scott said, "Hilarious."

"I mean, come on, there ain't no such things as vampires, are there, Scott?"

"Doug," The Santa Muerte said, "not only are they real, but there are four of them here at this table. Note that there are no trays before your brother, or Jeremiah, or Jack, or myself. What does that tell you?"