“What’s more,” Massha smiled sweetly, “he’ll probably say it again. It bears repeating.”
“Werewolves,” I said again, just to support my apprentice.
“Boss,” Guido began, “I don’t want to say this, but nobody said anything about werewolves when we….”
“Good,” I interrupted brusquely. “You don’t want to say it, and I don’t want to hear it. Now that we’re in agreement, let’s just pass on it and….”
“But Boss! We can’t team up with werewolves.”
“Guido, we just went over this. We’re in a tight spot and in a strange dimension. We can’t afford to be choosy about our allies.”
“You don’t understand. Boss. I’m allergic to ’em!”
I sank down into a chair and hid my face in my hands.
“I thought you were allergic to garlic,” I said through my fingers.
“That. too,” the bodyguard said. “But mostly I’m allergic to furry things like kitties or fur coats or….”
“. . . or werewolves,” Massha finished for him. “Frankly, Dark and Deadly, one starts to wonder how you’ve been able to function effectively all these years.”
“Hey, it doesn’t come up all that often, know what I mean?” Guido argued defensively. “How many times have you been attacked by somethin’ furry?”
“Not as often as I’d like!” Massha leered.
“Enough, you two,” I ordered, raising my head. “Guido, have you ever actually been near a werewolf?”
“Well, no. But….”
“Then until we know for sure, we’ll assume you’re not allergic to them. Okay? Vilhelm, exactly where do we find these Woof Writers of yours?”
Chapter Eight:
“First, let’s decide who’s leading and who’s following.”