i asked melanie if she'd ever heard of melinoe, an underworld goddess from ancient greece.
(see, it's funny because the timberwolves worship a lonely hunter called the archangel that turns into dead people.
i mean, not like she seemed to agree.)
they wanted to know if i'd seen a man named henry hallack. apparently he's a runner from the archangel, the brother of a runner they killed called mason hallack.
i told them, honestly, that i hadn't seen him. they didn't seem to believe me.
can't say i blame them for not trusting my word. we mountebanks deal in deceit and misdirection.
but
of course we try to keep our customers happy enough that they don't
stop coming or, worse yet, pull a stunt like the children of the cold had.
customers, of course, being all jack cares about.
i almost want to say i agree with him on that one, though.
lions
prowling among men, wolves in sheep's clothing. those are the phrases.
that's what they tell you, what they pound into your head, what they
never let you forget until the day you die.
lions and people, wolves and sheep. predators and prey, eaters and meat. but lions and wolves? we need to eat.
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