Diesel opened the door and stepped into the house.
“Help!” the kid yelled. “HELP! Burglar!”
Three more kids ran in. One wrapped his arms around Diesel’s leg. Another bit Diesel in the ankle, and a third kid kicked Diesel in the back of the leg. Diesel picked the ankle biter up by the back of his shirt and focused on the kid who’d kicked him.
“You do that again, and I’ll turn you into a toad,” Diesel said to the kicker.
“Can you do that?” I asked Diesel.
Diesel looked over at me, the ankle biter still dangling in the air. “Do you really want to know the answer to that question?”
“No,” I said. “And don’t do it in front of me.”
Mark walked into the living room. He held a clear plastic bag filled with bite-size candy bars. He shook the bag and the kids snapped to attention, all eyes on the candy bag.
“What’s going on?” he asked the doorkeeper kid.
“He’s a burglar. He’s gonna take our telebisions.”
“This is Diesel,” Mark said. “He isn’t a burglar. He came to talk to me.”
“Mom said don’t let anyone in when she isn’t home.”
“It’s okay. I’m here.”
“But Mom said . . .”
Mark threw the candy bag into the dining room. “Fetch.”
The kid took off after the candy, and the other kids followed. All but the kid hanging at the end of Diesel’s arm. His legs were running, but he wasn’t going anywhere. Diesel put the ankle biter down, and he went off like a shot after his siblings.
“Do you have kids?” Mark asked Diesel.
“No,” Diesel said. “I have a monkey.”
Mark nodded. “How’s that working for you?”
“Not all that good,” Diesel said.
“Sorry about the charm,” Mark said, his hand unconsciously going to the burn marks on his neck. “I have a feeling I gave it to the bad guy.”
“Where did Wulf take you?”
“I don’t know. He walked up to me, and it was lights out, and then I was in a room that looked like it might have been a warehouse or a factory. Sort of a loft that had been cleaned up. The ceiling was painted black, with exposed air ducts, whitewashed walls. It had a cement floor. No windows. One door. I wasn’t there very long. He explained what he wanted. I said no. He burned my neck, and I gave him Uncle Phil’s bug. Next thing I know, I’m on the wharf.”
“You didn’t tell him anything else?”
“Nothing else to tell,” Mark said.
“When your uncle was alive, did he ever talk about the charms?”
“No.”
“SALIGIA Stones?”
“Nope.”
“How about gluttony?” Diesel asked.