“As soon as I gouge his eyes out and shove his privates so far up in his body he chokes on them. And then I’m going to rip his head off and kick it down the street.”
“It would be good if we didn’t gouge eyes in front of the kids,” Diesel said.
I was so angry I was vibrating, but I saw his point about the kids. I tried to focus and redirected my venom. “Does Wulf know you’re here?” I asked Hatchet.
“He sent me.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said. “I think this is another one of your stupid attempts to impress him with your pathetic devotion.”
“It’s not!” Hatchet fumbled in his tunic and produced a folded piece of paper. “I have a list,” he said. “He gave me a list, and this is number three, and the first two people weren’t home. And it’s not pathetic devotion. I’ve taken an oath of fealty. I live by honor and the sword.”
“Great,” Diesel said. “Honor is good, but you need to sheath the sword.”
Hatchet stiffened his spine and pointed his sword at Diesel. “Never will I sheath my sword in your presence. And you will rue my wrath if you don’t leave my domain. You will feel the sting of my sword.”
“Hatchelot,” Diesel said, “give up on the rueing and wrathing and smiting stuff. You sound like a crazy nutcase.”
Even in my enraged state, I knew this was a bad thing to say. It was one thing to tell Hatchet you were going to rip his head off. It was an entirely different deal to suggest he was crazy.
“I’m not crazy!” Hatchet screamed, face turning red, going on purple, neck grotesquely corded.
He lunged at Diesel and ripped a hole in the hem of Diesel’s loose-hanging T-shirt.
“This doesn’t make me happy,” Diesel said, looking at the hole. “I liked this shirt.”
“Infidel!” Hatchet screeched. “Prepare to die.”
Hatchet slashed at Diesel, and Diesel stepped away.
“This is getting old,” Diesel said.
Diesel reached out, snatched the sword out of Hatchet’s hand, rammed the blade two inches into the wood floor, leaned on it, and bent it to a forty-five-degree angle.
“Fiend!” Hatchet said, his mouth contorted into a snarl. “I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”
Diesel grabbed Hatchet by his faux armor and lifted him a foot off the ground. “Here’s the deal,” Diesel said. “I could pull the plug on your power, but the BUM wouldn’t like it, and it would put Lizzy at risk. Ditto killing or crippling you. So I’m going to send you on your way, but I’m sending you with a warning. If you touch Lizzy or cause her a single moment of grief, I’ll find you, and it won’t be good for you.”
Diesel opened the front door, with Hatchet still dangling off the ground, and he pitched him out. Hatchet flew twenty feet and face-planted, and Diesel closed the front door and turned to Melody.
“We need to talk,” Diesel said.
Melody’s eyes were wide and her mouth was open. “Unh,” she said.
“Four people inherited a charm from Uncle Phil,” Diesel said. “Were you one of them?”
Melody chewed on her lower lip.
“I know a warning went with the inheritance,” Diesel told her, “but the danger to you and your children is greater if you keep the charm.”
Melody was wearing a honeybee charm on a slim gold chain, and she fidgeted with the necklace while she debated her dilemma.
“It’s the bee, isn’t it?” I said to her. “That’s what you inherited from Uncle Phil.”
“The note said I’d have bad luck.”
“Everyone makes their own luck,” Diesel said.
I put my hand out. “Can I hold it?”