it was the utter blissfulness of its expression. Spyder had seen faces like that before-especially the eyes-when being analyzed by court-appointed psychia-trists and being sentenced by compassionate judges who sent him off to juvenile work camps for his own good. They were the understanding eyes of kindly folk who burned witches alive to save their souls. But when Spyder glanced back to the prince, he saw that Primo had dropped out of the conversation completely.
Lulu emerged from the cabin, clutching the butcher knife to her chest. "Are we dead yet?" she asked.
"Not sos youd notice," said Spyder. He nodded toward Bels image. The young princes flickering face was creased with anger. He was clearly no longer addressing Primo, but the Seraphic Brotherhoods ghost representative. The ghostly head nodded and calmly answered the young princes furious chatter. "The bribers are bitch slapping each other," Spyder said.
"That or arguing over who gets to suck our bones," said Lulu.
"Well know soon," said Shrike.
"Hey, Spyder?"
"What, Lulu?"
"When you were sixteen, how many times did you picture yourself freezing to death while god and a big scorpion tried to decide who was going to eat you?"
"Its not god, Lulu. Its just some magic trick," said Spyder. "And the answer is once every acid trip. "
Lulu hunched her shoulder and went over to lead sit on a bail of rope. She softly began to sing: "Onward, Christian soldiers, marching as to war, With the cross of Jesus going on before…?" Spyder laughed at her.
"Quiet!" Shrike yelled. "Primo, before I push these fools overboard, whats happening?"
"
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