revious evening drunkenly playing with one of Count Nons odd weapons. What had he called it? Spyder tried to remember through the haze. It was something unpronounceable, with a lot of back-of-the-throat "ch" sounds. Spyder had just ended up calling it a Hornet, he recalled. His high school football team had been the Hornets and the weapon buzzed like a stinging insect when it was spun properly (which Spyder failed to do, most of the time).
Spyder held his side and let out a groan when he stood up.
"The more you move around, the better youll feel," said Count Non. The big man was packing his gear into a pair of leather saddlebags, like the ones Spyder had installed on the Dead Mans Ducati. The Counts bags looked hand-tooled, with squids or some weird animals stitched all over them. Spyder envied the bags.
"Thatll fix my side, but whatll fix this arm?" he asked, rotating his shoulder painfully.
"You just need more practice. At least you didnt cut off your own head with it. I saw someone do that once. "
"Thanks. Ill be playing that little movie over and over in my head all day. "
"Here, drink some water," said Shrike. "Were all going to have to be careful not to dehydrate out here. "
Spyder sat down next her and took the canteen she offered. The water was cool and delicious.
"Thats about perfect," he said. "Did this come from the river?"
"Yes, the Count and I brought it back this morning. "
"You were out there all night?"
"A good part of it. We wanted to know if anyone or anything was coming down that river. "
"Was there?"
"Not a soul. Just night animals having a drink. &
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