place would be a pile of junk. Lost things, Spyder guessed. Not objects, but the memory of them. There were mounds of keys, piles of every kind of money, great meals laid out on endless banquet tables, the wan clowns and listless trapeze acts from forgotten circuses, lost limbs (fingers still trying to grasp some long lost something, feet flexing with somewhere to go). There were packs of dogs, flock of birds, colonies of house cats and stacks of dirty aquariums holding every kind of fish imaginable, lost pets all.
They stopped to look at the trinkets laid out on tables in a small street market on a yellow boulevard that intersected theirs. A trader with leathery skin and blue, chapped lips clasped his hands and greeted them eagerly. He stared at Lulu. "I see youve been doing some renovations, my dear. " He took a bite of a juicy, green-skinned fruit. "What will you take for her?"
Spyder didnt bother looking up at the man, but kept studying the charms on the table. "Shes not for sale. "
The merchant leaned in close and spoke in intimate tones. "You think I wont keep her well because she lacks eyes and perhaps a liver. But dont worry. Those are not the organs that concern me. "
Spyder tucked his hands in the waist of his jeans, pushing back his jacket to make sure the man saw Apollyons knife. "I missed that. Say it again," Spyder told the man.
The merchants gazes flickered from the knife to Spyders shoulder. "You misunderstood me, friend. There is no business here," said the merchant, licking his thin lips. "Thank you. Have a good day. " He walked quickly away.
Spyder turned to Count Non, who loomed close behind him. "I was doing all right, you know. I dont need y
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