“Jeez,” Mike said. “Who are you guys?”
“Like I told you this morning,” Eddie chuckled. “We’re a rock band.”
“On the phone this morning you forgot to mention the Hellhounds.”
Eddie shrugged. “We’re a rock band that fights evil.”
Fights evil? “What, like knights of the round table?”
In the dim light inside the van, Mike saw Eddie’s bad eye drift sideways again, and Eddie hesitated before answering. “Not like knights,” he said. “More like rival gangsters. We’re out to get Satan.”
“Before he gets us.” Twitch laughed.
“Carajo.”
“We’re your family now,” Twitch added. “Jim took you in.”
“You’ve got the Hand on you,” Eddie explained.
Mike met Jim’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. They were shockingly pale, even in the darkness. “The hand?” Mike asked.
“The Left Hand,” Twitch said. “It’s a bad thing that Jim agreed to let you in.”
“No it isn’t,” Eddie snorted, and immediately began reloading the spare shotgun clip. “The bad thing would have been getting left behind and eaten.”
“And going to Hell, poor boy,” Twitch continued.
“No,” Eddie finished, “it’s not a bad thing. Look, it’s like… it’s like getting admitted to the hospital for cancer surgery. It’s bad that you have cancer, and getting operated on is no fun, but getting admitted to the hospital is a good thing.”
“Unless you get an infection,” Twitch pointed out.
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