She was speaking through some kind of megaphone pressed directly against the side of my head, evidently while pounding my skull with the pointy end of a claw hammer. "Hey, boss, can you hear me?""Ow," I said."What happened?""Ow," I repeated, annoyed, as if it should have been explanation enough.Molly let out an exasperated, worried sound. "Do I need to take you to the hospital?""No," I croaked. "Aspirin. Some water. And stop screaming.""I'm barely whispering," she said, and got up. Her combat boots slammed down on the floor in great Godzilla-sized rolls of thunder as she went up the stair steps."Bob," I said, as soon as she was gone. "What happened?""I'm not sure," Bob said, keeping his voice down. "Either she's been working out, or else she's started using some kind of cosmetics on her arms. She still had some baby fat when she got the tattoos, and that's always bound to make any kind of changes more noticeable, and—""Not her," I growled, images of genuine mayhem floating through my agonized brain.
