She would take the items with her; bury the items and her bloodstained clothes in one of the many sinkholes in the huge landfill/garbage dump on the south side of town. And I've already told you the accident was not Jack's fault. And, lastly, to the Seven Cities o' Refuge, in the New Mint. Do you have family that I should ask?” “Oh, Julian! No, my family is dead, lost. But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt. She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set.
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