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It takes me a couple of seconds to clock that Sandoval is shrieking at me.

“What the hell was that?” she says.

Howard holds on to the towel, which is already soaking through with her blood. Everyone else has their phone out, calling whatever passes for 911 in Wormwood world.

I shout back at her.

“Why did you kill him? He had information. Shit you wanted.”

She looks at me hard.

“You haven’t killed them yet, have you? Do you even know where the faction is? What the hell have you been doing all day?”

I drop Bruno on the floor. Once again, I’m covered in another idiot’s blood.

“I’ve been working, not standing around the kitchen having snacks with the enemy. Goddammit. He was my last link to the faction.”

She looks at the wound in her arm and then at Bruno.

“He’s dead?” she says. “Howard, is there anything you can do to revive him?”

He looks at me and Bruno’s blood, spread out like wings around him.

“I’m sorry, Eva. My work takes time and he’s lost so much blood. By the time I could bring him back, his brain would be too damaged to be of use.”

Sandoval looks at me.

“What about you, Stark? You know Hellion tricks. Bring him back.”

I take some paper towels and wipe as much blood off my hands as I can.

The truth is there is something I could do. The Metatron’s Cube ritual. Powerful blood magic. But to do it, I have to come very close to death. This time though there’s a catch: I’m half-dead already. If I slit my wrists and drift even deeper into death, I don’t know if I’ll be able to come back again.

I look at Sandoval.

“No. There’s nothing I can do. There was one chance to find the faction and you fucked it up.”

Even wounded, if Sandoval was a wolverine I can tell that she’d already have one of my legs off and would be working overtime on the second. She’s used to getting what she wants and seeing that she’s not going to this time, she radiates a primal hate so pure that you could bottle it and sell it as napalm.

Sandoval’s towel has soaked through. Sandra hands Howard a fresh one and as he cinches it around Sandoval’s arm, she grits her teeth and winces but refuses to make a sound. When it’s over, she picks up the bloody towel in her good hand and throws it at me.

“You let th

at bastard do this,” she says. “You wanted him to kill me.”

I drop the paper towels on the floor.

“Don’t be stupid. I just saved your life. And I’m still trying to get to the faction and complete our deal.”

“There is no deal!” she screams.

I look at the kitchen clock.

“It’s barely after ten. I have two hours until midnight.”

She looks at me and screams again. “There is no fucking deal. No bank account. No money. No Howard. There’s nothing. You wanted Bruno to kill me, so now I’m going to watch you die.”

I go to Sandoval and stand over her. “That’s a really bad idea, Eva. No one likes a fibber.”