“That worked better than Kryptonite,” McGoo said, breathing hard.
“Bastard deserved it.” Miranda growled and slavered onto the moaning man on the floor, who reverted to his former mousy physique. “I have wanted to do that for years.”
Her werewolf friends prowled the factory floor, and Sheyenne circled, warning them to stay away from the deadly chemical puddles. I was surprised to see that one of the hairy man-wolves was Larry the lycanthrope hit man the Ricketts heirs had hired to harass me. Panting, Miranda smiled at the whole pack. “Thanks for coming, sweethearts.” She had unlocked the fence gate to let her werewolf friends in.
Finally, in the better-late-than-never department, we heard sirens in the distance. Taking no chances, McGoo slapped handcuffs on Harvey Jekyll’s wrists, although he had some difficulty prying the man’s hands away from his crotch.
Robin looked at the torn sleeve of my shirt and the empty socket where my arm had been ripped away. “Oh, Dan, your arm!” She retrieved the limb from the floor and carried it to me—although I don’t know what she expected me to do with it.
“My souvenir from the case,” I said, taking it from her with my remaining hand. The arm kept twitching in my grip.
Sheyenne was distraught and indignant. “We’ll get you to the Patchup Parlor. Miss Eccles can stitch you back together again. After what she did for Wendy, reattaching a severed arm can’t be beyond her abilities.”
“It’s obviously still functional.” I concentrated on my detached limb to make the fingers curl in the “OK” sign.
The sirens grew louder. McGoo went to stand outside the door, waving for the police. “How did they know to get here? I didn’t call for backup.”
“I did—after I set you loose,” Sheyenne said. “I can use a phone, you know. Wouldn’t be much of a receptionist if I couldn’t.”
By the time the cops rushed into the factory, guns drawn, the crisis was already over.
Miranda Jekyll paced and prowled around the factory floor, a mass of feral energy. “I wish we could plug that vat. Nasty stuff.”
“It’s draining into the floor grates,” Robin said. “What if Compound Z gets into the groundwater?”
Miranda’s snout curled. “The factory has holding tanks before any effluent is released into the sewer system. Environmental requirements.” She growled in frustration. “This is so not how I intended to spend my full moon.”
I held onto my right arm with my left hand. “Not how I expected to spend mine, either.”
Robin, though, was smiling. “We won’t have any further trouble litigating your case, Mrs. Jekyll. In fact, I have no doubt that all JLPN assets will belong entirely to you. Your husband is going to trial for multiple counts of murder, conspiracy, terrorist acts, attempted genocide, assault, felony property damage. Give me a few minutes—I can come up with plenty of other ideas for the district attorney.”
Miranda sniffed, and her fur started to look less ruffled. “Thank you, sweetheart. I feel better already.” Contentedly, she groomed the silky hair on her forepaw. Her werewolf friends let out a chorus of howls.
Chapter 44
I could feel the tug, and my shoulders rocked back and forth, but Lujean Eccles needed to make sure the stitches were tight. With my intact left hand, I gripped the side of her floral-print sofa for stability. Sheyenne passed surgical and taxidermy implements to Miss Eccles as she requested them. The sawbones pulled hard on the artificial sinew, then put her weight behind the effort, pressing on my right humerus until I felt the bone pop back into its shoulder socket.
“There you are, Mr. Chambeaux—as good as new.”
I concentrated on the fingers of my until-recently-detached arm and was relieved to see them curl down to the palm and straighten again. Next, I tried the hand, turning the wrist from side to side. I bent the elbow and finally raised the arm. “Excellent work, Miss Eccles.”
“It’s nice to have a repeat customer.” She began packing up her sewing kit.
“I’m not exactly glad to be a repeat customer.”
Sheyenne hovered above the repaired arm, concerned. “Can you feel your fingers?”
“What can I do to help?” Robin asked. “Does it hurt?”
“Doesn’t hurt . . . much. We’re back in business.” I held up my hand in a high-five gesture. Robin smiled and slapped my palm. Sheyenne did the same, although her spectral hand passed through mine. “I have good people to take care of me.”
Wendy the Patchwork Princess tottered into the sitting room, carrying my old jacket, which was amazingly clean and patched up again. It still looked tattered with the bullet holes sewn up in clumsy stitches, but it smelled fresh, and there was no sign of mud or blue fizziness.
“Sorry it’s not better,” she said.
“It’s just great, Wendy.” I ran my fingers over the black stitches that held the bullet holes together. “It has character, and I plan to wear it every day. From now on, this is my lucky jacket.”
“Lucky?” Robin said. “What kind of luck are you talking about?”
With her help, I shrugged my arms into the sleeves, straightened the collar, smoothed the lapels, and assessed my appearance in Miss Eccles’s parlor mirror. “I may look like I came off the discount rack in the used-body store, but this is who I am.”
“That’s the way we like you, Beaux,” Sheyenne said.
Maybe some flesh-colored upholstery tape would mask the stitches holding my arm back on, and makeup could cover the neatly sutured bullet holes across my torso. I resolved to remain well preserved, keep my regular appointments at Bruno & Heinrich’s Embalming Parlor for a touch-up, and spend more time at the All-Day/All-Nite Fitness Center.
Lujean Eccles placed her hands on her ample hips, pleased with her work. “Don’t feel bad about it, Mr. Chambeaux. Our scars tell stories of who we are and what we did. A person without marks hasn’t done anything.”
It was a good sentiment. “I’ll remember that.” I brushed off the front of my jacket and placed the fedora back on my head.
After Jekyll’s crimes were exposed, the uproar among unnaturals was so great that all hell was about to break loose. The warning against JLPN’s new line of Compound Z–saturated necroceuticals went out wide. All product stockpiles were impounded, every bottle taken from the shelves; every tube of toothpaste, jar of hair cream, pack of emBalm, or bottle of skin softener was recalled and incinerated, just in case.
Even so, because of accidental glitches or just plain obstinate stupidity, seventeen more unnaturals dissolved into puddles of goo. But it could have been much worse....