“Yeah, but I still don’t get why you locked up our best and let our worst fight Archer. Why didn’t we just give her everything we got? We could have killed her.”

“That bitch is too good and too strong, and since we don’t have enough collars to go around, I made sure that if I had to release my army, the best of my people would live to fight another day. As for the ones who didn’t, ask me if I care.”

“Oh,” Ivan said, moving to the desk. “And speaking of them, I got the rest carrying our dead outside. I figure the sun will take care of them in the morning.”

“That it will. And our mortal contingent?”

“I got them being put into a pile behind the house. Figure we can have a bonfire.”

Napoleon’s features twisted into a malicious smile, his eyes remaining on his laptop screen. “Oh, I do hope we have some marshmallows in the pantry.”

“So, they dead yet?” Ivan said, moving so he could see the screen.

“No, fucking Archer is a little smarter than I gave her credit for. She led our pets into the woods. They slowed down for a while, probably sucking down a few rats, but they started to give chase again a minute ago. If I had to guess, I’d say our army has had enough of the appetizers and now want the main course.”

“Where are they now?”

“They just made it back to the car.”

Ivan honked out a villainous laugh that resounded in the room. “That ain’t gonna help them.”

“No, it won’t,” Napoleon said, still glued to the images on his screen.

For a few seconds, Ivan watched the red and yellow blips on the screen. “Um…boss. The red dots are our people—right?”

Napoleon let out a long breath and sent Ivan a look. “How many times do I have to explain this to you? Our pet’s collars not only control them, but they also track them, and that’s what all those lovely red spots are on the screen. Since our pets are practically bloodless and Archer and Flanna are not, thanks to thermal imaging, these two yellow smudges near the edge of the road are the heat signatures of Archer and my sister.”

“So…um…what about that one?” Ivan said, tapping the top of the screen.

Napoleon peered at the display. He pulled it closer to his face, eyeing the yellow smudge that seemed to be moving faster than humanly possible. “No worries, my friend,” Napoleon said, rocking back in his chair. “It’s just someone driving down the road. Mortals can be stupid little twits, but no one is going to pick up a couple of hitchhikers in the middle of bumfuck nowhere at this time of the night.”