Yet he was not without resources. He had stashes the MCB didn’t know about. Once again, three hundred years of hard-earned paranoia would pay off. Franks drove the stolen Honda Civic to the worst neighborhood in DC. The narrow street he was looking for was on the back side of a housing project. Even if security cameras had ever been installed here, they would not have lasted long before one of the locals would have used them for target practice.

Most of the streetlights were dead. There were broken bottles in the gutters. If his stolen car got a flat tire, he was going to be pissed. Franks found the house he was looking for. It was rundown, even by this neighborhood’s standards. There was a cinder block wall around the backyard. The graffiti on the wall was similar to the signs at his apartment. The local human thugs knew not to mess with the secret horrible supernatural terrors that lived here. Only a fool would intrude on gnome turf.

The car’s interior light came on when he opened the door. Not wanting to be spotted, and not bothering to look for the off switch, he just punched the light and broke it. It took a minute for Franks to maneuver himself out of the Honda. He’d barely fit inside to begin with and got one leg stuck under the bent steering wheel. He’d steal something roomier as soon as he had a chance. Franks didn’t appreciate economy. He appreciated horsepower, ramming capability, and legroom, in that order.

Franks approached the building. Most passersby would assume it was a crack house, but that would probably be a step up. Several dogs started barking. It was after two in the morning and speakers in the backyard were still playing loud rap music. The bass was a constant distorted rumble. He knew that there were already eyes and probably guns on him, so he kept his hands where they could be seen. He skipped the front door and went to the side gate, which had a skull and crossbones painted on it. Not bothering to knock, he just pushed the gate open and went inside.

It wasn’t several dogs, it was just one, but it had three heads so it made three times the noise. Each head was barking and snarling at him and the animal was the size of a calf. There was a leather leash attached to its spiked collar and a foot and a half of gnome muscle was hauling back on the beast, keeping it from attacking Franks. “Hold up, homie . . . Damn, you tall!” the gnome shouted over the noise.

The barking was getting on his nerves and he still had a headache from the Elixir. “Down!” Franks snapped at the superdog. All three heads stopped barking. Franks scowled at it, and the dog began to whimper. It rolled over submissively.