Krage bought Shed's story. He was ecstatic because Raven was such a villain. "If I didn't want him myself, I'd yell for the Custodians. You did good, Shed. I should have suspected Asa. He never brought no news worth hearing."

Shed whined, "Who would buy bodies, Krage?" Krage grinned. "Don't worry your ugly head. Let me know next time he goes on one of his jaunts. We'll rig up a little surprise."

Next night Shed reported according to plan. And suffered all the disappointment he expected of life. Krage insisted he join the hunt.

"What good would I be, Krage? I'm not even armed. And he's one tough nut. You won't take him without a fight."

"I don't expect to. You're coming along just in case." "In case?"

"In case there's a trap in this and I want to lay hands on you fast."

Shed shuddered, whined, "I done right by you. Don't I always do right by you?"

"You always do what a coward would. Which is why I don't trust you. Anybody can scare you. And you had all that money. It occurs to me you might be in the racket with Raven."

Shed went cold. Krage donned his coat. "Let's go, Shed. Stay right beside me. You try to wander off, I'll kill you."

Shed started shaking. He was dead. All he had gone through to get Krage off his back. ... It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. Nothing ever worked for him. He stumbled into the street, wondering what he could do and knowing there was no escape.

Tears froze on his cheeks.

No exit. If he fled, Krage would be warned. If he did not, Krage would kill him when Raven sprang his ambush. What was his mother going to do?

He had to do something. Had to find some guts, make a decision, act. He couldn't surrender to fate and hope for luck. That meant the Catacombs or black castle before dawn.

He had lied to Krage. He had a butcher knife up his left sleeve. He had put it there out of sheer bravado. Krage hadn't searched him. Old Shed armed? Ha! Not likely. He might get himself hurt.

Old Shed did go armed sometimes, but he never advertised the fact. The knife did wonders for his confidence.

He could tell himself he would use it, and he'd believe the lie long enough to get by, but in any tight spot he would let fate run its course.

His fate was sealed. . . . Unless he whipped it heads-up, no holds barred.

How?

Krage's men were amused by his terror. There were six of them. . . . Then there were seven . . . and eight, as those tracking Raven reported in. Could he hope to beat those odds? Raven himself didn't stand a chance.

You are a dead man, a tiny voice whispered, over and over. Dead man. Dead man.

"He's working his way down Chandler's," a shadow reported. "Going into all the little alleyways."