He hands it to Werth.

“Fuck am I supposed to do with this?”

“Open it.” Candlefly sighs.

He does. It’s peacock powder. Smurf. Cerulean. It’s untouched. A perfect little beach dune of blue dust. Does Candlefly not use? Does he need to use?

“I want you to see.” Candlefly says.

“I know what Smiley is.”

“Please. Just do me this concession.” Candlefly, to make things clear, lifts his jacket, just to ensure that Werth sees the Walther hanging at his hip.

“Fine.” Werth digs in a thumb. Takes too much – a callow and meaningless rebellion against this man – and smears it on each temple. The Blazes crackle and ripple. The pain of his body drifts out to sea. It’s still there, but it’s far off.

He turns. Sees the human façade fall away. The Snakeface is revealed. Squirming in his zip-tie bonds. Fangs clicking against fangs.

But then something else appears.

Something back among the bottles and barrels. A shimmer in the air, like a mist that dissipates when you look directly at it. A black shadow rises up through the floor as if the wood is insubstantial. Silver shining eyes. Fingers like scissors.

“Jesus. What… what is that?”

Candlefly smiles. Claps Werth on the shoulder. “I told you about the carrot. This is the stick.”

Smiley cries out. Knows that something’s wrong, that his time is coming. The Naga starts to thrash. The chair rocks back and forth. His mouth opens – a breathy hiss emits.

Smiley starts turning red. Body tensing.

His left arm starts to shift. Bulge like a hose with a kink in it, then squish down – it starts sliding through the zip-ties one by one. Swell up. Shrink back. Swell up. Shrink back. Then he starts freeing a leg – the shoe pops off, the whole foot tilts down at an impossible angle as Smiley starts to force it through each tight plastic loop.

The black shadow-thing moves fast.

Like a blanket it covers the top half of the Snakeface. Scissor-fingers plunge into the Snakeface’s head and chest. Smiley spasms, body caught in the throes of a violent seizure. It isn’t long before the spasms become a tremor and the tremors fade to a few myoclonic twitches. Those last shudders call to mind a piece of food being eaten. An apple. Or corn off a cob.

Candlefly squeezes Werth’s bicep.

“Over here.” As the shadow-thing… feeds, Candlefly brings over a leather bag. He opens it up. Inside: stacks of money. Twenties. Banded. “Here is the carrot. I want your help. I want you to tell me where your friend is.”

“I… I can just call him. I’ll have him come here.”

“Yes. Do that. We need to know where he is.”

“I already know where he is.”

“Oh? Do tell, James. We can go pick him up.”

Werth swallows a hard knot and gives the address to Candlefly.

Candlefly meets Sorago in the hall.