It kind of worked. I couldn’t trust my own nose, but the worst of the smell was gone, and what lingered was akin to a bad aftertaste, which was equal measures floral scent and Nursery-power.

As the others returned to the vehicle, the driver gave me a nod, apparently approving.

Candy, on reaching the back end of the van, took a whiff and broke into a stream of French profanity.

“I can’t tell if you’re mad or happy,” I said.

“So happy,” she said.

“I’m going to smell like flowers,” Precipice said.

“It’s better than smelling like hot dog water and pee,” Candy said.

“That’s true.”

Foil was the next to appear at the door. I hadn’t been sure if she’d come or if she’d stay with Parian. She took up her spot on the bench, and Chastity sat beside her.

“She looks like she’s in good hands,” I said.

“She does. Let’s just get this done.”

Everyone climbed in.

Our professional driver continued to drive on icy roads with one hand on the wheel, but the armored van seemed equipped for the weather, he seemed confident, and I was pretty sure I could do something about any skids if I had to, as I’d done with Byron. I forced myself to relax, uncapping the medication and tossing it back. Half a bottle for now, half for later.

It didn’t have the bad taste I expected, but it was oily, and bad associations made me want to gag. The effect on my throat was immediate, though, and as soon as I felt the cool sensation, the desire for a gag disappeared.

The fast food place wasn’t far. Hot Pepper had a sign that showed ‘Pepper’ standing with only the portion of her body between nose and hips visible. Her arms were folded and the folding held a giant hot pepper within her cleavage, in an association driven home by her pose and the kissy lips visible up at the top.

Question marks about why Rachel had chosen this aside, I could see commotion. Cars blocked some of the view, but I could see people at the window, crowding to one side… and as we rounded the corner and pulled into the lot, I saw the giant dogs.

Rachel was attacking one of her own.

Before our armored van even pulled to a stop, I was out the door, flying.

“—be torn apart!” Rachel’s voice was raised. She stood on the back of a giant mutant dog that was stock still, head down, breath coming in and out in huffs. “Which is it!? Cut in half, chewed, or torn apart? Or are you going to say something I actually believe!?”

‘Sweetheart’.