“So,” Triana said as she pulled the chopped-up carcass of the turkey from her refrigerator, “you used to do the whole henchman thing…”
“That’s right!” said the ponytailed guy beside her. “But now I’m out for myself. I’m a loner. A rebel.”
Triana’s eyebrow rose. “Are you trying to hit on me by quoting Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure? Dude, I don’t take it from Pete White, and I’ve known him since I was a kid.”
“Oh no way!” Then his eyes widened. “You wouldn’t pepper spray me if I tried…would you?”
“My dad’s a necromancer,” she said, leaning back against the stove and watching him curiously.
“I knew that,” he said, picking nervously at his chin. “But I wouldn’t hit a lady unless she hit me first. Samurai have a code of honor.”
“Now you’re a samurai?” She gave the meat one last squirt of basting liquid before sliding it back into the
“A freelance samurai.”
“I don’t care who you are – just don’t threaten my dad. I wouldn’t have to want to kick your ass,” she replied lightly, and ducked into the brightly-lit living room.