She would buy a Greyhound ticket to New Orleans, make a kill or two, then travel into Texas and seduce some wandering man into taking her to Mexico, feast upon him once they got there. He did so care for you. More importantly, she had her wits. Wood,—Winifred fainted in the arms of a female attendant,—and Wood standing beside them almost in a state of distraction. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. The Wastrel did not relish this. He smiled. Rhea went down, screeching and clawing at the air for the sword, which clanked heavily on the ground.
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