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Singing Potato Chips
“Like your disposition,” I spat. “You already stole my frappacino, and now you're getting after me for not drinking coffee the way you like it?” I asked incredulously. “I don't want it back! Not after your clammy hands touched it.”
“Clammy?” His lips curled in irritation.
“Just like a corpse.”
“Keep insulting me, dear maggot, and you'll be cold as a cadaver. Remember, I'm your boss.”
“You coerced me into working for you.”
“Quit whining,” Samael said, relaxing on the couch and making himself at home. His nostrils flared. “Holy hell, something smells rank in here. It must be adolescent male.”
“Probably all the brimstone you tracked in.”
“Eau de Tartarus. But in all seriousness, Callie, I have some questions to ask you. There's been some shady bu
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