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'Otis, tuck your goddamn shirt in.'

Twitching, Otis angrily shoved the bottom of his vest into his pants, wishing Mother would stop trying to find a reason to delay serving them dessert. She did it every time they ate together. If it wasn't someone's shirt untucked, it was their latest unsuspecting prey hesitating when she told them to put on a mask. She loved the power rush it gave her to keep the bloody treacle pudding out of their reach.

Mother Firefly looked around the table and, evidently not finding anything else to hold against them, vanished into the kitchen to fetch the pudding. 'You know… I saw Lode and Pandora yesterday. They was bringin' Spaulding those alligator heads he asked for… to go in his new display, you know?'

Throwing one end of her feather boa over her shoulder she returned and set the stack of chipped china bowls on the table. Hugo grabbed one from the top and sat jittering in his chair, impatiently waiting for her to spoon him some pudding. Rufus silently handed the rest out.

'I stopped to talk to Pandora.' Mother continued, oblivious to Hugo's impatience as she clattered around in the kitchen. 'While Lode helped Spaulding set up the alligator heads. I had a thought, you know we really outta invite them around for dinner some time. Seems like ages since they was last here.'

Otis rolled his eyes. 'There's a reason for that. Now would you please bring us dessert?!'

'Yeah!' Hugo growled. 'I'm starvin' here!'

Mother gave him a look. 'Grampa, you just ate three courses of turkey and dumplings. Now calm down or I'll just throw this puddin' in the sink and you can all go without.'

Hugo muttered something under his breath but obligingly sat still. Satisfied, Mother paused to remember where she had been and started dealing chunks of treacle pudding into each of the bowls. 'Oh that's right; Lode and Pandora. And what is that supposed to mean, Otis?!'

'Sounds like an idea to me,' Rufus said in his deep, booming voice. 'Don't get much company round here, bar the psychos Satan likes to torment and whoever Baby brings home to play with.'

Halfway through eating a large piece of pudding, Baby patted his arm sympathetically. 'I think RJ's right.' she said through a mouthful. 'An' they're like family anyways. Otis just doesn't want them to come over because they'll bring Icarus.'

'Shut your fucking mouth,' Otis snapped. 'It ain't got nothin' to do with any of Pandora's kids. I just think it's best when they ain't here. They've got their secrets, we've got ours. What the hell are you gonna do if they find out about Dr Satan, huh?!'

'Oh Otis,' Mother waved an arm dismissively. 'They're killers just like us. Why I saw Lode pull an arm outta one of them dead alligators yesterday; that took their count up over ours! Ninety four, that put them at, while we're still on eighty eight. He's been keepin' alligators as pets, feedin' hitchhikers to them.'

Baby giggled. 'Can we go see them, momma?' she asked. 'Can you imagine the screamin'?'

The two women had a brief laugh at the thought. Rufus, Tiny and Hugo were too absorbed in their dessert to pay much attention, but Otis shook his head and pushed his bowl into the centre of the table. He had suddenly lost his appetite.

'Oh come on Otis.' Baby grinned, flicking a pudding crumb at him. 'Stop being so anti-social! They're like family, remember? I hang out with Icarus all the time at Red Hot Pussy Liquors.'

Otis snorted but didn't comment. He didn't even want to get started on the Minotaurs.

Their family had been friends with the Fireflys since before Otis was adopted, and he'd grown up with them. They were killers, just like the Fireflys, and if the stories Hugo told were anything to go by then Mother Firefly and Pandora Minotaur had grown up like sisters.

Minotaur Island, which was what Lode called his family's home, was three or four miles to the east of the Firefly home and just as isolated. Every so often one family would stay with the other for a while, whether it was for a particularly big hunt or just to keep the police attention away from them, and Baby frequented the Minotaurs' so often that she had her own room.

Lode and Pandora were married, the eldest in the household and about the same age as Mother Firefly. Hugo and Lode generally sat back whenever there was a hunt going on, sitting on the porch with a bottle of whiskey and a shotgun and lazily discussing various television programs. Pandora was as into the hunting as Mother was.

The Minotaurs had only two children; Icarus and Chora, pronounced Kora. Icarus was the same age as Baby, a dark-haired, skinny girl who seemed to exist to piss Otis off in whatever way she could, and Chora was a murderous eight year old. Otis had seen her stab a wounded police officer in the neck with a pair of garden shears when she was six.

She severely freaked him out.

Come to think of it, they all ticked him off in some way or other.

What kind of goddamn names were Chora and Icarus anyway?! The Fireflys had unique names for serial killers; Groucho Marx characters would never see so much publicity when this family went down in flames. Pandora and Icarus were goddamn Greeks, and Chora and Lode weren't even names.

'So it's settled then?' Mother's cheerful tone interrupted his thoughts. Otis glanced at her. 'RJ, you and Baby can invite them over when you next see Icarus at Pussy Liquors, alright?'

'Will do momma.' Baby said, shooting Otis a childishly gleeful look. 'Where are they gonna sleep?'

'Well Icarus can stay with you. Otis, you're gonna have to move in with RJ so that Lode and Pandora can have your room. And little Chora can sleep on the couch or in the basement with Tiny.'

Otis slammed his palm against the table surface. 'Dammit why do I have to move rooms?! Why can't you move in with Baby and give Pandora and Lode your room?! That way Chora can have the sofa and Icarus can sleep in the fucking yard with the dogs!'

'Otis!' Mother shouted, getting to her feet so fast that her chair hit the floor with a resonating clatter. 'Do not yell at me! Now you're moving in with RJ because you have the biggest room!'

Growling, Otis kicked his chair aside and stormed out of the dining room. Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect. How the fuck was he supposed to be artistically inspired when not only had he run out of muses (he'd had to throw Sandy out. She was starting to stink.) but now he was going to have to play fucking bachelor to the Minotaur family??

Halfway up the creaking stairs he paused thoughtfully. Perhaps he could persuade RJ into helping him turn Icarus into a freak for Spaulding's murder ride? That could be interesting.

Hell, maybe he should just go right ahead and introduce her to Dr Satan.

Growling, he continued up the staircase and headed into his room. His 'artistic equipment', which comprised of a collection of mismatched paintbrushes and meat cleavers, was still scattered unorganized on the surface of his desk, where the fish boy had been sat until four days ago.

He grabbed a thin knife and collapsed onto his bed, idly toying with it. Well… so long as the Minotaurs played nice, he'd stay in his… well make that RJ's… room until they'd fucked off home again like a good boy.

But if they wanted to play who's the better killer…

… Well, let's just say that Otis P. Driftwood had a few sordid ideas up his sleeve.