Goodkat decided, eyeing the gently rolling hills of southeastern Virginia, that he would not mind owning a house in this part of the country.
Yes, the land is good, if you wanted a vineyard. Good horse country too, Kitten.
Yes, because my lifestyle lends itself so well to animal husbandry and horticulture.
You say that as if you actually had a life to style. I notice you did not deny wanting to pursue either of those.
The ghost gave the mental equivalent of a disdainful sniff, tickling Goodkat's frontal lobe. Goodkat sighed, irritated at his uncanny ability to hear the carefully unsaid.
Besides, are you really planning on killing people forever, mon cher?
It is lucrative.
But hard on the soul.
So says my wise mentor in the art of death. One of the perks of being a sociopath, remember? And you said yourself that I had no soul.
He didn't mean for the thought to taste petulant, but it did. The ghost's voice softened.
I spoke in anger, Kitten. If you had no soul, the boy would be dead now, not decorating the passenger seat of a stolen vehicle with you promising to do violence on his behalf.
The boy in question interrupted the internal existential debate.
"Where are we going Goodkat?"
"Mr. Goodkat, or sir, if you please."
"Sorry sir. Where are we going Mr. Goodkat?"
At least he sounded contrite.
"We're going home."
He allowed himself a small smile of pure pleasure. He could never get used to the cold this far north. Out of the corner of his eye he would see Henry watching him warily.
"Where is home?"
"Where is home, sir!"
"Sorry! Where is home, sir?"
"I own an island."
"An island?"
Goodkat glared. Henry hurriedly tacked on a "Sir!"
"Yes, I own an island in the Keys."
Goodkat glanced over at the boy. His mouth hung open in an O of astonishment.
"Close your mouth Henry."
His mouth snapped obediently shut, almost as a reflex.
"I own a small island, about two miles square, in the Florida Keys. That is home, for me and for you, when I am not working," he said by way of explanation.
"Working, sir?"
"When I have a job."
Henry looked faintly nauseated. Goodkat saw the thoughts flicker across his face and connect, as the implications became clear.
I am going to have to work on his poker face.
Yes, he is dreadfully transparent.
I wonder if he has the stomach for this.
I wondered much the same about you. Rage goes a long way.
Henry took a shaky breath, swallowed almost convulsively.
"So how is the pay in your line of work, sir?"
It was the last question that Goodkat expected.
He is beginning to make a habit of that, chaton. I like it.
I cannot believe that I've kept someone around long enough for him to have a habit of anything, much less one of annoying me.
Quel petit, mais avec un tel courage. Keep him, for sure.
Goodkat almost laughed.
« It's very good kid. But then, 'The laborer is worth his hire', as they say."
"So you're good at it then? Killing people?"
He pondered for a moment and decided that honesty was the best policy.
"No kid, I'm not good."
He turned and looked Henry in the eye.
"I'm the best."
