"Jesus Hesus," Dima said with appreciation. "You Wolves are smarter than the rest of the Shifter world says you are."
"What in the hell is that supposed to mean?" I snapped and moved to take a piece out of the Dragon.
Thankfully Hank took one hand off the wheel and put it on my shoulder. "You can punch her in the head, but under no circumstances can you kill her or do anything that will take more than an hour to heal."
I nodded curtly and reined in every instinct I had to remove her head. "Tell me what was written on the papers," I insisted.
"Pee, then talk," she said guardedly. "I have to pee too."
"You'll remember what you just ate?" I asked with raised brows.
"Yep." She grinned and winked. "I have a photographic memory."
"Lovely," I said with a glee. "You'll also have constipation or god knows what considering you just ate ten pages of paper recycled from cow and horse poop."
The silence was deafening. I could literally see her brain working trying to figure out if I was screwing with her.
I wasn't.
It was all kinds of awesome.
"We need to pull over now," she screeched as she gagged. "Paper is not supposed to be made out of poop."
"Correct," I said with a casual shrug. "I refuse to even write on the shit—pun intended. However, those pesky Wolves are trying to save trees and have found new, innovative and stanky ways to make paper products."
"I did wonder about the brown flecks," Dima choked out.
"Did it taste like poop?" Hank inquired as he quickly pulled into a rest stop filled with church buses.
"Since I don't eat poop," Dima snapped, "I wouldn't know."
"But you do eat people?" Hank asked.
"I do not eat people," she yelled.
"But your people eat people?" I prodded nicely.
"Occasionally," she hissed. "And your people sniff each other's asses when in animal form…"
She had a point—and a foul one at that.
"I'm not into the ass sniffing thing," I said with a shudder.
"I did it a couple times in high school, but then the actual mechanics of what I was doing kicked in and I had to stop," Hank volunteered without an ounce of shame or embarrassment.
"Have you ever eaten a person?" I asked Dima, trying to level the playing field a bit after my mate's horrific admission.
"Well… yes, but it was a long time ago," she admitted.
"How long?"
"Um, about two hundred and fifty years ago—give or take a few years," she answered as she hopped out of the car and high tailed it to the bathroom.
How in the hell old was she?
The rest stop was typical—vending machines and bathrooms up against the backdrop of a scraggly forest. The parking lot was full of busses and cars sporting large full color photos of a guy who looked vaguely familiar. I just couldn't place him…
"You think she'll make it to the bathroom before she hurls?" Hank asked as he got out and stretched his long sexy legs.
"I'm gonna say yes. She's fast and apparently really old."
"The ruling Dragon family is older than dirt. I'd put her father at approximately a thousand or so, and Dima at around five hundred."
"Really?" I asked surprised. I knew she was probably older than us, but I didn't think she was older than Dwayne and everyone else I knew combined. Dragons clearly stopped aging at about thirty.
"Yep."
"Why hasn't she killed her father before now if he's so awful?" I asked as I meandered up the sidewalk toward the bathrooms.
"Don't know," he answered. "You'll have to ask her."
We both tried to avoid the throngs of talkative and pushy church-goers who were wearing Jesus for President t-shirts. I shook my head in confusion. Were they just stupid or were they stupid? And then it hit me. There had to be hundreds of them milling about. It was perfect—or perfectly awful.
I froze and Hank almost tripped over me.
"You okay?" he asked concerned.
"Yes… but I'm fairly sure I'm going to hell," I replied.
"Why are you going to hell?" Hank asked and then started to laugh.
"Should I tell them?" I asked with a scrunched nose.
"If you wanna make it a thing this is probably a very fine place to start."
"You think?" I asked as I screwed up my courage to lie like a rug.
"Yep. This is not just any church group—it's the group who does the live show with the pastor who’s gone to prison a few times for tax evasion, among other things," he said with disgust.
"The one who has six wives and wants all gays and Buddhists deported to third world countries?" I asked with narrowed eyes, thinking of Dwayne—my wonderful gay Vampyre BFF. Now I knew why the guy plastered on the sides of the cars and busses looked familiar. He was shyster skank-hole Pastor Bob.
"Yep," Hank replied and watched me closely. "You cannot maim them. We don't have time. However, you do have enough time to screw with their heads."
"Jesus does not hate gays and Buddhists," I whispered viciously. "Jesus and God love everyone—including these imbeciles who hate everyone."
"Couldn't agree more," Hank said as he discreetly removed my weapons from me.