“Rick rang the bell. A woman who had probably been old when the gods were babies answered. “Ya?” she said in a Scandinavian accent as thick as spoiled cream. “Helga Thorensen?” Warren asked. “Ya, that’s me.” “Mrs. Thorensen, we’re with Prince Charming’s Damsel in Distress Rescue Agency. We understand you have a Gorgon in your basement.” Helga blinked her watery eyes. She had long silver hair that instead of staying in the bun on the top of her head was settling down above her eyes, as if she wer...e wearing a sun visor. The last thing she looked like was a damsel. “Oh, so that Mr. Charming sent out two more of you, hey? I was thinking of how to get rid of the three already in my cellar. Now I have to deal with two more. Jiminey!” “Not to worry, Mrs. Thorensen.” Warren tried to sound as if he did this sort of thing every day, which he pretty much did. “The professionals are here now.” “Ya, you bet. That’s what the others said.” She waved a meaty hand in their direction as she stepped back into the room.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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