The next thing I knew I was waking up in my own bed, somehow still alive. My wounds had closed and my bruises healed, and from what I could see of myself when I peeked under the sheets, I had no more than some faint white scars to show for any of it. If the Burned Man had healed me that thoroughly I’d have been pretty much in a coma, I knew, but I felt fine. Well, I say that but fine might be stretching it a bit. I was shitscared for one thing, and my head was again full of more questions than answers. Who the hell Ally and her sadistic sisters really were, for one thing. And then there was Trixie. The whole question of Trixie was another thing altogether. I have to confess, I had pretty much already admitted defeat when I called her. I hadn’t been remotely sure that she would come at all, or whether she would even be on my side if she did. As it turned out she had been, but I was left with even more questions about who and what the hell she was. Magic knights with burning swords don’t cross your path every day, after all, and that was without all her other various weird quirks.
