“I want wings…” John says wistfully, and we both look over to see John making a face we all know too well by now. He’s screwing himself up for...something.“John! Don’t!” shouts Danny, but he can’t stop him.“I want to sell my soul to the devil!”Crickets chirp somewhere.John opens his eyes confusedly, and Danny falls backwards into the chair with his hand on his forehead.“Did I not say it right?” he asks.A small flash of flame heralds the arrival of a piece of paper in my hand. It reads:Receipt of. Dag punched numbers in on his television remote control and a wall beside his desk opened, revealing a room bigger than my reception area/office. The room is temperature controlled with a dozen high-power servers, hard drives, laptops, and a safe. It might seem like overkill to have a safe inside the vault, but with a million dollars onsite, you get a little protective. No, it wasn’t cash. I had one hundred $10,000 cash cards, a retainer from Simon after I pulled him and Angel out of Croatia.. More

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