MYRTLE AND MILES ENTERED the dark house. An ancient fan was slowing rotating and blowing the hot air back and forth around the shack. There was a dirty window on the back of the house allowing a modest amount of sunlight through. Wanda plopped full-length onto a slipcovered sofa. She seemed very lethargic, her movements much slower than usual.
Myrtle said briskly, “Okay, let’s get on with it then. Go ahead and give me my special message.”
Wanda narrowed her eyes at Myrtle. “Don’t see no point innit, since you never do listen.”
“But traditions must be observed, Wanda.”
Wanda first gave a prodigiously rattling cough. Then she fixed Myrtle with a baleful expression. “Yer in danger.”
“Noted. Naturally, however, you won’t give me any details as to the quadrant from which this latent dange
