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Summary
“You are still alive,” the Stone Witch assured him, “just like I promised. Unfortunately, you are becoming a problem that my interests require me to address. Now, I can’t kill you and as much as I would enjoy seeing someone else try, there are more interesting methods to control you. And,” she slowed as she went past Bobo, let her hand drift up his shoulders, her fingers scratched across the shaved sides of his head until she found a bit of hair to pull out, “I can take care of both my problems at the same time.”
“Both?” Bobo asked with a snarl.
“You made a deal with the witch?” Doc shouted at him.
“Pot,” Bobo said as he dipped the knife so it pointed at him, “kettle,” as it swung back toward himself.