Which was unbelievably startling, to say the least. Before I could move, or think, or react in any way, Sinclair's hand shot out almost faster than I could track, and he caught Tina by the back of her sweater. He held her in midair, her short legs kicking back and forth.
Clara the Fiend had backed into the nearest corner and was pressing herself into it as if she could shove herself through the wall and disappear. Given Tina's sudden viciousness, I could hardly blame her. "Please, I came alone! Please, I just want to talk!"
"Eric, put me down." Tina was practically spitting. And she'd used his first name... oooh, he was in trouble now. "Put me down right now so I can - and you! You get out of my master's house, you wretch! You pathetic creeping thing, you disgust us all, and you insult their majesties with your very presence! How dare you come to their home! Get out, before I kill you!"
"Tina, it's okay - " Jessica started.
"Oh, Jesus." Nick had his gun out and was standing in front of Jessica. The gun barrel kept wavering between Clara and Tina.
I couldn't blame him. I'd never seen Tina so out-of-control furious. I mean, I was scared of her, and I knew that under ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the circumstances, she not only wouldn't hurt me, she'd give her life to save me. Even Sinclair, much bigger and stronger, had to hang on to her with both hands. "Jesus, Jesus, these are the guys that clocked me in the nose the other day. These are the Fiends?"
"They are," Sinclair replied, turning pale at the reference to God's son. "Tina, calm yourself. She appears to have come in peace."
"And she'll leave in pieces!"
"Good one," Jessica piped up from behind Nick, "if a bit cliched."
"Out, out now, you vile bitch! You get out of our house!"
"Holy shit," Jessica muttered. "I have no idea which one to be more scared of."
"Makes two of us," I whispered back. Maybe somebody should slap her? It always worked in the movies. And after you clocked them, they always said, "Thanks, I needed that."
I didn't really see Tina saying anything of the sort, so I reached up - Sinclair had hoisted Tina pretty high - and grabbed a flailing fist. "Tina, relax. If Clara tries anything, you can kill her all over the place."
The mad frenetic kicking stopped. "You swear it? Swear it on your crown," she ordered, then instantly changed her mind. "No: swear it on the king."
"I swear on my husband's testicles that if Clara tries even one sneaky thing, you can play soccer with her head."
Tina abruptly stopped struggling. Sinclair, just as abruptly, set her down. He didn't seem particularly concerned for his genitals, despite my promise. Maybe he thought this would all end up okay. I sure as hell didn't know that for sure.