Ugly? A vile slander. My face has gotten pushed around some over the years, but it has all the right parts in approximately all the right places. I can stand to look at it in a mirror, except maybe on the morning after. It's got character.

As I grabbed my mug and took a long drink, just to replace fluids, a dark-skinned, weaselly little guy with black hair and a pencil-stroke mustache grabbed Tinnie's chin with his left hand. His other hand was behind her, out of sight, but I never doubted what he was doing.

Neither did Saucerhead. He let out a bellow like a wounded bison and flew off the stoop. His boots never touched the steps. I was right behind him yowling like a saber-tooth with his tail on fire, eyes teared up so I couldn't see who I was trampling.

I didn't run into anybody, though. Saucerhead broke trail. Bodies flew out of his way. It didn't matter if they were two feet tall or ten. Nothing stops Saucerhead when he's mad. Stone walls barely slow him down.

Tinnie was down when we got there. People were clearing out. Nobody wanted to be near the girl with the knife in her back, especially not with two madmen roaring around.

Saucerhead never slowed down. I did. I dropped to one knee beside Tinnie. She looked up. She didn't look like she was hurting, just kind of sad. There were tears in her eyes. She reached up with one hand. I didn't say anything. I didn't ask anything. My throat wouldn't let me.

Maybe it was our bellowing. He squatted down. "I'll take her inside, Mr. Garrett. Maybe His Nibs can help. You do what you have to do."

I grunted something that was more of a moan than anything, lifted Tinnie into his frail old arms He was no muscleman, but he managed I took off after Saucerhead.