Chapter Twelve
The client was somewhere in the spa district, which was much less the team’s speed than the amusement park. Facials. Mud masks. Chemical peels. Rich people paying absurd amounts of money to do weird things to their bodies.
The spa district was still bustling with people. The Notches’ beat up, blood-covered appearance didn’t play well with the flowing white robes and dangling jewelry that adorned the other pedestrians. They caught the kind of snooty glares that aristocrats cast at peasants. And they did suddenly feel like peasants.
One woman in her late forties billowed like a cloud as the Notches walked past her. Her neck was covered in more wealth than they would ever see, and her face was smoother than any face should ever be. Clearly, she’d been injected with something
