A/N: This story is a PhantasyFrog collab (PhantasyPhan13 and GlitterFrog). This story is also an AU where Halloween Town is a little Western town and Sally is an outlaw who's killed thousands of people with her shotgun over the course of her life. But all that may just change when she meets a clueless skeleton in a saloon one day...anyway, please read, review, and enjoy! ^^-PhantasyPhan13

Doll Face

Chapter One

They called her Doll Face and Shifty-Eyed Sal, but her real name was Sally Finklestein. Or at least it used to be before the day that she'd killed her first victim and begun her notorious life of crime.

People said that she'd murdered old Finklestein, her creator, by slipping some deadly nightshade into his tea. That wasn't entirely the truth-she'd just used a pinch to knock him out while she pressed the gun to his neck and pulled the trigger to let the bullet burrow deep into his throat. When the blood started dripping, she knew that she'd hit her target right. A low moan escaping from Finklestein's mouth had startled her, but another shot to the gullet had shut him up. When she was certain that he was dead and gone, she'd packed up her sewing basket, climbed out the window, and escaped into the night. No longer would she be tormented by Finklestein's overprotectiveness-she was a free woman, now and forever, and nobody could ever take that away from her.

The only problem was that after leaving her life of misery behind, she'd discovered that she just couldn't suppress that homicidal urge inside of her. She wanted to kill others and get the same rush that she'd gotten from murdering old Finklestein. She'd gotten her best chance to do so when a sneering old gentleman had found her sleeping in an alleyway the morning of her first day away from Finklestein and directed some incredibly rude and sexist remarks towards her, even going to so far as to kick her in the behind and wake her from her slumber. Well, that old gentleman hadn't lasted too long once Sally had used her shotgun on him. She'd triumphantly stepped over the body and continued on her merry way, swinging her sewing basket happily as she strolled along. Her career was off to a good start, and if all her victims were as easy to kill as Finklestein and the old gentleman, she'd have her name whispered fearfully throughout all the towns in Nightmare Country in no time.

Sally pushed her thoughts aside as she walked into the Deadly Nightshade, the saloon that had been set up inside Finklestein's old home after his death. It was famed throughout Nightmare Country for its excellent beer and the shady thugs who often came for a drink and a brawl on Saturday nights. Since it was so easy for Sally to hide amongst the other thieves and murderers who visited, she often came down for a drink when her morale was low and she needed a good mug of ale to warm her up for the long days of riding from town to town and shooting the people who lived in them.

Tonight happened to be such a night. Ever since the stupid sheriff of Halloween Town, the town where the Deadly Nightshade was set up in, had started posting 'Wanted' posters with her face smeared all over them around Halloween Town, she'd had to keep a particularly low profile. The sheriff had even managed to convince a few neighboring towns to put up posters, and now there wasn't a single person who didn't know Sally's name and desire her head for the large cash reward given upon her capture. But nobody was going to catch her very easily, if Sally had her way. Over the many years since she'd started her felonious career, she'd learned all the tricks to lead clueless sheriffs astray and evade the notice of the citizens of every town. One dumb sheriff wasn't enough to stop her from killing thousands of other people during her life. All she had to do was stay out of the sheriff's radar and everything would be gung-ho.

"Welcome to the Deadly Nightshade. How may I help you?" drawled the barkeep, a raven-like bird with a sharp beak and a dashing bowler hat.

"I'd like a drink, please," Sally replied, pulling up the collar of her scruffy black coat to shield her face. She didn't want the barkeep to recognize her in case she wanted to report Sally to the dadgummed sheriff for the $1,000 cash reward.

"Sure thing, sugar. What's your poison?" the barkeep inquired, propping herself up on her feathery elbows.

"One mug of Finklestein's Deadly Nightshade Ale," Sally barked. The barkeep nodded and filled up a glass before sending it sliding down the long, scratched surface of the bar. Sally caught it easily and glugged it down in one gulp, much to the surprise of the other patrons at the bar and the barkeep. Smiling with satisfaction, Sally pounded the bar with her fist, and the barkeep timidly sent another glass of ale her way. The second glass was followed by a third and a fourth, both gulped down with the same vigor. Sally certainly knew how to keep her ale down, and she definitely wasn't one to shy away from showing off this incredible ability. She wanted everyone to know how tough she was. Just because she was a woman didn't mean she had to spend her days weeping and prancing about in pretty skirts, after all.

Just as she had downed her fifth glass of ale, she heard a silky male voice exclaim, "A doll who can hold down five glasses of Finklestein's Deadly Nightshade Ale? Fantastic!"

Sally whipped around in surprise and saw a gentlemanly skeleton in a dapper hat sitting a seat away from her at the bar. He had one leg crossed over the other and was wearing a well-made suit made of black velvet. He was staring at her in admiration with glowing dark sockets, as if she'd just dared to wrangle with an ornery calf. "How do you do that? I've always wanted to be able to hold down that ale like you can, except I always conk out when I get to the third glass," he asked eagerly, grinning and showing what remained of his disgusting yellow teeth.

Sally frowned and lowered her eyebrows. "I don't think you want to know that, sweetheart," she growled, reaching into her pocket and fingering her gun. It looked like she'd just found another hapless victim to shoot down in this musty old bar after all.

The stranger tilted his skull. "Of course I do." His grin grew, and his eye sockets seemed to warm, "I just asked you, didn't I?"

For a moment, the outlaw only stared. "Are you funning with me?"

The stranger shook his skull, seeming genuinely confused by the question. "Not at all, madam."

At that, Sally couldn't hold back a snort. Madam? She felt like a wrinkled old granny leathering out under the sun in a faded wicker rocking chair. "You aren't FROM around here, are you, stranger?"

The skeleton plopped down onto the stool next to hers as if they were old friends, bones clicking as they made contact with the wood. "I just arrived on the train, ma'am."

Sally cringed. "Enough with the flowery formalities. It's Sal."

"'Sal'? Is that short for Sall-?"

The rag doll snatched his collar and drew him so close to her face that he see the shimmer that the ice cubes had left on her lip. "Just Sal." she hissed, her tiny cloth fingers tightening around her gun.

"Oh." The suddenness of her ferocity left him silent, but not for long. "Alright. Sal it is."

The barkeep came just close enough for the skeleton to hear her over the bawdy conversation and click of pool balls in the bar, keeping a beak's length between herself and the stitched-up spitfire. "Anything I can get for you, Mister?"

The skeleton turned to her with a smile. To Sally's amazement, the fruitcake actually TIPPED HIS HAT to the barkeep. "I am rather parched from the trip down here. A glass of Finklestein's Deadly Nightshade Ale would hit the spot." Then, before Sally could gesture towards her empty glass, he added, "And one for the lady."

Involuntarily, her jaw dropped. The barkeep's enormous brown eyes grew even wider in disbelief. Glancing at the stranger with one part shock and two parts fear for him, the black-feathered creature stammered, "Whatever you say, sugar." and beat a hasty retreat.

The redheaded outlaw stared at the skeleton. "Sweetheart, have you got a death wish?"

Much to her annoyance, he smiled amiably back at her as if she'd just asked him about the postcards down at the trading post. "Not really. Then I'd be double dead, you see."

Once again she could only stare at him. All she could say to that was, "You're a piece of work."

He dipped his skull to her. Then he jolted as if he'd been bitten by a horsefly and smacked his forehead. "Where ARE my manners?" Chuckling, he extended five long white finger bones to her. "Jack Skellington. Please, call me Jack."

Sally nodded once, wishing very much that he would go sit somewhere else. This was her ONE quiet time of the day. With reluctance, she took the ends of three of his fingers and roughly shook them. The ale flipped over in her stomach with a suddenness that sent heat creeping up her scarred neck. For one panicked second, she thought she was going to get sick. No, that was ridiculous. She hadn't had seven glasses yet. Jack's lack-of-lips puckered and lowered towards her hand. The tough doll jerked her hand back fast as a striking rattlesnake. The barkeep set down the latest glass of ale, and Sally was glad to tilt back the cold drink. Her stomach settled down again, and a bit of the foreign heat left her neck.

Jack's city boots squeaked as he crossed his ankles, sending his spidery legs out at impossible angles that somehow didn't send him tumbling right off the bench. He watched her finish off her ale with undisguised admiration over the rim of his own glass. Sally noted with some amusement that he twitched at the initial burn of the ale and put the glass down after only a few sips. "Whoo, that's strong."

Her bloodred lips twitched upwards at one corner. "I drink this stuff to unwind."

"Fantastic!" he exclaimed again.

Embarrassed but slightly proud, Sally flipped a section of her long, untamed blazing hair behind one bluish ear. For the first time since this twit had sat down, her hand left her gun. It stayed on her leg, of course, ready to dart in and grab it in an instant if need be. "You're easily amused."

He smiled as if she'd said something delightful. "Well, you're impressive."

She suppressed a grin, trying to imagine the look on his bony face if he saw her punching a hole through a silver dollar tossed into the air or blowing the head off a diamondback rattler from the back of a running stallion. "Word to the wise: watch who you try to charm around these parts."

"I'll keep that in mind," he replied breezily, not glancing at the Wanted poster tacked onto the wall not fifteen feet away from his glass. "Now just how DO you handle your alcohol so marvelously?"

Sally was about to come back with something about a trade secret when she noticed the barkeep's big bright eyes sliding over to the poster. It was time to get moving. Turning up her collar once more, Sally slapped a tip onto the counter. As she was reaching into her pocket to cover the rest, Jack shook his skull. "Please, allow me."

His sexism beginning to wear on her nerves, the rag doll fixed him with the full brunt of her dark, world-weary eyes. "And what makes you think I want you to take up my tab, Bone Man?"

He held up three of her tiny fingers, which up until a minute or two ago had been attempting to lighten his wallet. The outlaw felt an odd twinge in her chest, which she might have called guilt had she not known better. She snatched back her fingers and pushed enough payment onto the counter to cover his drink too, sliding off her stool as gracefully as her stitched limbs would allow. "Forget it."

She felt the eyes of the other denizens of the bar through the haze of smoke and body heat. Mutters underlaid the boozy conversation. Jack got up. "Oh, well- will I see you around town?"

Sally smirked without humor. "Not a chance, sweet cheekbones."

The click of a .22 stopped her in mid-step. "Step behind the bar, sugar." the barkeep murmured, keeping her voice low to keep the excitement in her establishment to a minimum.

Jack's eye sockets flew open even wider. "Now hold on just a-"

He'd scarcely got out 'Now' when Sally's hand flicked into her pocket. By just, the muzzle of her gun was level with the barkeep. The redhead made a split-second decision, considering how well the creature kept this place and the excellent drinks that she mixed. The muzzle pointed down and spat fire.

"KAAH!" The barkeep's shot went wild, burying itself in one of the walls and sending chips of plaster flying. She bobbed below the counter, groaning and clutching one leg.

By now there was a great deal of excitement in the Deadly Nightshade. Sally exchanged fire with several shouting patrons, a few of which had the glint of recognition in their greed-glazed eyes. To Sally's amazement, Jack didn't get under a table. Once he'd determined that the barkeep wasn't seriously hurt, the infernal airhead actually got one arm in front of her and shouted to the others in the bar. "Gentlemen! What's this all about?"

"Are you crazy?" Sally snapped.

"They're trying to shoot you!"

"I noticed!" she barked, shoving him to one side with her narrow hip just in time for a bullet to miss his skull by a quarter-inch.

He wasn't even trying to shoot back! Sally wondered if he even had a gun and doubted it. The drum of hooves made the front windows hum. The outlaw swore in a most unladylike fashion as the Sheriff's enormous hat cast a shadow across the front porch.

She snatched Jack's arm bone. "Move your tailbone!"

"Oh!" He was so startled that she had to drag him around the counter. Once he caught sight of the back door, though, he got the idea. The dapper skeleton sprinted out of the line of fire, shielding her body with his. This was most annoying, as it limited her aim. Every one of the shots that she DID manage to send off found their mark.

Smiling grimly, Sally raced outside. Soon both pairs of their feet were churning up clouds of dust. Sally ran to a tethered mare snoozing in the moonlight and clambered onto her back with an ease that any proper lady would have gasped at. The chestnut mare snorted and shook her head as Sally snapped her tether and jerked on the reins. "H'yah!"

The mare snorted and wheeled around. Jack stared, looking more than a bit stunned by all that had just transpired.

"There they are!"

"Criminy, she's got an accomplice!"

What? Sally's eyes widened. Jack turned partway around, as if to ask if they meant him. Gritting her teeth, Sally snatched his arm once more and pulled him up beside her. "Don't just STAND there!"

"Oop!"

The outlaw gave the mare a boot in the side. The chestnut animal snorted and took off at a canter. Bullets sprayed dust on either side of them but didn't come too close for comfort. The mare shrieked and Sally squeezed the reins. "Easy!"

"Ack!" Jack clung to her waist as he bounced in the saddle, clicking like a wind chime in a twister.

"Squeeze her sides with your legs!" Sally barked, wondering if this skeleton had NO survival instincts.

"Oh!" Judging from the decrease in clicking, he obeyed.

Sally kicked the mare again, spurring her to a gallop, and pointed her towards the south.

"W-where are we going?" Jack stammered, gripping Sally's waist as though his life depended on it.

Sally rolled her eyes. How clueless could this idiot be? "You just wait and see, sweet cheekbones," she snapped. She flicked the reins and dug her heels more deeply into the chestnut mare's side, causing the animal to give out a shriek and speed up even more, as though her life depended on it.

"Oh, okay," Jack shrugged. He moaned and clung to Sally's waist even tighter. "Is it close? Because that Deadly Nightshade Ale isn't doing anything for my stomach here..."

Fed up with Jack's annoying behavior, Sally turned right around in the saddle and slapped him across the face. "Shut up! If you throw up, you'll give us away!" she hissed. Jack blinked with surprise and rubbed the slap mark on his face, but he settled down and kept his mouth closed for the rest of the trip.

As they rode, Sally tried to ignore the strange feeling building up in her stomach. She couldn't tell what it was, but she didn't like it one bit. It made her stomach churn and her neck feel hot again. She knew it couldn't possibly be guilt, as she'd done far worse things to her victims without regret. It certainly wasn't the ale-she'd glugged down far more than what she'd had today in the bar and ridden for miles with no effects whatsoever. And she was definitely not in love with this sexist idiot of a skeleton. So what was that feeling, then? Perhaps it was anxiety over the thought of almost being captured. Still, she couldn't afford to be affected by her emotions, so she shoved them aside for the moment and shielded her eyes as she kept an eye on the horizon for the hideout she and her gang stayed in between raids on unsuspecting towns.

After two more hours, the looming lair popped up on the horizon like a rattlesnake slithering out of its hole. "We're here. Keep your mouth shut and do as I say if you want to remain alive," Sally barked as she pulled on the reins, slowing the chestnut mare to a fast trot.

Jack made a feeble gurgling noise in reply and hiccuped so loudly that Sally could smell the ale on his breath. "Excuse me," he muttered, quickly clapping a hand over his mouth as more hiccups shook his skinny body. Sally groaned again and shook her head. Hoping that the gentlemanly skeleton wouldn't vomit on the back of her horse, she pulled the brim of her pitch-black hat down as far as she could and pulled up the collar of her coat so high that it almost covered her nose. At least this way, if Jack did get sick, she wouldn't get any of the vomit in her hair or on any part of her body.

As the chestnut mare slowed to a halt in front of the hideout, the Hanging Tree, Sally's best friend, sauntered out in front of the entrance and blinked with surprise when he saw Jack groaning behind her in the saddle. "What's this feller doing here? He ain't in league with the sheriff, is he?" growled the Hanging Tree as he walked up to Sally's mare and took the reins to lead the mare into the hideout.

Sally slapped her forehead in frustration. "No, this idiot wound up sitting next to me in the Deadly Nightshade and I had to take him with me after a shootout in the bar. I'll tell you more as soon as I put away Sutures," she explained reluctantly.

The Hanging Tree smirked but did not comment. He yanked on the reins, causing the mare to stop abruptly. Sally leapt out of the saddle and gracefully landed on both feet. She smiled and brushed herself off as she unsaddled Sutures and tied her up inside of her stall in the hideout. Sally wanted to remove Sutures' reins and brush her down, but she had to check on Jack to make sure the jerk hadn't escaped already. She couldn't afford to have a moron like him blabbing about the location of this place. If he did, she'd be captured and dead within a week, and it wouldn't be too long before the other members of her gang fell prey to the same fate.

Sally trotted down the hall eagerly and almost tripped over a body lying in the corridor. "Didn't I tell them not to leave the bodies of our victims lying around this place? Those corpses could be used as evidence against us if somebody ever found them!" she snorted as she got to her feet, dusting off her coat as she stood. As she got a better view of the body, she realized with amusement that the person that she'd tripped over was Jack. The blundering skeleton was lying flat on his back with his eyes closed. His grimy mouth hung open, emitting the sickening scent of ale. His beautiful suit had been torn when he'd fell and his gorgeous stetson was now as flat as a pancake. If Sally hadn't seen Jack's body in her hideout and knew how he'd gotten there, she would have thought he'd had one drink too many at a bar and gotten trampled by an inebriated crowd.

"Got Sutures put away?" the Hanging Tree inquired as he ambled over to Sally's side.

"Yes, but unfortunately I'm afraid our victim is down for the count," Sally smirked, pointing down at Jack's unconscious body.

The Hanging Tree snickered as soon as he got a good view of the pathetic skeleton. "Guess he couldn't handle a horse on alcohol, eh?" he chuckled.

Sally joined in his laughter for a brief time, but stopped as a vital thought crossed her mind. "But what are we supposed to do about him? We can't just leave him lying on the floor like this! If he comes to and escapes, he'll tell everybody about our hideout and we'll be arrested before we can put our trigger fingers on our guns!" she hissed.

The Hanging Tree shrugged in response. "I s'pose we could just tie him up and toss him in a closet somewhere. When the time is right, we'll give him a good barrage of bullets to the ribs and he won't be a problem anymore," he suggested.

Sally nodded in approval. "That's probably the best thing we can do right now." Grabbing Jack under the armpits, she began to drag him towards the tiny closet where she and her gang stored their guns and torture weapons. It would be the perfect place to keep a potential victim until he revived. Of course, they could kill him while he was sleeping, but what fun was killing a victim when they couldn't cry out for mercy? Sally grinned maliciously at the thought as she and the Hanging Tree proceeded to tie up the dozing skeleton. When they were finished, they locked the door tightly behind them and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well, this'll be the most fun we've had for a while," drawled the Hanging Tree, snapping his bark-like teeth together in glee. The skeletons hanging in his branches clapped and cheered in support.

"Yeah, it sure as shootin' will be," Sally smiled wickedly. Maybe taking this annoying skeleton along with her wasn't such a bad idea after all. The terror in his eyes when she ended his life would be absolutely priceless. Besides, killing idiots was always more fun than killing stone-faced victims in cahoots with the sheriff, anyway.

...

Jack woke up in darkness. For a little bit, all he knew was the pounding in his skull and the awful taste on his tongue. But it didn't take long for curiosity to edge out the nausea. He sat up carefully and squinted, looking around him from all angles. As his sockets adjusted to the gloom, the dapper skeleton made out a thin stripe of light just ahead of his feet. Ah! A door. Jack reached out to feel for a knob and encountered a small problem. Frowning, he tried again. Sure enough, both of his arms were bound firmly to his sides.

"Hmm."

Something was poking him from behind, and he smelled something metallic in the close air: gunpowder, if he had to hazard a guess. This Sal was just full of surprises. Jack tried to move his legs and encountered similar difficulty. His bony forehead wrinkled as he sat back and attempted to get his feet up. There! He brought both feet against the wood and knocked rhythmically.

Sally stroked the curry comb along Sutures' neck, satisfied that the mare's coat was nearly restored to its gleaming glory. The animal was relaxed from her rubdown and had stopped panting after her third bucket of water. Sally stroked her mare's shoulder. Fed up as she was with people, men specifically, critters were alright. "Attagirl."

"Sal!" Pudgy feet slapped against the floor and squeaked to a stop. The arrival waited until she reluctantly turned around.

"What?"

Corpse the Kid stood breathless at the door to Sutures' stall. "The varmint in the closet is awake!"

The outlaw stifled a groan. "Threaten him a little and tell him you'll snap his sternum if he makes trouble."

"I did." the youngest gang member replied.

"And?" Sally replied, bored, beginning to return to Sutures' neck.

"He wants to talk to you."

The comb stopped. She stared at the kid to see if he was serious. He was. Sally blew out a breath that sent a piece of her hair fluttering to attention. It was official: there was something scrambled up in that skeleton's skull.

"Well, that's just too bad." She was not a puppy that this stranger could call whenever he wanted. "Any sign of our pursuers?"

Corpse the Kid shook his gray head. "They went back to town."

"Well, we were going awfully fast."

Both Sally and the kid whirled around. Jack stood in the stall's doorway, leaning slightly against one side of the doorframe. He looked a little green around the gills and more than a bit dusty but none
the worse for his unexpected adventure.

His sockets widened as he stared down the barrel of Sally's gun. "Put 'em up." the rag doll snarled, "Or you'll be nothing but a bunch of fragments and a memory."

He raised his hands slowly, looking genuinely shocked. "Alright...alright."

"I heard you the first time, sweetheart."

His jaw clicked shut. Sally circled him, taking her time. Nobody had ever gotten out of the Tree's knots before, and she was not about to show him that this unnerved her.

Jack's sockets followed her the whole way. The goober actually looked HURT. Not looking directly into his face, Sally muttered, "You're not getting out of here single-dead."

He didn't panic or beg or offer money (the last of which he doubtlessly had gobs of). The skeleton only asked, "Why?" so softly that the Kid had to lean in to catch his words.

The outlaw felt a strong pinch in her chest. Heartburn. She hadn't ridden so soon after drinking in a while. "Your luck ran out, Bone Man. I told you to be careful around here."

Jack's sockets were caught by the flutter of a Wanted poster that a gang member with a sense of humor had tacked up nearby. He stared at her again.

"Yeah, sweetheart. I'm one of the bad guys your momma warned you about."

She could see him fitting the pieces together in his mind: her roughness, the shootout, their abrupt exodus from The Deadly Nightshade... "What is it that you want from me?"

Sally barked out an acerbic laugh. "Do I have to spell it out for you? Your time is UP. What I WANT is to fill you full of buckshot."

The hurt in his sockets grew. Again, in a whisper, he asked, "...Why?"

"Why? Because that's what I DO."

The lack of terror in his sockets was getting to her more than she'd thought possible. The way he gazed right at her, the corners of his not-lips turned down and his sockets soft with pain, not only sucked the fun out of what she was about to do but squeezed her with a nausea that she hadn't felt since her very first bullet had punched into the Doctor.

"Lock him up in one of the stalls," she muttered, "No use hampering anyone when they want to get at fresh bullets."

The kid nodded and obediently grabbed Jack's arm.

"You don't need to do that," Jack told him, "I'll go."

Sally pointed to a nearby stall with the muzzle of her gun. "No funny business. You get the urge to go for a stroll again, I'll blow your skull off."

Jack nodded twice and tottered inside, obviously not back to 100% yet. The corpse boy barred the door with a riding crop. He looked after Sally in confusion as she stalked from the room, hoping that she wouldn't lose six ales on the floor.

Jack listened as her tiny footsteps receded. A small snuffle caught his attention. He turned to see a little dog poke his snout out of the hay and poke at his arm with a black nose. The skeleton clicked at the dog with his tongue and offered his hand for the creature to sniff. It did so happily, then snorted and pushed its way under his arm. Jack sighed as the dog laid its head in his lap, petting its ears and back and trying not to think too hard about anything in particular just at the moment.

...

The barkeep's leg, cocooned in bandages, was propped up on the pool table. The Sheriff hovered over her, his anxious face twisted with worry. "Is it bleeding any more, Miss Eve?"

"It's fine, Mr. Sheriff," she squawked, "Now settle down. You're gonna give yourself a new crop of ulcers."

Satisfied that the feathered creature was, for the moment, not in need of further (borderline obsessive) attention, the Sheriff whirled on the grim townspeople that were assembled in The Deadly Nightshade. "Shifty-Eyed Sal has gone too far!"

"She gunned down my cousin," growled a vampire, "I'll make her into a quilt!"

"I'll hang it up over the counter." muttered the barkeep, which briefly made the Sheriff's smiling face appear (as it did whenever she said something even marginally amusing).

"No one's ever tangled with her and lived to tell about it." snarled a werewolf.

"We'd be taking on a whole gang." muttered a tall witch.

A short witch flung a hand over her eyes and wailed, "Oh, when will all this wickedness END?"

A slow, deliberate clearing of a throat got a few heads to turn. A few heads became several, and with a few whispers and jerking fingers, the entire bar fell into a hush.

An enormous, grotesque shadow made a blotch against the wall. Three pairs of gleaming eyes winked at the shadow's side. Dice clicked in a burlap paw and turned up snake-eyes on the nearest table.

"Don't you worry about that doll," rumbled a voice that gave even the werewolf shivers.