Inside the restaurant, the fauns have all hidden. They didn't even hide after the news broke about Tumnus getting arrested. But the Mesopotamian demon sitting on a donkey at one of our table has made them scurry out of sight.
With a regal head of wild glam rock hair, Lamashtu is bare-breasted with three eyes, wearing a loincloth wrapped around her lady parts. She sips a glass full of what smells like blood.
Yes, we have to serve blood at the inn. It's a dietary thing. And we have a very strict code. I approach her and point to the posted sign on the wall.
"ATTENTION DINERS
For those of you on a blood-based diet, please observe a few rules.
* No snacking outside the restaurant. People here are guests, not your morning pick-me-up or midnight nosh.
