The preacher’s riot gear hung loose. He shrank four inches.
Luke felt himself growing. His muscles thickened, his limbs filled with
energy.
He rose, lifted the preacher by the throat, and hurled him into one of the
others.
“Oh shit,” the puppet said. “I didn’t expect that to happen.”
“What did happen?” Luke asked.
“Well, if you couldn’t fucking tell,” the puppet said, “he touched me. I
absorbed his power and transferred it to you.”
“Well, um, thanks,” Luke said.
Three preachers remained. The one in the middle removed a glove, sparks
leaping from his fingers.
“I’ll let you get that one,” Luke told the puppet.
“We’re in this together, buddy,” the puppet replied.
“Delta!” the sparking preacher yelled. “Let’s finish this mis—”
A massive baby slammed into him. It hit the ground crying.
“And that’s why I can’t leave them in for too long,” Miss Carriage said,
flanked by Jimmy and five other exiles. “Now let’s burn this fucking place
to the ground.”