Nate swung again, piston-fast and with a similar hiss.
I sidestepped, pointing down. “Could you not let angst trample common sense beside an open portal to a place we can only hope is as nice as Hell?”
He nudged the pieces of Carlos into the slowly closing hole. “So, whose father sent that thing?”
“We’d best pray it wasn’t his, since Satan is way out of my weight class.”
“Couldn’t mean your father, because he’s dead, right?”
“I thought so, but Sybil intimated I could be wrong.”
For charity, he stepped away from the still smoking circle before he attacked.