Max wheels his flat-bed wagon onto the loading dock. Roger and Aphrodite, the elves, muscle a large gray case with bars along the sides out of the rear of the van. Max lends a hand getting the case onto his wagon. Fifty kilograms easy. The dark shape inside doesn’t seem happy. It growls and snarls kind of like a dog with a sore throat and bangs the sides of the case. Max catches a quick glimpse of long, dark, gleaming claws. They look real sharp.