“Have you been down to the crypt yet?” mutters Craig.

“Shh.”

“Amen,” the congregation intones.

“I mean it,” Craig persists. “It’s something you need to see for yourself. The old inscriptions show men who clothed their torsos, who wore caps with the bill forward–”

“How can you even speak of such things?” Wentzle hisses. “We’re in the house of Dog!”

“We haven’t always ruled Santa Monica,” says Craig, jaw stiff.

Around them, Z-Boys drop their decks with a clatter, then stoop to kneel. Up on the altar, the Hawk crosses his arms: the sign of the Double Pits to Chesty.