{"id":5709,"date":"2026-01-04T01:44:50","date_gmt":"2026-01-04T01:44:50","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/03-sandman-slim-aloha-from-hell-kadrey-richard\/"},"modified":"2026-01-04T01:44:50","modified_gmt":"2026-01-04T01:44:50","slug":"03-sandman-slim-aloha-from-hell-kadrey-richard","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/03-sandman-slim-aloha-from-hell-kadrey-richard\/","title":{"rendered":"03 Sandman Slim – Aloha from Hell – Kadrey, Richard"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Book Preview<\/h3>\n
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Aloha from Hell<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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\u201cTELL ME<\/span><\/span>,\u201d SAYS<\/span><\/span> the Frenchman. \u201cHow long has it been since you last killed anything?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He\u2019s fucking with me. He knows the answer, but he wants to make me say it. Father Vidocq taking confession.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know. What time is it?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat long, then?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I shrug.<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq and I are in a very dark room in a very large house full of very fashionable furniture and we\u2019re stealing something very valuable. I have no idea what and pretty much don\u2019t care. It\u2019s just nice to be hanging out and doing some crimes with the old man. Crimes where no one ends up zombie meat, shot, or annoyingly decapitated.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s been a while,\u201d I say. \u201cSix. Eight weeks. Somewhere around there.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I slipped us into the house through a shadow. Vidocq is working on the wall safe. He\u2019s good with safes. He\u2019s had over a hundred years of practice.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo, no crusades? No great wrongs that need to be righted?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I reach into my pocket for a cigarette, then remember there might be smoke alarms.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNothing worth killing for. I\u2019m no cop. The Sub Rosa has their own Mod Squad to deal with the small stuff.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/div>\n

I like watching Vidocq work over a safe. He has hands like a surgeon. Nimble. Precise. He could thread a needle while being shot out of a cannon.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIncroyable<\/span><\/span>. Perhaps you\u2019re reaching something of a rapprochement with your angelic half and it\u2019s having a moderating effect on your disposition.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Right. I\u2019m part angel. Half, if you want to get picky about it. It\u2019s great. A halo and five bucks will get you a cup of coffee in L.A.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe. The angel screams at me sometimes, mostly at night when I\u2019m tired and he can ambush me with one of his Give-Peace-a-Chance, no-smoking, veggie-bacon sermons. But he isn\u2019t trying to run the show single-handed anymore. We reached a kind of MAD pact the other day.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq looks at me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMAD?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMutually Assured Destruction. I told him that if he ever tried to push me out of my brain and turn me into a clean-living choirboy again, I\u2019d have to do something, you know, unreasonable.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSuch as?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI told him I\u2019d get hammered and go through the Room of Thirteen Doors to the Pearly Gates. Then I\u2019d find the Archangel Gabriel and thunderbolt-kick him in the cojones in front of all the other angels.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhereupon the other angels would draw their swords and kill you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cExactly.\u00a0Mutually Assured Destruction.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat sounds much more like the old you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThanks.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Technically, I\u2019m what you call a \u201cnephilim.\u201d Half human, half angel. And I\u2019m the only one. The others are all dead. Suicides mostly. Some people call my type freaks. If you\u2019re one of heaven\u2019s lapdogs, you\u2019ll probably call me \u201cAbomination.\u201d I say, call me either of those things to my face and you\u2019ll get to see what your lungs look like as throw pillows.<\/span><\/p>\n

The angel half of me got shaken loose a while back when a High Plains Drifter\u2014that\u2019s \u201czombie\u201d to you\u2014bit a chunk out of my hand. The human half of me almost died and the angel half thought that was its chance to take over. It was for a while, but then I got my strength back and I locked the angel upstairs in the attic like Joan Crawford in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?<\/span><\/span> It still bangs on the door and shouts, but I\u2019ve learned to ignore it most of the time. Some of the time. It depends on the day.<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq goes back to work on the safe. Over his clothes, he\u2019s wearing a tailored gray gabardine greatcoat. Looks like\/fo. Looks his girlfriend Allegra\u2019s been dressing him again. He looks like the doorman at a speakeasy in the Kremlin. The greatcoat tinkles gently when he moves, like he\u2019s smuggling wind chimes. The sound of the hundred or so little potion bottles he has sewn into the coat\u2019s lining. I have my guns, my knife, and na\u2019at. Vidocq has his potions.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat exactly are we stealing?\u201d I ask.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cA golden brooch or device in the shape of a scarab. It\u2019s quite ancient. There is a clockwork mechanism inside. Perhaps it\u2019s God\u2019s pocket watch.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHe doesn\u2019t need a watch. He needs a compass so he can find his own ass.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

There\u2019s a click and the front of the safe swings open.<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq moves his hands in a graceful TV-spokesmodel arc in front of the safe.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cEt voil\u00e0.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou are the man, Van Damme.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He squints at me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cJean-Claude Van Damme is Belgian, not French.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s a difference?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFuck you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I like how Vidocq pronounces \u201cfuck\u201d: \u201cfock.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He whispers, \u201cC\u2019est quoi, \u00e7a?\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnything wrong?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo. It\u2019s very interesting. The owner of this safe is a very paranoid man. The inside is etched with spells and runes.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCan you still get the swag?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He flashes a small LED light around the inside of the safe.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t see anything in here that should stop us. They mostly seem to be containment spells. He must have been afraid of this shiny scarab walking away.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He reaches into the safe and pulls out a polished ebony box the size of a cigar box and pushes up the lid. A beautiful gold scarab lies on bloodred silk. He hands me the box and begins packing his tools. I slip it into my coat pocket.<\/span><\/p>\n

I say, \u201cI have to admit, it doesn\u2019t feel bad, but it feels a little weird not raising a hand in anger this long. I can pretty much just talk humans and Lurkers out of doing stupid shit to each other these days.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSee?\u201d he says from the floor. \u201cBy embracing your angelic half, the mere force of your personality is enough to keep the peace.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI think killing all zombies in the world in one night helps.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes, that could be a factor.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd Lucifer and the Vigil aren\u2019t around paying me to be a hit man rent-boy bitch.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq scrolls his gear into a leather tool roll and stands up.<\/span><\/p>\n

I ask him, \u201cAre we cool?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He smiles and says, \u201cAs the North Star on Christmas Eve. But we aren\u2019t quite done.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He takes two potion bottles from inside his coat and pours their contents onto the floor where we were standing and on the safe door, trying to shampoo away any magic or forensic dandruff that might lead back to us. When he tosses the contents of a third bottle into the safe, I hear the scratching.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou heard?\u201d he asks.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGet out of the way, Eug\u00e8ne.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He doesn\u2019t. Vidocq has a scientific mind. Instead of getting out of the way, he looks inside the safe.<\/span><\/p>\n

It wouldn\u2019t be my fault if the back of his stupid French skull blew out like a five-dollar retread, but I pull Vidocq out of the way just before the demon cannonballs out of the safe and hits the far wall.<\/span><\/p>\n

The demon\u2019s carapace gleams like blue-black gun steel. The big bug doesn\u2019t have eyes, just two sets of jaws at an angle to each other and two huge hooked front claws. The moment it hits the wall, it starts tunneling through it. That\u2019s what this particular type of demon does. It\u2019s a digger. A greed demon. It\u2019ll protect anything it thinks it owns. Like the contents of a safe. It\u2019s why the safe had containment spells on the interior. To keep the demon inside. Smart. Your basic bad guys\u2014us, for instance\u2014will maybe test for eaters, but who\u2019s going to worry about a brainless digger until it\u2019s excavating the Panama Canal through your intestines?<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq bumps against the desk when I pull him to his feet. The digger freezes and turns. It\u2019s blind but it has great hearing. I can slow my heart and breathing, but in a few seconds the demon\u2019s going to zero in on Vidocq. I step back from him, leaving him exposed to the digger. He turns and looks at me with wide horrified eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

Sorry, man. This is how it has to be.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

The digger turns. It has Vidocq\u2019s heartbeat. It hooks its two huge digging claws into the wall and uses them to slingshot forward. A metallic blur, four glittering jaws, and arm-size hooks going right for the old man\u2019s chest. He doesn\u2019t look at it. ty look a He never takes his eyes off me.<\/span><\/p>\n

As the digger\u2019s body blurs across the desk, I whip the na\u2019at out. Twist the grip out from the body into a hair-thin serrated whipsaw.<\/span><\/p>\n

The digger hits the na\u2019at like a meteor with teeth. I twist the na\u2019at\u2019s cutting edge into its body and the bug splits in two lengthwise. The halves come apart and smash into the wall on either side of Vidocq, embedding themselves deep into the wood and plaster.<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq swivels his head, checking out the giant insect shanks that flank him.<\/span><\/p>\n

I say, \u201cWhat do you know? I do remember how to kill things. Good news for our side.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFuck you, boy.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

An alarm goes off when a naked fat man kicks open the office door. I\u2019m going to roll the dice and guess he\u2019s the home owner. He points an exquisitely made-over and -under shotgun at us. It might even be a Tullio Fabbri. A hundred and seventy-five grand worth of etched steel with a carved walnut stock and accurate as a cruise missile. I\u2019m almost tempted to ask him, but his pupils are dilated and I smell the excitement in his sweat because he thinks he\u2019s finally going to get to use that Fort Knox popgun on actual human beings.<\/span><\/p>\n

Through the angel\u2019s senses I hear the infinitesimal scrape of metal over lubricated metal as the fat man applies pressure to the shotgun\u2019s trigger. I grab Vidocq in a bear hug and jump through the window just as the gun goes off.<\/span><\/p>\n

Davy Crockett here isn\u2019t Sub Rosa, but he must know some because he has an antimagic cloak over his house and the grounds outside. What that means is no one\u2019s supposed to be able to throw any hoodoo or hexes around here. Whoever built the cloak probably pegged him for a mark right off. I figure they got him to pay a bonus to build it big enough to cover the whole estate, the perfect way to turn a cloak into something as reliable as a marshmallow condom. Antimagic shields are powerful things when you do them right, and part of that\u2019s knowing they can only be so big. Blow them up too much and the skin stretches thin. Keep blowing and they can pop right out of existence. That\u2019s what Davy the Rube paid for: a one-hundred-thousand-dollar soap bubble.<\/span><\/p>\n

The cloak is stretched so thin I can throw all kinds of hoodoo in here. Like when we climbed the fence onto the grounds, I could take us into the house through the Room of Thirteen Doors. But I can\u2019t get us off the grounds that way. Of course, I could have used some hoodoo to wrap Davy Crockett\u2019s shotgun around his neck like a mink stole and swung him around like a carousel pony while I shot the shit out of his office, but I didn\u2019t do any of that. Someone else might think that would earn them karma points down the line, but I know better. Karma is just loaded dice on a crooked table. Celestial pricks with wings and halos make the rules and the house always wins. Always.<\/span><\/p>\n

SO<\/span><\/span> VIDOCQ AND<\/span><\/span> I are falling. Tinkling glass falls with us like razor-blade snowflakes.<\/span><\/p>\n

When you\u2019re jumping two floors with a civilian whose broken bones won\u2019t heal overnight like your own, you need to remember a couple of things. One, cushion the fall as much as you can, and two, be prepared to use your body as an air bag. That means controlling the fall enough so the other, usually extremely startled, person lands on top of you. Does it hurt? Go outside, get a friend to drop a garbage-can-ful of bacon fat on your chest, and see.<\/span><\/p>\n

Trying to control a fall is no tea party when you\u2019re holding on to someone who\u2019s thrashing around like a Tasered octopus. But it\u2019s not impossible. The trick is to grab them just under the ribs and squeeze so they can\u2019t breathe. Then you let go just as you hit the ground so they breathe out hard when they hit. It helps absorb the shock, though it still hurts. Especially if you\u2019re the one on the bottom.<\/span><\/p>\n

There\u2019s a tree below Davy\u2019s window. I aim for it, rolling us into the branches, hoping it\u2019ll slow our fall a little. It does. Coming down into the hedges helps, too. We still have some momentum to burn off, so I keep rolling and we end up on the lawn that Davy was kind enough to lay out with fresh soft sod in the last few days. Thanks, man. I\u2019ll send you a honey-baked ham for Christmas.<\/span><\/p>\n

I pull Vidocq to his feet and we run for the wall like a couple of spooked raccoons. I look back over my shoulder and Davy is standing in the broken window with the shotgun at his shoulder. Wishful thinking. We\u2019re too far away for him to hit anything but the air.<\/span><\/p>\n

Don\u2019t sweat it, Davy. Vidocq and I aren\u2019t going to touch your safe or wreck your office again. But I might have to come back some night for that Tullio Fabbri and you can try to shoot me with something else. I am in severe need of something like that. It\u2019s so quiet and peaceful out here I\u2019m getting bored with breathing. Maybe we\u2019ll get lucky and the world will go to Hell again. Fingers crossed.<\/span><\/p>\n

I PARKED THE<\/span><\/span> stolen Lexus half a block away. Vidocq is limping. He stops and opens his coat like a flasher. There are dozens of pockets sewn into the lining. Each holds a different potion. Batman has his utility belt. Vidocq has his coat. I have guns and a knife. None of us will be on the cover of GQ<\/span><\/span>.<\/span><\/p>\n

Satisfied that Vidocq\u2019s little glass vials aren\u2019t broken and leaking about a hundred hexes into his underwear, we head for the car. The old man is limping, but when I put a hand on his arm to help him, he shrugs it off. Another grateful customer. I have a knack for pissing people off, especially my friends.<\/span><\/p>\n

He still won\u2019t talk to me, but at least when we get to the Lexus he lets me help him into the car. I start to close the door, but he blocks it with his hand.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWho is that?\u201d he asks.<\/span><\/p>\n

I turn and see a man a few yards away. He\u2019s standing in the shadow of a big shade tree on someone\u2019s lawn. He doesn\u2019t move when I look at him. I reach behind my back and pull a Smith & Wesson .460, making sure he sees it. He doesn\u2019t flinch. I put the gun back and stackeback anrt toward him. Now he moves. He comes right at me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIs this Disneyland?\u201d I say. \u201cAre you Mickey Mouse? I always wanted to shake hands with giant vermin.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Not a peep. Maybe he\u2019s a Daffy Duck fan.<\/span><\/p>\n

There\u2019s something wrong with his face. I can\u2019t make out any ears and there\u2019s a deep slit where his nose should be, like he\u2019s healed up from third-degree burns. Must be a tough bastard to go through that and still walk.<\/span><\/p>\n

We both stop about six feet apart, having a Sergio Leone stare-down.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know if you\u2019re looking for directions or a date, but we\u2019re fresh out of both. Take a walk and stare at someone else.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He\u2019s fast for a guy who looks like he just escaped from a deep-fat fryer. He lunges and grabs my arms over the biceps. He\u2019s strong for a cripple, but nothing I can\u2019t handle.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then my arms are burning. Literally. My coat sleeves smoke and burst into flames where he\u2019s holding me. I have heavy Kevlar inserts in the sleeves, but in just a couple of seconds the heat is almost through and down to my skin.<\/span><\/p>\n

I step back and bring up my forearms in an outward circle from underneath and hit his arms hard. Standard self-defense stuff every high school kid knows. It doesn\u2019t work. It\u2019s like hitting Jell-O. And now my forearms are burning. Wrestling this guy is like waltzing with lava. I try to form hoodoo in my mind to knock Smokey the Asshole across the street or at least make him let go, but the pain makes it hard to think straight.<\/span><\/p>\n

I bark some Hellion I learned back when I was fighting in the arena. If you do the hex right, it\u2019s like a garbage-can-size gut punch that hits in a blaze of purple light and bores like an oil-rig drill through just about anyone or anything. I get it just right. The purple explosion, the whirlpool of power. Smokey\u2019s midsection collapses in on itself. And goes through and out his back, dragging a long strip of lava flesh with it like burning taffy. The prick doesn\u2019t even seem to notice.<\/span><\/p>\n

The guy isn\u2019t a burn victim. His face churns like thick liquid as we wrestle. Stupid. I should have known this asshole wasn\u2019t human.<\/span><\/p>\n

The heat is down to my skin, cooking my arms. Being hard to kill means a lot of things. I have a high pain threshold, but it\u2019s not infinite. Not when something a volcano shit out is trying to give you an Indian burn. Being hard to kill also means that you don\u2019t go down fast, so whatever\u2019s cutting you, shooting you, or burning you alive is something you get to experience for a good long time.<\/span><\/p>\n

Being hard to kill isn\u2019t the worst thing that can happen to you, but it sure as shit isn\u2019t the best, and right now it isn\u2019t even fun.<\/span><\/p>\n

Something clear and hard spins past my shoulder and hits Smokey in the face.ionin the He jerks his head away like I have bad breath. But he doesn\u2019t let go. Another vial flies past. And another. Smokey lets go this time. Vidocq is behind me, limping over and tossing potions like a pitching machine.<\/span><\/p>\n

Smokey backs away, his arms pulled in close to his body. Something\u2019s hurt him. Good. He starts to shake like someone stuck a vibrator in a bowl of cherry Jell-O. I step back and grab my gun, but before I can use it, Smokey melts like the Wicked Witch of the West, leaving a circle of scorched black earth on the green lawn.<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq grabs my shoulder and pulls me back to the car. He bunny-hops on his good leg into the passenger side and I slide into the driver\u2019s seat, jam the black blade I carried back from Hell into the ignition, and we peel out.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat the hell kind of burglar alarm was that? Why can\u2019t rich people have rottweilers like everyone else?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think that was an alarm. That was a demon.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I glance at him. My arms are throbbing now, and between each throb they still feel like they\u2019re burning. I smell something, but I don\u2019t know if it\u2019s the coat or me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve never seen a demon like that before.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNeither have I, but the potion that hurt the creature was a rare type of poison. A toxin formulated to affect only demons.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I drive at a moderate speed. I pause at stop signs and obey every light.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThink it was after us?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq shrugs.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPossibly. But who knew we\u2019d be here tonight? And why would someone attack you now? You\u2019ve been a good boy for weeks.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I roll down the windows to let out the smell. I\u2019m stinking up the Lexus, but who cares? I hate these luxury golf carts. Gaudy status symbols with as much personality as an Elmer\u2019s-Glue-on-white-bread sandwich.<\/span><\/p>\n

I say, \u201cMaybe someone was settling an old score. Hell, maybe it was after you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq laughs. \u201cWho would send a demon for me?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know. The few thousand people you\u2019ve robbed over the last two hundred years?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s more like a hundred and fifty. Don\u2019t try to make me sound old.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201c \u2019Course, sending a demon for something like that sounds like overkill. Especially something rare enough that neither of us recognizes it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019>
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhiner. Your girlfriend is the best hoodoo doctor in town. She\u2019ll give you an ice pack and conjure you some kangaroo legs. Then you can do your own second-story work.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq pats me on the shoulder.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThere, there .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u201d like he\u2019s patting a five-year-old with a skinned knee. \u201cI would have thought you\u2019d be happy. You got to have a fight. Draw a little blood. Isn\u2019t that what you\u2019ve been wanting?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I think it over.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI suppose. And you killed it, not me, so my not-slaughtering-things record is still intact.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cUnlike your arms.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cA little Bactine and they\u2019ll be fine by the morning.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cJudging by the look of them, they\u2019ll hurt in the meantime. Take this. It will help you sleep.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He reaches into his coat and hands me a potion.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo thanks. Dr. Jack Daniel\u2019s is coming by tonight. He\u2019s got all the medicine I need.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He slips the vial into my pocket.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTake it anyway. He might be late.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes, Mom.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd don\u2019t forget to brush your teeth and say your prayers.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFuck you, Mom.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

WE DRIVE ACROSS<\/span><\/span> town, near what the city fathers call the Historic District, an ironically named area in a city that has no history but has seen more shit go down than a lot of countries. It\u2019s all right to forget all the Mansons, the celebrity ODs, the brain-boost religions, the UFO religions, the tinhorn Satanists, the rock-and-roll suicides, the landgrabs, the serial killers, the ruthless gangs and even more ruthless cops, the survivalists with cases of ammo, cigarettes, and freeze-dried beans in their desert compounds, as long as we remember to bring the family downtown to grab a latte and admire the knockoff Mickey Mouse T-shirts.<\/span><\/p>\n

We ditch the car in the Biltmore Hotel parking lot and start the four-block walk to the Bradbury Building. This is flat-out stupid, but Vidocq insisted that he could walk off whatever happened to his leg in the fall. I\u2019ve seen plenty of injuries. I know he can\u2019t, but I let him hobble until he grabs my arm, huffing and puffing before falling against a newspaper box full of local porn papers. I didn\u2019t know those things were still around.<\/span><\/p>\n\u201cWant to take the shortcut?\u201d I ask.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPlease,\u201d he says.<\/span><\/p>\n

I put one of his arms around my shoulder and lift him off the box. We limp to the corner and around the side of a Japanese restaurant. I pull him into a shadow by the delivery entrance. We go into the Room of Thirteen Doors and I pretty much carry him out the Door of Memory and into Mr. Muninn\u2019s place.<\/span><\/p>\n

Every good thief needs a fence and Mr. Muninn is Vidocq\u2019s. Muninn\u2019s regular shop, the one he keeps for his vaguely normal clients, is in the old sci-fi\u2013meets\u2013art-deco Bradbury Building on a floor that doesn\u2019t exist. He serves a pretty select clientele\u2014mostly Sub Rosa and \u00fcber-wealthy L.A. elites. But if you ever stumbled into his store and could afford a Fury in a crystal cage, the seeds from Eve\u2019s apple, or Napoleon\u2019s whalebone cock ring, he\u2019d let you in. Mr. Muninn\u2019s a businessman.<\/span><\/p>\n

The really interesting stuff he keeps in a deep cavern beneath the Bradbury Building. His secret boutique for only the oddest and choicest items in the world. That\u2019s where we come out.<\/span><\/p>\n

When he sees us Muninn holds his arms out wide like he\u2019s giving a benediction.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWelcome, boys. What a pleasure to see you two working together again.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq says, \u201cJust like the good old days. I\u2019m limping and he was just on fire.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq drops into a gilt armchair that probably belonged to King Tut.<\/span><\/p>\n

I stamp my foot on the stone floor a few times, shaking loose shotgun pellets that have embedded themselves in the soles of my boot.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOn fire is my best look. Ask anyone.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Muninn shifts his eyes to Vidocq and then back at me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHow may I ask did a simple robbery turn into a Greek drama? And were there any witnesses who might make things complicated later?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I say, \u201cThe drama started and ended with demons. One in the house and one in the street.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe only witness is the man who owned the scroll you wanted,\u201d says Vidocq. \u201cHis residence was badly cloaked and there was a guardian demon in the safe. He\u2019ll be too embarrassed that he paid for a worthless shield to tell anyone. No doubt he knows that leaving a demon mantrap where an innocent party might stumble on it is a serious violation of Sub Rosa precepts. No, I believe he\u2019ll lick his wounds and not tell a soul about tonight.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Muninn smiles and does his benediction thing again.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd there we are. An adv he are. Aenture complete with just a few scars to make the memories all the more vivid. And then there\u2019s your reward. Not a bad night\u2019s work, I\u2019d say.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I take the box out of my pocket, then peel off the charred remains of my coat and drop it on the stone floor. If it was anyone else, I\u2019d stomp him for his attitude, but Muninn doesn\u2019t think like regular people. I don\u2019t know if he\u2019s the oldest man in the world, but I\u2019ll bet there isn\u2019t anyone else within midget-tossing distance who\u2019s seen multiple ice ages freeze and thaw the world. He\u2019s a nice guy for someone who thinks like a Martian. And he\u2019s always fair when it comes to business. If you ask me, we could use a few more like him. You never know what\u2019s going to come out of his mouth and he always pays on time.<\/span><\/p>\n

He rummages around his endless maze of shelves crammed with books, bones, strange weapons, the crown jewels of kingdoms no one\u2019s ever heard of, and ancient scientific devices. Does even he know what they do? They could be Krishna\u2019s gumball machine for all I know.<\/span><\/p>\n

He comes back with a handblown green glass bottle and three small silver cups, takes them to his worktable desk, and pours drinks. He hands us each a glass and raises his own.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTo God above and the devil below.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq says something pithy back in French.<\/span><\/p>\n

Great. Now it\u2019s my turn to sound smart. The angel in my head chimes in with something, but I shove Beaver Cleaver back into the dark.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou owe me a coat,\u201d is all I can think of.<\/span><\/p>\n

He smiles and nods, pouring more drinks.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cA man of many thoughts but few words. Lucky for us all that it\u2019s not the other way around.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq laughs and turns away, pretending he\u2019s looking at the shelves so I won\u2019t see him.<\/span><\/p>\n

Muninn says, \u201cI hear that when you\u2019re not playing le voleur<\/span><\/span> with Eug\u00e8ne, you\u2019re rebuilding your movie house.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cRental place. We don\u2019t show them. We just pimp them. And yeah, Kasabian and I are rebuilding and expanding Max Overdrive with all the Ben Franklins that vampire bunch, the Dark Eternal, gave me.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Muninn looks down, contemplating his glass.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI expect they would be grateful for you clearing out the revenants. Zombies can\u2019t have much nutritional value for vampires.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAccording to the news, it never happened. It was mass hysteria. Drugs in the water or weaponized LSD. Between tourists, traffic cams, and private security, there\u2019s a million video cams in L.A., but there\u2019s not one good minute of zed footage andzed fooanywhere, just blurry cell-phone shit. We might as well say we were attacked by Bigfoot.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

It stinks of the feds like ripe roadkill. Like Marshal Wells.<\/span><\/p>\n

Until I snuffed the zeds, Homeland Security had heavy muscle in L.A. I mean, they had a goddamn angel on staff. Aelita. The meanest celestial rattlesnake I ever met and I\u2019ve partied with Lucifer. Aelita is Ilsa, She-Wolf of the SS, but not as good-natured. She was the organ grinder and Marshal Wells was the monkey. They\u2019re exactly the kind of bastards with connections to levels of occult and law enforcement power who could make thousands of hours of video disappear overnight.<\/span><\/p>\n

Washington spanked Wells hard after the zeds got out of control. Aelita strolled away, so he got to be the fall guy. DHS closed him down out here. Who knows, if he plays nice and eats his vegetables, maybe the Men in Black will send him back. They might even let him resurrect the Golden Vigil, his and Aelita\u2019s private jackboot army. Heaven\u2019s Pinkertons on earth.<\/span><\/p>\n

Muninn waves his hand.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt was bound to happen. Most ordinary people\u2019s desire to forget what they can\u2019t comprehend is virtually infinite. It\u2019s more comforting to disbelieve their own eyes than accept the possibility that the dead can walk the streets. I can\u2019t say I blame them.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I raise my glass.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTo reality. The most overrated and underpaid game in town.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

We all drink.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo, what will you do until your movie palace is complete?\u201d asks Muninn. \u201cAre you considering carrying on as an investigator? You seem to have a flair for it. No one else figured out the nasty little secret behind the revenants.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat was a onetime thing. And I got lucky. If Brigitte and I hadn\u2019t been bitten, I wouldn\u2019t have done any of it. I would have taken her and blown out of town.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Brigitte is a friend from Prague. A trained High Plains Drifter\u2014that is, a zombie\u2014hunter. I might have fallen for her if we\u2019d met at a different time, under different circumstances, and on another planet. I screwed up and let Brigitte get bitten by a Drifter. She almost turned. If it hadn\u2019t been for Vidocq and his alchemy hoodoo, she would have.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not true and you know it,\u201d says Vidocq. \u201cPerhaps you\u2019ll turn your attention back to Mason? If I remember correctly, finding him was the main reason you returned from Hell. I understand, of course, your getting distracted, what with saving the world and all.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI did find Mason. And I locked him up good and tight Downtown.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhich is what he wanted all along,\u201d says Vidocq. \u201cI\u2019m not sure you can call that punishment.&igipunishm#x201D;<\/span><\/p>\n

I give the old man a look. I don\u2019t like having my own stupid confessions thrown back at me. Of course he\u2019s right. Mason wanted to go to Hell and he wanted to go there alive, just like I did. And I walked up to him like a backwoods rube with a corncob pipe and put him there. Not many people know about that. I couldn\u2019t walk the streets if they did. I couldn\u2019t look people in the eye if they knew I\u2019d sent the most dangerous man in the world to the worst place in the universe so he could raise an army to kill them all. People get murdered for mistakes like that. Sometimes they don\u2019t wait for someone else to do it. If someone else tries it, they might get it wrong and leave you in a coma, only half dead. That would be even worse. Someone might feel sorry for you and that\u2019s something I couldn\u2019t take.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cKasabian still has access to Lucifer\u2019s book, The Daimonion Codex.<\/span><\/span> He keeps an eye on Downtown twenty-four\/seven. If Mason makes a move, I\u2019ll know about it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhy not simply go yourself?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve tried a few times. Even changing my face with a glamour, there\u2019s always some Hellion or other who spots me and I have to de-ass the place fast. There\u2019s got to be another way to get to him, but I haven\u2019t figured it out yet.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019m lying. I\u2019ve tried it a couple of times and I was so nervous that the glamour wasn\u2019t even half-baked. I thought I could walk back Downtown like Patton riding a tank. But I can\u2019t. The smell and the heat hit me and I\u2019m back on the arena floor, ripped open and bleeding, hoping my guts don\u2019t slip out into the dirt. Or I\u2019m covered in thick Hellion blood, playing hit man for another Hellion while he tells me Alice will be safe as long as I keep killing for him. And then she\u2019s dead and all I am is a murderer. So I close the door to Hell and I slink back home, sitting at my favorite bar long enough that the smell fades and Kasabian won\u2019t know what a coward I\u2019ve become.<\/span><\/p>\n

What\u2019s more useless than a weak-kneed killer?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll find a way in,\u201d says Vidocq.<\/span><\/p>\n

I nod and finish my drink, putting on my serious, thoughtful face.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI hope it\u2019s soon. Since I can\u2019t play Hannibal Downtown, the angel in my head wants me to roam the streets at night looking for bad guys like Batman. I got so pissed one night that I actually did it. Know what happened? Exactly nothing. Looking to get mugged is crazy and bad guys walk the other way when they see crazy coming. What I need is angel Valium to shut this Boy Scout up.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Muninn nods.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI know how it feels to constantly be at odds with those closest to you. Eventually you reach the point where none of you can stand the sight of each other anymore. My brothers and I are like that.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBrothers?\u201d says mo#x201D; Vidocq.<\/span><\/p>\n

That\u2019s more interesting than a two-headed calf singing \u201cSome Velvet Morning\u201d in tight harmony. I have about a million questions, but most aren\u2019t real discreet. I go with the easiest.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAre they like you? Live in caverns and know everything about everything?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Muninn shakes his head, lost in thought. He stares at the green liquor bottle.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI have four brothers, and no, none live in caverns. None of us is even the slightest bit like the others. I haven\u2019t seen any of them in years. Centuries. Occasionally I miss them, but the truth is that I have no real interest in tracking any of them down. I daresay they feel the same thing about me.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

No one says anything. We\u2019ve hit into one of those weird silences that happen when someone drops something too real into the middle of a conversation that should just have been about drinking and patting ourselves on the back. Somehow, while we were talking, Muninn has opened the box and extracted a scroll from the scarab. I pick it up.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s so special about this that we had to bust open Fort Knox to get it?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Muninn\u2019s eyes lighten. He smiles.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes, that. The scroll is for a gentleman in, let\u2019s say, investment banking. A man like that can do extraordinary damage to his soul. Maybe even several souls. He is always on the market for new souls to wear until he ruins them too. Even L.A.\u2019s many soul mongers can\u2019t keep up with him. The price of souls is going up for everyone. And Los Angeles is a town that needs all the souls it can lay its hands on.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo, the scroll is a soul?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo. It\u2019s a bit like .\u00a0.\u00a0. What do you call the elixir that restores hair?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cRogaine?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes! Rogaine for the soul. It restores and replenishes the user\u2019s original umbra. A re-souling will last him a year or two I hope. Buyers can become testy when they want a new soul and you have to tell them that the cupboard is bare.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSuddenly I don\u2019t feel so bad about my life.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq says, \u201cIf you feel so good, why not come take a trip with me tomorrow?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnother job?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s for you to decide. I sometimes do work for a private investigator. Today she called and asked about you. She has a job that she believes you would be perfect for.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I finish my drink and smile.<\/span><\/p>\n

hat=”0″>\u201cGet mixed up in a total stranger\u2019s problems for no good reason? Sounds like a scream, but I think I\u2019ll pass.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe doing something for a stranger will settle down your angel,\u201d says Muninn.<\/span><\/p>\n

The moment he says it, the haloed bastard starts squirming around. It tickles the inside of my skull and not in a good way. I try to push him back into the dark, but he smells a hero moment and won\u2019t budge.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd there\u2019s my poor, abused knee,\u201d the old man says, patting his leg. \u201cYou owe me for tossing me through a window tonight.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I turn from Vidocq to Muninn.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNever save a Frenchman\u2019s life. He\u2019ll hold it against you for the rest of yours.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I look at Vidocq and screw up my face into the least sincere smile I can make.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat the hell? I haven\u2019t done anything truly stupid in weeks.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

THE<\/span><\/span> BEAT<\/span><\/span> HOTEL<\/span><\/span> is in a typically glamorous area, near the corner of Hollywood Boulevard and North Gower.<\/span><\/p>\n

Across from the hotel is the Museum of Death, a fenced gray bunker with a ten-foot painted skull out front. Next to it is the long-dead Westbeach Recorders, an empty studio local acts used to record and where Pink Floyd recorded part of The Wall<\/span><\/span> (I believe that like I believe Jesus invented chili dogs). Down the street a car dealership is dying in the desert sun, the parboiled cars like beached fish carcasses slowly cooking to squid jerky. A couple of strip malls and empty parking lots on the corner. The front of the Beat Hotel is painted a pale industrial green. Maybe green paint was on sale that day or maybe it\u2019s supposed to be ironic. I\u2019ve never been sure.<\/span><\/p>\n

If any of this makes you think I don\u2019t like the Beat Hotel, you\u2019re wrong. It\u2019s like a cross between a seventies swingers no-tell motel and the kind of hipster hot spot where rock stars stay when they don\u2019t want to be seen bringing home good smack or bad strippers. The rooms are comfortable in a Zen halfway-house kind of way. But the kitchens are decorated in bright primary-colored vinyl like a Playboy<\/span><\/span>-chic burger joint. The place looks like where David Lynch would meet Beaver Cleaver\u2019s mom for secret afternoons of bondage and milk shakes. I love it.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kasabian and I have been there about three weeks. I rented us a room for the month. At the end of the month I\u2019ll probably do it again. You\u2019re not supposed to stay for more than a week, but I pay the right people to change my name on the registry so it looks like someone new moves in every Saturday.<\/span><\/p>\n

I had to get out of Max Overdrive for a while. All the rebuilding going on after the zombie riots\u2014the saws and hammers and especially the stink of new paint&19;f new p#x2014;was making me feel kind of stabby. None of it bothered Kasabian, of course. He\u2019d put on headphones, crank up the volume on Danger: Diabolik,<\/span><\/span> and peck away on his computer. The smell didn\u2019t bother him because he doesn\u2019t have lungs, so he doesn\u2019t breathe.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kasabian and I have a lot in common. Like me, he\u2019s a monster; only he wasn\u2019t born that way. I made him one when I cut off his head with the black bone knife I brought back from Hell. The blade that didn\u2019t let him die. Now he\u2019s a chain-smoking, beer-stealing pain in my ass. To get specific, Kasabian is a head without a body. And he won\u2019t shut up about it. He gets around on what to a civilian would look like a polished mahogany skateboard with a couple dozen stubby brass Jules Verne legs underneath. Really, it\u2019s a hoodoo-driven prosthetic for a guy who\u2019s wandering around with nothing but a bad attitude below his neck. It\u2019s his own fault. When I came back from Hell, the idiot shot me, so I cut off his head. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Now I\u2019m stuck with him. We\u2019ve gotten as used to each other as a couple of monsters can be. But I\u2019ll never get used to a roommate surfing around on a magic plank like a beer-swilling Victorian centipede.<\/span><\/p>\n

And that\u2019s the other reason we\u2019re at the hotel. I don\u2019t want some schmuck carpenter wandering upstairs and getting an eyeball-ful of Kasabian\u2019s disembodied cranium. When the guy\u2019s brain explodes, our insurance would go through the roof.<\/span><\/p>\n

I go right to the game room set up for the guests. There\u2019s an \u201cOut of Order\u201d sign outside. I rap on the door using the secret knock Kasabian insisted on. (He\u2019s been watching too many spy movies.) Knock. Pause. Knock. Knock. Pause. Knock.<\/span><\/span> A second later I hear something scrape behind the door and it opens a few inches. I look around to make sure no one can see me and slip inside. When I get in, Kasabian uses his little legs to wedge a wooden chair under the doorknob, then tells me to throw the lock.<\/span><\/p>\n

I say, \u201cYou\u2019re riding the paranoia pony pretty hard today, Alfredo Garcia.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBlow me, biped. I have to be security-conscious or I\u2019ll end up freak of the month on YouTube.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t sweat it. We\u2019re both going to end up a couple of pickled punks in the Museum of Death someday.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, but I\u2019m not looking for it to happen tonight.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He clambers on top of the pool table and gives me a sometime-today-asshole look. I roll the cue ball and we lag for break. Kasabian wins. I rack the balls and step back to light a Malediction, Lucifer\u2019s favorite cigarette. You can only get them Downtown, and since I haven\u2019t seen Lucifer in a while, I\u2019m running low. It might almost be worth chancing going back down to snatch and grab a pack or three. Almost.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kasabian shooting pool is as graceful as a lobster playing soccer. He scuttles around the green felt tabletop, lines up his shot, and kicks the cue ball with his stubby metal legs. I\u2019m not sure if him playing like that is fair, but y”><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s that smell?\u201d he asks.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMe. I got parboiled by a demon when I was out with Vidocq.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I shrug off the rifle frock coat Muninn gave me and show him the burns on my arms. I\u2019m doing my best to ignore the pain, but I\u2019m going to need a drink soon. Getting tossed in a meat grinder every now and then is part of what I do. I came back to earth to kill things, so I have to expect things to fight back occasionally.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNice. New scars to add to your collection. You collect getting fucked up the way old ladies collect state spoons.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Kasabian takes a shot and sinks the nine, eleven, and four. Two stripes and a solid.<\/span><\/p>\n

He says, \u201cI\u2019ll play stripes. Thirteen in the corner,\u201d as he lines up the shot. He sinks it.<\/span><\/p>\n

I puff on the smoke. I get the feeling he\u2019s not going to leave me much else to do.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo what kind of a demon was it?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I shake my head.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDamned if I know. I\u2019d never seen one like it before.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He creeps around the table, not looking up.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did it look like?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNot much. I mean, from a distance it looked like a guy in a cheap suit. But when it got closer, it was all Jell-O and acid. When it grabbed me, bang, I was burning.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He takes one of the blue chalk cubes from the side of the table and uses it on his stubby legs.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSounds like a Gluttire.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cA what?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGluttire. A glutton. He wasn\u2019t burning you. He was trying to dissolve you. Gluttons are pretty rare and mostly eat other demons. You been around any recently?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYeah. The guy whose house we hit had a digger in the wall safe.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThere you go,\u201d he says, and sinks the fourteen. \u201cHe smelled the digger.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI need to start bringing cologne on robberies.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s a ton about demons in the Codex<\/span><\/span>. There\u2019s a lot more kinds of them thalis of than you think, but Gluttires are the rarest. Most people never get to see one.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLucky me.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Things get quiet for a minute. He knows what I\u2019m going to ask.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTalk to me about Downtown. Got any gossip? Marilyn Monroe dating the Antichrist? Is Lovecraft being tortured by sexy octopuses?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat makes you think Monroe\u2019s Downtown?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWishful thinking.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Kasabian lines up another shot and sinks it. I\u2019m not even paying attention to which balls anymore.<\/span><\/p>\n

I say, \u201cSo?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Kasabian doesn\u2019t look up when he answers, keeping his eyes down on the table.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe weather\u2019s hot with a chance of chain saws and bullshit blowing up from the south.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I walk over and put my hand over the cue ball. Kasabian looks up at me, not at all happy.<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019m bugging him about the one thing he controls. His one little domain. The Daimonion Codex.<\/span><\/span> It\u2019s Lucifer\u2019s Boy Scout manual, Google search engine, and secret angelic ballbuster cookbook all in one. The most valuable thing in Hell besides the horned one himself. It contains every bit of dark, esoteric-stuff-you-don\u2019t-want-to-know-about-if-you-ever-want-to-sleep-again knowledge in the universe. As far as I know, Kasabian is the only one on earth who can read it.<\/span><\/p>\n

He glances down at my hand and I take it off the cue. He sinks another ball. The little prick has been practicing when I\u2019m not around.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kasabian used to look things up in the Codex<\/span><\/span> for Lucifer when he was too busy, which was 90 percent of the time. Of course, nothing in Hell works the way it\u2019s supposed to. That\u2019s why they call it Hell. The magic gear down there is like buying Russian souvenirs. The samovars are pretty, but you know they\u2019re going to leak all over your mom\u2019s chintz tablecloth.<\/span><\/p>\n

What that means is that Hell\u2019s half-assed gear hacks pretty easy. Take the Codex<\/span><\/span>. Kasabian\u2019s supposed to get a peek Downtown just wide enough to read the book. But it doesn\u2019t work right. He\u2019s like one of those traffic surveillance cams that catch you running red lights. If he squints just right, he can see a lot more than the book. He\u2019s like a whole series of traffic cams wired together and he can spyglass all over Hell. Not all of it, but a lot. It\u2019s the one thing he has over me and he never lets me forget it.<\/span><\/p>\n

He says, \u201cThe usual Chuck E. Cheese ball pit-party games. Since Lucifer pissed off back to heaven, Mason\u2019s completely taken over. Lucifer\u2019s generals are having slap fights over battle plans. MammoKasplans. n and Baphomet have been sabotaging each others\u2019 troops. Poisoning their food and shit like that. All so they can suck up to Mason. Semyazah is the only general who refused to kiss Mason\u2019s ass, so he\u2019s had to blow town.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSmart move.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMason\u2019s getting ready for something. He\u2019s pulling troops in from everywhere, but they\u2019re scattered all over Hell, so it\u2019ll take a while. In the meantime he\u2019s got some other game going, but I haven\u2019t figured out what it is.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I can walk through shadows and come out almost anywhere I want, passing through the Room of Thirteen Doors, the still-central point of time and space. I can get into the Room because years ago one of Lucifer\u2019s generals, the one who wanted me as his personal assassin, stuck a key in my chest. I\u2019m the only one in the universe who can get into the room because I have the only key. But while the Drifters were tearing through town like graveyard locusts I found out that Mason was trying to make his own key.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIs it the Room of Thirteen Doors? Has he found a way to get in?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think so. If he did, he\u2019d be up here already gnawing on your skull.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Kasabian is right. Mason isn\u2019t shy or subtle. If he could escape from Downtown, even if it was just for a minute, he\u2019d do it and try to kill me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo, what\u2019s he up to?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou tell me. You talk to the guy every night. It used to be Alice, which was creepy enough, but now it\u2019s Dr. Doom.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He shoots at the twelve. It bounces off the cushions and doesn\u2019t drop. My shot.<\/span><\/p>\n

I set down the cigarette, lay the cue down on my thumb and index finger, and line up a shot.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBack at Max Overdrive you used to talk to Alice in your sleep. Since we got here, though, whenever you\u2019re asleep you start spinning like a rotisserie chicken and talking to Mason.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do I say?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I bank the one off the rail and sink it in a corner pocket.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAside from \u2018Fuck you\u2019 and \u2018I\u2019ll kill you,\u2019 you mumble a lot in Hellion, so it\u2019s hard to tell.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBuy a dictionary.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He walks around the edge of the table, a fleshy spider circling a fly.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s something else. It doesn upse. It \u2019t really change anything, but you might want to know.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo one\u2019s all that scared of you Downtown anymore. You used to be the bogeyman who kept them up at night. Now they talk about you like you were the high school bully.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo they\u2019ve forgotten about me.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t say that. What I mean is, Mason is the new scary human in town, and you\u2019ve been gone so long, he wins badass title by default.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I take a shot at the three, but hit it too hard and it rolls back into the center of the table.<\/span><\/p>\n

I pick up my cigarette and Kasabian crawls back onto the table.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFirst he sends me to Hell and then he won\u2019t even let me keep my rep. The little prick wants everything.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Kasabian lines up a shot.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo go down there and kill something. Slit some generals\u2019 throats. You\u2019re the monster who kills monsters. Be creative.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I shake my head.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cEveryone knows my face, and Mason\u2019s put wards on all the entrances I use to get into Hell. He\u2019d know the moment I stuck my big toe down there.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWorrying about shit like that doesn\u2019t sound too Sandman Slim to me, if you don\u2019t mind my saying.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI do mind, but you already said it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cJust go down and kill him already! You\u2019ve done lots crazier shit than that before.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not the right time. I need to shut down everything he\u2019s doing. Battle plans. Backroom deals with generals. All of it. I need more chaos. You murder someone at the Ice Capades and the place goes apeshit. You blow someone\u2019s head off in a war zone, people step over the body and have a snack.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe. A few months back you\u2019d have John Wayne\u2019d your way in there and started your own war. I think that angel in your head\u2019s made you soft. You\u2019ve been Glenda the Good Witch too long.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He\u2019s right. Mason talked to me once. He possessed other people\u2019s bodies and talked to me through them. He\u2019s getting stronger and he\u2019s working on a key. He\u2019s rallying troops. I should be Downtown murdering him and giving fallen angels new nightmares. I wasted the last six, seven months skipping rope with Wells and the Vigil, drinking myself stupid and losing my edge.<\/span><\/p>\n

After all this timeer ll this, I still don\u2019t understand this world. It\u2019s soft and stupid and full of soft and stupid people. Why aren\u2019t they all crazy and ripping each other to bloody confetti? They want to. I can read their eyes. Hear their hearts beating. Smell the fear sweat. The anger sweat. The fury inside they can never let out. I\u2019m turning into one of them. It\u2019s the price of living in this world and trying to fit in.<\/span><\/p>\n

The angel in my head is part of it. On the other hand, is the angel even there? Maybe I\u2019m going crazy and it\u2019s my Tyler Durden. Maybe I\u2019ve always been crazy, and coming back here let it loose. Hell was my Haldol and without it I\u2019m slowly going schizo. Hearing voices. Taking orders from something that might not even exist.<\/span><\/p>\n

Alice isn\u2019t here and this place will never be anything but a desert without her. But I\u2019m connected to people now. Vidocq. Allegra. Candy. Carlos. Kasabian. Even Brigitte, who dumped me. They\u2019re the cinder blocks dragging me to the bottom of the ocean. Knowing them, giving a damn about them, sucks the marrow out of my bones. Makes me weak. They want me sane and clean, but the monster in me wants to hear Hellion necks snap and pop like champagne bottles on New Year\u2019s.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kasabian sinks one ball and lines up another. Am I playing stripes or solids? I can\u2019t remember. I finish the last of my cigarette and drop the butt in an abandoned soda can under the plastic \u201cNo Smoking\u201d sign.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe you should start something here. Go beat up some more skinheads. Fight a dragon. Or a Kissi.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I look at him, trying to read him. He doesn\u2019t breathe or sweat much, so it\u2019s hard. He\u2019s concentrating on his shot, so I can\u2019t see his eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat made you say that? The Kissi are gone.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I know it because I\u2019d killed them, the whole race of deformed, half-finished angels. Well, almost the whole race. I saw one, he calls himself Josef, a few weeks back. He\u2019s alive and he knows where there are other Kissi. We talked about that for a long time.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kasabian stops and looks at me. We\u2019ve lived together long enough that he knows when I\u2019m being .\u00a0.\u00a0. well, deadly serious.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCool out,\u201d Kasabian says. \u201cIt was a joke.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He gives the fifteen a solid kick and it slams into the hole. He moves around fast, trying to get things back to normal. Back to the game. He sinks another.<\/span><\/p>\n

I say, \u201cDon\u2019t joke about them. I don\u2019t like it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhatever you say, man. If I hurt your feelings we can watch Fried Green Tomatoes<\/span><\/span> and eat a pint of H\u00e4agen-Dazs.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I can\u2019t stand it anymore. I take out Vidocq\u2019s pain potion and down the whole thing in one gulp.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\u201cNo. Let\u2019s watch The Wild Bunch<\/span><\/span> and pay strangers to bring us Korean ribs.\u201d<\/span><\/ght><\/p>\n

\u201cWell, fuck me with Lloyd Bridges\u2019s dick. You\u2019re still alive in there after all,\u201d he says. Then, \u201cCorner pocket.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He lays down a solid kick, bounces the eight ball off the far rail, and sinks it in the corner pocket at my end.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou pay,\u201d he says.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI always do.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I PUT<\/span><\/span> KASABIAN<\/span><\/span> in his bowling bag so I can carry him to the room without the other hotel residents having a nervous breakdown. I close the bag all the way, but he always unzips it a few inches so he can see out.<\/span><\/p>\n

On the way across the parking lot I spot a Nahual beast man grab a little blonde\u2019s arm. She sounds Scandinavian when she shouts at him. She has on the traditional surfer tank top and shorts all foreign exchange students seem to wear. The Nahual isn\u2019t showing his beast face, so she has no idea that the guy she\u2019s arguing with isn\u2019t human.<\/span><\/p>\n

I set Kasabian down on a bench and walk over. The Nahual lets the girl go when he sees me. I shove his head through the windshield of a shiny rental car and bounce his face off the dashboard a few times. When I stop hurting him he runs like hell. The Scandy girl hasn\u2019t moved an inch. Her eyes are fixed on the broken windshield. She doesn\u2019t say thanks when I go past, but I don\u2019t expect her to. Between the Nahual and me, she\u2019s too shell-shocked to say anything at all. Welcome to L.A., darlin\u2019.<\/span><\/p>\n

As I carry Kasabian upstairs he says, \u201cThat\u2019s exactly what I was talking about.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

IN THE MORNING<\/span><\/span> it feels like my brain ran away to join the circus, got mauled by a lion, and rolled over every bump and boulder coming home. The pain juice Vidocq gave me doesn\u2019t mix well with Jack Daniel\u2019s, unless you enjoy feeling like someone parked a Saturn V on your eyeballs.<\/span><\/p>\n

Weird whiskey dreams last night. I dreamed about the old Faces of Death<\/span><\/span> movies. Sideshow pseudo-documentary mash-ups of real and obviously fake footage of people being killed in interesting and creative ways. A real carnage rodeo. And each of my dream segments starred Alice being mangled in wide-screen Technicolor.<\/span><\/p>\n

After all this time I still don\u2019t know how she died. I know that Parker, a magician, professional asshole, and Mason\u2019s favorite hoodoo thug, murdered her and that Mason ordered it. But I don\u2019t know how Parker killed her. The question always hovers at the back of my mind whenever I think of her. When I\u2019m asleep my dreams play out different scenarios. Everything from a quick bullet in the back of the head to being stabbed and bleeding out. Her death scenes get mixed up with dreams of being back in the arena. Whatever beast I kill morphs into Alice dying at my feet.<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/iv><\/dn><\/pk><\/div>\n

I know it\u2019s a kind of betrayal to hide from the truth of how she died, but I know Parker\u2019s mind and I doubt that he made it quick. Parker\u2019s the kind of guy that makes you want to believe in reincarnation. I already murdered him once, but if I had the chance I\u2019d never stop killing him. Killing Parker would be my circuit training. My racquetball game. I could build a whole new healthy lifestyle running him to the ground and snapping his neck three times a week.<\/span><\/p>\n

VIDOCQ COMES BY<\/span><\/span> with a cab around ten. On my best days, the sun isn\u2019t my friend. This morning, hungover and still wearing yesterday\u2019s clothes, all I can do is cover my head and run from shadow to shadow like a vampire that forgot to wind its watch.<\/span><\/p>\n

When I get to the cab, Vidocq is waiting by the front passenger door, which is weird. We usually ride in the back so we can talk. I look through the window into the back and see why he\u2019s up front. Candy is inside.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat, are you playing matchmaker?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq grabs the door and starts into the cab.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOui<\/span><\/span>. You need to talk to someone besides me and that chattering jack-o\u2019-lantern in your room.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq slides in next to the driver. I get in the back with Candy.<\/span><\/p>\n

She\u2019s in her usual ensemble of white T-shirt, a beat-up and just a little too big leather jacket, Chuck Taylors, and black jeans about to completely give up at the knees. She looks like Joan Jett\u2019s little sister. She\u2019s got on a pair of kid\u2019s sunglasses, like something you\u2019d pick up in Little Tokyo. The frames are white with blue flames and there are flying robots down the sides. When I sit down she doesn\u2019t say hello. She touches the middle of the frames just above her nose. The sunglasses start singing the theme song to some Japanese kiddie cartoon in a tinny robot voice. It makes my skull throb.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDid you wear those just to torture me?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She touches the frames and the robot song starts again.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNot everything is about you, but yeah, pretty much. And I always wanted a robot sidekick.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCan it be a quiet robot?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The song stops. She holds a finger over the frames.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t make me use my super-awesome robo powers on you again.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Candy is like me. A monster. Specifically, she\u2019s a Jade. Jades are sort of like vampires, only worse. They dissolve your insides and drink them like spiders. But she\u2019s a good girl and is trying to kick the human milkshake thing with a special potion. Blood-and-bone methadone. Besides being cute and dangerous, she saved my ass from joining thdivm joinie living dead after a Drifter bit me. I was far gone and didn\u2019t want to take the cure, so she stabbed me with a knife coated in the stuff. Yeah, it hurt. And yeah, I\u2019m glad she did it.<\/span><\/p>\n

I throw up my hands.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou win. Take our lands and gold but leave me my virtue.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThose are my only choices?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIf you\u2019re going virtue hunting, you better bring a backhoe and dynamite. You\u2019re going to have to dig deep.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll bring a strap-on.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I look at Vidocq in the front seat.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMake her stop. I\u2019m hungover and she has a robot. It\u2019s not fair.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLife is fair only in the grave and in the bedroom. This, you will notice, is neither.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s why I don\u2019t take cabs.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I look out the window. The cabbie takes us down Hollywood Boulevard for a few blocks and then U-turns on Sunset and heads back the way we came.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhere are we headed?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe Bamboo House of Dolls.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat the hell, man? It\u2019s just a few blocks. We could have walked.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBut then you might have walked away. You\u2019ll notice I told our driver to take the long way so that I could talk to you. The woman we\u2019re going to meet thought you\u2019d be more comfortable discussing business there.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat woman?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cJulia Sola.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNever heard of her.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMarshal Julie, you used to call her. One of Marshal Wells\u2019s agents. You liked her. You said she was the only one in the Golden Vigil who treated you like a human being.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I sit up.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAre you fucking kidding me? Just cause she didn\u2019t ice-pick me doesn\u2019t mean I want to work with her. Or any other Homeland Security. Stop the car. I\u2019m getting out.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cKeep going,\u201d Vidocq says to the driver. He turns back to me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cStop behaving like a child. The Vigil is dead and Homeland Security isn\u2019t here anymore. You kn <\/pmore.><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWith who? Your little thief pals?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWho better to know who works for law enforcement and who is a free agent?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019m not sure what to think. Vidocq has a nose for cops. He knows how they think, how they work. A hundred years ago he taught the French police forensic analysis techniques he\u2019d picked up from his science and alchemical books, and transformed them from a bunch of medieval thumb breakers into actual cops that could do real criminal investigations.<\/span><\/p>\n

The cabbie has the radio on. Patti Smith is singing \u201cAsk the Angels.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Pounding devotion, armegeddon, and rock and roll. A song to die to.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThis situation is total bullshit.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Candy looks at me, presses the button, and her robot glasses are singing over the radio. I\u2019m back in Hell.<\/span><\/p>\n

WHEN WE GET<\/span><\/span> to the Bamboo House of Dolls, Vidocq comes around to my side of the car and opens the door fast like he thinks I\u2019m going to bolt. Hands the driver a twenty and doesn\u2019t wait for change. The three of us go inside, where it\u2019s dark and cool. Carlos is behind the bar setting up glasses for the night\u2019s business. He nods at me when we walk in. It\u2019s weird seeing the bar at this time of day with no music playing. The tiki dolls and coconuts look as bleary as I feel.<\/span><\/p>\n

Carlos says, \u201cFunny seeing you awake. I thought you\u2019d melt like the Wicked Witch if someone tried to wake you up before dark.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou, too. Are you part of this conspiracy, too?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m just the hired help. Ask the pretty lady in the bathroom what\u2019s going on. She booked the place at this unholy hour. Is it your birthday or something? You should have told me.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo. This is just me being shanghaied, is what it is. If that\u2019s coffee I smell, I don\u2019t want any. I\u2019m not staying long.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Julia comes out of the back. Her dark hair is longer than I remember and she\u2019s wearing it up. She has on a sensible black skirt with a power-color bloodred blouse. She looks like a sexy librarian, but moves like someone who could casually dislocate your knee or crack some ribs with a tactical baton.<\/span><\/p>\n

She stops when she sees me. Smiles a little and comes over to the bar.<\/span><\/p>\n

The last time I saw U.S. marshal Julia Sola was here in the bar. She told me how Wells had taken the fall for the Drifters\u2019 tearing the city apart. Homeland Security had shut down its L.A. brancht=” L.A. b, disbanding the Golden Vigil and recalling Wells to Washington. She told me she was quitting the marshals\u2019 service to open her own investigation company. Just the general awkward bar chatter between two people who barely knew each other, but had seen a lot of the same craziness and slaughter over the last few days.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHello, Stark.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMarshal.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI wasn\u2019t sure you\u2019d come. I had a bet with myself that you wouldn\u2019t.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLooks like you lost.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI guess I owe myself five dollars.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She holds out a hand to shake. I give her a quick polite one to make Vidocq happy. He wants me to be a gentleman. I want him to be quiet about it.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not \u2018Marshal\u2019 anymore. It\u2019s just \u2018Julia.\u2019 \u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWell, Julia, truth is I wouldn\u2019t have come if I\u2019d known who we were seeing.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

That night, while Julia and I were talking, her voice had changed. Dropped an octave and turned snotty. It was Mason\u2019s voice coming out of her mouth. He couldn\u2019t get himself out of Hell, but he\u2019d conjured up a way to turn people into meat puppets for a few seconds. Mason hopped in and out of maybe a half-dozen different bodies, making threats and generally being the first-class asshole he always is. When he was gone, Julia didn\u2019t seem to remember a thing. Seem<\/span><\/span> being the important part.<\/span><\/p>\n

Carlos sets a cup of black coffee on the bar. She says, \u201cThank you,\u201d and picks it up. \u201cYou don\u2019t even want to know why I got you here?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNot even a little.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She smiles and I smile back, looking for Mason\u2019s shadow behind her eyes. But I can\u2019t find him. It\u2019s just her in there and I can\u2019t pick up anything that feels like deception. Julia looks at me like she\u2019s waiting for me to say something else. Maybe she\u2019s just sizing me up. I let the silence hang to see if the tension makes Mason reveal himself.<\/span><\/p>\n

She sets down the coffee.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cEug\u00e8ne must have told you that we\u2019ve worked together a few times.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHe mentioned it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI know you feel a certain reluctance to talk to someone involved with DHS or the Vigil.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s putting it mildly.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Carlos says, \u201cWait a minute. She\u2019s t><\/he><\/span><\/p>\n

She looks at Carlos and then at me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI know I could tell you that I\u2019m not with them from now until the end of time and you wouldn\u2019t believe me. But for what it\u2019s worth, I\u2019m not and I won\u2019t ever be again.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIs that supposed to impress me?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI thought maybe Eug\u00e8ne vouching for me would mean something, but you never let facts get in the way of your judgment, do you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMrs. Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq bumps me with his shoulder from behind.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cListen to what she has to say.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Candy comes up beside me. I don\u2019t have to look. I can smell her slightly inhuman scent. I once killed the pimp who ran a Hellion brothel. He lit the place with burning amber and it smelled like burning pine and smoke. Candy kind of smells like that.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo tell me why you wanted me here.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI have a job I think you\u2019d be uniquely suited for.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat kind of job?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt might be dangerous.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI figured that when you wanted me and not Vidocq or one of your marshal buddies. What you want is someone disposable. Someone off the grid who won\u2019t be missed when whatever this is goes balls-up.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re way off. I want you because I think you\u2019re the only person in L.A. with the skill set needed to handle this particular situation.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhen someone says \u2018skill set\u2019 I get nervous. Just tell me what this is.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s a demonic possession. An exorcism went wrong and a boy is missing.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I get up to leave.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThanks for getting me here for nothing. I\u2019m gone.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Candy puts a hand on my shoulder.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou, too?\u201d I say.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cJust let her finish.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I look at Sola.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t do exorcisms or bounty-hunt demons. The Vigil got me mixed up in a demon skip trace and it ended with me and Brigitte gnawed on by a roomful of Drifters.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She nods.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI know. But that was Wells and this is me. There are no tricks here. No hidden agendas. Just a kid who needs your help.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think so. I think you\u2019re the one who needs help. You sent the kid a demon jacker, but he blew it and the kid ended up worse than before. Now you want someone to clean up your mess.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She picks up her coffee, takes a sip, and sets it back down. She doesn\u2019t look at me when she starts talking.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re right. Okay? There. I said it. I need you to fix up my screw-up.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The muscles in her shoulders and the back of her neck are tight. Her breathing has gone a little shallow and rapid. Her heartbeat\u2019s up. If I trusted her, I\u2019d swear she\u2019s telling the truth.<\/span><\/p>\n

Sola shakes her head.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know what happened and neither does Father Traven. Have you heard of him? The Vigil had him on retainer for freelance exorcisms. He\u2019s the real deal. A genuine old-school demon ass-kicker. Only this time the demon kicked back harder.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhy come to me? Why not get another priest? Or a houngan or one of those old nyu wu<\/span><\/span> witches in Chinatown? They love this kind of thing.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI tried to get another priest, but when word got out that I was working with Father Traven, none of them would talk to me.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNow you\u2019ve finally said something interesting. What\u2019s wrong with your snake handler?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHe was excommunicated.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I turn to Vidocq.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDid you know about this? You were a nice Catholic boy. This is big-time stuff. Is there anything worse than an excommunicated priest?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes. One who\u2019s not excommunicated.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I get out a Malediction and light it. I look at Carlos. State law says I\u2019m not supposed to smoke in here, but he gives me a don\u2019t-sweat-it shake of his head.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did Traven do? Skim from the collection plate? Oil-wrestle altar boys?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Julia shakes her head.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNothing like that. Father Traven is a p#x2raven ialeolinguist. He specializes in translating ancient religious texts and deciphering dead languages.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLet me guess. Instead of collecting stamps for a hobby, he translated a book the Church didn\u2019t approve of and got nailed for it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSomething like that. It was one book in particular that got him into trouble, but he won\u2019t talk about it. However, none of that has anything to do with the fact he\u2019s an experienced and extremely successful exorcist.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo what went wrong with the kid?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She sits down on one of the bar stools. Shakes her head and drops her hands to the bar.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYour guess is as good as mine. The exorcism seemed to be going well, and Hunter\u2014Hunter Sentenza, the possessed boy\u2014was doing well. His color was coming back. The voices had stopped. There wasn\u2019t a trace of fire.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFire?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe didn\u2019t actually see it, but there was a symbol burned into the ceiling over his bed. There weren\u2019t any matches or lighters in his room. We think it was done by the demon possessing the boy. His hands and face were blistered.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s the symbol look like?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOld. I didn\u2019t recognize it. Father Traven can tell you more about it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat happened next?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt felt like we were reaching the end. Traven was sure that he had the demon under control and almost had it out. Before that, Hunter had been speaking in tongues. But then he seemed all right. He was calm and breathing normally. All of a sudden he grabbed Father Traven and tossed him across the room. Hunter levitated a few feet over the bed and shouted, \u2018I won\u2019t be locked in.\u2019 After that, things got weird.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAfter that?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHunter fell back onto the bed and didn\u2019t move. I didn\u2019t know if he was passed out or dead. As I helped Father Traven to his feet, the kid started singing.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201c \u2018Puff the Magic Dragon\u2019?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She shakes her head, a knowing little smile curling the edges of her lips.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt was an old Chordettes song. It went, \u2018Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream, make him the cutest that I\u2019ve ever seen.\u2019 \u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I can\u2019t help but laugh.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s what this is. You think the demon knows me.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n

\u201cAny idea who it might be?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI haven\u2019t had much experience with them.\u201d I try to think. Run over all my kills. There are so many. They run together like a dark stinking river.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI might have killed a demon every now and then, but it\u2019s not like they have distinct personalities. They\u2019re like bugs. Who remembers stepping on a bug?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe the song was a fluke, but I doubt it. The question is, what are you going to do about it?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I look her in the eye, take a drag on the Malediction, and blow it out.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m going to Max Overdrive and find an Andrews Sisters musical. Then I\u2019m going to the hotel, put it on, and drink steadily for the rest of the day.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I stand up to leave, but Vidocq grabs my arm. He might look old, but he\u2019s been using his muscles for over a century. His grip is like a claw lifter at a wrecking yard.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGive me the folder,\u201d he tells Julia.<\/span><\/p>\n

Sola pulls a beige manila envelope from a shoulder bag she\u2019d left on the bar.<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq pushes me over to the bar and pulls something out of the folder. It\u2019s a picture of a teenage boy in a school robe. Maybe a high school graduation shot. He\u2019s smiling at the camera. Straight white teeth and messy brown hair under the graduation cap. He looks like the kind of kid who\u2019d be captain of the track team. I hate him. Healthy, happy, popular jock. My natural enemy in school. On the other hand, he\u2019s not someone I\u2019d pick to square-dance with demons.<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq says, \u201cThis is the boy we\u2019ve been discussing. His name is Hunter. He\u2019s nineteen. The same age you were when you were dragged to Hell. Tell me, Jimmy, did that experience improve your life? I don\u2019t think so. Are you going to walk away and let what happened to you happen to this boy?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

There\u2019s acid in the back of my throat. A whirlpool of anger and fear in my head as the nineteen-year-old kid I keep buried under the floorboards in my head, way deeper in the dark than the angel, struggles up to where I can\u2019t help but look at him. Total Nam flashback time and I\u2019m feeling things I didn\u2019t know I could still feel. The dry, brittle arms gliding out from under the floor in Mason\u2019s house, wrapping around me and dragging me Downtown. Sensations of falling. Crashing onto a blood- and shit-stained backstreet in Pandemonium. Trying to clear my head and focus as a thousand new smells, sounds, and the perpetually twilight sky hit me. Then the slow realization of where I was and the gleeful looks on the Hellions\u2019 faces.<\/span><\/p>\n

I toss the photo back onto the bar.<\/span><\/p>\n

Lying there in that Hellion street, I had a strange sensation, like some primal and essential thing inside me youg insidhad cracked and everything I ever was or ever might have been\u2014my name, my hopes, Alice, my whole ridiculous life\u2014was turning black and falling apart like rotten fruit. When it was done there was nothing left inside me but the numb hopelessness of a corpse. Not much to build a new life on but it was all I had when I realized the Hellions weren\u2019t going to murder me right away. Maybe that\u2019s why killing is so easy for me and why I\u2019ve been hiding with a dead man in one room over a store since I crawled back here. There\u2019s not enough of me left to do anything else.<\/span><\/p>\n

I drop the rest of my cigarette into Sola\u2019s coffee cup.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t like being manipulated. You fucked this thing up. You fix it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I get up and walk out.<\/span><\/p>\n

I CROSS TO<\/span><\/span> the other side of the street, where it\u2019s darker and I can keep the sun out of my eyes. Candy just about catches up with me halfway down the block.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWait up, will you,\u201d she says.<\/span><\/p>\n

I keep walking.<\/span><\/p>\n

She catches up and walks beside me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI sent Vidocq to the clinic and told him to take Allegra to breakfast. Want to have breakfast with me?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThis is why Vidocq bought you, isn\u2019t it. I\u2019m the asshole who walks out and you\u2019re the angel who\u2019s supposed to bring me back in.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOf course. Is it working?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNot that I\u2019ve noticed.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She gets in front of me at the corner.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCome on. Just have breakfast with me. We don\u2019t have to talk about any of this.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo thanks.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhy do you have to make everything so hard? Let\u2019s do something. Just us. We kissed that night at Avila and the timing has been so fucked between us trying to get to know each other ever since. But we\u2019re here now and I don\u2019t have to save Doc and you don\u2019t have to save the world. Can we just try to be like normal people for an hour?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI thought not being normal people was why we got along. Monster solidarity.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She puts a hand on my chest.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThen we can pretend. A couple of wolves eating blueberry waffles among the sheep.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cKeep your waffles. I need grease to kill this hangover. Lots of bacon or ham. Maybe a chick#00aybe a en-fried steak.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnything you want.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I take a step back from her.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s get one thing straight. You never play games like this or lie to me again. About anything.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She nods.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI promise.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOkay.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She loops her arm in mine and pulls me down the street.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cRoscoe\u2019s on Gower, then. They have fried chicken and waffles.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Candy is a little shorter than me. I look down at her smiling in those stupid sunglasses. Sometimes just seeing a woman smile is like a knife in the heart. It hurts and it rattles your whole system, but against all your instincts you swallow the pain and keep looking. After a while you realize it doesn\u2019t hurt as much as you thought it would.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOkay. Roscoe\u2019s.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

WE SIT IN<\/span><\/span> a booth in the back of Roscoe\u2019s, me with my back to the wall. It\u2019s an old family habit after Wild Bill caught one in the spine back in Deadwood. Neither of us had to look at the menu to order. Roscoe\u2019s specializes in fried chicken and waffles in a heroin-addictive gravy. You eat there because the food is great, and if you live in L.A. and aren\u2019t going to flatline on a speed binge, you might as well check out with arteries the color and density of concrete.<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019ve been trying to ignore my arms all morning, but I can\u2019t stand it anymore. I heal fast, but it\u2019s just a fast-forward version of how everyone heals and that means almost-healed skin itches like hell. I lean back against the wall, scratch one arm and then the other. It feels great. I want to dig underneath the red skin and new scars and hack away at the nerves with my fingernails so they\u2019ll shut up.<\/span><\/p>\n

Candy says, \u201cHave you been sleeping in pet-shop windows? You look like you have fleas.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cA Gluttire demon made me his chew toy last night.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou have all the fun. I\u2019ve never even seen one of those.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cUnless you see it through binoculars from an air-conditioned bunker, you don\u2019t want to. The bastard burned the hell out of my arms.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLet me see.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I shrug off my coat and push my burned sleeves out of the way. (I really need to change clothes soon. It looks like I stole my clothes from a hobo arsonist.) I hope there aren\u2019t any nice families looking over here riscrover heght now. They might have to bag up their chicken and finish it at home.<\/span><\/p>\n

Candy leans across the table and pokes my raw red left arm.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHey. That hurts.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou big baby. It doesn\u2019t look so bad.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll send the next Gluttire to your place to give you a massage and a skin peel.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Our drinks arrive. My coffee and Candy\u2019s Coke. I haven\u2019t eaten with her before, but I hear that Jades have a real sweet tooth.<\/span><\/p>\n

In between sips of soda she says, \u201cAfter breakfast we should see Allegra. She\u2019ll have something to fix you up.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not a bad idea. Even if it\u2019s only something to stop this damned itching.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Candy takes the straw from her drink and wraps it around her finger.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s start the job interview. Mr. Stark, what\u2019s your favorite color? Your favorite movie? Your favorite song?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAre you fucking serious?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s called speed dating. You have five minutes to see if you like someone, then a permed-bitch control freak rings a bell and you have to move on to someone else.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re serious. You\u2019ve done this?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She makes a face and shakes her head.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHell no. But I want to see you squirm. And I have lots worse questions than those. If you were a tree, what kind would you be?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Someone remind me why I came back to earth.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cChrist. Okay. Ask me the questions again.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She gives me a wicked smile.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFavorite color, movie, and song.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I glance at the kitchen, willing our food to arrive so I can stuff my mouth and not talk.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHellion gray, Herbie versus Godzilla,<\/span><\/span> and \u2018The Star-Spangled Banner.\u2019 \u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOkay. Now me.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIf this is how speed dating works, I think I\u2019ll stay home with Kasabian.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGo on.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n

\u201cOkay. Favorite car, movie, and way to use a knife.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Our food arrives while she\u2019s answering. Thanks to whatever monsters are watching over me. This will be over in a minute.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cShelby Mustang and Evil Dead II.<\/span><\/span> I\u2019ve never used a knife except to cut bagels.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWrong. The correct answer is a \u201971 Impala Super Sport. Once Upon a Time in the West.<\/span><\/span> And from behind, your right arm around the throat and an upward thrust with your left so the blade slips between the ribs and into the heart.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The waiter is laying out the plates when I answer. He freezes for a second then puts down our cutlery and glasses of water. He turns and walks away slowly, like from a rabid dog, trying not to draw its attention or piss it off. What a pro. I\u2019m leaving him a massive tip.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHow are the waffles?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPerfect. How about your chicken?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSmoothing over this hangover like a road grader.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

We don\u2019t talk for a while. Just eat our food like a couple of civilians who haven\u2019t killed enough people to populate a small city. It\u2019s been six months since that night at Avila when we were both in monster mode, ripping our way through some of L.A.\u2019s most elite millionaires and politicos, all of them Mason\u2019s accomplices as he tried to open the gates of Hell. Candy and I did kiss each other that night. A hard, long kiss while we were covered in other people\u2019s blood, a couple of monsters who recognized each other and weren\u2019t afraid of what they saw. And then nothing. Candy went back on the wagon, taking Doc Kinski\u2019s potion to keep from turning back into a killing machine. Then the Drifters invaded. And someone was looking to kill Doc, so she went on the road with him. I don\u2019t know if there\u2019s anything between us really, but it sure as hell feels like someone sprinkled mayhem and saltpeter all over creation to make sure we never find out.<\/span><\/p>\n

I feel a little guilt bubbling up in the back of my mind. It\u2019s the same feeling I always get when I look at a woman who isn\u2019t Alice. But like Candy said, we\u2019re here now. Let\u2019s just see what happens. I can\u2019t live in the shadow of Alice\u2019s absence every moment of my life. I don\u2019t push her away, but let her drift back where she was. Not forgotten, but not making me wish I was dead. I don\u2019t let the picture of the Sentenza kid get to me either. Julia found one exorcist, so she can find another. Hell, I could point her to some Sub Rosa demon hunters.<\/span><\/p>\n

My phone buzzes. A text comes through.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

The girl is delicious. You\u2019re right to be with her.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

\n

Leave anyan>Lthe case alone. Forget you heard about it.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

\n

Stay with the pretty girl.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

\u00a0<\/div>\n

\n

I push the plates away and get to my feet, storming through the restaurant looking for anyone holding a phone. A guy in blond dreads and a sleeveless T-shirt is looking at his. I\u2019m across the room in two long steps and snatch it from his hand. A woman\u2019s voice comes out of the speaker. He\u2019s listening to his voice mail. I slam the phone on the table and stomp out of the emergency exit, setting off the alarm. There\u2019s no one on the street. A dusty station wagon and a VW Bug pass each other in the road. Only one passenger in each and neither of them has a phone.<\/span><\/p>\n

I push back into Roscoe\u2019s through the front door. Everyone in the place is looking at me like they\u2019re expecting the crazy man in the coat to set off the bomb he\u2019s obviously hiding.<\/span><\/p>\n

I go to the table and show Candy the message.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTell me this isn\u2019t you or Vidocq. Or something one of you set up with Julia.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She shakes her head.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cVidocq wouldn\u2019t and I didn\u2019t,\u201d she says. I look at her and let the angel out for a second so he can look, too. He sees what I see. She\u2019s telling the truth.<\/span><\/p>\n

I take a couple of the hundreds I grabbed from my stash of vampire money last night. Drop the money on the table and nod for Candy to follow me out. We double-time it back to Hollywood Boulevard to get lost in the tourist crowd before one of the solid citizens back at the restaurant dials 911.<\/span><\/p>\n

I say, \u201cDo me a favor.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m a little agitated and don\u2019t want to have to explain anything. Do me a favor and call Vidocq. Tell him I want in on the case. I don\u2019t like threats and I hate crank calls.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Candy puts her robot glasses on.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAt least whoever it was thinks I\u2019m pretty.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cEven assholes can have good taste.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

THERE\u2019S A PARKING<\/span><\/span> lot less than a block from the Beat Hotel. Vidocq hates riding in stolen cars, so I look for one that will make him the least unhappy and settle on a brown Volvo 240, one of the most boring cars in the world. No one, especially a cop, will look twice at a Volvo, especially one the color of a Swedish turd.<\/span><\/p>\n

I leave Candy in the idling car, go into the room at the hotel, and ditch my burned shirt for a clean one. I always heig. I alwave the knife and na\u2019at with me, but on the way out I grab the Smith & Wesson .460. You don\u2019t have to shoot an elephant with a gun this big and powerful. You just hit it on the knee with the butt and the elephant will give you all of its lunch money. When he sees me slip the gun into my coat pocket, Kasabian shakes his head, which, in his case, is his whole body.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI knew they\u2019d drag you in. You can\u2019t stay away from trouble.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCan I help it if trouble has me on speed dial?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHave fun, sucker.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cVaya con Dios, Alfredo Garcia.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Sola already gave Vidocq the Sentenza family\u2019s address, so I pick him up and we head north on the Hollywood Freeway.<\/span><\/p>\n

STUDIO<\/span><\/span> CITY IS<\/span><\/span> the kind of place where the poor have to settle for two-million-dollar \u201cluxury properties\u201d instead of mansions. The only difference between them and the genuinely rich in the hills is that they have to get by with one pool and they can\u2019t park a 747 in their two-story living room, though they can probably squeeze in a decent-size blimp. There are fake villas with fake Roman mosaics out front and fake castles with wrought-iron gates like Henry VIII is going to stop by with guacamole for the keg party.<\/span><\/p>\n

Lucky for everyone, the address Julia gave us belongs to a place on Coldwater Canyon Avenue with nothing but a long snaking driveway. No monarchist gates, armed guards, or a giant hermetically sealed Jetsons<\/span><\/span> dome.<\/span><\/p>\n

At the end of the drive, a gold Lexus is parked next to a clean but well-used Ford pickup. There are streaks of mud and dried cement around the truck\u2019s wheel wells. We get out and follow a stone path to the front door. I ring the bell.<\/span><\/p>\n

A woman opens the door a second later. She\u2019s obviously been waiting for us. She\u2019s about fifty and pretty, with short dark hair and a high-quality chin tuck.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d she says, all the hope and brightness disappearing from her eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

It\u2019s Hunter\u2019s mom. I can see the resemblance from one of the photos back at the bar. Mom takes one look at my scarred face and I can practically see the words home invasion with multiple fatalities<\/span><\/span> spinning around her brain like the dragon in a Chinese New Year\u2019s parade.<\/span><\/p>\n

I say, \u201cMrs. Sentenza. Julia Sola sent us.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She relaxes. The storm in her brain clears and her blood pressure drops to below aneurysm levels. Her little freak-out probably shaved a good five years off her life, but they\u2019re the shitty ones at the end, so no big deal.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh. You must be Mr. Stark and Mr. Vidocq. Julia said you\u2019d be dros t019;d bpping by.\u201d She stops, staring at Candy in her robot sunglasses.<\/span><\/p>\n

I say, \u201cThis is my assistant, Candy.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Mrs. Sentenza gives Candy a thin smile.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOf course she is. Please come in.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The inside of the house is bright, with light coming through a million windows and reflecting off the polished tile floor. Obsessive California chic. Like they own the sky and are goddamn well going to use every inch of it. Hunter\u2019s father is waiting for us by the stairs leading to the upper floor of a two-story living room. (I told you.)<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThis is Hunter\u2019s father, Kerry.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNice to meet you all. Call me K.W.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Handshakes all around. His grip is firm and serious. He has rough laborer\u2019s hands, like he actually works for a living.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAre you three exorcists, too?\u201d he asks.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo. Father Traven holds the prayer beads. We\u2019re more like spiritual bouncers.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWell, if you can fix this, we\u2019re willing to try.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

There aren\u2019t any hoodoo vibes coming off these people. Nothing shifty and hidden. They come across like straight-arrow civilians who wouldn\u2019t know a Hand of Glory from an oven mitt. They\u2019re not responsible for calling a demon into the house. Unless they\u2019re a lot more powerful than they look and can throw up a glamour powerful enough to even fool the angel in my head. Their eyes are dilating and their hearts are racing. I smell Valium and alcohol in Mom\u2019s sweat. Most of what I\u2019m getting off them is heavyweight fear for their kid and confusion and a meek mistrust of us three. No surprise there. They don\u2019t run into people like us on the golf course at the country club.<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq looks around the place. Like me, he\u2019s looking for any traces of magic, in his case mystical objects.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou have a very lovely home,\u201d says Candy. \u201cIt looks like a happy place.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt was,\u201d says Mom.<\/span><\/p>\n

I say, \u201cCan we see the room?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s Hunter\u2019s room. His name is Hunter.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHunter. Got it. Can we see Hunter\u2019s room?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Mom isn\u2019t sure about Candy and Vidocq, but I can tell she hates me already. I\u2019m not sure about Dad. He looks like the kind of guy who didn\u2019t come from money, and now that he has it, he\u2019s always a little on edge waitingrunedge wa for someone to try to take it away. That means he\u2019ll have a handgun or two in the house.<\/span><\/p>\n

K.W. leads us to Hunter\u2019s room while Mom trails behind.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t take this the wrong way, but did Hunter take anything like antidepressants? Or was he ever locked up for, you know, behavior problems?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou mean, was our son crazy?\u201d asks Mom.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWas he?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo. He was a normal boy. He ran track.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

So that\u2019s what normal is. I should write that down.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDid he take any recreational drugs?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Mom\u2019s attitude has gone from hate to stabby.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019d never touch those. He\u2019s an athlete. Besides, when Hunter was a boy he saw Tommy, his older brother, destroy himself with drugs. He hallucinated. He was scared all the time and couldn\u2019t sleep for weeks on end. And it kept getting worse. Then Tommy died. Hunter saw all of it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHe didn\u2019t die. He hanged himself,\u201d says Dad. His face is set and hard, but it\u2019s clear that admitting this hurt.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t say it like that,\u201d says Mom. The tears come fast, an automatic reaction when her other son\u2019s death comes up.<\/span><\/p>\n

These people are unbelievably easy to read. They don\u2019t have any magic. There aren\u2019t any spells that will hide it this thoroughly.<\/span><\/p>\n

K.W. puts an arm around his wife\u2019s shoulders.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cJen, why don\u2019t you put on some fresh coffee for our guests?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Mom nods and heads down the hall.<\/span><\/p>\n

When she\u2019s gone K.W. turns to us.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSorry. This thing has us both a little crazy, but it\u2019s hit her worse. How are you supposed to live after one son\u2019s suicide and your other son\u2019s .\u00a0.\u00a0. well, whatever the hell this is. What\u2019s normal again after that?\u201d he says. He swallows hard. \u201cI still don\u2019t know what we did to ruin our boys.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou didn\u2019t ruin anyone,\u201d says Candy. \u201cThings just happen sometimes. It\u2019s easier to fall off the edge of the world than you might think. Even for nice people.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

K.W. looks at her. His eyes are wet, but he\u2019s fighting hard not to let it go any further. I hate being reminded that rich people are still people.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

He pushes open the door to Hunter\u2019s room.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThis is it,\u201d he says. \u201cLook around at anything you want. We don\u2019t have any secrets.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Mom comes back.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI put coffee on.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She looks past us into the ruined room.<\/span><\/p>\n

She says, \u201cJulia told us not to touch anything, so we haven\u2019t.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I scan the wreckage inside.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou haven\u2019t done anything? Like a spilled glass of water or class photo?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGood. Never clean up after monsters.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMy son isn\u2019t a monster.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not talking about your son.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq goes into Hunter\u2019s room.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat my associate is saying is that when powerful supernatural forces are at work, without proper preparation any encounter can be extremely dangerous. My advice would be to not enter the room at all and to keep it locked unless Julia or one of her associates is here.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Jen nods and stares, a little surprised at Vidocq\u2019s accent. She relaxes a little. Even in a pile of splintered furniture Vidocq is a charmer.<\/span><\/p>\n

Candy and I go inside while Mom and Dad watch from the hall.<\/span><\/p>\n

I kneel down, take some packets of salt I lifted from Roscoe\u2019s, and sprinkle a white line across the entrance. Vidocq sticks iron milagros<\/span><\/span> down one side of the door frame with some green hardware-store putty.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI have to close the door for a second,\u201d I tell the Sentenzas.<\/span><\/p>\n

I get out the black blade and carve a protective rune into the wood on the inside of the door frame.<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq reaches for my hand like he wants to stop me, but he\u2019s too slow.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhy are you destroying their house further? Why not put an ash twig over the door?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhy don\u2019t we send the demon roses while we\u2019re at it? I hate hippie hoodoo.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq rummages in his coat and finds ash powder in one of his vials. He reaches up and sets it on the frame oft” the frver the door.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d I say to K.W. and Jen when I open the door. \u201cNothing should get out of here.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d Jen says.<\/span><\/p>\n

The room is a wreck. It looks like it was worked over by Linda Blair on a crack binge. One of the windows is boarded up. There are holes in the wall where it looks like someone punched through. The place hums with residual dark hoodoo, like there are wasps in the walls. I don\u2019t think the Sentenzas can hear it, but Candy, Vidocq, and I can. Something bad was stomping around in here, but I have no idea what. Vidocq is blowing some kind of powder into the air and watches it settle on the floor and furniture. He looks at me and shrugs. Candy is over by Hunter\u2019s closet. I look at her and she shakes her head.<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq prowls the room, trying different powders and potions, trying to identify the magic residue. Candy paws through Hunter\u2019s closet and dresser.<\/span><\/p>\n

I ask, \u201cHow did the whole thing start?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI guess it started with the migraines,\u201d says K.W. \u201cHis head would hurt and he\u2019d get real sensitive to light. He said there were ants eating their way into his brain. I get migraines sometimes, too, so I\u2019d give him some of my Imitrex and put him in a dark room. Sometimes it helped, but other times it made things worse. I\u2019d hear him talking and he said it was to the voices in his head. After a week of that, things got really bad.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Jen picks up the story.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHunter stopped sleeping. He said he had horrible dreams. Things were chasing him. Not to hurt him, just to have him. He drank coffee and energy drinks to stay awake, but he\u2019d fall asleep anyway. There would be marks on the walls where he clawed them. His hands would be bleeding. It was like Thomas all over again.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Hunter\u2019s bed is just a bare mattress. The scene of the exorcism. All four corners are stained with blood. The kid cut himself on the restraints during the ritual. The rest of the mattress is stained with every fluid a human body can produce. There are deep claw marks by the head of the bed. Even some bite marks.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDid he ever take anything more powerful to stay awake? Speed? Amphetamines, I mean.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

K.W. says, \u201cI know what speed is. And no, not that I\u2019m aware of.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Candy stands at the foot of the bed looking. It\u2019s the sigil Julia told us about, which was burned into the ceiling. I can\u2019t place it, but I\u2019m sure I\u2019ve seen it before. I snap a picture with my phone.<\/span><\/p>\n

Neither parent has moved from the door. Jen has one hand over her mouth as she watches us ransack her younger son\u2019s room.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat you\u2019ve told me so far could be anything from a bad batch of acid usttch of to a brain tumor. When did you start thinking it was supernatural?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Jen says, \u201cThere was the time I found him floating in midair.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq stops pouring his potions.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cJulia didn\u2019t mention that,\u201d he says.<\/span><\/p>\n

Jen turns away so she doesn\u2019t have to look at us.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTell us what you saw,\u201d says Candy. She has a good instinct for this kind of work, for knowing when it\u2019s best for a woman to ask another woman a painful question.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt was early in the morning. It was still dark out. I couldn\u2019t sleep, so I came by Hunter\u2019s room to check on him and I saw that.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She nods at the scorched symbol on the ceiling.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou saw him making it?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She nods.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHe was floating there over his bed, smiling like he was the happiest boy in the world. He was digging that symbol into the ceiling with his fingers. There was blood all over his arms. He looked at me and then back at the ceiling. Then his whole body convulsed like he was going to throw up. He opened his mouth and out came a jet of flame. It spread all across the ceiling. I thought it was going to burn the house down. When he stopped, all that was burned was the symbol. After that he fell onto the bed and lay there like he was asleep. That morning we went looking for someone who could help.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

K.W. squeezes her shoulder.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt smells like coffee is ready. Would you go and bring us some?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She nods and disappears down the hall, her arms wrapped around herself.<\/span><\/p>\n

When she\u2019s out of earshot K.W. says, \u201cHunter did take drugs. Jen doesn\u2019t know about it. It was Hunter\u2019s and my secret. We made a deal. I\u2019d pay for rehab and we\u2019d never let his mother know. After Thomas, it would have killed her.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat was he on?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSome new thing. Akira, he called it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI haven\u2019t heard of it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI have,\u201d says Candy. \u201cIt\u2019s a hallucinogen. Real popular with the Sub Rosa cool kids.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq nods.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve heard of it, too. It\u2019s supposed to enhance a user\u2019s psychic ability. However, Akira seems to work on anyone, so it\u2019halo its moving out into the civilian world.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Candy says, \u201cA bunch of kids take it together. The high comes from being able to touch other users\u2019 minds.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Brilliant. Teenyboppers use condoms to fuck safe and then they bore psychic holes in their heads so that anyone or anything can get inside.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWere you here during the exorcism?\u201d I ask K.W.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cJen and I were in the living room. We could hear it, but we didn\u2019t see anything until Father Traven got hurt. He was on the floor. Hunter was already gone.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He nods to the boarded-up window.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe haven\u2019t seen him since.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

While I talk to Dad, Vidocq examines the smoking patches some of his potions have left on the floor. They spread out in spider legs, each one a different color. I have no idea what it\u2019s telling him, but it looks impressive.<\/span><\/p>\n

I give Candy the last packet of salt and she lays down a line beneath the window.<\/span><\/p>\n

K.W. gives us a half smile and shakes his head.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSeeing you three reminds me of Tommy\u2019s friends. They were into magic. Claimed to know about these kinds of things. Some of them called themselves Sub Rosas. It just seemed silly at the time. You know, kids dabbling in old stuff no one understands to impress their friends and bug their parents.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

His smile gets broader, like he\u2019s found a memory that doesn\u2019t hurt.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not quite like them, though,\u201d he says. \u201cYou look like you might have a clue.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThanks,\u201d I say.<\/span><\/p>\n

I wish we had a fucking clue right now. I go to where K.W. is standing. He\u2019s still in the hall. Hasn\u2019t so much as stuck a toe into Hunter\u2019s room.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLet me make sure I have this straight. Thomas, your older son, was heavy into magic with his fashion-victim friends. Did Hunter want to play Merlin, too? Even something small and silly like a Ouija board.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

K.W. shakes his head.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNot after he saw what it did to Tommy. He was just a kid at the time, but he remembers. Hunter\u2019s into sports, Xbox, and girls.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou sure? You didn\u2019t know he was taking drugs.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He waves a hand, palm up. A dismissal.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThatft”x201C;Tx2019;s different. You can hide drugs. When Tommy was into that stuff, there were magical books, crystals, twigs, and potions all over his damn room. When Jen asked him to clean up, he said his friends were the same way. There\u2019s a picture of him and a bunch of the kids. Would that help you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou never know.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He still won\u2019t come into the room.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou, lady,\u201d he says to Candy. \u201cBy your left foot, there\u2019s a photo in a frame. Would you bring it to me?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She gets it and hands it to K.W.<\/span><\/p>\n

He looks at the photo for a minute, not sure he wants to show it to us, an intimate thing he doesn\u2019t want to share. Finally, he hands it to me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSee what I\u2019m talking about?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

There\u2019s a group of six kids. Harry Potter<\/span><\/span> by way of Road Warrior.<\/span><\/span> My neck hurts and my stomach is in knots. I hand him back the shot. Take out my phone and pretend to look at the time.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Sentenza, before we go any further, I think we should talk to Father Traven. Thanks for letting us have a look around.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s it? That\u2019s all you\u2019re going to do?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll know how to proceed after consulting with the father. Don\u2019t want to piss off any spirits by coming at them the wrong way.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat makes sense, I guess. So, you\u2019ll call when you know more?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cExactly. Thanks.\u201d I turn to the others. \u201cLet\u2019s go.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq and Candy look at each other, but follow me out. Vidocq shakes K.W.\u2019s hand.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThank you for your hospitality. Please say good-bye to your wife for us.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019m heading for the door, leaving the two of them to catch up with me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll call back soon, right? Hunter is still out there somewhere.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I turn and give him what I hope is a reassuring smile.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll call right after we confer with the father.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I head back to the Volvo and fire it up. I already have it in gear when the others get in.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong with you?\u201d asks Candy. \u201cWhy are we running out on that family?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/dight><\/div>\n

I don\u2019t answer until we\u2019re down the driveway enough that I can\u2019t see the house anymore.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI need to get clear of that place. I\u2019ve got to think.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq is in the front seat. He\u2019s looking at me hard.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThomas, the older kid in that photo? Hunter\u2019s big brother? He\u2019s TJ.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWho\u2019s TJ?\u201d Candy asks.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHe was in my magic Circle with Mason. He was there the night I got dragged Downtown. I never even knew his name was Tommy. I was going to kill him with the others when I came back, only Kasabian told me he\u2019d already killed himself.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq nods.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt seems more likely now that the demon who sang that \u2018Mr. Sandman\u2019 song knows you after all.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDoesn\u2019t it just? But I can\u2019t think of any demons I\u2019ve pissed off. I kill Hellions and hell beasts.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPeople, too,\u201d says Candy.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThey usually deserve it most.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq says, \u201cPerhaps at Avila. Or something you did for the Golden Vigil. Perhaps you killed or injured a possessed person, ruining the demon\u2019s host. That might be enough for it to want revenge.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThen why wouldn\u2019t the demon come after me? Or you or Candy or Allegra? Even Kasabian? Someone I give a damn about.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPerhaps the father can answer that question. Let\u2019s hope so.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I cut around cars and thousand-dollar mountain bikes cruising Studio City\u2019s quiet, privileged streets, running the Volvo away from TJ\u2019s Haunted Mansion ride and onto the freeway. The exhaust fumes and clogged lanes are like a welcome-home party. The knots in my stomach are getting worse. I feel cold. I hold the steering wheel tight enough I feel it bend and get close to breaking. The angel in my head moves back into the dark. It recognizes this kind of anger and knows it\u2019s not going to talk me down. If it speaks or touches, it might burn up in the heat.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThis is what I get for going soft. For backing off. I don\u2019t kill anything for a while and the world starts coughing up this shit. Okay. I get the message loud and clear.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou need to calm down if we\u2019re going to talk to the father,\u201d Vidocq says.<\/span><\/p>\n

color=”00″>\u201cI am<\/span><\/span> calm. I don\u2019t know what exactly is going on, but what I do know is that someone or something is daring me to find them and maybe this preacher can tell me what. I\u2019ll do it old-school. No bullets. Just the knife and the na\u2019at, like back in the arena.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou scare me when you\u2019re like this, Jimmy.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNot me,\u201d says Candy quietly from the back.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGood, because when I get this thing figured out, I\u2019m going to bring down all kinds of Hell on these assholes and this city.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019VE CALMED DOWN<\/span><\/span> a little when we reach Father Traven\u2019s place near the UCLA campus.<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq\u2019s been playing navigator, running us up and down every little side street in the county. He can read a map as well as anyone, but I think he\u2019s been buying time, hoping that if he drags out the drive long enough, I won\u2019t storm into Traven\u2019s place like it\u2019s D-Day. The plan sort of works, but mostly it\u2019s seeing where the father lives that brings down my blood pressure.<\/span><\/p>\n

Traven has an apartment in an old art deco complex from the thirties and the place really shows its age. It was probably beautiful once, back before reality TV, when lynching and TB were the most popular pastimes. Now the building\u2019s best quality is that it stands as a big Fuck You to all the developers who wake up with a hard-on every morning dreaming of plowing the place under and turning the land into a business park or prefab pile of overpriced condos. If I ever find out who owns the place, I\u2019ll buy them a case of Maledictions.<\/span><\/p>\n

Father Traven lives on the top floor. In a normal building, that would be luxury central. The penthouse suite. In this one, it\u2019s pretty much a sock drawer with a view. The original architect had the brilliant idea of putting storage and utility areas at both the top and bottom of the building. Maybe elevators didn\u2019t work that well back in the thirties. Maybe he was anal-retentive. Sometime in the long history of the building, someone chopped up those top-floor spaces and tried to convert them into apartments, only they weren\u2019t designed to be a happy place for anything except rats and mops. The ceilings are too low and are at funny angles. The untreated wooden floors are warped. You\u2019d have to call in Paul Bunyan to chain-saw the top of the building off and rebuild it from scratch to make Traven\u2019s bachelor pad into something anyone but a ghost or an excommunicated sky pilot would love.<\/span><\/p>\n

We take the elevator up to the floor below Traven\u2019s and walk up a set of bare, uncarpeted stairs. Traven\u2019s apartment door is open a few inches when we get there. I don\u2019t like unexpected open doors. I knock and push it open, my other hand under my coat on the .460.<\/span><\/p>\n

Traven is sitting at a desk scribbling away on yellow paper that looks old enough to have Spanish Inquisition letterhead at the top. He stops writing and lifts his head, speaks without turning around.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAh. You must be God\u2019s other rejects. Plirt rejectease, come in.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Traven gets up from a long desk piled high with books. Really, it\u2019s the kind of fold-up conference table you see in community centers. I don\u2019t know if he\u2019s getting ready for work or a church bake sale.<\/span><\/p>\n

As we come in, Traven extends his hand. He gives us a faint smile, like he wants to be friendly but hasn\u2019t had any reason to be for a long time and is trying to remember how to make his face work.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m Liam Traven. Good to meet you all. Julia has told me a lot about you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He turns to Candy.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWell, about two of you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She takes off her sunglasses and beams at him.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m Candy, Mr. Stark\u2019s bodyguard.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Traven grins at her. He does it better this time.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s very nice to meet you all.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He steps out of the way so we can get farther into the place.<\/span><\/p>\n

The apartment is small but neat and brighter than I expected. Whoever cut up the place installed a couple of big picture windows overlooking UCLA. There are books, scrolls, and folded sheets of vellum, mystical codices, and crumbling reference books everywhere. Even some pop-science and physics textbooks covered in highlighter marks and Post-its. Brick-and-board bookshelves line the walls and there are more books on the floor. Vidocq heads right for them and starts eyeballing the piles.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI owned many of these years ago. Not here. I had to leave my library when I left France. I haven\u2019t seen some of these texts in a hundred years.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He kneels and picks up a bound manuscript from the floor. It\u2019s so old and worn it looks like someone sewed dried leaves together and slapped a cover around them. Vidocq opens it carefully, flips through a few pages, and turns to Traven.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIs this the old Gnostic Pistis Sophia<\/span><\/span>?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Traven nods and walks over to Vidocq.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThere it is. I\u2019ve been looking for that. Thank you. And yes, it\u2019s the Pistis<\/span><\/span>.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI thought there were only four or five of these left in the world?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Traven gently takes the book and puts it on a high shelf with other moldering titles.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s more than that if you know where to look.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I say, \u201cMaybe there\u2019s one less now that you\u2019re not punching the clock for the pope. I bet that wasn\u2019t a going-away present.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Traven glances up at the manuscript and then to me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe do rash things at rash moments,\u201d he says. \u201cLater, we sometimes regret them. But not always.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGod helps those who help themselves,\u201d says Candy.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cEspecially the ones who don\u2019t get caught. Don\u2019t worry, Father. We don\u2019t have a problem with rash. The first thing I did when I got back to this world was roll a guy for his clothes and cash. He threw the first punch and I\u2019d recently woken up on a pile of burning garbage, so I figured God would understand if I helped myself to some necessities.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Father Traven is in his fifties, but his ashen complexion makes him look older. His voice is deep and exhausted, but his eyes are large and curious. His face is lined and deeply creased by years of doing something he didn\u2019t want to do, but did anyway because he thought it needed to be done. It\u2019s a soldier\u2019s face, not a priest\u2019s. There\u2019s something else. He\u2019s definitely not Sub Rosa\u2014I would have known that the moment I touched his hand\u2014but I can feel waves of hoodoo coming off him. Something weird and old. I don\u2019t know what it is, but it\u2019s powerful. I bet he doesn\u2019t even know about it. Also, I think he\u2019s dying. I smell what could be the early stages of cancer.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe lucky among us might get the same deal as Dysmas. Dysmas was one of the thieves crucified next to Christ. When he asked for forgiveness, Christ said, \u2018Today you will be with me in paradise.\u2019 \u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Candy and Vidocq wander around the room. I\u2019m still standing and so is Traven, protectively, in front of his desk. He likes seeing people, but values his privacy. I know the feeling.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI know a dying story, too. Ever hear of a guy named Voltaire? Vidocq told me about him. I guess he\u2019s famous. On his deathbed the priest says to him, \u2018Do you renounce Satan and his ways?\u2019 \u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd Voltaire says, \u2018My good man, this is no time for making enemies,\u2019 \u201d says Traven. \u201cIt was a popular joke in the seminary.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Framed pictures of old gods and goddesses line the walls. Egyptian. Babylonian. Hindu. Aztec. Some jellyfish-spider things I haven\u2019t seen before. Candy likes those as much as Vidocq likes the books.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThese are the coolest,\u201d she says.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m glad you like them,\u201d says Traven. \u201cSome of those are images of the oldest gods in the world. We don\u2019t even know some of their names.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The angel in my head has been chattering ever since we got here. n=”e got hHe wants to get out of my skull and run around. This place is Disneyland to him. I\u2019m about to slap a gag on him when he points out something that I hadn\u2019t noticed. I scan the walls to make sure he\u2019s right. He is. Among all the books and ancient gods there isn\u2019t a single crucifix. Not even prayer beads. The father lapsed a long time ago or he really holds a grudge.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWould you like some coffee or hot chocolate? I\u2019m afraid that\u2019s all I have. I don\u2019t get many guests.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo thank you,\u201d says Vidocq, still poking at Traven\u2019s bookshelves.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m fine, Father,\u201d says Candy.<\/span><\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t mention scotch, but I get a faint whiff of it when he talks. Not enough for a normal person to notice. Guess we all need something to take the edge off when we\u2019re booted from the only life we\u2019ve ever known.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not a priest anymore, so there\u2019s no need to call me \u2018Father.\u2019 Liam works just fine.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThank you, Liam,\u201d says Candy.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll stick with \u2018Father,\u2019 \u201d I say. \u201cI heard every time you call an excommunicated priest \u2018Father,\u2019 an angel gets hemorrhoids.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is it you do exactly?\u201d I ask.<\/span><\/p>\n

He clasps his hands in thought.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTo put it simply, I translate old texts. Some known. Some unknown. Depending on who you ask, I\u2019m a paleographer, a historical linguist, or paleolinguist. Not all of those are nice terms.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou read old books.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNot ordinary books. Some of these texts haven\u2019t been read in more than a thousand years. They\u2019re written in languages that no longer exist. Sometimes in languages that no one even recognizes. Those are my specialty.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He looks at me happily. Is that the sin of pride showing?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHow the hell do you work on something like that?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI have a gift for languages.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Traven catches me looking at the book on his desk, pretends to put a pen back into its holder, and closes the book, trying to make the move look casual. There\u2019s a symbol carved into its front cover and rust-red stains like blood splattered across it. Traven takes another book and covers the splattered one.<\/span><\/p>\n

I sit down in a straight-back wooden chair against the wall. It\u2019s the most uncomfortable thing I ever sat in. Now I know what Jesus felt like. I\u2019m suffering mortification of”#0ificati my ass right now. Traven sits in his desk chair and clasps his big hands together.<\/span><\/p>\n

He tries not to stare as the three of us invade his inner sanctum. His heartbeat jumps. He\u2019s wondering what he\u2019s gotten himself into. But we\u2019re here now and he doesn\u2019t have the Church or anywhere else to run to anymore. He lets the feeling pass and his heart slows.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBefore, you said, \u2018When I got back to this world.\u2019 You really are him, then? The man who went to Hell and came back? The one who could have saved Satan\u2019s life when he came here?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGod paid your salary. Lucifer paid mine. Call it brand loyalty.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re a nephilim. I didn\u2019t know there were any of you left.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s number one on God\u2019s top-forty Abomination list. And as far as I know, I\u2019m the only one there is.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat must be very lonely.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not like it\u2019s Roy Orbison lonely. More like people didn\u2019t come to my birthday party and now I\u2019m stuck with all this chips and dip.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Traven looks at Vidocq.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIf he\u2019s the nephilim, you must be the alchemist.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cC\u2019est moi.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIs it true you\u2019re two hundred years old?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou make me sound so old. I\u2019m only a bit over one hundred and fifty.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think I\u2019d want to live that long.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat means you\u2019re a sane man.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Traven nods at Candy.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI haven\u2019t heard about you, young lady.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She looks at him and smiles brightly.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m a monster. But not as much as I used to be.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIgnore her,\u201d I tell him. \u201cShe\u2019s just showing off and hardly ever eats people anymore.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Traven looks at me, not sure if I\u2019m kidding.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIf you\u2019re in the exorcism business, you must know a lot about demons.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cQliphoth,\u201d he sax201D; ys.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s the proper word for what you call a demon. A demon is a bogeyman, an irrational entity representing fear in the collective unconscious. The Qliphoth are the castoffs of a greater entity. The old gods. They\u2019re dumb and their lack of intelligence makes them pure evil.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOkay, Daniel Webster. What happened at the exorcism?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Traven takes a breath and stares at his hands for a minute.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou should know that I don\u2019t follow the Church\u2019s standard exorcism rites. For instance, I seldom speak Latin. If Qliphoth really are lost fragments of the Angra Om Ya, the older dark gods, they\u2019re part of creatures millions of years old. Why would Latin have any effect on them?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHow, then, do you perform your exorcisms?\u201d asks Vidocq.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMy family line is very old. For generations we served communities the Church hadn\u2019t reached or wouldn\u2019t come to. I use what I learned from my father. Something much older than the Church and much more direct. Best of all, God doesn\u2019t have to be involved. I\u2019m a sin eater, from a long line of sin eaters.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Candy comes over.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know what that is, but can I be one, too?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I give her a look.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHow does it work?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s a simple ritual. The body of the deceased is laid out naked on a table in the evening, usually around vespers. I place bread and salt on the deceased. I lay my hands on the body. The head. The hands. The feet. I recite the prayers my father taught me, eating the bread and salt.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWith each piece, I take in the body\u2019s sins, cleansing the deceased until the soul is clean. When my father died, I ate his sins. When his father died, he ate his sins, and so on and so on, back centuries. I contain all of the accumulated sins of a hundred towns, hamlets, armies, governments, and churches. Who knows how many? Millions I\u2019m sure.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I take a pack of Maledictions from my pocket and offer one to Traven.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDo you smoke, Father?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes. Another of my sins.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLight up and we\u2019ll ride the coal cart together.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I light two with Mason\u2019s lighter and hand one to the father.<\/span><\/p>\n

Traven takes a puff, coughs a faf, couglittle. Maledictions can be a little harsh if you\u2019re not used to them. Really, they taste like an oil-well fire in a field of fresh fertilizer. Traven sees the pack in my hand and his eyes widen a fraction of an inch.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAre those what I think they are?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe number one brand in Pandemonium.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He holds the Malediction out and looks at it.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s harsh, but not as awful as I thought it would be.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s Hell in a nutshell,\u201d I say. \u201cTell me about Hunter.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt seemed to be going well. You see, a Qliphoth can only possess an imperfect and impure body, one that\u2019s sinned. Of course, that describes all humans except maybe for the saints. When I eat a possessed person\u2019s sins, their body returns to a pure and holy state. With nowhere left to hide, the Qliphoth is ejected like someone spitting out a watermelon seed.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhere did it go wrong?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d laid out the bread and salt and I was saying the prayers. Not in Latin, but in an older language supposedly spoken by the Qliphoth and possibly the Angra Om Ya.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Traven opens his mouth and what comes out is all humming, gurgling, and spluttering, like he\u2019s drowning and speaking Hellion at the same time.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI felt the Qliphoth being drawn out as I swallowed Hunter\u2019s sins. It knew what was happening and fought back hard. No doubt you\u2019ve seen the wreckage. Toward the end of the ritual, the Qliphoth tried to drag the boy\u2019s body into the air. I shoved bread and salt into Hunter\u2019s mouth, hoping it would draw out the creature. I prayed and ate the bread. That should have worked. It\u2019s always worked before, but something went wrong. Imagine that I was erecting a castle to push the Qliphoth out and keep it out. Something went wrong and it burst through the walls and back into Hunter\u2019s body. That\u2019s the last thing I remember before Julia helping me to my feet. By then, Hunter was gone out the window.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDid you recognize the demon?\u201d I ask.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo. It\u2019s none I\u2019ve ever encountered before. It wasn\u2019t angry or frightened until it realized that I knew how to force it out. That\u2019s unusual for Qliphoth. They\u2019re incomplete creatures and they know it, so it makes them fearful and vicious. This one was patient and thoughtful.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Traven walks to the windows and opens them to let the smoke out. I follow him so I can flick my ashes outside over the university.<\/span><\/p>\n

I say, \u201cI think we\u2019re going to need more information before we try the exorcism again. We\u2019re missing something important.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve been going through my books trying to identify the specific creature, but I haven\u2019t had any luck.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPerhaps I can help you with your research,\u201d says Vidocq. \u201cI have my own library, if you would like to see it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThank you. I would.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou two can play librarians. I\u2019m going to make some calls and break some people\u2019s toys until one of them starts giving us answers.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCool,\u201d Candy says.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFather, I know you must use the university library. Have you ever heard anyone talk about a drug called Akira?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOf course. It\u2019s popular among some of the students. Artists. New Agers. Those sort of thing.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDo you know anything about the drug itself?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNot really. All I remember is that it seemed like it was harder to get than other drugs. That there were only a few people who sold it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThanks.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I shake Traven\u2019s hand and I let Vidocq and Candy go out ahead of me. I start out, stop, and turn. It\u2019s an old trick.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOne more thing, Father. Julia never told us why you are excommunicated.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He\u2019s thinking. Not sure he wants to answer.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll tell you if you promise to talk with me about Hell sometime,\u201d he says.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDeal.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Traven goes back to his desk and picks up the book he\u2019d hidden earlier.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t like other people to see this particular book. It seems wrong for it to be a mere curiosity.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI saw you cover it up.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The spray of red on the front of the book nearly covers an ancient sigil.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t recognize the symbol.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s the sign of one of the Angra Om Ya cults,\u201d says Vidocq, looking over my shoulder.<\/span><\/p>\n

Traven nods.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll understand why the church was so angry with me. They have an unswerving policy that there is no God but their God. There never was D;<\/e><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou translated the Angra Om Ya\u2019s bible. No wonder God doesn\u2019t want you whacking his pi\u00f1ata anymore.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCertainly the Church doesn\u2019t.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt isn\u2019t all bad, Father. I own a video store. Come around sometime. The damned get a discount.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He gives us one of his exhausted smiles.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s very kind of you. Since leaving the Church, I\u2019ve come to believe that it\u2019s the little, fleeting pleasures like watching videos that mean the most in this life.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAmen to that.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

WHEN WE\u2019RE BACK<\/span><\/span> in the car I call the Sentenzas. K.W. answers.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cK.W., it\u2019s Stark. Did Hunter ever tell you where he got his drugs? Maybe give you a name?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

A slight pause.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt was a girl. Not a girlfriend exactly, but someone he spent time with. Hang on a minute.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Over the phone comes the sound of things being moved. Furniture scrapes. K.W. curses. Then he\u2019s back on the phone.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI knew he\u2019d written it down somewhere. Her name is Carolyn. Carolyn McCoy.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIs there an address?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He reads it to me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOkay. Thanks. We\u2019ll be in touch.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I call up the phone\u2019s map app and punch in the address. It\u2019s off the Golden State Freeway in Sun Valley.<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq is in the backseat. I turn to look at him.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHow did you hear about Akira? Did you ever try it?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He shakes his head.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo. What Hunter\u2019s father said at the house was wrong. Akira is nothing new. Like all drugs, it goes in and out of favor. I haven\u2019t heard it mentioned for perhaps two years. It sounds as if it\u2019s coming back. I\u2019m a bit surprised.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not an easy thino man easyg to fashion. The chemistry must be precise. Even a small mistake and you will not have synthesized Akira, but a very potent neurotoxine<\/span><\/span>. Also, many of the elements are not readily available. Some of the plants and herbs required can only be cultivated in native soil. A mountaintop in China. A rain forest in Brazil. You must find a reliable source of the pure ingredients even to attempt to formulate Akira.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHow is it you know so much about it?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI was once asked to manufacture it. I was offered quite a large sum of money, in fact. I refused, but they asked again. Each time they asked, the amount of money increased, but I still refused.\u201d He turns and looks out the window. \u201cFinally I said yes. Not because I wanted the money, but because I\u2019m a coward, and when they grew insistent, I was afraid to keep saying no.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWas it Mater Leeds? I heard that she and her people are big dope suppliers to the Sub Rosa.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He shakes his head and looks at me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo. It was Marshal Wells. The Golden Vigil wanted Akira.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I frown and look at Vidocq. He nods.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat would a bunch of Homeland Security Bible-thumpers want with Akira? Were their office parties better than I thought?\u201d I ask.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI suspect they were interested in the drug\u2019s psychic aspects. They had many staff psychics, but mind reading has never been a precise art and subjects can resist. Now imagine that you had a drug that made a psychic link pleasurable. A drug that made the subject being interrogated feel as merry as New Year\u2019s Eve.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWells would love that. It sounds like something Aelita would love. Or Lucifer.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

They tried something like that on me Downtown. For a while I was fighting in the arena so much that they gave me quarters in the basement. They made a big deal of it. Really it was just another holding pen, but it had four walls and a door and I had it to myself. I was so grateful I kicked and punched my guards harder than ever when they came for me. It was worth taking a beating to keep them from knowing that the filthy room made me happy.<\/span><\/p>\n

When I was in Hell a funny thing happened. Every time I got beaten, burned, stabbed, or impaled in the arena, it just made me stronger. When I discovered I was a nephilim, it all made sense. But at the time I didn\u2019t know why it was happening. The Hellion fight masters and soldiers wanted to know why I didn\u2019t have anything useful to tell them and they beat me more. Which only made me stronger. Hellions aren\u2019t always clear on cause and effect.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then they started the mind games. They\u2019d spike my food with a kind of Hellion Ecstasy and send in the damned soul of a pretty murderess to play concubine. We\u2019d work each other for a while, and when I was good and relaxed the questions would start. I didn\u2019t even realize I was being interrogated, it felt so goodwntfelt so talking to another human. But I still couldn\u2019t answer their questions because I didn\u2019t have any answers. They tried young women and old ones, boys and oiled-up beefcake. They still didn\u2019t get any answers and by then my body had grown used to the drugs. But I could fake it. When the last devil doll didn\u2019t get any answers, a gaggle of disappointed guards bum-rushed my cell and did the hokeypokey on my head. I\u2019d been in my Folsom Prison mansion a few weeks by then. I\u2019d found the weak bolt in the iron door on my second night. I\u2019d worked it out with my nails and teeth and had been sharpening it on the stone walls ever since.<\/span><\/p>\n

I shoved it through one guard\u2019s ankle and kept going north, peeling off his calf muscle. That caught the other guards by surprise and they stopped kicking me for a second. Just enough time for me to get hold of one and shove the bolt into his thigh, opening up an artery that painted my walls and the last two guards with glistening black Hellion blood. It looked like we\u2019d struck oil in there. They didn\u2019t try the pleasure principle on me again, which was nice, but a couple of days later I lost my private suite and got moved back to the bunkhouse with the other cattle. Moo, motherfucker.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo you made it for them.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq nods.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes. To give myself just a little credit, I did it rather badly. After several attempts in which I produced mild forms of the drug and pure poison in one case, I convinced the marshal that the ingredients he had acquired were of too poor a quality. I suppose he believed me because I remained alive and unincarcerated.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s good news, then,\u201d says Candy.<\/span><\/p>\n

I look at her.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIf it\u2019s so hard to make and there are so few dealers, that means it\u2019s a small operation, right?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOr a bunch of lousy ones,\u201d I say.<\/span><\/p>\n

Vidocq shakes his head.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo. If people had died from Akira, there would be rumors everywhere. Candy is right. Akira is a specialized business. Possibly as small as one or two labs.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSee,\u201d Candy says. \u201cI\u2019m a good detective too.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cJust like Philip Marlowe. He\u2019s the one with the robot glasses in The Maltese Falcon,<\/span><\/span> right?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Candy sticks her tongue out at me. The sight of it is more distracting than I want it to be.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThanks for the talk. I think I\u2019ve got things clearer. Now both of you get out. I\u2019m doing this thing alone.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Silence. Then Vidocq pipes up.<\/span><\/p>\n

1C;Do you think that\u2019s wise? You\u2019re not in the best frame of mind today.\u201d<\/p00000><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s why you\u2019re not coming. Call a cab.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cStark\u2014\u201d says Candy. I cut her off.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI mean it. You\u2019re both reasonable and I don\u2019t want reasonable around when I talk to an Akira dealer.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Neither of them moves. Candy\u2019s up front with me. I reach across her and open the door.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGo. I\u2019ll talk to you later.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m calling you in one hour,\u201d she says. \u201cIf you don\u2019t like it, tough.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Candy and Vidocq get out. I leave them on the curb and head for the 405.<\/span><\/p>\n

I can already picture Carolyn as one of those seductive damned souls that used to hover around my room under the arena. Getting me high. Getting me talking. Treating me like the soft fool I was back then. I\u2019m not soft now and I\u2019m even less forgiving. I don\u2019t know if Carolyn\u2019s blood is red or black, but if things go right, I just might find out.<\/span><\/p>\n

CAROLYN<\/span><\/span> MC<\/span><\/span>COY LIVES<\/span><\/span> on Cantara Street in a run-down tract home surrounded by a low metal fence and a half-dead lawn where patches of bleak grass break through the bare soil. Her house is right across the street from Sun Valley Park. Prime real estate for a small-time dealer.<\/span><\/p>\n

I knock on her front door. It takes a while for anything to happen. I can hear someone banging around inside. I surprised her. She\u2019s hiding her stash.<\/span><\/p>\n

The front door opens. Carolyn doesn\u2019t open the screen door, but stands there blinking in the sun like a not very bright groundhog. I\u2019ve seen exhumed corpses with better tans.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWho the fuck are you?\u201d she says.<\/span><\/p>\n

I lean close to the screen and smile.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHi. I\u2019m a young college student trying to earn extra money selling magazine subscriptions door-to-door. Would you be interested in a ten- to twenty-year subscription to Possession with Intent to Sell,<\/span><\/span> and its sister publication, I\u2019m Going to Burn Your House Down While You\u2019re Asleep in Bed Tonight<\/span><\/span>?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She stares, her mouth open a little, like she\u2019s trying to form a question but forgot how to speak English in the last three seconds. I pull the screen door open and brush past her inside. She stands there, turns, and watches me invade her living room.<\/span><\/p>\n

Carolyn has short dry hair that frames her face perfectly. She\u2019d be pretty if she dids ty if sdn\u2019t have deep bruise-colored rings around her eyes and her skin wasn\u2019t the texture of sandpaper. There are red welts on the inside of her arms where she\u2019s been compulsively picking at the skin. I can smell not-quite-metabolized meth in her sweat. Her heart\u2019s jacked up and her eyes are pinpricks, but that\u2019s the drugs and not me. The angel in my head wants me to go easy so the back of her skull doesn\u2019t blow off and take her brain with it. That\u2019s a good idea. On the other hand, she\u2019s dealing DHS black-box psychic poison to teenyboppers who don\u2019t have a clue that demons, Kissi, and other brain-sucking assholes are out there waiting to get a claw hold in their cortex.<\/span><\/p>\n

Carolyn stands by the door, arms crossed. When the clockwork in her brain kicks back in, she follows me into an avocado-and-orange living room with overstuffed chairs, throw pillows, and a long rattan sofa. It looks like the set for a seventies snuff film. She stops a few feet away and looks at me with a jittery stare, trying to figure out if she should know me. If she owes me money. If I owe her.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSit down,\u201d I say.<\/span><\/p>\n

She doesn\u2019t. I take a step toward her.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSit down,\u201d I say again.<\/span><\/p>\n

She walks around me and sits on the sofa, knees together, hands folded in her lap like she just graduated from charm school. I sit across from her on a cushioned green chair. I pull it over to the sofa so we\u2019re sitting face-to-face. The chair springs are long gone and my ass tries to sink below my knees. Not a good look when you want to come across as intimidating. I slide forward and sit on the edge of the chair.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAre you a cop?\u201d she asks.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDo you think I\u2019m a cop?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThen maybe we should go from there and see where it takes us. Is that all right with you, Carolyn?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFine. Whatever. If you\u2019re not a cop, who are you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI lied earlier. I\u2019m not a college student.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She starts picking at the skin on her left arm.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cStop that. You dig that arm open and you\u2019re going to get gangrene in a dusty shithole like this.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you care?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t, but it\u2019s annoying to look at.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat the fuck is it you want? You want money? Do I look like I have any money? Look around.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She waves a hand at the general wreckage. It\u2019s not so much that the place is a mess, itl rs a mes\u2019s that nothing is where any sane person would put it. It\u2019s like everything she owns, from furniture to coffee cups, she\u2019s used once and then dropped where she was when she was done with it.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t have to look, Carolyn. I know that whatever kind of pig wallow you live in, you have money because you\u2019re a dealer,\u201d I say. \u201cI can see it in your eyes and hear it in the tiny catches in your voice. You\u2019re also strung out and about six months from a fatal stroke. You know you have high blood pressure, don\u2019t you? That doesn\u2019t mix well with meth.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She lifts her head, still eyeing me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHow do you know that?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She gnaws on her thumb. Her fingernails have all been chewed down to the quick. There\u2019s plaster dust on her fingertips.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s just a trick I do. I know things about people. Like how all the money you say you don\u2019t have is stuffed in a hiding place in the wall.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The look she gives me is halfway between anger and dumb wonder.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhen did you come in my house?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve never been here before. That was just to show you that lying isn\u2019t going to get you anywhere fun.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIf you want the money, take it. I\u2019m sick. I can\u2019t stop you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t want your money. I just want a name or two.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat name?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBefore we get to that, did you sell Akira to Hunter Sentenza?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, jacked up and exhausted at the same time.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t sell it to him. I gave it to him. We\u2019re like, you know, friends. We\u2019re going to get clean together.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I look at her. Her brain is vibrating so fast I can\u2019t read her. I go another way.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhy not? You\u2019ve got yourself a nice rich-boy client who was going to pay for your treatment. What was the plan? You take a walk your second day in and pocket whatever refund money you can con out of the clinic?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She shakes her head and her straw-dry hair sways around her cheeks.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not like that. Hunter and me are friends. We\u2019re going to do it together. For real this time.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThen you haven\u2019t heard about him.\u020fonut him.1D;<\/span><\/p>\n

She sits up. Alert and for the first time somewhat focused.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSomething happened to Hunter?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s missing. It was that last dose of Akira. His brain threw a rod. He jumped through a window and now he\u2019s missing.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh God. Oh God. Oh God.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She covers her face with her hands. That was dumb. Never tell meth heads the truth. The whole reason they\u2019re high is they\u2019re severely reality-phobic. I snap my fingers in front of Carolyn\u2019s face. Lightly slap her arms.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCome back to earth, Carolyn. We need you. Hunter needs you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWill he be okay?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know. It depends entirely on what you can tell me. I need the name of your supplier.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhy do you need that? Why aren\u2019t you out looking for him?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDo you know where to start looking?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNeither do we. What we do know is that Hunter used Akira without any problems and then all of a sudden he went psychobilly. I have a bad feeling that maybe there was something wrong with that last batch. Hunter\u2019s reaction wasn\u2019t a regular OD. It was real specific, so I want to know what was in there, who put it in there, and why.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She sits up and shakes her head. Draws her hands close to her body.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t tell you that.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes, you can. You\u2019re Hunter\u2019s friend and you want him found so the two of you can get better together.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I scoot forward on the chair and lean close to Carolyn. She freezes, trying to keep her eyes from meeting mine.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOr maybe you\u2019re not Hunter\u2019s friend and you gave him a hot shot. Is that what you did, Carolyn? Did someone give you a special dose of Akira just for Hunter?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Stop digging, boys, we struck oil.<\/span><\/p>\n

Carolyn\u2019s brain is still humming like a tuning fork, but at least she\u2019s focused on something now. It\u2019s there in her eyes. She\u2019s beating herself silly trying to make all the contradictions and lies in her life add up to something sane. She really believes she\u2019s Hunter\u2019s friend, but the meth fog she livdiv fog shes in lets her justify giving Hunter drugs she knew were bad because someone up the food chain promised her more drugs or more money or the chance to settle a long-standing debt. Whatever her reasons, she feels guilty as hell. The addict self-pity tears start pumping out of her red and bruised eyes. I want to smack her to see if it snaps her brain back into gear, but I just pat her lightly on the shoulder. I keep my voice low, like I\u2019m speaking to a child.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWho gave you the special Akira?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t tell you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSure you can. Just give me a name, I\u2019ll go, and you can get back to turning your brain to fish food.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFuck you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She practically spits the words. Her whole body changes. She was a limp jellyfish a second ago and now she\u2019s ready to put her fist through the wall. We\u2019re on to the next step in this soap opera. She\u2019s not thinking like a tame little user now. She\u2019s moved into dealer mode. Hard-core. Defiant.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDo you believe in magic, Carolyn?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGet out of my house, faggot.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t mean kid-party magic. I mean the real thing. Witches on brooms. Love potions. Hexes and demons. Do you believe in that?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou know, one phone call and you\u2019ll be smoked before you get back to Hollywood.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I run through some ideas. There are a lot of scary things I learned in the arena, but I only used them on Hellions and Lurkers. Ninety-nine percent of what I learned I\u2019ve never tried on a civilian and I don\u2019t particularly want to because I\u2019m pretty sure they\u2019d go off like a gerbil in a microwave.<\/span><\/p>\n

Her hands are shaking from the drugs, but she\u2019s past scared and is deep into gangster territory.<\/span><\/p>\n

She puts on her best Scarface sneer and says, \u201cYou just going to sit there staring at me? I know you. Pussies like you talk and talk, but you won\u2019t do anything. You don\u2019t know the kind of people I know. They have balls.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She sniffs and wipes the snot from her nose with the back of her hand.<\/span><\/p>\n

I take out Mason\u2019s lighter, thumb it open, and spark a flame. Her eyes flicker to mine and then zero in on the lighter.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d like to show you a magic trick. Would you like to see a magic trick, Carolyn?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She gets up. I grab her arm. She twists and tries to sucker punch me. Puts her whole body into it. I don\u2019t try to stop her. I\u2019m faster than any civilian, so she\u2019s moving in exquisite slo-mo. When she\u2019s a few inches from mfonnches faking contact, I lean back slightly and let her fist sail past. Grab the wrist and twist so her arm bends out like a chicken wing and every muscle and tendon in her shoulder feels like it\u2019s going to snap. Carolyn goes down face-first onto the sofa and rolls herself into a little ball, squeezing her aching shoulder. I wait. Eventually, she sits up. There\u2019s a half-finished cigarette in an ashtray on the arm of the sofa. She takes it, puts it between her lips, and starts looking around for matches. I\u2019m still holding the lighter. I hold the flame out to her. She leans forward. I pull the lighter back and she follows a few inches. When she realizes I\u2019m fucking with her, she stops and gives me a dirty look.<\/span><\/p>\n

I say, \u201cLet me get that for you for real.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

There\u2019s one thing you have to remember about threats: when you make one, mean it. This is especially true with addicts. Their brains aren\u2019t designed to absorb new information and they\u2019re used to being slapped and stomped, so that doesn\u2019t scare them anymore. If you need to impress upon an addict the gravity of their situation, you need to make a threat that doesn\u2019t seem like a threat, but more like God pissing on them from a mountaintop.<\/span><\/p>\n

I hold the lighter to my hand and my skin bursts into flames. Fire is fire and this isn\u2019t fun hoodoo, but I can stand the pain long enough to make my point.<\/span><\/p>\n

Carolyn jumps back at the sight of my burning mitt. I play it up. Let the meat cook black until it flakes, and crispy skin drifts onto the carpet. I could let it get down to the bone, but I really don\u2019t want to do that. I move my hand toward Carolyn. She presses herself against the back of the sofa, trying to put as much distance as she can between us. I touch the tip of a finger to her cigarette until it glows.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThis is what I meant by magic. I know worse tricks than this, but let\u2019s focus on this one for the moment. What do you think would happen if I held you with this hand and used you to mop up this messy, messy house? Does that sound like fun? I think it would hurt. Maybe as much as it hurt Hunter when that shit you gave him turned him into a demon\u2019s chew toy. I\u2019m going to ask you one more time, and if you fuck with me, things are going to get drastic. Who gave you the Akira for Hunter?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCale,\u201d she says.<\/span><\/p>\n

She takes a long breath after she says it. Rubs the sores on her arms. She wants to pick at them, but she knows I don\u2019t like that.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCale what?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She shrugs.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know. Just Cale.\u201d She nods at my still-burning hand. \u201cI\u2019ve seen him do weird shit like that, too. Like magic and shit.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhere can I find Cale?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDowntown. At Dead Set. It\u2019s a club on Traction Avenue near Hewitt. You can\u2019t miss it. At night they show old zombie movies on the side of the building.Iuilding01D;<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s Cale look like?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTall. Skinny. He wears big boots to look taller and he wears one of those, like, Nazi-officer trench coats. His hair is bleached all white and there\u2019s like these runes or some kind of voodoo shit tattooed on the sides of his head.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I whisper some Hellion and the flames on my hand flutter and disappear. There\u2019s most of a flat can of beer on the floor next to the sofa. I pour it over my aching hand. The beer bubbles and steams away. I hand Carolyn the empty can. She clutches it to herself like it\u2019s a holy relic. I wipe the beer off my hand on the sofa and get up.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cRemember what I said, Carolyn. Go see a doctor about your blood pressure. You\u2019re about to lose your supplier, so your job is going to evaporate. The good news is that Cale won\u2019t be asking for any of that money you have in the wall. Take it and use it to clean yourself up. Dying isn\u2019t the worst thing in the world, but dying because you\u2019re stupid is.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I head out the front door. I\u2019m halfway across the doomed lawn when I hear Carolyn yell something. I go back to the house. Behind the bright mesh of the screen door Carolyn looks like a ghost child.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d she says.<\/span><\/p>\n

She leans forward so that her face is almost touching the screen and whispers, \u201cTell Hunter I\u2019m sorry. I didn\u2019t mean to .\u00a0.\u00a0. you know.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I nod.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSure. I\u2019ll tell him.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

WHEN<\/span><\/span> I GET<\/span><\/span> back to the hotel, I find Candy in the room and Kasabian holding forth on Terrence Malick\u2019s Badlands<\/span><\/span>.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSee, what Malick did wasn\u2019t tell us the story of a couple of kids on a cross-country murder spree, but to tell us a dream about it. Like the whole thing is a shared fantasy in the kids\u2019 heads and ours, which, from what I\u2019ve heard, is pretty close to what it was like for Charlie Starkweather to kill all those people.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She smiles up at me from the foot of the bed as I come in.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHey there. I\u2019m getting Film 101 from your boss.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMy boss?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s what he said.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I look at Kasabian.<\/span><\/p>\n

He says, \u201cWhat do you know about accounting, insurance, inventory control, and, you know, running a video store besides watching movies all day?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

\u201cNot much.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThen I\u2019m the boss.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I sit down next to Candy.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t argue with that logic,\u201d she says.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI could, but it would end in tears and divorce lawyers, and I can\u2019t stand paperwork.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Candy leans gently into me so our shoulders are touching.<\/span><\/p>\n

I pull a wad of cash from my pocket and hand it to her.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhy don\u2019t you get us another room where we can talk? If the night manager gets weird, use my name and give him too much money. He\u2019ll set you up.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She bounces off the bed onto her feet and goes to the door. On her way out she blows Kasabian a kiss.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll be back for your master class on Monte Hellman.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He beams at her as she leaves.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNow that\u2019s the kind of girl you shoplift beer for.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He whizzes around on his skateboard to face me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGood thing you got here when you did. I was going to rock her world with some surfboard moves. She would have been mine.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re the boss and I don\u2019t surf. You could probably have her in Mexico by now with a preacher and a cut-up fishnet stocking for a wedding veil and a donkey for the witness.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBadlands<\/span><\/span> was probably too cerebral for a first date. I should have gone with something sexy and scary like Suspiria<\/span><\/span>. Next time.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSure. Next time.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I start to say something about delusions of grandeur, but keep my mouth shut. I haven\u2019t seen Kasabian this happy in probably ever.<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019m out of cigarettes. I reach into the nightstand and get a fresh pack of Maledictions. There aren\u2019t too many packs left. Kasabian\u2019s happy. He doesn\u2019t need to know that. I light two and stick one between Kasabian\u2019s lips.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI need you to look up something for me in the Codex<\/span><\/span>.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat sounds like work. Didn\u2019t you see the sign? I\u2019m closed for the evening.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou may be the boss, but I pay the beer bills a<\/span><\/p>\n

Kasabian puffs on his cigarette and frowns. His little legs take the Malediction out of his mouth and tap ashes onto the floor.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you want to know?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI need to know about a .\u00a0.\u00a0. Qlifart? Qlifuck? Screw it. Demon. This one is different. It\u2019s confident. Maybe even smart. It does possessions, but it doesn\u2019t automatically attack unless it feels threatened. I thought for a while it might be a Kissi, but I know them, and this doesn\u2019t feel like their work.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He shakes his head.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat doesn\u2019t make sense. If it\u2019s a demon, it\u2019s dumb. All demons are dumb. Which means they have an inferiority complex that makes them trigger-happy.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIf it made sense, I wouldn\u2019t ask you to look in the Codex<\/span><\/span>.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhy are you dragging me into this thing? I don\u2019t like demons. Just because you\u2019re feeling magnanimous doesn\u2019t mean I am.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I sit on the end of the bed and smoke. I flick the ashes onto the carpet, too. Got to give the maid something to do when she comes in so she won\u2019t notice the dead man on the skateboard.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes, you are. Candy\u2019s working with me on this. Do it for her. Dazzle her with your kung fu.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNice try. I was kidding before.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s a Jade. You never know what kind of fetishes they have.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Faint traces of cigarette smoke drift from the bottom of Kasabian\u2019s neck and hang around his face like mountain mist.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI was going to watch Blue Velvet<\/span><\/span> and order chicken wings. What more could a guy want?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHow about a body?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

His eyes narrow.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIs this case of yours going to get me one?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI doubt it. But fucking off in here isn\u2019t either. The more hoodoo work we do, the more likely one of us will stumble on a fix-it spell for your situation.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMy situation,\u201d he mumbles. \u201cYou put me in this situation.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAfter you shot me.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He smacks the keyboard and the computer wakes up.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAsshole. Here I was, talking to a pretty girl, content as Jayne Mansfield\u2019s pasties, and you come in and want me to flip burgers on the night shift.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll check the Codex<\/span><\/span>?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll check.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCool.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I get up to go out. He yells something at me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI need highly concentrated carbs to do this brain work. Get me something cold and I\u2019ll make you Employee of the Month.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I go to the kitchen and get a six-pack from the fridge.<\/span><\/p>\n

I set it on his table and say, \u201cYou want a souffl\u00e9 or something, too? I\u2019ll need to warm up the oven.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThis will do. Don\u2019t forget to punch out when you leave.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m about to punch something.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Book Preview Aloha from Hell \u00a0 \u201cTELL ME,\u201d SAYS the Frenchman. \u201cHow long has it been since you last killed anything?\u201d He\u2019s fucking with me. He knows the answer, but he wants to make me say it. Father Vidocq taking confession. \u201cI don\u2019t know. What time is it?\u201d \u201cThat long, then?\u201d I shrug. Vidocq and … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":5708,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[392],"class_list":["post-5709","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-richard-kadrey"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5709","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5709"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5709\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5708"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5709"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5709"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5709"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}