Kill the Dead

I pull the monitor glass from my arm and toss it so that it bounces off his forehead before smashing against the wall.

I grab Lucifer’s feet and drag him out of cigarette ashes and blood and pull the silver dagger from between his ribs. There’s a sudden intake of air as he gasps and coughs, like pulling out the knife kick-started his lungs. When he looks awake enough to sit up, I help him onto the office chair. He picks up the athame from where I set it on the control console.

“Thank you,” he says. “That was getting uncomfortable.”

He sets the knife delicately back onto the console.

“What was this? Was he waiting for Aelita to come and finish you off?”

“Yes. But she never appeared.”

“How the hell did you let this prick do this to you?”

“We were having a nice chat about the movie at the Chateau and he caught me off guard. It’s my fault for taking his fear for compliance. Aelita gave Ritchie the athame. It’s not exactly an ordinary knife. It’s straight from Michael’s own armory. She could have killed me with it. Truly killed me. Not just this body. But she missed their appointment and poor Ritchie had been getting steadily more and more panicked.”

“Ritchie doesn’t strike me as the type to help an angel out of the kindness of his heart.”

“Aelita promised him his soul back if he incapacitated me.”

I nod, pick up one of Ritchie’s cigarette butts from the floor, sniff, and drop it again. It smells like hot tar and cancer. A little echo of Stark’s compulsions.

Lucifer cocks his head and gives me a sidelong look.

“What’s wrong with you? You sound different, James.”

“James isn’t here. It’s just me now.”

Lucifer rolls his eyes.

“I was wondering when this was going to happen. Nephilim are so unstable. Now it’s time for you to have a little psychotic break and imagine you’re a true angel. How sweet. Sad, but sweet.”

“You knew that something awful was going to happen, didn’t you?”

I sit down on the console near Lucifer.

“You knew about the Geistwalds. And maybe even that Aelita would use the chaos to pull something, didn’t you?”

Lucifer nods.

“You never intended for Light Bringer to get made. The movie was just an excuse to hang around and see it play out. Tell me that you didn’t know it was going to be a Drifter shit storm.”

He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a pack of Maledictions, finds one that isn’t broken, and lights it.

“Are you interrogating me? Remember who it is you’re talking to.”

“A half-dead old man who hides his seeping wounds and bloody bandages under dark shirts.”

“Playing angel is fun, isn’t it? You feel powerful. Omnipotent. Don’t let it go to your head. Even if the Stark part of you is gone, it doesn’t make you an angel. At best it makes you half. You’re a novelty toy like a talking doll or sea monkeys.”

I pick up the athame and shove it back between Lucifer’s ribs. He doubles over and collapses onto the floor. I leave him there and go to Ritchie’s gun cabinet to look for bullets. I find the right ones on the top shelf and reload the Smith & Wesson. Take that box and another box of shells and put them in my pocket.

“You knew all about it. You knew about Koralin and Aki and how they were going to murder the city.”

From the floor he says, “What if I did?”

“Why? You own half the place. Why would you let that happen?”

Lucifer tries to sit up. It gets annoying watching him flail around, so I pull out the knife. He breathes deeply, leaning on one elbow on the floor.

“Remember when I came to your room after you stopped the angel sacrifice at Avila? I joked that you were my science project.”

“Yes.”

“You still are.”

“You sent Spencer Church into the bar the other night.”

“I had to. You’d missed so much in your drunken self-pity these last months. You didn’t notice people disappearing or sense the presence of golems in the aether. I sent Spencer to nudge you in the right direction.”

“Why me? Why am I your damned project?”

He draws on the Malediction and coughs. Smoke leaks from the wound in his side.

“Weren’t you a Boy Scout when you were young? I’m helping you earn a very special merit badge.”

“Explain.”

Lucifer shakes his head and laughs.

“There’s that tone again. You’re beginning to sound like Aelita. I don’t like you towering over me. Help me into the chair.”

“I think you look good right where you are.”

“Have your fun, then. However, I might point out that if you don’t help me, Mason is going to win and you’re going to die and that if you think that tonight is Hell on earth, kiddo, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

I holster the gun, take him by the shoulders, and set him on the chair. I can’t tell if he’s smaller than I remembered or if I’m getting stronger. Maybe both. Lucifer has to lean on his arm to stay upright. He sets the Malediction on the console and lets it burn into the plastic top.

“I’m not the angel I used to be. I showed you my dirty little secret back at the hotel for a reason. The truth is that my wounds are getting worse, not better.”

“And you don’t want Mason or your generals to see you getting weak. I get that.”

“When Father threw us out of Heaven, all he gave us was a hole in the ground. I built Hell out of my sheer will, the same way he created Heaven. But now I’m falling apart.”

“And so is Hell.”

“The king is the land. The land is the king. The dying king is the death of the land. It’s an old story.”

“If you want a damned doctor, why don’t you go to Kinski? He has God’s divine-light punch-bowl glass. Wouldn’t that help?”

He laughs.

“Uriel is just sentimental enough to help me. That’s why he fell for you people in the first place. But the truth is, I’m not looking for that kind of help. What I want is to go home. But I can’t simply abandon Hell. The fallen are my responsibility. I can’t leave them to Mason and chaos and self-destruction. When I’m gone, Hell will need a new Lucifer.”

“If this is going where I think it’s going, then fuck you and every other blackhearted angel in the universe.”

“Careful with those curses. Don’t forget. You’re one of us now.”

He laughs at his own joke and stubs out the Malediction.

He says, “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not going home to fall on my knees and beg Daddy for forgiveness. I still believe in the argument. Angels shouldn’t be slaves to God or man. But I regret how I made the argument before. All the slaughter. I won’t ever be one of Father’s sycophants like Michael. I’ll be the thorn in Heaven’s side as much as I ever was. But I’m not a child anymore and I don’t want to burn the house down.”

“The way Aelita does?”

“You know about that?”

“She told me. She was practically bragging about it. She said I set her on the right path when I manifested a Gladius.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“That I hadn’t expected.”

“So, you want to go home and help out dear old Dad. Who’s the sentimental one now?”

Lucifer’s lips curl into a weak smile.

“Whatever else happens, I don’t want Aelita and the Sisters of Perpetual Smugness taking over. She’s such a bore. My war with Heaven had some style to it. You should have seen my golden armor. It was brighter and more beautiful than the sun. So bright that even after Father blasted the golden metal with a thunderbolt, driving us rebels into the dark, I still shone like the morning star. I was the light that the other fallen followed as we plunged from Heaven to the bottom of the abyss.

“Aelita’s war, on the other hand, will be drab and vicious, and Heaven will be worse than Hell if she wins. If Mason wins down below, then there will be all-out war between Hell and Heaven, and when it’s over there won’t be enough of either left to matter. Do you think this fragile world of yours can survive that? Can Alice and all those other helpless souls up there strumming their harps?”

“Thanks for the offer, Dad, but I’m not really interested in going into the family business.”

He looks at me, his eyebrows creasing.

“Good lord, boy. Do you seriously think I’m your father?”

“It’s obvious. My father is an angel. You’ve helped me over and over, when I was Downtown and now that I’m here. Now you come back to L.A. and invent some lame excuse that you need a bodyguard just to keep me around. And you’ve never for one minute stopped messing with my head. That sounds like a father to me.”

“First of all, considering that you just pulled a knife from my side, your ‘not needing a bodyguard’ argument falls spectacularly short. And second, if I helped you it was just to occasionally nudge you in the right direction. You did the rest yourself. If I ‘messed with your head,’ it was to challenge you to get past any obstacle in your way. You’ve seen Hell, so you should understand that ruling and surviving there takes cunning, insight, creativity, a little bit of luck, and a fair amount of ruthlessness. You had the kernel of all those qualities, but you lacked focus. You needed training.”

“You’re my Mr. Miyagi.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“I’m not through with Mason, but I’m not interested in being you.”

“Too bad. It’s a package deal. Whatever you decide, I’m going home. None of my generals is equipped to run Hell on their own. It will fall apart in months if one of them takes my place. There are only two candidates with the power and knowledge to take over: you and Mason. One of you will live and lead. The other will die. I’m on your side, James, but if Mason is better than you, I won’t be able to stop him from taking over.”

“If you’re not my father…?”

“Uriel is your father, you imbecile. But you always knew that. I know your mind, James. You liked the idea that I might be your father because it fit your image of yourself and would let you continue to cultivate your anger. You have to stop fighting yourself if you’re going to survive what’s coming.”

My mind ices over for a second. I shake it off. Now’s not the time to think about any of that.

“If I’m not your son, why does this come down to Mason and me? Is Mason your little monster, too?”

Lucifer winces and touches his side. There’s blood on his hand when he pulls it back, thick and so dark it’s almost purple.

“Hardly. I’ve had a million children over the centuries and they’re all like Mason. Even when I’ve had them with good, smart, kind women, they always came out the same. And no, none of them are nephilim. Not the way you are. Whatever the deformity in my blood that produces such little bastards also makes my progeny human. Powerful humans, but nothing more than mad, cruel little Caligulas. They’re more the way the Church has painted me than I ever was. Isn’t that funny? I wanted to keep this transition in the family, but none of them was ever worthy to take the throne. That was truly humbling. I’d been God’s favorite. More than Gabriel, Michael, Raphael, or even your father. But I couldn’t produce a single heir who wasn’t a miserable piece of scheming human excrement.”

“What you’re really asking me to do is clean up your mess.”

“No. I’m going home to clean up my mess. I’m giving you a chance to save your world.”

“This isn’t my world any more than it’s yours. I’ve changed and everything is different. Nothing is solid. The world is all motes of light. Random nodes vibrating on long strings of existence. Fireflies in a jar. Who could love that?”

I almost want a cigarette. Stark screams in my head. I have to concentrate to keep him locked in the dark.

“I think about the Mithras more and more. I’d solve everyone’s problem by releasing the first fire and burning down the whole universe.”

“I tried that with Heaven, remember? Talk to your father before doing anything rash. Unless you want to be exactly like Mason.”

I look over at Ritchie.

“What are we going to do with him?”

“Nothing. He’s dead.”

“And you don’t even have his soul. He’s on his way to the Jackal’s Backbone.”

“I’m perfectly happy to let him wander and rot for a while. I’ll have his soul eventually.”

“You can’t go back to the Chateau. I’m using your room to finish things with Koralin Geistwald.”

He shakes his head and tries to stand. He doesn’t make it.

“I wasn’t going back there anyway. I need to return below and ready things for my departure. Do you think you might take me through the Room? It’s the quickest way and I’d like to rest before leaving Pandemonium. The elevator is out of service and it’s a long walk up to Father’s place.”

“The Druj Ammun controls the Drifters. Is it true it will control Hellions?”

“I expect so.”

“That could be a nice weapon if I decided to take you up on your idea.”

“It could be, but don’t count on it. Magical weapons have a way of revealing a fatal flaw at exactly the moment you need them the most. The Druj is powerful, but don’t ever get dependent on a single weapon. Who knows? You might not be able to keep it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You figure it out, nephilim.”

“Am I still being trained?”

He pushes himself up and manages to stand this time. I put out a hand to steady him.

“Consider it a last homework assignment before graduation.”

“Hold on to my arm and I’ll take you through the Room.”

He pulls me back.

“Don’t leave the athame lying there. Just because you shouldn’t rely on weapons doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have as many as possible.”

I get the athame and slip it in my coat next to the black blade.

“That goes for my armor, too. At some point you’ll need it. If Mason has it, you’ll have to take it from him.”

“I’ll only need it if I go back to Hell and I’m not. Ever.”

“No. Of course you aren’t.”

“Let’s take you home, old man.”

“Thank you for this, James.”

“I’m not James.”

“I know. But I liked James better. I hope I get to see him again someday.”

I LET HIM through the door, but I don’t go in with him. He’s on his own Downtown. I honestly don’t know if I want him to make it to Heaven or not. Like me, he’ll have to rise or fall on his own.

Only one of the angels will die by my hand, Aelita said. She was coming here, so she had to have meant Lucifer, right? But she didn’t come.

I dial Kasabian. No answer. I dial Kinski and the call goes to voice mail. Shit. I should feel something more than this. Fear. Rage. But I don’t. I just see the microscopic elements of the universe vibrating. The clockwork wheels turning behind the stars.

I can go and look for them or I can go back and deal with Koralin. I suppose Lucifer was right about some of the things he said about me. Especially now with these angel’s eyes, ruthlessness seems like good common sense.

I step through a shadow and back into the hotel lobby. A few of the hotel guests, who were bitten but not completely eaten, are awake. Adorable baby zeds. I herd them into the elevator, punch three, and take a few of them into Lucifer’s hotel suite with me.

Aki’s eyes go wide when he sees us.

I tear the tape off his mouth, cut one of his hands free, and give him my phone.

“Don’t worry. The Drifters won’t bite. For now. Call Koralin. Tell her where you are and that her prodigal son is going to be tonight’s all-you-can-eat buffet if she doesn’t get her ass down here fast.”

When he’s done, I tape him back up and go through a shadow to Vidocq and Allegra’s place. I need to get things ready.

KORALIN STEPS THROUGH the clock and into the room slowly, like she’s expecting a firing squad.

I turned off most of the lights, just leaving on the ones that illuminate Aki and the area by the sofas.

She spots Aki.

“Rainier, darling, are you all right? Has he hurt you?”

“I didn’t hurt him, but the genius shot a hole in his own foot.”

She starts to go to him, but I cut her off.

“He isn’t taking visitors and he isn’t Rainier. Don’t call him that.”

“He’s my son. I’ll call him whatever I like.”

“Your son is dead. So’s your daughter. I know. I killed her.”

She looks at me for a moment like she doesn’t believe me and then turns back to Aki.

“That was a terrible thing for you to do. Still, she was lost to me a long time ago.”

“It’s funny you should say that. You’re the last thing she talked about. She wanted me to tell you that she was sorry. She said that you scared her and her father and she wanted to get you back for it, but now she was sorry. What was she so sorry for? Taking the Druj?”

“She was always her father’s daughter. They were just alike. Always weak and worried. Always apologizing.”

“But not Rainier.”

“Rainier was a good boy. He was strong like his mother. He understood how the world was and what was necessary for the family.”

“He was that important and you let him die. Take you off the mother-of-the-year list. What happened to him?”

She walks back and forth, looking past me at Aki. But she doesn’t try to go to him.

“It was an accident. Rainier was reckless and headstrong, like all children. He went to a chemical plant and stole a large amount of ammonal, aluminum, and ammonium nitrate. He was going to use it to blow up the Springheel home. Can you imagine? It would have been such a merry thing, ending that ancient family line not with sorcery, but with something so mundane. But Rainier didn’t know how to properly handle the material. There must have been a spark or a flame. Perhaps one of his witless friends lit a cigarette. There was an explosion. That was the true tragedy of his death. It was so common and petty as to be obscene. It was a human death.”

“That’s got to be a bad way to go for you.”

She turns to me, looking every bit the ironclad matriarch that frightened Eleanor so much that she’d rather be a bloodsucker than a daughter.

“It’s the worst possible way for a Geistwald.”

I look at Aki and back at Koralin.

“I see Aki over there and I see a pampered little prince taped to a chair. His heart is beating like a scared rabbit and his soul is bouncing around like a Super Ball in his chest. Then I look at you and I don’t see anything. You’re hollow and I can’t help noticing that you don’t seem to have a soul.”

“The Geistwald line discarded them centuries ago. They’re done away with at birth.”

“Are you dead by any chance, Koralin? Are you Death Born?”

She shoots Aki an angry glance.

“Der Todes Geboren. Yes. All Geistwalds are. It’s our gift. The source of our strength.”

“You’re Drifters. Your whole fucking family. That’s your secret. Savants might be special, but you’re something else entirely. I bet no one even knows there’s a fourth kind of Drifter.”

“Not many. The few who do either work with us or they die quickly.”

“I bet. That’s a big secret to hide for centuries. Is that why you came to America? You couldn’t stay in the old country without someone finally figuring out what you were? Pretty soon you’d have to wipe out every Sub Rosa in Europe. Not the way to make friends and influence people.”

“Something along those lines. But we also came for the same reasons as the Springheels. There was no room for new dynasties at home. Here it was open land and fertile soil. The East already had settled families so we followed the Springheels to the West. It was paradise for many years, but then things changed.”

“Other Sub Rosas came and started crowding you out?”

“Of course not. We encouraged them to follow us. You can’t build a true dynasty in the wilderness. A dynasty must be appreciated and acknowledged.”

“Then why are you doing this? How many old families do you have to kill off to prove you’re the best? How much more wealth and power do you need? What the hell is it that you really want?”

“The next million years,” she says. Koralin paces as she talks. I’ve hit a nerve.

“This land is ours. It belongs to Der Todes Geboren. The other families can stay as long as they understand who rules here. But not you. Not your stores or industry or cars or noise. When we came here, the Indians living along the river didn’t trouble us. They recognized what and who we were. They respected our privacy and we respected theirs. Then others came. Traders from Mexico. Spaniards on ships. European trappers and settlers. They ran out the Indians. We poisoned the river. We called down the haze from the ocean. We froze and choked them, but they wouldn’t go away. They planted trees and brought their stinking cattle. They built their cities and bred like rats. They changed the land completely. We hardly recognized our home.”

“But they learned to keep out of your way, so you must have made contact sometime.”

“Charles Springheel was a fool. He decided that we should coexist with you people, and being the oldest family, he convinced the others to go along with him.”

“So, you decided to kill off everything to get back at Charles for snubbing you. It sounds convincing except that when I look outside I don’t see any kind of organized attack. All I see is chaos. I mean, Aki here was running around prying open manholes by hand like some teenybopper playing pranks on Halloween. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, is it? This isn’t your plan. It’s Eleanor’s revenge. Stealing the Druj screwed up your timetable and you weren’t ready.”

“It doesn’t matter. Tonight. Tomorrow. This has been coming for a long time and now it’s here.”

“It’s going to end tonight.”

“Yes, it is. The golems we’ve released should make the situation clear. You people can leave now and live, or you can die here and wander the Jackal’s Backbone until the stars burn out.”

“I wonder what would happen if I held you down and pulled your head off your pretty shoulders.”

She smiles and touches a hand to her lips.

“Aelita said that you would make threats when you didn’t get your way. She gave me something that’s valuable to you. A Jade named Candy.”

“Anything else?”

“A head that won’t stop talking.”

She waits for me to say something. I don’t. I stand still.

“Interesting. Aelita told me that this is when you would attack. She said that you would erupt at anything resembling a threat.”

“I’m not like that anymore. Getting all theatrical is only about making the attacker feel better.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“Then why don’t you put down whatever else Aelita gave you and let’s figure a way out of this together.”

She takes an athame from inside her sleeve.

“Do you know what this is?”

“I have one just like it.”

“Good. I’ll keep it out where you can see it, but I don’t think I’m ready to give it up quite yet.”

“Whatever. Here’s the deal. I’m willing to give you back the Druj. You use it to put the Drifters back in the Backbone. When you do, you get Aki and I get Candy and Kasabian.”

“Why wouldn’t I just use the Druj tomorrow and all this would begin again?”

“Once the Drifters are back inside, I’ll get Muninn to seal the caves good and tight. The dead will stay put for a thousand years. Assuming you don’t blow yourself up like Rainier, you can try your plan again then.”

“Let me have the Druj.”

“Get my friends over here and I’ll hand it over. Do anything stupid and your fair-haired boy is dead and you won’t be able to do a damned thing about it.”

“This is an angel’s knife. It might just kill you.”

“I think I can outrun your knife, but I’m positive Aki can’t outrun mine. Make the call and everyone gets to go home and sleep in their own bed.”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“There’s one on the desk over there.”

She goes to Lucifer’s desk and dials.

I give Aki a once-over. The tape is still good and tight on his arms and legs. There’s a small pool of blood around his foot. Enough to make him light-headed, but not enough to worry about.

Koralin says, “They’re on their way. It will be a few minutes. Traffic is a bit heavy tonight.”

I go to one of the sofas and sit down.

“Take a load off. The room is comfy enough. For us. Poor Aki must be hurting pretty bad right now.”

I look back at him.

“How are you doing, champ? Foot throbbing?”

He garbles something through the tape. Even gagged, I can recognize a sincere “fuck you.”

Koralin perches on the sofa opposite me, barely resting her ass on the edge. She holds her knife upright, the point between her breasts.

“Since we seem to have struck a bargain, I’ll put down my knife if you lay down all of your weapons.”

I take out the Smith & Wesson and put it on the table. I set the black blade and athame next to it. I put the na’at at the end, where she can get a good look at it.

“So what was it between you and Eleanor? She must have really hated you to run off with your secret weapon.”

“She was a troubled child.”

“That’s an interesting way to put it because the moment you bring her into your story, it doesn’t add up. You Geistwalds are Death Born. But Eleanor was bitten by a vampire and turned. That means she had to be alive.”

“Eleanor wasn’t Der Todes Geboren.”

“I thought so. Was your husband?”

“Of course. He was the patriarch. And Rainier. Eleanor, however, was like you. The family grotesque.”

“She was Daddy’s girl, wasn’t she? It’s his fault Eleanor wasn’t dead like Mommy.”

Koralin doesn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. Just stares at Aki. I wait. I count the molecules that make up the pearls in the necklace.

Finally, she says, “Not being alive ourselves, we can’t produce our own children. Jan conceived Eleanor with a living woman.”

“Was she pretty? Was she nice? Did he fall in love with her?”

A slight smile plays around her mouth likes she’s found a pleasant memory.

“Tell me about your father,” she says.

“Which one? I seem to have a lot.”

“The human one.”

I shrug.

“He was all right. I wasn’t an easy kid. He tried his best, but he never really took a shine to me.”

“What a surprise. And your other father?”

“Until an hour ago, I thought it was Lucifer.”

“That would be almost as good a family secret as ours.”

“So, Jan was in love with a pretty human and they had a girl. Then what?”

She looks at her hands and then starts.

“Jan was a romantic. He loved the woman and didn’t want their daughter to be Death Born. The Geistwald children receive the death bite at birth when the head of the family removes the umbilical with his teeth. Jan refused. He stole the child, and by the time he brought her back, it was too late for her to be reborn.”

“So you tortured and tormented Eleanor and her father every day of her life.”

“They deserved worse. I would have killed her, but she was still a Geistwald and there would have been talk.”

“Rainier was born right, though. And you weren’t going to let him get away.”

“Rainier was a good boy and I took care of him.”

“But he was still too stupid to live. Even with all your torture, I think Eleanor and Dad got the best of that deal.”

“My new Rainier will be born properly and become the new head of the family.”

She waves to him.

“I love you, dear. Hold on just a little longer. Daddy is on the way.”

“You just said you have to be Death Born at birth. Aki is at least twenty-five.”

“There are ways around that. Sorcerers who can remove his spirit and put it into the body of a newborn. I’ll personally make the child Der Todes Geboren and Rainier will be reborn.”

“But he’ll still be Aki. You keep choosing fuckups for sons.”

She leans forward on her seat.

“Now tell me about your real father.”

“I don’t know him that well. He’s a doctor, but it’s a second career. He used to be an archangel.”

“Kinski? How funny. And you only just discovered this?”

“If Lucifer was telling the truth. I think he was. It’s more fun for him to kill you with the truth than with a lie.”

“I wish I’d been there to see your face.”

“It wasn’t all that dramatic.”

“Seeing you in any amount of pain would be a joy.”

“I cut my arm on a piece of glass earlier.”

“Did it hurt?”

“It stung.”

“Good.”

The phone rings. Koralin goes to the desk and exchanges a few words with the caller.

“Jan is here.”

“Tell him to take the elevator to three.”

I pick up my gun and go to the door.

“Our deal is still on, but if you get near Aki while I let them in, I’ll blow his head off.”

I push open the door just as the elevator arrives.

“In here.”

Candy comes through first. She throws her arms around me and holds on tight.

“He’s dead. Doc is dead,” she says. “That angel bitch Aelita killed him.”

“I know. It’s all right. We’ll get through this.”

Jan comes in after her with Kasabian’s bowling bag.

I gesture to him with the gun.

“Go over to the table and let him out. Then sit down next to your wife.”

Jan unzips the bag and puts Kasabian on the table. Jan sits down at the far end of the sofa, as far from Koralin as he can.

“Fuck you, you Kraut shit.”

I set Candy in a chair by the desk.

“You all right, Kasabian?”

“No thanks to these pricks. That bitch stood there while that crazy-ass angel stabbed Kinski.”

“Sit tight and keep quiet. This will be over with soon.”

“Excuse me,” says Koralin. “You have your friends. Please put the pistol down.”

I look at Aki and then at her and set the gun on the table.

“We’re going to do this slowly and carefully so there aren’t any misunderstandings, all right?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Koralin, stand up with your hands where I can see them. Come down to the end of the table with me. I’ll take the Druj from my pocket and hand it to you.”

I stand up while Koralin comes around, put my hand in my pocket, and take out the Druj. I exaggerate my arm and hand movements so she can see what I’m doing. When it’s out, I show her the Druj and that I’m not holding anything else.

“Put out your hands.”

She does and I set the Druj there. I step back as Koralin smiles and holds it up so Aki can see.

“We have it, darling. It’s ours.”

She turns to me, all motherly and full of aristocratic outrage.

“You’re all dead. I’ll call every golem in the city down on you. They’ll each get one shallow bite. It will take days for you to die.”

Koralin really wants Drifters by her side, so they come to her. The ones I brought in from the hall and lobby stashed around the edges of the room earlier are drawn to her and the Druj. When she sees them she laughs with delight. She’s amused just long enough for me to grab the na’at and whip the end of it into her chest like a dagger. There’s no time to aim well, but I do all right.

The end slips between her ribs and into her heart. Another flick and the na’at retracts. Koralin falls to the floor grunting like an animal in shock and pain. Her milk-pale skin crawls with patches of red. Her lips fade from deep blue to bright crimson as she draws her first choked and agonized breath since birth.

“Did you know that the cure for a zombie bite is a Savant’s blood? I learned that when Johnny Thunders gave me some of his. I used some to help out Brigitte and I put the rest on the na’at. Johnny must have been right because it looks to me like you’re breathing again. How does it feel to be alive after all these years? Just another pathetic mortal lowlife. Weird, I bet. Don’t worry. You won’t feel it for long.”

I pick up the Druj from where she dropped it, pull Candy from the sofa, and hand her Kasabian.

The Drifters crowd around Koralin. They move in slowly, a little uncertain of who or what she is. She was one of them a moment ago, but she must be starting to smell human. I wonder what her body temperature has to be before they know she’s food.

“If you want to go, you can go,” I tell Jan.

He stands there.

“I can’t leave her to this.”

“I’m giving you a break because of Eleanor.”

“Please.”

“No.”

He grabs the athame from the table and throws it. He’s good, too. He’s handled a knife before.

I duck it, but Candy is looking at Koralin, so she doesn’t see it coming. The knife hits her arm and goes in to the hilt. She drops Kasabian and I flick out the na’at, hitting Jan in the chest. It knocks him back onto the sofa and in a few seconds he’s staring through watery eyes filled with the shock and deep-down horror of being alive. A moment later he starts to breathe. As his lungs begin filling with air he reaches for my gun, but his body is still in shock and he’s too clumsy to reach it. I pick it up and put it in his hand. I help him steady it under his chin so he’ll get it right when he pulls the trigger. The sound of a gun going off inside hurts my ears and the back of Jan’s head explodes out in a red spray. The Drifters not heading for Koralin make a beeline for the gore. I take the gun back and put it in my jacket.

I tuck Kasabian under my arm, put my arm around Candy, and help her to the door.

“What about the boy?” she asks.

“He wants to be part of the family. Let him.”

We’re out in the hall when the screaming starts. I close the door and smash the grandfather clock to pieces, sealing the room. I grab Candy and Kasabian and step through a shadow and back to the old apartment.

I can see Brigitte through the bedroom door. She’s propped up on pillows and her eyes are open.

Allegra is coming toward us.

“I’m sorry to always show up with walking wounded. But we don’t have anywhere else to go anymore,” I tell her.

Allegra takes Candy, lays her out on the sofa, and goes for first-aid supplies.

“You know you are always welcome. Family is difficult, but having none is worse.”

Kasabian is still under my arm.

“Oh Christ. Put me back with the zombies, Strawberry Shortcake.”

I go back to the bedroom. Brigitte sits up and puts out her hand. I take it, but only to make her feel better. She’s still too weak to explain that the man she thinks she’s looking at is gone.

There’s a blast in the street. Then shouting. I look out the window and see a couple of girls and a young guy running from a pack of Lacunas. They have guns and are shooting. They’re getting some pretty good hits, but it’s not going to do them any good. They have to slow down when they aim. In a minute or two they’ll be out of bullets and the Lacunas will have gained on them enough that it will be over.

I turn to Brigitte.

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

I climb the stairs to the roof. When I get there I can still hear gunfire, but it’s less frequent. They know they’re running low on ammo.

From the edge of the roof I can see the whole city. It’s a patchwork of light and dead blacked-out areas and the whole thing has turned orange and bleached yellow from dozens of fires.

The shooters are out of bullets and the Lacunas close in.

Koralin must have known something extra about how the Druj works. I could make the Drifters nearby do what I want, but there’s no way I can control a whole city. She acted like she could. Maybe I should have asked her about that before letting the Drifters have her.

Even if I could control them all, would that save the day? Lucifer said not to rely on any one weapon. That I might not even be able to keep this one. Maybe that’s the point. The fatal flaw that will reveal itself at exactly the worst moment. When would that be? When I sneak Downtown and use the Druj to hunt Mason? Now, when I try to get the Drifters to march back to their caves?

When I was still in the arena, I stole a knife to kill another fighter I didn’t like. I tried stabbing him in the tunnel leading to the fighting floor, but the knife’s weight was odd and the blade wasn’t sharp enough. I found out later that it was a throwing knife, completely wrong for hand-to-hand fighting. It only had power when you threw it. To use it, you couldn’t keep it.

I take the Druj out of my pocket and throw it off the roof. It turns over and over in the air like a coin tossed on a bet. It takes forever to hit the ground.

The Lacunas have caught up with the shooters. They’re on them. I can hear them screaming.

The Druj hits the pavement and shatters into a million pieces.

The Lacunas freeze. For a moment they’re horrible dummies in a Hellion spook house. Then quietly, like wind on a roof, they fall apart. They’re dust before they hit the ground. The shooters, both girls and the boy, get up. They stagger, grab each other, and look around. When they see what’s happened, they run away as fast as they can. The same thing is happening farther down the street. Drifters are falling apart everywhere. In the distance, civilians are single dots running from packs of other dots. Then the pack disappears and the lone dot stops running.

The fires still burn. Half the city is still blacked out. Sirens scream and helicopters cut up the sky. I go back downstairs.

WHEN IT’S LIGHT out, I take Kasabian back to Max Overload to see what condition the place is in.

Downstairs is trashed. It doesn’t look like Drifters made it inside, but in the great tradition of all L.A. apocalypses, looters did. The windows and doors are smashed. The cartoons, action movies, and porn sections are pretty much cleared out. The cash registers are gone, too.

Upstairs, the lock on the door is broken, but the place is pretty much intact. There’s a big circle of dried blood on the bed.

“That’s where that crazy bitch got Kinski. I don’t know what happened to his body. Sorry, man. I know you two were tight.”

“Not really.”

I wad up the sheets, take them and the bed downstairs, and leave them by the curb with the broken glass and burned-out cars. I can’t remember the city ever being this quiet. Like a funeral on Christmas morning. I don’t see any single people go by. Everyone huddles together in twos and threes and more. Walking wounded. Piles of dust mark the places where Drifters fell. Garbage trucks and commandeered pickups lined with plastic sheets cruise Hollywood Boulevard shoveling up human remains.

I go back upstairs and sit on the bed frame. I don’t know what to do. An angel should have some idea of where to go from here. Stark would do something. Something stupid, but something. If I could keep him from drinking, he wouldn’t be bad to have around sometimes. But he’s gone.

“Are there any cigarettes?” asks Kasabian.

I look around, but can’t find any. I go back downstairs and find a half-smoked butt on the counter. I take it upstairs, light it with Mason’s lighter, and hold it out for Kasabian. He takes a couple of puffs.

“You don’t want any?”

“No.”

“You’re different, man. Not like depressed different. I’ve seen that. That bite fucked you all up.”

“I’m fine. I’m just not smoking or drinking. I’m better.”

“A lot of laughs, too. You usually would have made some stupid joke by now instead of sitting there like you just got electroshock.”

“It could have been ten.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It’s a Hellion joke. When God threw them from Heaven, they fell for nine days, so when everything goes to shit you say…”

“…It could have been ten. Nice. Now you’re doing some demon’s stand-up act. You’re going to be a riot clean and sober.”

“I wonder if anywhere still has food.”

“And beer. You might be Sister Mary Dry County, but some of us are still people and need booze.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

I pull the door closed and go out through the front.

The boulevard is a ghost town. What a shock. There are patches of blood and a smoldering garage around the corner, but the worst seems to be over. I pass a dozen gutted stores, including some markets, but I can’t make myself go in. I’m hungry and not above stealing, but I don’t want to trip over any half-eaten bodies inside.

If I was a religious man (and no, knowing there’s a Heaven and Hell, God and devil and angels doesn’t help being religious one little bit), I might take what I see as a sign. There’s a line outside Donut Universe. The windows are shattered and some of the booths have been trashed, but they have power and they’re pouring coffee for a long line of shell-shocked civilians. Coffee would be nice, but if I get in line someone might try to talk to me. I keep walking.

“Hey!”

Someone is yelling, but it doesn’t sound scared, so I don’t turn around. There’s a hand on my arm. I turn, ready to punch or shoot.

It’s Janet, the donut girl. She’s pale and her hair is spiked and messy and her eyes are dark, like she hasn’t slept since Groundhog Day.

“You’re alive,” she says.

“So are you. How was the Chinese food?”

“The chow mein was greasy, but the mu shu pork was good. Here,” she says, and puts a bag in my hand.

“We’re out of fritters, so it’s just an assortment of what we have left. We haven’t made any new ones, so they’re a little stale. But the coffee is hot.”

“I think you just saved my life, Janet.”

“We’re even, then.”

“It’s really good to see you.”

“You, too.”

She kisses me on the cheek and runs back into Donut Universe. People in line glare at me, wondering why I rate special treatment.

I saved your lives, assholes. Let me have a fucking donut.

CANDY IS SITTING on the bed frame when I get back.

“Hi.”

“Hi yourself. Want a bear claw?”

“No thanks.”

“I guess you and Kasabian have met.”

“Yeah. We talked about movies and gossiped about you last night.”

I put the bags on Kasabian’s table and sit down next to Candy.

“I’m sorry about the doc.”

It takes her a while to say anything. She’s trying hard not to cry.

“Yeah. You know about him, right?”

“That he’s my father? Yeah. I heard.”

“I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, but he wouldn’t let me. He wanted to do it when the time was right and it could just be you two for a while and you could talk or fight or whatever it is fathers and sons do.”

“I think I’ll miss him.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

She leans against me. I put my arm around her because the angel knows I’m supposed to at a moment like this.

“I missed you, too,” she says. “I know you thought that doc and I were lovers, but it wasn’t like that. We were each fucked up in different ways and took care of each other, but doc never forgot what happened to the women he loved and what happened to the kids they had. He just didn’t have it in him anymore. You’re the only thing of his that survived.”

“He kept you alive, too.”

“Yeah, he did.”

We’re quiet for a minute, then she moves away and looks at me hard.

“You’re not you anymore, are you?”

“No. I’m not.”

“Are you in there somewhere?”

“If you mean Stark, I don’t think so. Stark was a drunk and a fool and he’s dead. Fuck him.”

“Who are you now?”

“No one. Nothing. I don’t know if I’m the end of something or the beginning. Let’s pretend it’s the beginning. You can name me, like a baby.”

She looks at her hands and takes a breath.

“Take the cure. Your friends wouldn’t want you like this. I don’t want you like this.”

“Stark is dead. He’s gone. Maybe you should do the same. Go away and don’t come back.”

She loses it and starts bawling.

“I don’t want Stark to be gone. Doc is gone and I don’t want you to be gone, too.”

“He’s dead. You don’t get a vote on dead.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I get up.

“You should go now.”

She stands, but doesn’t move.

“I know you’re not Stark anymore and none of this means anything to you, but can you please just hold me for a minute before I go?”

This is why angels find it so easy to kill you people.

“All right.”

Candy grabs me hard like she’s fallen overboard and is holding on to the side of a boat to keep from drowning.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She must have had the knife in her hand the whole time. Like me, Candy is a killer, so she gets me in the heart with the first thrust.

As I black out all I can think is, Oh hell. This again.

I PUT THE bowling bag on the bar at Bamboo House of Dolls and unzip it.

“Carlos, meet Alfredo Garcia.”

“Fuck you, man. You said you weren’t going to say that.”

“It was a long walk. I forgot.”

“I’m Kasabian. Are you the Carlos who makes the tamales?”

Carlos eyeballs Kasabian like someone seeing his first pickled punk at a sideshow.

“Yeah. That’s me.”

“They’re awesome. They’re what keep me from smothering this asshole with a pillow when he’s asleep.”

Normally I wouldn’t inflict Kasabian on a civilian, but Carlos hasn’t ever been a regular civilian. And what’s a talking head when a few days ago you had dead men in here trying to eat your customers?

“Stark’s told me about you, too.”

“Yeah? What’s he said?”

“Well,” says Carlos, looking Kasabian over, “I thought you’d be taller.”

“Very funny, beer jockey. Do you have any actual booze back there or is it just Hawaiian Punch and seashells?”

“I think we can find some booze. What are you drinking?”

“Beer. The more expensive the better. Put it on his account.”

Kasabian turns to me.

“Put my bucket under me. I haven’t been out in six months and I’m not planning on drinking responsibly. You’re the designated driver.”

I hope Carlos doesn’t mind us being here. For the time being, he’s pretty much my Plan A for not starving to death. Plan B, C, and D, too. Max Overload is dead and I don’t know if it’ll ever be back. I don’t want to think about how many thousands of dollars fixing the place up and restocking the shelves will be. It’s not like we have a dime. The insurance company canceled us after the explosion back in January. The Vigil is gone. And what are the chances that Lucifer will keep paying me a stipend after he goes home to Kansas? I’m too well known to knock over liquor stores and too ugly to be a rent boy. What’s minimum wage these days? Maybe Carlos will hire me to clean up after closing.

It’s good to see Bamboo House full of drunken monsters and crazy civilians. Maybe Brigitte was right after all. Maybe a little danger will bring in the crowds. The place still doesn’t need a velvet rope, but I don’t see business slacking off for a while. People need a drink when they survive an apocalypse. Speaking of which.

I look for Carlos to order a shot of Jack and there’s already one at my elbow. Who says he’s not psychic?

“How’s that hole in your chest doing?” comes a voice from behind me.

“I have a nice new scar. I don’t know how much of Johnny’s blood you put on the knife, but it left a mark on my heart. I might need a doctor.”

“We’ll stock up on lollipops,” says Candy.

She and Allegra squeeze in next to me at the crowded bar.

I say, “Next time you decide to stab someone to cure them from a horrible disease, try using a smaller knife.”

“I could have given you the potion in a needle like I gave Brigitte, but no, you had to be a baby about it.”

“You shouldn’t stab babies either. I’m not even a doctor and I know that.”

“We only stab the ugly ones,” says Allegra.

Allegra and Candy have been stuck together like Chang and Eng since the night I came back from the Jackal’s Backbone. With Kinski gone, we need a new hoodoo doc who can help Lurkers, take bullets out of chests without cracking them open, and juggle those hunks of God’s broken glass.

“How’s boot camp?”

Allegra does an exaggerated sigh.

“Harder than art school, but more fun than stopping kids from shoplifting Faces of Death at the store.”

“She picks up on doc’s magic healing gear fast,” says Candy. “I never had the head for it, but she zeros right in.”

“Eugène’s books help with the obscure stuff. Did you know that when necromancers and Houngans are allergic to Mandrake root, their balls can swell up to the size of cantaloupes?”

“I never wanted to know that. Soon you’ll be doctor to the stars and monsters. Dr. Kildare with two l’s.”

“Florence Frightingale,” says Allegra.

Candy smiles.

“I told her that one.”

Allegra says, “We’re going to head back to the clinic. Candy is going to show me fun things to do with leeches.”

“It’s always a party with you two.”

It’s good to see Allegra excited. And Candy with something to occupy her mind.

I hold up my drink.

“To Doc Kinski.”

We clink glasses and drink.

“And Doc Allegra.”

We drink again.

Candy nods at the door.

“We have to go.”

“Don’t let the leeches push you around.”

They go out, talking and laughing. I’ve never seen two people more excited about golden beetles and fermented goat’s blood.

“Be patient.”

It’s Vidocq.

“Patience isn’t my best quality.”

“She’s not running from you. She and Kinski might not have been lovers, but she still loved him. It will take her some time to get over his loss.”

“Yeah. Him dying right then was inconvenient for a lot of us.”

Vidocq pats me on the shoulder. The French are like that.

“Don’t drink too much.”

“When I can spell out your name in shot glasses, I’ll stop.”

“I’ll have to get a shorter name.”

“I’ll have to forget how to spell it.”

Maybe I’m looking at this all wrong. Maybe I should be like Allegra and get a new job. The store closing might be opportunity knocking. I should go across town and see if the skinheads are back in business. I heard somewhere that a lot of skinheads support themselves by dealing meth. I wonder how much cash they keep around? It’s not like they can call the cops if someone stops by and takes all their money. How many other gangs and crooks are there in L.A.? Is there a Forbes 500 list of the ones with the most cash? I might be on the verge of a new career.

I see a familiar face heading my way. She’d be hard to miss in a room twenty times this size.

“Hello you. You’ve been kind of scarce the last few days.”

Brigitte nods, takes the glass from my hand, and finishes my drink.

“Yes, I needed some time alone to do what you Americans love most. Process my thoughts. Becoming a revenant wasn’t something I’d planned for this trip.”

“But you didn’t. We stopped it in time.”

“But I felt it. I felt the infection burning through me. I felt myself dying, but not truly dying.”

“I don’t know how many times I’ve been stabbed and shot. It’s part of my job description. Taking a chance on getting bitten has to be part of yours.”

“Of course it is. But there’s the other thing.”

“And what’s that?”

She lifts a finger and Carlos brings us a couple of new drinks. She blows him a kiss.

“The way you left the Geistwalds, it upset some people, but I thought it was apt. If I’d been there, I would have helped.”

“I know.”

“But there’s the other thing.”

“So I hear.”

“Your friend Candy was knifed. Your father is dead. Simon is dead. Lucifer himself almost died.”

“Johnny is gone.”

“Who was he?”

“Someone I only knew for a little while. A good guy. He had a sweet tooth.”

“Light Bringer was canceled, of course. I heard that even the Golden Vigil has disbanded.”

I sip the Jack and nod.

“It looks that way. I went by their warehouse to pull out Wells’s spine, but he was gone and the place was empty. There wasn’t a screw, a nail, or an oil stain on the floor.”

“That’s the kind of thing I mean by the other thing.”

She pushes her way in closer so that we’re side by side and leans against me.

“You’re a lovely man. Do you know that?”

“I can hear a ‘but’ the size of the Titanic bearing down on me.”

“People get hurt around you. They die. And worse.”

“I’m a professional shit magnet. I know.”

“You scare me to death, which, on the one hand, makes you more attractive, but you wear death like that long black coat of yours. I think if things had just been a little different, if we’d met at a different moment, I wouldn’t feel quite so overwhelmed.”

“If you’re keeping score, don’t forget Alice. I got her killed, too.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

We drink without talking for a minute. She feels good against my side.

“So, where are you headed from here?”

“I’m staying with Gigi Gaston. Maybe you met her at the Geistwald party. She worked at the studio and has taken over since Simon is gone.”

“Hooking up with the studio head is a smart move for an actress.”

“And for my other work, too. Gigi is one of the ones I meant by ‘my people’ when I called for someone to take the bodies of the revenants from behind the bar.”

“That work is over, you know. The Drifters are gone. They all died when the Druj broke.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yeah. But worrying about it is a good excuse to go off with Gigi. If I was you, it’s what I’d say.”

“If you scared me just ten percent less.”

“No. You’re doing the right thing. Things are going to get strange again soon and I’m afraid I’m going to end up in the middle of it. If Gigi can take care of you, you should go with her.”

She pushes away and looks at me, her forehead furrowing.

“You don’t hate me? You don’t think I’m a coward for deserting you?”

“Never. You were always the smart one.”

She takes my head in her hands and kisses me hard.

“Take care of yourself.”

“You, too. Go be a movie star. It’ll be fun to see you fifty feet tall.”

“Just for you.”

She starts away and I yell after her.

“You know, you never told me your real name.”

She smiles.

“I know. We’ll just have to find each other down the road sometime and I’ll tell you then.”

And she’s gone.

“Wow. Going out with you is a real boost to the ego,” says Kasabian. “Shot down twice in one night. Even I’m doing better than that with these kinky Goth chicks.”

“Drink up, Alfredo. I hope no one starts keeping their dirty socks in your bag.”

I get up and start away from the bar.

“Where are you going?”

“To the men’s room. You remember those?”

“Funny. When you get back you want to take me outside for a smoke?”

“Why not?”

I get the usual funny looks of recognition and curiosity in the men’s room. It’s not just civilians. Lurkers are just as likely to stare.

“If any of you want an autograph right this second, I’m going to have to do it in piss.”

That usually breaks up the viewing party.

Marshal Julie is waiting for me when I come out of the men’s room.

“Don’t worry, officer. I washed my hands.”

She nods and looks me over.

“You cost me my job, you know.”

“Talk to Aelita about that. Or Wells. Besides, I thought you worked for Homeland Security. Just ’cause the Vigil is gone baby gone, why does that affect you?”

“When the Vigil died, Washington panicked and burned our whole operation out here. They cut everyone loose.”

“And now you’re roaming the countryside like a Ronin. If you’re looking for money or sympathy, I’m fresh out of both.”

“That’s not why I’m here. I don’t want us to be enemies.”

“I can’t play bridge, so don’t ask me to be your fourth.”

“I’m opening my own investigations agency. My father was a PI, so I have experience. If it pans out, I thought that maybe I can throw you work sometimes.”

I listen to her heart and watch her eyes. She means it. Her soul pulses steadily in her chest, a shimmering silver. A good color. Not everyone’s is that clear.

“Why not? I’m not doing anything else. But no hits. And I’m not doing any divorce stuff. No peeping in people’s windows. But if you have something specific that you think I can do, why not?”

“Okay, then.”

She turns and looks around the bar.

“I’d heard all about this place. Some of the other marshals sneaked in here. Some Sub Rosa girls I knew at school. I never really believed them when they said that Lurkers and humans could hang out together like this.”

“You ought to see it on bingo night.”

“You didn’t really think it was going to be that easy, did you?”

“What?”

“You were going to stroll in here with the Druj and put me over your knee like a bad boy? That’s funny.”

Marshal Julie’s mouth is moving, but it’s Mason’s voice coming out. Her eyes are dead and vacant.

“Yes, it’s me. Sorry I can’t be there in person. This is the best my little homemade key can do for now.”

Then a Nahual beast man steps up.

“Trust me. I’m working on new and better keys all the time. And with Lucifer taking a powder, it makes my work that much easier.”

A civilian in a T-shirt with a software company logo on it crowds in.

“I hear you fed a whole family to golems the other night. Good for you. We were always more alike than you and Alice wanted to admit.”

The girl in the leather jacket that Spencer Church tried to bite the other night opens her mouth.

“I wish I’d been there to watch you feed Mommy and the boy to the zeds. How long did it take to eat them?”

I grab the girl.

“Druj or not, I’m going to kill you. Hard.”

Marshal Julie again.

“You know where I am. I’ll leave a light on for you.”

They walk away, some to the restroom, some back to the bar, like nothing happened.

“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t ask you to do something boring and normal,” says the marshal.

She smiles at me. I stare into her eyes, looking for Mason. She stops smiling.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’ve just had too much to drink. I’m going outside.”

“Give me your number before you go.”

I tell her and head back to the bar.

“I’ll call you if something comes through.”

“Do that. Good luck with the agency.”

I go to the bar to get Kasabian, but when he sees me he shakes his head and turns his eyes back to the Lamia chatting him up. I leave him to his succubus and go outside.

I bum a cigarette from a couple of young drunk Valley guys with asymmetrical haircuts and fake IDs in their pockets.

“Are you the guy?” one of them asks.

“Which guy is that?”

“The Sandman guy. You’re skinny and you’ve got all those scars.”

“So did the neighbor’s kid back home. He had an eating disorder and kept falling off his bike.”

The Valley boy bursts out laughing, the excited nervous laugh of a kid not sure if he’s having a good time or not. The other boy grabs him and whispers something.

“Can we see your knife?”

“We heard it’s really big.”

That cracks them both up.

“Shouldn’t you youngsters be home and in bed? Isn’t it a school night?”

The one who gave me the cigarette says, “The school burned down. We’re doing classes online.”

“I hope it wasn’t one of you bad boys who burned it.”

“I wish. We’d be heroes.”

Neither of the boys notices the small group gathering behind them. Sneaking up silently on civilians is what they do best.

The tallest one, lean and ghostly pale, leans over to one of the boys.

“Excuse me.”

The kid starts and smacks into his friend.

“We’d like a word with Mr. Stark.”

The one with the cigarettes laughs and says, “But he was going to show us his big knife.”

The pale man brings his face down level with the boys. The whites of his eyes flash blood red, and then darken to black. The boys head back inside the bar.

“Don’t bite either of them, okay? They’re just a little drunk. And I don’t even want to have to think about hunting another one of your young ones.”

“We appreciate that,” says the head vampire. “And we appreciate you handling the recent unpleasantness so quickly. As I’m sure you can imagine, zombies aren’t much use to us and we’re grateful to have them gone. We, the Dark Eternal, hope that you’ll accept this with our admiration and gratitude.”

He hands me a brushed aluminum Halliburton attaché case. Spies and billionaires carry these cases in Hollywood thrillers with expensive stars and crap scripts. I pop the latches and look inside.

The case is filled with neatly bundled stacks of hundred-dollar bills.

“We also hope that in the future you’ll remember who helped you in a time of need.”

“Trust me, I will.”

“We also hope that you’ll use some of the cash to reopen Max Overload. Clarice here likes spaghetti westerns and Ed is a Bollywood fan. Me, I like old Universal horror.”

“How do you feel about the Wolfman?”

“Hate the bitchy little whiner.”

“Good answer. You just got a free rental.”

He high-fives Ed.

“Have a nice night,” says the head vampire, and the whole group sweeps away into the night, something else vampires are good at.

I DUMP KASABIAN back in our room over Max Overload around 5 A.M. I didn’t even bother putting him back in his bowling bag on the way home. Anyone wandering the streets at that hour deserves to see a severed head singing “Good Vibrations.” He falls asleep the moment I put him down. I’ve never seen him drunk before. I didn’t even know he could get drunk.

I go into the bathroom and throw some water on my face. Toss my coat on the bed frame and stash my weapons under the towels in the bathroom cupboard behind the door.

Kasabian has an MP3 player with speakers in his bachelor pad in the closet. I put them on the bed frame with the bottle of Jack Daniel’s that Carlos gave me and a pack of cigarettes someone left on the bar. I pile all of it on the attaché case and step through the shadow and into the Room.

I set the case against the wall. No one’s going to steal it there. I take the Jack, cigarettes, and music and go to the Thirteenth Door. The Door of Nothing. I haven’t been through it since the night I sent the Kissi drifting out into space and left Mason in Hell.

The battered door still has the distinctive vinegar Kissi reek, but it’s quiet. There’s no scratching coming through from the other side. The Thirteenth Door used to scare me more than anywhere else in the universe. More than Downtown ever did. Now it’s just one more old door with dead bodies on the other side. I open it and go inside.

The holes I tore in the fabric of the Kissi realm are still there. Stars and the flat ovals of galaxies hang overhead. The insect husks of long-dead Kissi crunch under my boots. I spark Mason’s lighter and the place lights up. It takes me about an hour to find the ruins of the mansion Mason built here. A dusty reclining chair lies in the rubble on its side. I turn it right side up and sit down. The bottle of Jack goes on one side of the chair and the MP3 player on the other. I light a cigarette and sit in the dark and quiet for a while.

I still feel bad about Johnny and how he probably disappeared when the other Drifters ashed out. And about owing him a bag of jelly beans. I hope he understands how things got a little out of hand that night. At least Fiona didn’t shoot me when I told her that I left Johnny underground with Muninn.

I feel bad about Kinski, too. And mad as hell. Couldn’t he have said what he had to say? No. More dad bullshit. He had to control the moment and do it his way. There’s not going to be a moment now, is there, old man? But thanks for keeping me alive all those times. If I run into you in Heaven or Hell or wherever I end up, I’ll buy the first round. After I kick your ass for letting Aelita kill you.

I crack open the bottle of Jack and have a drink to him.

Like most nights, I wonder where Alice is and if she knows or cares what’s going on down here. Parking in the afterlife must have gotten really shitty after a million new souls shot up there the other night. She must have noticed that. Maybe one of the Drifters who isn’t too pissed at me for ripping out his or her spine will tell Alice it was me who set them free.

Right. And maybe Mason has an ice-cream truck and is handing out Popsicles in Hell.

I wonder if Lucifer made it back to Heaven and if his old man let him in?

Things are going to get bad. I can feel it. The parts of the angel that stuck around after Candy cured me can feel Heaven and Hell twitching, like rabid dogs just starting to foam at the mouth.

I don’t want to be the new Lucifer, but I really want to kill Mason, and if I have to wear red underwear and carry a pitchfork to do it, I will.

I wonder if Aelita will come Downtown or if I’m going to have to backdoor my way into Heaven to kill her?

I manifest the burning Gladius and it lights up the Kissi realm for a million miles. What a dump. It looks like someone built the Matterhorn Ride out of fly eggs and shit.

Stars wink overhead. Did they change when I switched on the sword?

I get out another cigarette, light it off the Gladius, and let the world go dark.

I flick ashes into Mason’s failed kingdom.

I’ve talked shit my whole life and, except for Alice and Vidocq, pretty much done everything on my own. Luck and hoodoo pulled me through, but that’s not going to work this time. Not if Downtown catches fire and Mason or Aelita bring the heat up to Heaven. I can’t bluff and bullshit my way through that. I need backup. But I might have killed off the only things in the universe crazy enough to go head-to-head with the armies of Hell and Heaven.

Or maybe not. A lot of Kissi went spinning out into space when I ripped this place open. Kissi are almost angels, so floating around in the dark shouldn’t hurt them. They’re probably just shy. Or they found someplace better to feed. I’m not going out after them. They’ll come to me eventually. I’ve got the deal of the century. And even semi-angels want revenge. Everything alive wants revenge.

I hit the MP3 player. Skull Valley Sheep Kill echoes off the walls, doing a burning cover of “Johnny Thunders.”

I let the bass rumble in my chest like a second heart.

I smoke the cigarette and then another.

I have a drink.

I listen to the music.

I sit in the dark and I wait.