Devil Said Bang (42 page)

“I’ll miss my collection.”

“It’s not going anywhere.”

“I’ll miss my solitude.”

“I got very big on delegating Lucifer’s duties at
the end. Keep the same policy and have all the solitude you want. Trust me. You
don’t want to sit around working out budget projections for the next thousand
years.”

He steps out of the Red Car and perches on a
Persian hoodoo carpet hovering three feet off the ground.

“One last thing before I go. Do you forgive me for
deceiving you all this time?”

“Sure. Do you forgive me for being a loudmouth
asshole Abomination?”

He holds up a hand. Shakes his head.

“You’re only an Abomination to Aelita and her ilk.
You’re simply James Stark to me. Not nephilim or monster. Just Stark.”

“Your brother Neshamah told me his name. What’s
yours?”

“Can’t we stick with Muninn? It’s the name I
prefer.”

“Muninn it is.”

“I suppose it’s time for me to be going.”

I touch my chest. Lucifer’s armor is gone. I look
at Mr. Muninn and he’s wearing it. It looks funny strapped to his round
body.

“That’s a good look for you,” I lie.

He raps his knuckles on the metal.

“I haven’t worn armor since the war with Lucifer.
Now here I am wearing his, preparing to become him. Even I couldn’t have
predicted that.”

“It’ll get the groundlings’ attention when you walk
in like that.”

He looks strange. Like he’s made of dense
smoke.

“Will you come and visit?”

I feel a familiar weight inside my chest. The Key
is back inside me.

“I’ll come down. Take care of yourself and Wild
Bill for me. One last thing. If you were going to hide a stolen soul, where
would you put it?”

He thinks for a few seconds.

“The Guff. The hall of souls. Where new souls wait
to be born into bodies.”

“Someone stole Tuatha Fortune’s. Normally I
wouldn’t care about the Augur’s family troubles but that seems kind of harsh
even for rich bastards. If you happen to find Tuatha’s soul under the sofa
cushions, maybe you could send it home.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Take care, James.”

“You too, Mr. Muninn.”

The smoke drifts apart like parting fog and Mr.
Muninn is gone. There’s something in my hand. Three deformed bullets. I open my
shirt. No holes. No pain.

I step through a shadow and into the Room of
Thirteen Doors. It’s as cool and silent and perfect as I remember. I go through
the Door of Ice, the portal to neutral places, and out into the street. I push
the Hellion hog into Muninn’s cavern for safekeeping. I don’t know if I can ride
it once reality gets back to normal. If I can’t, I think Mr. Muninn would like
it in his collection.

I step back into a shadow, feeling at home again. I
can’t hear Saint James in my head, but with luck, he feels it too.

I
come
out of a shadow in the hallway in the Chateau with the grandfather clock. I step
through. Kasabian is watching
Major Dundee
on the
big screen. He glances over his shoulder when I come in then turns back to the
screen.

“I think we’ll have to clear out of here soon.”

“When?”

“Not until they figure out I’m not Macheath
anymore. A few days. Maybe a week. I don’t know.”

He nods, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“I had a feeling this was too good to be true.
Okay. They haven’t sent up any food for a while. Tell them to bring a few carts.
Start stockpiling so we can take it with us when we get the bum’s rush.”

I sit on the arm of the leather sofa, suddenly very
tired.

“I can’t keep doing this. Saving the world and
ending up broke and homeless.”

Kasabian crushes a beer can in one of his hellhound
hands and opens another one-handed. Neat trick.

“Speak for yourself,” he says. “I’ve got my future
locked. Between the Codex, your magic eyeball, and the Hellion translator you
said you’re getting, I’m going to become the biggest medium on the Web. I can
actually see into Hell, which is where most people’s asshole relatives are going
to be. Isn’t that something? I’ll be the only honest online psychic in the
world. I’ll make a fortune.”

“Yeah. Telling people their loved ones are burning
in eternal hellfire will have the money rolling in.”

He nods his head from side to side.

“Well, I might have to leave out a few details.
Shave the truth a bit. I already know how to do that.”

“Good. Then I’ll move back in; we’ll use the rest
of the money to fix up the store and reopen.”

“Slow down, Seabiscuit. I don’t even have a site
yet.”

“We’ll fix the store or you can give me my money
back.”

“It’s my money.”

“We’ll see.”

I get a bottle of Aqua Regia. Light a Malediction
and dial the clinic to check on Candy. No one answers. I dial again.

B
amboo
House of Dolls is crowded. Packed in like cavity-search close. Just like the old
days. I don’t know why I’m surprised. It always works this way. A little mayhem.
A touch of homicide without too many casualties. Just enough to give you a good
story. And the Bamboo House is on the map again. Home sweet home.

“Here’s to two weeks under the radar,” says Candy,
holding up a glass of Jack Daniel’s.

I clink my glass against hers.

“They haven’t tossed your asses out of the Marmont
yet?” says Carlos.

His arm is still in a sling but it’s not his
pouring arm, so who cares?

“Not yet,” Candy says.

“I have a feeling Mr. Muninn has something to do
with it. I don’t know how long the ride will last but I’m ready to go till the
wheels come off.”

Candy brightens.

“You ought to take a night off and come over,” she
says to Carlos. “I’ll make dinner. And by ‘make dinner,’ I mean I’ll call down
for enough food to sink the Titanic.”

“It’s a date,” says Carlos, and he pours us another
round of Jack.

Father Traven pushes his way inside. He looks a
little overwhelmed. I wonder if he thinks every bar is like Bamboo House. Will
he be disappointed the first time he goes to a civilian one?

“Hey, Father. Damned anyone today?”

He smiles.

“Not a single soul.”

“The night is young. How are you holding up?”

He shrugs. Takes a sip of red wine.

“Fine. Still processing it all. The newspapers are
saying that the Osterberg family had investments in the defense industry and
that his death is being investigated as a possible instance of domestic
terrorism. Apparently Homeland Security is involved.”

I put my Kissi arm around his shoulders. I have
long sleeves and a glove on so he doesn’t have to look.

“Don’t sweat it. I used to do jobs for them.
They’re looking for guys in ski masks, not a priest and some monsters. We’re not
even on their radar.”

“I hope you’re right.”

He turns and looks over the crowd.

Blue-skinned Luderes are gambling at a table near
the jukebox. Manimal Mike and his vucari cousins sit with a bunch of Nahuals
trading shots of expensive tequila and cheap vodka. Shape-shifters, gloomy
necromancers, and club kids dressed like electric peacocks slow-dance to Bob
Wills and the Texas Playboys doing “Blues for Dixie.”

“What if someone got my license-plate number coming
down the hill?”

“When would they do that? When they were being
knocked stupid by rocks or buried under flying sharks? Relax and have a
drink.”

He takes another sip of wine.

“So your angel, Aelita, seems to be behind
everything that’s happened. How tragic that she chose that particular vengeful
ghost.”

“I don’t see it that way.”

Carlos looks as happy as I’ve seen him in a long
time. His brother-in-law is helping out while he’s healing. He seems to like
having a partner.

“There’s nothing tragic or bad luck about it.
Aelita doesn’t make mistakes like that. She knew who the Imp was.”

“She deliberately let loose a piece of the Angra Om
Ya in this world? Why?”

“To help her kill God. I figure that she can’t do
it on her own. Why else would she leave the Qomrama in Hell? She got lucky when
she killed Neshamah, but she doesn’t really know how to use it. The Angra
do.”

Traven picks up a single peanut from the coconut
bowls full of them.

“Why would she invite entities that can destroy the
universe? Presumably, she’d be destroyed too.”

“You said it yourself. God made an offering that
tricked the Angra into another dimension. Maybe she has that or knows how to do
it. She brings the Angra in, uses them, and sends them on their merry way. It’s
exactly how she likes to work.”

“How do you know all this?”

I shrug. I don’t want to tell him that Saint James
and I are dating again and that he’s probably the one who figured it out and I’m
just taking credit.

“It’s the only logical thing.”

“So this isn’t over.”

“This is just getting started.”

Brigitte wobbles by. She’s more than a little
drunk. She opens her mouth in exaggerated silent-movie surprise when she sees
me. “I couldn’t find you in this madhouse. I heard that you took care of Teddy
once and for all.”

I nod.

“He’s dead, burned, and gone. Hallelujah.”

“Thank you,” she says.

She looks at Traven.

“Who is your friend? You haven’t introduced
us.”

“This is Father Traven. He saved my ass when we
were at Teddy’s. Father Traven, this is Brigitte Bardo.”

He puts out his hand. She smiles at his politeness
and how he obviously has no idea who she is.

“Very nice to meet you. Please call me Liam.”

“A father, eh, Liam? I’ve played nuns in many of my
movies.”

“Really? You’re an actress. Can I find your movies
in stores? I’ve just started watching movies.”

I shake my head at him.

“Stick to musicals and John Wayne for a while.
You’re not ready for Brigitte.”

I whisper in Brigitte’s ear.

“Be nice. He was for real. Not one of your
Hollywood hoodoo Holy Rollers.”

She touches his arm.

“A past-tense priest? What happened? Did you fall
in love with a beautiful woman? A handsome boy?”

“He fell for giant-tentacle bastards from another
dimension who want to eat us.”

“They sound charming. You must tell me all about
them.”

The father’s eyes shift back and forth between us.
I’ve revealed his darkest secret and he’s still standing.

“It’s okay, Father. She’s one of us. She’s probably
taken out more monsters than you and me put together.”

I nod at Brigitte.

“Ask him about the Via Dolorosa.”

She smiles brightly.

“The Stations of the Cross? I did a movie about
that too.”

“Please tell me about it.”

She loops her arm in his and leads him away.

Vidocq is coming my way. Allegra isn’t with him.
When he reaches me, he clamps me in a big bear hug.

“I hear that I have you to thank for this sore
jaw.”

“You came at me with a knife and I had to defend my
new shirt.”

“I don’t remember any of it.”

At a table, a couple of civilian card sharks are
going broke trying to hustle psychics at poker.

“And you won’t. That’s how it’s set up. Bastards
get in your head. Play around and pop out and you never have a clue. They tried
doing it to me.”

“Did it work?”

I shake my head.

“The tinfoil hat I had installed saved me.”

He raises a glass of whiskey.

“To the madness we choose. Not the madness others
choose for us.”

“Is Allegra with you?”

He pats me on the shoulder.

“Give her some time.”

“I’m drunk enough to apologize sincerely.”

“I’m sure she’d appreciate that. But give her some
time.”

A succubus slaps a vampire when he bites her throat
and makes a face at the taste of her blood. The Bewlay twins are loaded enough
that they’re transforming other pretty boys into clones of themselves. There’s
going to be a very confusing orgy somewhere tonight.

“I’m not Lucifer anymore. I did to some poor slob
what Samael did to me. Backed him into a corner so he had to take the job.”

“And who was this innocent youth?”

“God.”

He nods.

“May He learn well how the rest of us feel.”

“I need to go out and grab a smoke.”

Candy is talking to Brigitte and Traven. I kiss her
as I go by and head out the door.

The street is crowded with civilians and Lurkers. I
go around the side of the building far enough that there’s no streetlight and
fire up a Malediction. I feel a little earthquake under my feet. A hole opens in
the concrete a few feet away.

“Hi, Cherry,” I say. “Thanks for helping out with
Teddy.”

I go to the edge of the hole and look down. Cherry
is a mess. She’s lost an arm and a lot of teeth. There are a couple of bullet
holes in her skull.

“Thanks for whatever you did to the Imp. She’s
gone.”

“I didn’t do anything to her. I set her free and
let her make her own choice. My guess is she went home.”

“As long as she’s gone.”

“Agreed.”

“Are you fishing for compliments?”

“No. Just thinking about things. Back in Hell,
Great-Great-Great-Granddad told me to pick and choose my fights. I agree with
him but sometimes it’s hard to pick which fights because you don’t know what
they are until you start. I thought I was Elvis on Ice when I stopped Mason’s
war with Heaven. But I left all those Hellions worse off because they thought
they were going to get free from Hell. Then I come back to L.A. to find Candy
off with someone else, Aelita is back, there’s a murdering ghost on the loose,
and a scar-faced skinhead’s looking to kill me all because I cut off a Kissi’s
head a year ago. He deserved it but that doesn’t matter in the big picture. What
matters is everything down the line that killing him triggered. But how do you
know what bad juju you’re shaking loose before you start shaking things up?”