Kill the Dead (18 page)

“I can see how your situation sucks, but in case you haven’t noticed, neither one of us is exactly free to go drink mai tais in Maui. Maybe if we don’t shank each other in the shower, we can do something to improve that stupid situation.
I don’t know what exactly, but maybe something.”

“You’re going to improve things? I’m so fucking relieved. Just remember to tell Santa I’ll need a stepladder when he brings me that pony next Christmas.”

I get up and look for some clothes that don’t have blood on them. When I’m pulling on my boots, Kasabian says, “Beelzebub is the only one of the big generals left who hasn’t joined up with Mason’s bunch. He has all the other generals, but Beelzebub’s army is almost as big as all of theirs put together. But if he gets offed or switches sides, that’s it. Mason wins.”

“And Lucifer has nowhere to go.”

“Allegra can teach him to run a cash register. He can be night manager and we’ll be his bosses.”

I check the drawers in the bedside table looking for something to smoke. I check my pockets for the electronic cigarette and then remember that I tossed it into a canal in the ballroom. Sometimes we do dumb things to amuse women.

“There’s something else.”

“Don’t tell me. Mason has a herpes gun. Or a bomb that gives everyone a fat ass and they get depressed and sit around eating ice cream all day while he takes over.”

“Mason is working on something all right. He’s got his own Manhattan Project going with alchemists, sorcerers, witches—human and Hellion—all working together. One of Beelzebub’s spies found out and passed the word along. From what I heard, right after that, he ended up in Tartarus.”

“You can hear things when Lucifer talks with other Hellions?”

“Not always and not everything. But I heard enough of this.”

I shrug and give up on finding smokes. That’s okay. I need to get out of here and walk off some of the knots in my legs and side.

“This isn’t news. Mason’s always got two or three things going at the same time.”

“Yeah, but nothing like this before.”

“What is it?”

“He’s trying to make a new key to the Room of Thirteen Doors.”

I don’t know what I was expecting to hear, but that wasn’t it. But it makes sense. What’s worse is that the prick is talented and relentless enough to actually do it.

“Is that what you didn’t want to tell me?”

“You shot at me once. You threatened to drop me in the ocean and throw me to the coyotes, so I had some concerns you might overreact.”

“You weren’t holding back because you thought you could cut a deal with Mason?”

“Make a deal with the guy who blew me up and left me like this? He’s right at the top of my people-to-trust list.”

“Okay. Thanks for coming clean.”

“You’re taking it pretty well.”

“No. I’m not.”

I head for a shadow next to the closet door, stop, and turn back to Kasabian.

“No one’s going to look out for us but us. We’re just bugs on God’s windshield. You need to get serious and work with me on this or we’re both going to end up in Tartarus.”

“What the Hell is in Tartarus? Even the Codex doesn’t say.”

“I don’t know, but I figure anything that scares Hellions ought to scare me. We need to talk some more, but I need some alone time to clear my head.”

“Me, too.”

“By the way, what happened out back? I wouldn’t have left you out there.”

“Yeah, you would have.”

“Only if I thought you were going to dick me around forever. Then yeah, but only then.”

“Lucky me some schmuck lost a hand.”

“You were wrong, see? Turns out it was a good omen.”

Kasabian scuttles around and hits the eject button on the DVD player.

“You got enough devil movies for tonight?”

“Suddenly I’m out of the mood for those. Maybe I’ll watch
The Great Silence.”

“Do one more devil movie.
Bedazzled.
The original. It makes facing down Lucifer easier if you picture him in a Brit burger joint in a silly cape.”

“Maybe I’ll do that.”

“I’ll be going by Bamboo House later. Want me to bring you back something?”

“A burrito.
Carnitas.
Hot. Not those old-lady ones you get. Lots of salsa and green peppers.”

“Anything else, boss?”

“Thanks for not doing a slice-and-dice when I told you about Mason cooking up a new key.”

“You’ve got good timing. I was going to try and not kill
all those other people out in the world, but that’s on hold since they’re trying to kill me. That means you get to be my no-kill project.”

“Lucky me.”

“Lucky us. We might be doomed, but we’re not in pieces in a Dumpster.”

I
STEP OUT
of a shadow into the hallway by Vidocq’s apartment. Vidocq and Allegra’s. I need to start thinking about it that way. I love the old man, but the thought of him rattling around in there alone used to bother me. Now that he’s with Allegra, it’s different. I don’t know why. Yeah, I do. I don’t want that place to be something else Mason has ruined.

I knock on the apartment door and Allegra answers. She looks at me.

“Since when do you knock?”

“Last time I was here, you said I only came over when I wanted a potion or needed to get sewn up, so I thought I’d come over and try to act like a person for a while.”

She steps back and opens the door more.

“Come in.”

Vidocq comes over, wiping his hands on a black rag that I’m guessing didn’t start out that color. He grabs me in a bear hug.

“Good to see you, my boy. And look, no blood. We need some wine to celebrate.”

“Thanks.”

As he grabs a wine bottle and glasses off the counter, he says, “Allegra was going to call you. Tell him.”

She smiles at me.

“The Cupbearer’s elixir is ready. We finished it maybe an hour ago.”

Vidocq comes back with the bottle, hands out glasses, and pours wine for everyone.

“Allegra figured it out. Often, when those old witches wrote their potions down, they would leave out a step or two to preserve their secrets. We worked all night, but the mixture wouldn’t hold together. Then Allegra intuited a solution. You want to preserve your body, so that’s what we gave it. I found one of your bloody shirts in the trash, cut a piece, and dropped it in. That’s the trick. The elixir must be made for each individual. And this one is yours.”

He hands me a small amber-colored antique apothecary bottle. Like something Mattie Earp would use to hide her laudanum from Wyatt.

“Thanks. I mean it.”

Vidocq stands next to Allegra, puts his arm around her, and kisses her on the temple.

“She will replace us all soon. And you, you’ll be back to yourself, as scarred and lined as Lucifer’s scrotum.”

What can you say to that? I hold up my glass.

“To the devil’s balls.”

Allegra and Vidocq hold up theirs.

He says,
“Pour les bourses du diable.”

Vidocq and I drain our glasses. Allegra sips hers politely.

She says, “Speaking of the devil, is it true you’re working for him?”

I put my hand over the wound where the bullet went in.

“Looks that way. I saved the bastard’s life last night.”

Allegra is looking at me like a disapproving schoolmarm,
but Vidocq leans in for a close look at the bullet hole.

“Saint Raphael’s silk.
Les petites araignées
do beautiful work, don’t they?”

“I wouldn’t know. I had my eyes closed.”

He laughs and pours us more wine.

“I don’t blame you. They’re ugly little buggers.”

Allegra shakes her head when he offers her some.

“How can you work for him?”

“I work for him because he pays me, same as the Vigil.”

“Taking his money doesn’t bother you?”

“Does taking mine when you get paid? Some of your salary comes from what he gives me. A salary for a job you don’t even do anymore.”

“I’m no Bible-thumper, but I don’t think it’s right.”

“A little while ago you were begging me to meet him. Now, all of a sudden, you’re Cotton Mather. What is this?”

“Wanting to see him isn’t the same as working nine-to-five for someone who’s pure evil.”

“He isn’t the one who sent me to Hell. He isn’t the one who wants to destroy the world and Heaven and everything in between. That’s Mason. Lucifer has always played pretty straight with me. It’s humans I worry about. Besides, he’s had me on retainer pretty much since I got back, so I owe him.”

“Do you really think he would worry about what he owed you? You think he wouldn’t trick you so he could take your soul?”

“I don’t care what he would do. I was raised to pay my debts. Besides, I’m Pinocchio, remember? Not exactly a real boy. No one knows if nephilim even have souls.”

“That’s right, stick up for the old man, daddy’s boy.”

“What does that mean?”

“You said Lucifer helped you when you were hunting Mason and the Circle. Up till now he’s been paying you money for doing nothing but being a drunk. Now he’s here with a job he could easily get other people to do, which means it’s really an excuse for keeping you around.”

“I pulled his ass out of the fire last night and I’ve got the holes in me to prove it.”

“How many cops do you think Lucifer owns? How many politicians, soldiers, spies, and corporate billionaires just in California? And you’re the only one who can protect him?”

“You think I can’t?”

“Think about it. Your mother was a pretty, lonely woman and your father was an angel.”

Vidocq sniffs the wine in his glass and shrugs.

“Surely the possibility that Lucifer is your father has crossed your mind before.”

“A lot of things cross my mind, but I let go of the stupid ones.”

Allegra gets closer and puts her hand on my arm. I know she’s trying to be kind, but it feels like a cop about to snap on the cuffs.

“The more you’re with him, the more he’ll suck you down into his world so that you start really acting like his son, and when you do that you’ll be like him and you won’t be Stark anymore.”

“For someone who says she’s not a Bible-thumper, you’ve got a lot of opinions on the subject of the devil.”

“I don’t care about the devil. I care about you. He’s going
to manipulate you and trick you and make you into something you’ll hate.”

I move my arm away from her hand and pour myself more wine.

“You’re just jealous ’cause everyone knows my daddy’s name and no one’s ever heard of yours.”

“This isn’t a joke.”

“Everything is a joke if you come at it from the right angle and that’s the angle I’m coming at this conversation.”

I swallow the wine and set down the glass.

“I spent eleven years Downtown and you think Jake the Snake is going to twist me around in the few weeks it takes to make a movie? I don’t care if he’s my father. All that means is he fucked my mom. I grew up with another guy who fucked my mom and he wanted me dead every day of my life. Hell, in the world’s greatest dad contest, Lucifer wins just for not wanting me laid out with pennies on my eyes. Like I said before, he isn’t what keeps me up at night. It’s humans I worry about.”

Vidocq steps between us and puts a hand on both our shoulders.

“Why don’t we all sit down, have some more wine, and forget this talk of devils and fathers. Neither of those subjects ever leads to anything pleasant.”

I look at Allegra. Her heart is going like crazy and her pupils are dilated. Her breathing is steady, but she’s having to work at it.

“Thanks. But I’ve got to be somewhere.”

“Please don’t go,” she says.

She puts her hand on my arm again. I pull away and go to the door.

“Thanks again for the elixir. What do I do with it?”

“Just drink it,” says Vidocq. “But mix it with something first. It tastes a bit like turpentine.”

“I’ll pick up some margarita mix and little umbrellas. Thanks.”

“Come back soon, okay?” says Allegra.

I open the door and go out into the hall. I don’t have anything to say to her, so I don’t say anything.

Of course, it’s occurred to me that Lucifer might be my father, but how do you even begin to wrap your mind around something like that? Is he the secret to my whole sorry life? Why I had so much power when I was a kid and why I never did a damn thing with it when I got older? Is it that simple? Maybe it’s why it was so easy for Mason to send me to hell. And why I get everyone I care about killed or hurt on a regular basis. The worst thing is having to admit that maybe Aelita is right. Maybe I am an Abomination. Daddy’s boy, just a chip off the old brimstone.

T
EN MINUTES LATER
I’m talking to Carlos at Bamboo House of Dolls. Tak Shindo’s “Bali Hai” is on the jukebox.

“On a scale of one to ten, how evil do I come off? Let’s say one is Santa baking cookies for orphans and ten is Hitler eating babies with Freddy Krueger.”

“You’re sure not Santa. But I don’t see you dipping babies in ranch dressing. To me how evil you are depends entirely on how much blood you track on my floors.”

“You don’t think I’m trying to trick you into becoming a serial killer or working for the IRS or something else horrible?”

“No. You just need to remember to wipe your feet sometime between when you kill things and when you come in here.”

“That’s good to hear. I trust you because you’re a businessman and I know you wouldn’t want Hannibal Lecter hanging around your bar.”

“What do I care? ’Cause of the business you bring in, I’m going to be able to retire early. If you have to eat a few people to make that happen, I’ll turn my back.”

“You’re a saint. You’re Mother Teresa with a happy hour.”

“I just call ’em like I see ’em. You might be crazy, but you’re just not that evil, bro.”

“Thanks. I just wanted a second opinion.”

“Want something to eat?”

“Maybe just some black beans and rice. And I’m going to need a burrito to go. Spicy enough to melt an engine block. It’s for a friend, not me, so I’ll give you cash for that.”

Carlos shakes his head.

“Don’t be stupid. You want some of the red stuff?”

“A double. I’m drinking for two today. My scars and me.”