“Do you know who I am these days? I’m Lucifer, the lord high asshole of the Underworld. I’ll sleep anywhere I want.”
Kasabian tilts his eyes toward me without turning his head from the movie.
“You mean you’re broke.”
“Completely.”
He opens one of the desk drawers and pulls out a carton of Maledictions. Instead of cigarettes, it’s full of cash. He peels off two hundred-dollar bills and holds them out to me. I don’t move to take them. After a minute he peels off a few more bills. I take them and stuff them in my pocket.
“Don’t think I’m always going to let you be so stingy with my money.”
“This is my money,” he says. “You gave your money away.”
I don’t feel like arguing the point. I lift up the mattress and feel around for my guns.
“Don’t bother. Saint James took them when he took the money.”
“Even Wild Bill’s Colt?”
“All of them.”
The old Navy Colt wasn’t Wild Bill’s actual gun but it was as close as I’m ever going to get and now it’s gone. That’s cold.
I get the Glock and my na’at from the duffel bag. The na’at goes inside my coat while the Glock goes in my waistband at my back.
“I’m leaving the duffel here until I figure out where I’m staying.”
Kasabian tosses me an unopened pack of Maledictions. That’s quite a thing coming from him. He must think it’s my birthday.
“Don’t bother. Pope Joan still works nights at the Beat Hotel. Drop some gelt on her and I bet she’ll give you our old room. I think I might have even hid some money in the air vent.”
I pick up the bag and start out.
“Good to see you on your feet, Old Yeller.”
“Happy hunting, Tin Man.”
I catch a glimpse of Kasabian in the window by the desk. In the glass his face is normal and clean, but the guy sitting in the chair is a grimy mess. That’s it, then. The Devil has special eyes. He can see sin. I wonder what Samael saw when he looked at me.
I get on the bike and drive at an entirely reasonable speed through backstreets to Allegra’s clinic. I use hand signals and everything. Look at me, Mom. A solid citizen at last.
What used to be Doc Kinski’s clinic and is currently Allegra’s is in a strip mall near where Sunset and Hollywood Boulevards meet. There’s a fried chicken franchise on one end of the mall and a local pizza joint on the other, with a Vietnamese nail salon and the clinic in between. The parking lot smells like a high school lunchroom and is one of the top ten last places anyone hunting heavy angelic magic would look.
The blinds are drawn in all the clinic windows. It says EXISTENTIAL HEALING on the door in gold peel-and-stick letters. I take the handle and pull. It’s locked. I raise my hand to knock and lower it. Seeing Kasabian is one thing—we’re both the biggest freaks the other knows—but this will be different. There are normal people in here. Not normal normal people, but ones who act and feel like normal people.
I don’t know what to say to Candy. Three months ago I told her I’d be back in three days. And Allegra. I didn’t even say good-bye to Allegra before I left. She freaked out when I briefly worked as Samael’s bodyguard and things haven’t been right between us since. If Vidocq is inside, that’s another whole complication. The old man is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a real father. But he’s also French, and loud when he gets excited. Right now I don’t know if I can handle either one, much less both. Still.
I knock on the door.
It opens a crack and a heavyset blonde with blue skin and horns peers out at me. She’s a Ludere. A kind of Lurker. The whole tribe are compulsive gamblers. Probably the only reason she works here is so she can run a line on which patients are going to recover and which are going to die.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Everyone thinks I’m dead, so probably not.”
She reaches out through the open door and shoves a business card into my hand.
“Call and Dr. Allegra will see you when she can.”