So this is what someone looks like when they’ve sold their soul. His face isn’t streaked with dirty sin signs like other people. It’s a thick liquid black like someone held him down and painted him with hot tar.
“Who the fuck are you?” he says in a high slurred voice.
“The friend of a friend who said you know things about things.”
“What kind of things?”
“To start with, what happens to little boys who sell their soul? You’ve had a good run, Mike. Now it’s time to collect.”
I take off my glove and stick the Kissi index finger in the barrel of his 9mm. Lift it from his hand and drop it on the sofa. He falls onto his ass and crab-walks backward across the floor. It’s an impressive sight considering how drunk he is.
“Twenty years! That was the deal! I’m just starting to break into the bigger markets.”
Mike gets up and stumbles to his worktable. He picks up the mechanical python.
“See this? It’s for Indrid Cold. A hot-shit demon wrangler. She came to me off a recommendation from another big shot. I’m starting to do for the high-and-mighties. You can’t take me now.”
Mike might be a drunk but the snake looks like good work. Mike is a Tick Tock Man, the modern equivalent of what medieval Sub Rosas would have called a Raven Maker. Tick Tock Men and Raven Makers create spirit familiars. Raven Makers out of flesh and bones. Tick Tock Men out of wood and metal. The kind of Sub Rosa that use familiars aren’t usually the kind that has the money to have them built to spec. However, for rich witches and well-heeled Sub Rosa groupies, having multiple familiars is a status symbol. Like rich people owning summer and winter homes.
Seeing as how I already have Mike against the ropes, there’s no reason to change my story.
“I know the deal was for twenty years, but if this is the best you’ve done with your time, I might have to call in your soul early on account of you pickling the thing like a county-fair gherkin.”
“No. Please. What do you want? You want a cat? No. A lion for someone as powerful and glorious as you. And maybe a puppy for your lady friend?”
“A puppy?” says Candy. She picks up a wood chisel and points it at him like a knife. “How about I nail some wheels on you and ride you around like a toy horse. Would you like that, rummy?”
I gently put my hand on her arm and lower the chisel to her side.
“What my associate is getting at is that we’re in the soul market, not the low-rent bribe market. Do you have anything else to offer?”
“You asked about information. What do you want to know? Lots of people want familiars who can’t afford them. I trade them for info on bigwigs. Ask me anything. I bet I can help out.”
I look at Candy. She smiles. I think she might like a puppy but she’d never admit it.
“I’m looking for an angel. He was in town until recently. People say he killed the mayor’s son.”
“Oh. That guy. Yeah, I heard about him. What do you want to know?”
“Where I can find him.”
Mike shakes his head.
“If I tell you, I get my soul back?”
“No, Mike. It’s not that easy. First, the information has to be real and worth my time. I won’t know that until I check it out. Second, you’re not going to get your soul for a lousy address. I got your address for nothing.”
Mike takes a shop rag from his back pocket and nervously wipes his dirty hands.
“What else do you want from me?”
“Watch your tone, pony boy,” says Candy.
Mike looks like he’s about to keel over.
“Blue Heaven,” he says.
“What’s Blue Heaven?”