Allegra had a tsunami-size freak-out when I was Samael’s bodyguard while he was in town working on a movie. We barely spoke for a while. I didn’t even say good-bye when I went back to Hell.
“I don’t know how they’d be tighter,” says Candy. She laughs.
“Shut up.”
Candy looks at me, then at Allegra.
“Oh. Shit. I’m sorry.”
She puts down her food.
“That’s why I wanted to tell her,” I say.
“Tell me what?” Allegra says.
I sit there like an idiot. My mouth won’t open. I know what will happen when it does.
Vidocq says, “Darling, things have changed a great deal while Stark was in Hell.”
Allegra’s hand moves halfway to her mouth. A gesture of fear or concern or maybe she’s just stifling a burp.
“My God. You didn’t sell him your soul to get out, did you?”
“No,” I say.
I keep looking across the street at Cairo’s place.
“I am Lucifer.”
I turn and Allegra is looking at me like I answered her in Urdu.
I say, “I didn’t ask for it and I don’t want it. Lucifer, the one you know about, dumped the job on me. I had to protect Alice and the other souls down there. I didn’t have a choice.”
She sets down her chopsticks.
“So now you take souls and lead people into sin.”
“Mostly I just handle paperwork.”
She looks at Vidocq.
“You knew about this?”
He nods.
“It wasn’t my place. He wanted to tell you himself.”
She looks at Candy.>“Are you kidding? This is my new bedtime teddy bear. You and Rinko can move over. I’m snuggling with this cuddly puppy every night.”
I don’t bother pointing out that she hasn’t spent more than a few hours at a time with me, much less an entire night.
We ride in the hotel limo to Max Overdrive. The driver doesn’t talk to us. Doesn’t even look at the rearview mirror. He must have heard about Lucifer’s last driver. The one who ended up with his lips sewn together.
The side door at Max Overdrive looks like an angry drunk beat it to death with a sledgehammer. The store area on the first floor is as trashed as an empty room can be. Every rack and piece of shelving has been tossed around and smashed. That answers one question. It would have taken at least a half hour for one person to do this much damage. So, there was more than one. How many are left? I take out the Sig and start upstairs.
The door is half open. I push it the rest of the way with the toe of my boot.
Kasabian sits on the floor sipping a beer, his back to the minifridge. The bedroom is trashed but in better shape than the store. Nothing looks particularly broken. Just turned over and dumped on the floor. When Kasabian moves, one of his leg’s gears scrape and crunch together. His left leg is bent to the side just below the knee. Hellhounds aren’t dainty devices. It took a lot of strength to do that kind of damage.