“I know Father Traven told you the story. Would you like to hear my side of it?”
“Yes. But not right this minute. I took some bullets today, and don’t tell anyone, but they still hurt.”
“Would you like me to take them out for you?”
“Sure. Later. Right now I want to get the other thing settled. Are you willing to do me the favor you promised?”
“Yes.”
“I think you know what it is.”
“I suspect so.”
I walk over to him, passing a table piled with old Hollywood head shots and shattered pieces of the Druj Ammun seal.
“I don’t care if you didn’t really create the universe. You still made the souls. There are a lot of them Downtown that could use someone to keep an eye on them better than Hellions can. The Hellions aren’t doing all that well themselves. They’re killing each other when they aren’t killing themselves. Hellions are your children too, right? They can both use the kind of help a half-assed Lucifer like me can’t give them.”
“And you think I have the right experience to be Lucifer? I’m not sure if I should be flattered or hurt.”
“You’re a deity. At least you have something to work from. I was just playing free jazz. You really need to take the job. If I go back to Hell, I’ll never leave and Hell will burn without a Lucifer.”
He looks away and throws the last of the coins in the air. They hang there before falling on the table in a neat stack.
“Of course I’ll go. A bargain is a bargain. But you must do something for me first.”
“What?”
“Forgive the part of you you call Saint James.”
“Forget it. He’s a useless Pat Boone twerp with a bad case of poor poor pitiful me. I’m always the bad guy and he’s always the victim. Forget it. He left. He can stay left.”
“Are you sure that’s how you want it?”
“I have the armor. I don’t need him.”
“But you just appointed me Lucifer. The armor is mine.”
I hadn’t thought of that.
“He left. I don’t beg favors.”
“You don’t have to. Just tell me, would you like to be whole and complete again?”
“Are you God or Dear Abby?”
“You’re avoiding the question because the answer is yes and you’re too proud and hurt to say it.”
“Bullshit.”
“You can’t lie to me, James. I’m God.”
“Fine. Sure. I’d like to be one big slice of apple pie but I’m not kissing Saint James’s ass.”
“You don’t have to. While you were talking I reintegrated you.”
I look at my hands.
“Bullshit. If he was back in my head, he’d be screaming. I don’t feel any different.”