I can’t stand this. Get me out of here. Take me home.
The roar and the wind hit like a hurricane. Things shoot past me, shrieking like tracer rounds. All metal and leaving trails of lights. A blue-brown twilight sky hovers above gray clouds. I smell diesel fumes and scorched engine oil. A green sign trimmed in white catches my eye. It reads CRENSHAW BOULEVARD EXIT.
I recognize this. I’m on the I-10 freeway above where I did the Black Dahlia and splattered my brains and bones on a freeway support. I can’t help it. I laugh and laugh like a lunatic way off his meds.
This is L.A. I’m home.
Mustang Sally, the beautiful sylph and goddess of the roads, is perched on the hood of a silver Mercedes 550 convertible in the breakdown lane, smoking like she’s been waiting for me the whole time I’ve been gone. She smiles and crooks a finger to my right. I turn.
A sixteen-wheeler is bearing down on me going seventy. The driver is laying on the air horn as cars flash by all around me. Right. Cars. Fuck. Standing on freeways is bad even if you’re magic.
There’s nowhere to run. I close my eyes and try to come up with some clever hoodoo but all that’s in my head is Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.
Suddenly the roar is gone and the smells with it and the sudden gusts of wind as things whiz by. When I open my eyes, all that’s left of L.A. is a faint afterimage of Mustang Sally’s Cheshire-cat smile. I’m back in the library.
My brain is whirling like it’s going to splatter itself all over the inside of my skull like carnival spin art. I was home and it wasn’t any harder than walking from one room to another. Only I think I need to maybe get more specific about what room.
My legs are shaking too much to walk. I sit crossed-legged on the cool marble floor. Stare at it, making sure it’s real.
My burned hand throbs and my chest itches and I couldn’t give less of a goddamn. Suddenly every shitty, painful moment of the last three months has been worth it. I was home and I can do it again.
Every part of me wants to go back to L.A. right now and stay there and pretend none of this ever happened. But I know if I run off, there are things that will bite large chunks out of my ass later. Take care of business and get out clean. I’m halfway home. More than halfway. Getting away clean means making nice with people I never want to lay eyes on again. I’ve got to get Brimborion in gear and start making calls.
But that can wait a minute. Until I get off the floor, which will be any minute now. After my legs stop shaking and I catch my breath. Until then I’m just going to sit here in the cool quiet with my magic yellow book and think of how many ways this freak factory can kiss my ass on its way out the door.
I spend the next day tying up loose ends. I’m expecting a lot of ritual square dancing but it turns out blowing town might be easier than I thought. I decided to blow off the planning committee and their budgets. That leaves my inner council.
Merihim isn’t returning my calls. A sore loser in a battle he hasn’t even lost yet. But for the first time he and his church have to justify their existence and it’s making him cranky. Boo-hoo. Take two altar boys and call me in the morning.
The other members of the Council are tied up. Buer is at the City Hall building site. There’s no reason to get him off it since it’s one of the few projects that’s actually accomplishing something. Obyzuth is with Deumos, so she knows the score. There’s Marchosias but she’s not sending me any good-bye roses. She’s busy wheeling and dealing with other Hellion politicos, giving them the good word that Lucifer is alive and well despite another ambush. The king is the land, the land is the king, and as long as Lucifer lives, the ground won’t open and gobble the place down like a California roll.
The bedroom is still a broken little FUBAR island. What’s-his-name the herbalist, just a pile of gristle and bones on the stained bed. Snowdrifts of Kentucky fried insects. Bullet holes in the wall. Burn marks around the electric outlet. Shards of porcelain from the broken bathroom sink. In all, a fitting monument to my stellar turn as Lucifer. Leave it just like this. Let the next Lucifer clean it up.
I toss my coat on the bed and give myself the once-over in the mirror. New scars on my face and hand. A left arm that looks like a tin-plated grasshopper. A livid burn on my chest above the armor. My eyes are stuck in a thousand-yard-arena death stare. I might even see some gray hairs. I look like old roadkill in new boots.
I can’t go home looking like this. I take long, slow breaths and try to relax. I practice a smile but that just makes things worse. I’m not sure how wide to make it. How many teeth should I show? You’re not supposed to think about smiling. You just do it. I curl up the ends of my lips and open my eyes. Not bad: if I want to look like a paint-huffing shark.
I call Brimborion and tell him to come up in an hour. Then dial the witches downstairs. Let them know I’ll be paying them a visit. A couple of other short calls and then I head down to the kennels to feed the hellhounds.
Brimborion is a pain in the ass but he’s a prompt pain in the ass. He knocks on the bedroom door in exactly one hour. I’m shoving clothes, Aqua Regia, and cigarettes into a duffel bag I found. With some silk stockings and chocolate, I could be one of Harry Lime’s pals in The Third Man.
“The door’s open.”
Brimborion comes over to the bed where I’m packing.
“I’m taking off. We got Vetis but we don’t know if we got his whole crew. You working with me makes you a target, so you should have this.”
I toss him the Glock.
“You know how to use it?”
I’m stuffing a couple of last cartons of Maledictions into the duffel when Brimborion racks in a shell and presses the gun into the back of my head.
“That’s not a Happy Meal, pal. No matter how hard you push, there aren’t any prizes inside.”
“Give me the weapon,” he says.
“The 8 Ball? No. I need some souvenirs and the gift shop is closed.”
“Lucifer’s armor might give you power but I think five or six shots in the head from this range would kill even the Light Bringer.”
“Before you carry out this brilliant plan, tell me this: Did Marchosias come to you or did you go to her?”
He hesitates.
“Why do you think she’s involved? I’m the one with the gun to your head.”
“First, she’s the only one who might want the job. Second, you’re the one with the gun to my head, meaning you’re stupid and she’s not. She’d never touch anything that might be traced back to her.”
“Who cares? Vetis is going to be killed escaping. His confederates will commit suicide when they hear about it. You’ll be dead and someone will have to step in to fill the vacuum.”
I get the cigarettes in the duffel and zip it closed. Brimborion jumps at the sound and shoves the gun harder into my head.
“Is that the deal she offered you? You help Vetis. Get him and his boys maintenance uniforms so they can move around the palace. They get taken down but I’m killed by one of their vengeful stooges. Tragic but understandable.”
“And I’m the only one who knows how you work,” says Brimborion. “What you had planned. I’m the one to whom you came to for counsel. I don’t have the rank or respectability to become Lucifer right away, but with no one else available, Marchosias will appoint me regent.”
“And you’ll do such a bang-up job everyone will grovel and beg you to become Lucifer 3.0.”
“And I’ll humbly accept.”
“You know the only reason Marchosias brought you into the deal is because you hillbillies won’t ever go for a
woman Lucifer. So she needs a Muppet like you to be her beard.”
I start to turn but he grabs my shoulder and holds me.
“It was worth a finger to get rid of you. No one in all of Hell will shed a tear when you’re gone.”
“I will.”
I can hear his fiend’s heart beating like a bar band doing a cover of “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida.” He stinks of Aqua Regia and some kind of Hellion speed I haven’t smelled before.
“Did Vetis kill Ipos or did you? I’m guessing Vetis. Ipos would crack you open and play Jenga with your bones.”
“Among the many reasons I hate you is that you only drank enough to be infuriating. Just a little more and the possession key might have worked and then none of this would have been necessary. You would have appointed me the new Lucifer and killed yourself on the palace steps. You don’t even want to be Lucifer and it’s impossible to stop you from doing it.”
“But you won’t be Lucifer. Marchosias will. Wise up, Tom Swift. She gets the power and all you’re getting is a desk and new stationery.”
I take Mason’s lighter out of my pocket and pick up an unopened pack of Maledictions from the bed. Brimborion starts and takes a step back as I tear open the pack, tap out a smoke, and light up.
“How did you know Marchosias and I were working together?” he asks.
“It was the thing with Lahash. What a zany coincidence it was that your dope dealer attacked me. You and Marchosias got drugs from him to dose Ukobach. I’m guessing Marchosias got the idea from Mason when he was experimenting on those poor bastards in the hidden room. Vetis and his fake maintenance crew smuggled Lahash in using one of your passkeys. Lahash and I were supposed to kill each other but Vetis let him out early. I wonder why. If you died, Marchosias would need a new front guy. Vetis maybe? Think about it. A legionnaire is a lot better choice for Lucifer than a secretary. You’re as dumb as a hat full of horseshit.”
He cocks the pistol.
“You have ten seconds to tell me what you’ve done with the weapon.”
“The weapon. You don’t even know what it’s called. I bet you about wet yourself when I upped the library security and you couldn’t snoop around anymore. Too bad too. I was afraid of losing the 8 Ball, so I kept it close by. A few more hours and you would have had it.”
“That’s good enough. Better than talking to you anymore.”
Click. He pulls the trigger again. Another click.
“Marchosias would never bet her life on a gun she wasn’t sure worked. See what I mean about stupid?”
Semyazah and Wild Bill come out of the bathroom. Both are holding pistols. Brimborion stares at them. I put the lit end of the Malediction to the back of his hand and he drops the Glock on the bed. I backhand him with my Kissi hand and bounce him off the wall.
“What did I say would happen if you ever threatened me again?”
He stares dumbly, hugging his bandaged hand to his chest. I put my hand around his wrist.
“I said I’d take the whole arm.”
I let the dark flow out of me. Twisting and growing, it expands like the corona of a black sun. The dark encircles us in a freezing void, leaving Brimborion and me the only two beings in a lonely, freezing universe.
Black tendrils like strangler vines flow down from overhead while tentacles whip up from deep below. Thorny, twitching things with circles of razor-sharp teeth that spin like drill bits. Brimborion backs away but the darkness wraps around him, pulling him deeper into the black tide. The drilling teeth brace themselves against his flesh, waiting for my signal.
I grab Brimborion’s arm in my Kissi hand.
“Did Lahash steal from you or try to blackmail you or was he just a convenient fall guy? Do you think he could feel what was happening when they put the bugs into him? Or maybe later when they came out?”
Brimborion opens his mouth to scream but the dark flows in and he chokes on it.
I move my hand up to where his arm connects with his shoulder and say, “Here.”
The teeth spin. The drilling starts. Brimborion tries to wriggle away but the tentacles have him and the black vines wrap around his head, stifling his screams.
When the drilling stops, he looks at the arm, expecting to see blood and bone. There’s nothing. The skin isn’t even broken. He rubs at a few faint scratches. The skin collapses under his fingers like papier-mâché. That’s his cue to scream. He claws at the hollow arm, pulling dry dead flesh off brittle bones. Insects pour out of him. He’s ripped his arm back all the way to the shoulder by the time he understands what’s happening. He tries to shake off the insects but they’re dug in too deep. Dry bones in his arm snap and it falls where it’s snatched out of the air by a tentacle that draws it down into the void. He looks at me as the tentacles hold him, giving the hungry insects time to finish their work. It doesn’t take long. When Brimborion falls, his body is as dry and empty as a locust husk.
I let the dark go and it flows back into me like it was never there.
“I hope I never have to see that again,” says Semyazah.
“You could see that?”
He nods.
“Enough. Like through a fog.”
Bill says, “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
“You still think I have a good side?”
“There’s a search party out for it but I’m optimistic they’ll turn up something.”
Semyazah goes over to Brimborion’s body. Touches it tentatively with his boot, like he’s not sure its real.
“If only you took Lucifer’s other duties as seriously as you take killing your enemies.”
“Which duties? Leading spooky rituals or pretending I love pie charts? What I’m good at is killing sons of bitches who want to kill me. How long have you Hellions been trying it? Nearly twelve years now. What anniversary is that? Pewter? Shit? Napalm?”
Bill sits on the bed. Bounces up and down on his ass like a customer in a mattress outlet. He fingers the blanket and sheets. Semyazah gives Bill a look but he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.
“And now you’ll go home and leave us without a Lucifer and the city will burn. Hellions and damned souls will perish but you’ll have what you want and isn’t that all that matters?”
“I can’t babysit you assholes forever. I have things to do. But I’m coming back. Samael used to leave all the time and he always came back.”
“This was his home and we knew he’d always return. What incentive do you have to come back?”
“None, but I’m coming back anyway. Not to save you. Hell, most of you want to die anyway, so they don’t care. But I’m coming back because there’s souls down here I care about. I won’t let Hell fall apart again.”
“I expect we’ll see.”
He holsters his gun and I say a silent thanks. I don’t want to get into a fight with the one general that can stand the sight of me. And I really don’t want to go home with holes in my face.
“I’m taking the peepers with me. If there’s an emergency or you just get lonely, leave a note on the desk in the library.”
“That’s very reassuring.”
I motion for Bill to get up, reach between the mattress and the box spring, and pull out a full Glock clip. I eject the clip of blanks and slap in the real one. Out of habit I start to tuck the gun in the waistband of my pants but stop. I look at Semyazah.
“How much of this shit did you see coming and didn’t let me in on?”
“Marchosias isn’t a surprise but I didn’t know it would happen so soon. As for Vetis, he was a surprise. And certainly not the rise of Deumos and her church. You’ve
changed the very nature of Hell in the last couple of days, do you know that?”
“You’re really worried about Hell’s survival.”
“This place is my home more than Heaven ever was.”
“That’s why I’m putting you in charge while I’m gone.”
Semyazah’s forehead creases and he shakes his head.
“Please don’t.”
“I don’t trust you but you didn’t join up with Mason, so you don’t want to die right now. Besides you, I can’t think of anyone else who actually cares about this place.”
“My lord, please.”
“Sorry, man. The thing is you’re like David Coverdale and Hell is like Deep Purple without a singer. You don’t know if you want the gig and the band isn’t sure they want you up front, but you need each other to tour. So shut up. Tune up. Learn ‘Smoke on the Water’ and smile pretty for the fans.”
I toss the Glock to Wild Bill.
“That’s for you.”
He turns the Glock over in his hands. Weighs in. Sights on Brimborion’s body. Tosses it back to me.
“I don’t trust a gun I can’t see where the bullets go in.”
He drops back onto the bed.
“But if you’re in a generous mood, I’d take one of these. Without the dead man, of course.”
“I’ll have someone send one to the bar.”
“And covers and such. These sheets are as soft as a widow’s bottom.”
“They’ll send the works.”
I tuck the Glock in the waistband behind my back. Semyazah has gone to the window to look over his temporary kingdom.
“When you were talking to Brimborion, I was impressed that you figured all that out.”
“Half of it was guessing. After the Lahash thing it was just figuring out who could pull off a coup on short notice. Marchosias is the only one smart and ballsy enough and with the right connections.”
He looks over his shoulder at Brimborion.
“I’ve never seen a man so cheerfully confess his crimes.”
Devil Said Bang ss-4 Page 14