Underneath the vines and mold on one wall is a sign pointing the way to the Roman baths. As we head down there I move the bones from my pocket into the lining of my coat. Stick the SIG in my pocket. If I can’t throw any hoodoo, I’m sure as shit going be ready to blast every Shoggot and monster Morlock piece of shit in Kill City.
There’s a cool wind blowing between the doors to the baths. Maybe a hole that’s letting in a sea breeze. Thin, dawn light filters through filthy windows in the ceiling several floors above the main bath, turning it into a strange ceremonial space. Somewhere to come for a baptism or human sacrifice after getting a perm.
There’s a fake Roman temple at one end of the bathing area. The main pool is octagonal, with three tiered steps down to a foot of tea-colored water full of loose tiles and broken furniture. Delon heads for the temple. The others circle the pool, staring into the scummy water like maybe the 8 Ball will float to the surface like Excalibur and fling itself into our arms. I sit down on the top step of the pool and take out a Malediction. The flare from the lighter gets everyone’s attention, but when they see it’s just me, they go back to looking disappointed.
“What happens now?” says Traven. “Does anyone know how to summon the ghost?”
All their beady little eyes turn in my direction. I shake my head.
“Don’t look at me. I couldn’t pull a bunny out of a hat right now.”
“Anybody else?” says Traven. “Brigitte. You worked with the dead. Do you know anything?”
She squats at the top of the pool and flicks in a pea-size piece of concrete with her thumb.
“This is the wrong type of dead. I know nothing about ghosts.”
“Vidocq? Do you have any tricks or potions?”
Vidocq raises his hands and drops them to his sides, a gesture of exasperation.
“Rien. Nothing.”
“We can’t have come all this way for nothing.”
Candy comes over and hands me her water bottle. I didn’t even know I was thirsty, but once I start drinking, it’s hard to stop. I hand her back the bottle.
“Any ideas?” she says.
“One.”
“You better act on it before you have a mutiny.”
I take a puff of the Malediction.
“Hey, asshole,” I yell. “Come out, come out, or I’m going to burn Kill City down. Also, Aelita sent us for the Qomrama.”
A gust of wind stirs the water. The light from the ceiling dims for a moment.
“Liar,” comes a disembodied male voice. “Aelita wouldn’t let you pick up her laundry.”
“If I say your name three times, will you show us your pretty face, Bloody Mary?”
“Why? I’m happy this way.”
“Are you afraid of us?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“You’re afraid of something,” I say.
“So are you, sonny. Being afraid is one of the realities of existence.”
Delon is back by the pool. He looks around the room, trying to pinpoint the ghost voice. Brigitte and Traven are as wide-eyed as starstruck teenyboppers. Vidocq, Candy, and I have all run into ghosts before. The others have never been in a real haunted house. Welcome to the Loudmouthed Dead Club.
“You know, for someone people keep telling us is a madman, you don’t sound all that crazy. Say something batshit for me so I know it’s really you.”
Silence. The cold wind blows in from a door at the back of the room.
“Samael is back in Hell. I don’t know if that’s exactly crazy, but it’s pretty funny. Also, one of you isn’t what he seems.”
No shit, Casper. It’s a real effort not to look at Delon.
I say, “I know all about that. How do you know about Samael?”
“The same way I know when and where you got that nasty Kissi arm.”
Slowly, he comes into focus, like an image on a video screen. First, the general shape forms and then it finally sharpens.
He’s entirely green—head, hair, and skin. And maybe a little taller than his brothers. Definitely not as round. Calling him buff would be stretching it, but by the family standards, the guy is Captain America.
“Fuck me. I should have known one of you was behind this bullshit. Does Muninn know you’re here?”
The ghost’s face splits into a wide grin. Not ghost. Mr. Muninn’s almost-twin. One of the God brothers.
“The five of us share some thoughts and knowledge in common, but we each have our secrets. This is one of mine.”
I get up and flick the Malediction into the pool a couple of feet from him.
“Hey, Father. Let me make some introductions. Father Traven, meet God. God, meet Father Traven.”
Traven’s eyes narrow at me. He can’t tell if I’m kidding or not. But he’s a smart enough guy and we’ve talked enough and he’s read enough arcana to work out the rest for himself.
“You’re God?” he says.
“A piece of the pie, yes. You look disappointed. Turn that around, multiply it by a million, and you’ll know how I feel about you people.”
I stand next to Traven in case he decides to freak out or faint.
“Remember how I told you that God had a nervous breakdown and broke into little pieces? The Mr. Muninn part is in Hell. Ruach is driving everyone crazy in Heaven. Neshamah is dead. That leaves two. Which one are you?”
“Nefesh,” he says, and mimes doffing a hat. “The smart one. The one no one even looks for because he’s an incorporeal, crazy old spook in a town teeming with them.”
He becomes solid, standing on the water like a lime Jell-O Jesus. He points at me.
“You, pretty boy. Give an old man a cigarette.”
I toss him the Maledictions and the lighter. Nefesh catches one in each hand. He rolls his eyes when he sees the cigarette brand. But he still takes one and lights up. Being a God of love, he tosses me back the lighter and smokes.
“I’m speechless,” says Traven. “I devoted my life to you and now I see you’re nothing but a ridiculous, foulmouthed little man.”
Nefesh raises a finger to Traven. An admonishment.
“You didn’t devote your life to me. You lost your calling a long time ago and hid from me in your books. And then you wrote that one particular book. Naughty, naughty.”
“You’re angry with me for translating a book?” says Traven. “But it was your duplicity that made it necessary for me to do it. No. You don’t get to reject me. I reject you.”
Nefesh lazily puffs the Malediction.
“Too late, priest. I got there first. I win again.”
I say, “You have to admit it’s kind of funny when you think about it. A guy powerful enough to run the universe and sneaky enough to trick the Angra out of it ends up a cabana boy in a drainage ditch. That has to make you smile just a little.”
Traven looks at me. His face is gray. Drained of blood.
“You’ve seen these kinds of horrors before. I’ve only seen them in my worst nightmares. I can’t find the humor in this situation.”
Brigitte puts her arm around Traven’s shoulder and leads him away from the pool.
“This man will give you no satisfaction. Turn your back on him,” she says.
“Do we have souls, Stark and me?” shouts Candy.
Nefesh looks at her like he hadn’t even noticed her before. I pull her away, pointing a finger at him.
“Don’t answer that.”
I pull Candy to the wall.
“Look at that clown. Do you really care what he says? Will knowing make a difference in what we do tomorrow or the day after? Forget the question. Forget him. Let’s just get the 8 Ball and get out of here.”