DURING THE NIGHT, I go out through a shadow to see the clinic. The whole mall is gone. Just burned timbers, broken glass, and collapsed roofs. I don’t mention it to either one of them.
There are bottles and packages scattered over Vidocq’s worktable. It’s too haphazard to be his stuff. I pick up a small bundle of yellow herbs and give it a sniff. They stink of smoke. These few things are what Allegra managed to grab from the clinic before she had to run. Bottles of rare potions and plants. A couple of old handwritten books. Probably Doc Kinski’s personal medical notes. A chunk of blue amber. Some red mercury. Carefully wrapped in silk are the two pieces of divine light glass that heal most injuries. There are a couple of small vials on the end that I don’t recognize.
“They’re potions for Candy. Allegra made them fresh herself, so there’s no chance of them being poisoned,” says Vidocq.
I didn’t hear him come in.
“How’s Allegra doing?”
He shrugs.
“Badly. But it could be worse. Thank you for coming over.”
“Anytime. What else can I do?”
He drops down onto the old couch. Rubs his eyes.
“Nothing. She’s asleep now. I think when she wakes she’d like to be alone for a while to collect her thoughts.”
“Sure. I’ll take off.”
“I don’t mean to throw you out.”
“Don’t worry about it. But there’s one thing,” I say.
I set down a Desert Eagle .50 that some Satanists gave me a while back.
“That will shoot through a wall and still kill anything on the other side. Don’t be shy about using it.”
Vidocq picks up the gun and weighs it in his hand. Sights down the barrel. He nods.
“I don’t like these things, but times like this force us to reconsider our prejudices.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
“Thank you.”
“I know it will sound lame, but tell Allegra I’m sorry and I’ll try to find out who did it.”
“I’ll tell her.”
I ride the hog home. It’s morning, but no brighter than it was the night before. I change my route when I see a couple of patrol cars in the distance. A big vehicle—maybe one of the Vigil’s ASVs—shoots across Hollywood near Western.
I park the bike next to Max Overdrive and go in the side door.
Kasabian is hiding in his room. Delivery food boxes and beer bottles are piled up outside his door. Money is the magic anyone can do, and Kasabian always has a little stashed away no matter how broke he claims to be. Only he could find someone still delivering food. I wonder how much a burger costs these days.
When Howard Hughes went crazy, he locked himself in a room and watched Ice Station Zebra on a loop. With Candy it’s Spirited Away. Kasabian has the original Dawn of the Dead going in his room. The jagged Goblin sound track fills the whole first floor. I go upstairs and close the door.
I wonder about the cops that watched Allegra’s clinic burn. Was that official policy or hillbilly street justice? Maybe the cops and the arsonists were working together to take out a Lurker safe haven. That’s just with the city needs. A bunch of righteous vigilantes.
I suppose the existence of Lurkers couldn’t be a secret forever. It was hard enough for the Sub Rosa plants in the police department to keep them off the books. Now that everything’s falling apart, the few assholes in power who knew something or suspected something are free to shake whatever tree they like and see what falls out. How long before someone pays a visit to Bamboo House of Dolls? It’s a good thing the city is deserted. What Lurkers don’t need is having all of L.A. going ballistic when they find out that monsters have been living among them since forever.
I walk around the apartment. Look at Candy’s things and wonder if I found something that might make her feel better, would Wells let me give it to her? I doubt it. He doesn’t want to look like he’s doing me any more favors than he’s already done.
I keep hoping for a call that Mason wants me to come in early so we can get things over with. After yesterday’s crash-and-burn, I don’t want to lose my cool again. He’s going to try another one of his nonsense games and I can’t let it get to me. Follow Muninn’s advice. Go with whatever Mason wants. Don’t fight back. Watch him. Go total Zen on the little prick and see what happens.
Sometime in the night Kasabian stuffed towels around the bottom of the front door when water started leaking in. They’re soaked through. I go down and replace them. There. That used up a whole two minutes. I keep checking the time.
Kasabian watches the news sometimes. I should ask him if things are this crazy in the rest of the world. But do I really want to know?
My phone rings. I grab it without bothering to check the number.
“You didn’t think I was going to leave him to the vultures, did you?” says Deumos.
“Vultures. Worms. Hellhounds. It’s all the same to me, as long as he’s dead.”
“You could’ve joined us, but that moment has passed.”
“I guess so. Anything else on your mind?”
“Enjoy what’s coming.”
“Nothing is coming. I’m going to stop it and you’re going to live a good long miserable life in Hell with all your idiot followers. Assuming they don’t lynch you.”
“When will your friends turn on you? Your lover is in jail. Your friend’s hospital is burned. Your benefactors at the Golden Vigil are losing faith in you. You’ll long for Hell and then oblivion before this is over.”
“What kind of cell contract do you have? Are these calls from Hell expensive or do you have a good roaming plan?”
“Enjoy the games.”
I pick up a Malediction and light it.
“Enjoy watching your precious Angra eat shit and die.”
The line goes dead.
Kasabian pushes my door open.
“Who was that?”
“No one.”
“It sure sounded like someone. Like someone from Downtown. You don’t get calls from there, do you? That could have helped my swami business. When I had one. That’s as dead as the store.”
“You can’t blame me for that.”
“Maybe. But it makes me feel better to do it.”
I tap some ash from the Malediction into an empty wineglass with Candy’s lipstick on the rim.
“What do you want? If you came up here to panic, I’m not in the mood.”
He comes into the room and leans against the wall, crossing his metal arms and legs. He looks like a nervous lawn ornament.
“I was flipping by the news. There was a fire last night. From the shots it looked like Allegra’s place.”
“We still have local news? How about that?”
“Was it the clinic?”
“Yeah.”
“Is Fairuza all right?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you know?”
“Go downstairs and watch your movie. There’s nothing you can do.”
He comes over, looking like a tin toy John Wayne.
“Where is she?”
“LAPD and the feds are rounding up Lurkers.”
“What’s going to happen to her?”
“I don’t know. They still have Candy at Vigil headquarters, so maybe they’re just holding everyone until Washington decides what it wants.”
“You’re not going to let them hurt her, are you?”
“I don’t even know where she is.”
He takes a beer from the fridge, but he doesn’t open it. Just stands there holding it.
“I have some of her stuff. We could do a locator spell.”
I nod and smoke.
“Tell you what. You do it and tell me what you find. I’ll see what I can do after that.”
“Can’t you help? You’re the better magician.”
“Am I? I’m not feeling so good hoodoo-wise right now.”
“Mason’s really getting to you, isn’t he?”
“No. I just can’t get these soup stains out of the drapes.”
“You want some advice?”
“Not even a little.”