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“Even Lucifer couldn’t do that. Training demons is like herding cats on acid.”
My gut is churning and I really want to hit something.
“This is all on me. I got too clever. I should have killed Mason when I had the chance. That proves my theory that thinking’s overrated.”
“Get a grip. We can rule out Mason having a key. He’d have used it by now. He’d have come back himself or sent a Hellion hit squad. No. This is something else.”
“It’s got to be the thing I’m too late to stop. I need to talk to the Sentenzas again. I freaked out and left last time when I realized that Hunter is TJ’s kid brother.”
“TJ? Our TJ? That’s fucking insidious.”
“I missed something with them. I’ll go back in the morning. You keep watching Downtown. Consider it self-defense. If Mason gets back here, it isn’t just me he’s going to snuff.”
“Now you’ve piqued my interest.”
I think about things for a minute.
“You know, you could have told me some of this before. And saved me a lot of bullshit time.”
“Right. I never know how you’re going to react to information. I don’t need you going batshit and throwing me out or pulling a gun.”
It’s true. I’ve thrown the little weasel out and I’ve taken a few potshots at him. It’s not like I didn’t have my reasons. He was spying on me for Lucifer, and then there was that time he tried to kill me. But that was a while ago, and since then the angel has been whispering sweet nothings in my ear about not killing people when they get annoying. And it was before I figured that I need all the friends I can get in this world. Not that Kasabian is exactly a friend, but he has good taste in movies and we both want Mason drawn and quartered.
He scuttles over to the set and turns it back on.
“If you’re going to shoot me, I want to finish my movie.”
On the monitor, the two vaqueros are playing the Mayan ball game. They’re slow and clumsy, falling all over each other.
“All right, man. Sure. Mea culpa. On occasion I’ve been known to express myself in uncouth ways, but I’m on the wagon for pulling guns on people I know.&000ple I k#x201D;
He turns his eyes from the monitor and looks at me for a minute.
“So that’s my apology?”
“I guess so.”
He turns off the movie, picks up his beer, and drinks. A trickle leaks out from the bottom of his neck and into his bucket.
“Ever since Lucifer left, the place has been falling apart, and I don’t mean the trash isn’t getting picked up. I mean Old Testament falling apart. Earthquakes. Wild fires. Hellion food riots. That’s something you don’t want to see. No one’s in charge. Mason has the army and local Pinkertons tied up with his war plans. It’s like he doesn’t give a rat’s ass how Hell is going to . . . you know. Hell.”
“Who’s working with him?”
“Most of Lucifer’s generals have defected. Abaddon, Wormwood, Mammon. They’re all in Pandemonium. General Semyazah is the only holdout. He doesn’t like the idea of being pushed around by a mortal. And he commands a shitload of troops. I don’t know if they can pull off the attack without him or his troops.”
I get a Malediction from my coat and pour myself a drink from a bottle of Jack on the nightstand.
“You know what’s weird? This whole thing between me and Mason—I can’t even remember what started it.”
“Aside from the fact that you’re exactly alike?”
“Fuck you.”
“The truth hurts doesn’t it, Tinker Bell?”
I rub my arm where the bullet grazed me. At least it helps me forget about the burns on my arms.
“I don’t get this Heaven and Hell thing of his at all,” I say. “It’s stupid enough wanting to grab Hell, but why would Mason want Heaven, too? The dry-cleaning bills on all those robes must be murder.”
