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This time I laugh at him.
“Because I had it. Back in L.A.”
He grabs my coat sleeve with his good hand.
“Where is it? Name any price.”
“Too late. I traded it for some magic beans.”
He drinks more wine.
“This isn’t anything to joke about.”
“I took the Druj Ammun off a dead vampire. A young girl. The only one of her kind I ever felt bad about killing. When I found out one of the Druj’s powers was to mind-control Hellions, the plan was to come down and get you assholes to rip Mason to pieces for me.”
“Where is it now?”
“I also found out that it controlled zombies, and as it happened, we had a substantial zombie surplus in L.A. right then. Instead of letting everyone get eaten, I destroyed the Druj. That killed every single zombie in the world in one night. By now your secret weapon is in a million little pieces clogging up the L.A. sewer system.”
Mammon stares at the floor. I can’t tell if he’s listening or getting drunk. He lifts his head.
“It would have been good to have. We could have built a great weapon from it. Made it control the other angels,” he says, and looks up at me. “Baphomet said if anyone was going to ruin this for us, it would be you. But you’d been gone so long many of us thought that you wanted to forget all about this place and wouldn’t get involved. We should have erred on the side of caution.”
“If it’s any comfort, L.A. is completely zombie-free these days, so you can bring the wife and kids to Disneyland.”
“It’s too bad you killed your patron, Azazel. I would have enjoyed torturing him to death for creating you.”
“So, even without the Druj, Mason has a backup plan he thinks will still get him into Heaven. How?”
“I don’t know. It’s the#x2019; one thing he’s kept secret from everyone, including his generals.”
It’s hard to read Hellions, but the angel and I agree that Mammon is telling the truth. Damn Lucifer for not being here. He might be able to figure out Mason’s secret.
The Kissi stole the Druj thousands of years ago and dropped it on earth just to see what would happen. They like to create amusing chaos. It’s their main nourishment. But Kissi are hit-and-run types, not known for their long-term planning. We always thought of them like a bunch of ADHD kids with superpowers. Always playing games and breaking things for the dumb joy of breaking them. But when they stole the Druj and dumped it on earth, did they have a secret of their own that no one ever considered? Maybe we’ve underestimated them this whole time.
Mammon finishes the wine and I set the bottle back on the desk.
“You’re being awfully cooperative,” I say.
“You’ve already crippled me. Torture is the next logical step. Why shouldn’t I skip all the messiness and tell you what you want to know since none of it will help you?”
While we’ve been talking, Mammon’s enslaved soul has been creeping over to the desk.
“We’ll see. The truth is, the war isn’t the main reason I’m here. I want you to take me to Eleusis.”
He raises his eyebrows slightly.
“Don’t be stupid. I don’t drive, and even if I could . . .” He holds up his one working arm. “I’m not in racing shape.”
Drive? In the Hell I remember, Lucifer’s generals have their own private barges for getting around Hell’s five big rivers. I guess a nice luxury car is about the same as a barge in L.A.
I turn my head and find the soul staring at me. He’s a medium-size man with dark hair and brown eyes. He has rough workman’s hands and his cheap shirt and thin black pants say he wasn’t all that high in whatever trade he was in.
I point to him.
“Can the gimp drive?”
Mammon brightens at that, getting back some of his old high-and-mighty look.
