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He shakes his head.
“I won’t see him for a day or so. They’re not exactly state-of-the-art when it comes to sorting out the new meat Downtown.”
Kasabian has a few useful skills. He’s a passable computer hacker, he has good taste in movies—he once ran a choice indie video-rental place in Hollywood. Also, he can see into Hell. It’s a gruesome little trick, but gruesome describes 99 percent of his life, so what’s one more percent between friends?
The trick works like this: when I came back from Hell, I brought a jar of peepers with me. Peepers are eyeballs a lot like ours (no, I don’t know where they come from and I don’t want to know), only they work like surveillance cameras. I scattered dozens of them around Hell. Between the peepers and his ability to peek into Downtown through the Daimonion Codex, Kasabian can spyglass a good chunk of Hell. Entrepreneur that he is, he’s even turning his deadeye trick into a business. Setting himself up as an online psychic. When it’s up and running, he’ll track down any of your dead relatives and report back on them—as long as they’re in Hell. Seeing as how that’s where most suckers are headed, he should be in business until the sun turns this rock into one big overcooked s’more.
“Let me know when you spot him. I might just go down and ask Mr. Moseley a few questions.”
Candy says, “Can I go too?”
I should have been ready for that.
“I don’t know,” I say.
Candy tosses down the magazine she was thumbing through.
“We talked about this. If you leave me here and disappear down there again, you better stay down there because I swear I’ll salt your skull and drink you like a daiquiri.”
Candy isn’t exactly human. She’s a Jade. That’s sort of like being a vampire, only Jades dissolve your insides and drink you, kind of like a spider. I know it sounds bad, but she’s off the people juice these days. And it’s kind of sexy when she lets the monster out. I just have to be around to make sure it goes back in.
“What’s the difference between true love and a murder spree?” says Kasabian.
“I don’t know. What?”
He shrugs.
“I don’t know. I was hoping you lovebirds would have a clue.”
He smiles, pleased with his half-assed joke.
I say, “Go bite a mailman, Old Yeller.”
Mike lets go of Kasabian’s leg. He flexes it and it looks like it’s working all right. Mike goes to work on the other one.
“Well?” says Candy. She’s right beside me, her hands balled into fists. She’s not backing down on this.
“You’re right. I promised. But this is only if I actually go. I’m not making any special trips down so you can take snapshots with Stiv Bators.”
“Deal.”
She stands on her toes and kisses me on the cheek.
“I got it,” says Kasabian. “When it’s true love you know why you’re getting stabbed.”
“Kasabian, you romantic fool,” says Candy. “You just got ten percent cuter.”
He smiles at her.
“Kitten, I’ve got romance coming out my ass.”
“And now the cute is gone.”
Mike chuckles to himself. Kasabian shifts his leg, clipping him on the nose.
“Learn to stop while you’re ahead,” I say.
“I haven’t had much practice with women since you turned me into a carnival attraction.”
