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“I believe it because I met one of the Angra. Remember the ghost that offed the mayor a while back? Her name is Lamia.”
“The little girl with the knife, you mean?”
“She killed off enough Dreamers to destabilize reality. If I hadn’t stopped her, she might have destroyed the world all on her own. And she’s just one little piece of what these fuckers can do.”
Blackburn goes quiet for a minute. It’s on his face. Am I here hustling him with ghost stories or am I telling the truth and maybe he and the other masters of the universe ought to start getting scared?
“I’ve looked into L.A.’s future and haven’t seen anything like what you’re describing.”
I shrug.
“You couldn’t see what an angel was angling to do. What makes you think you can see what gods want?”
He leans forward, his elbows on the desk.
“Work for me. I can give you access to more resources than you can possibly have on your own.”
“Thanks, but seriously, I’m terrible. You’d want me dead in a week,” I say. “But let me ask you something. Are you the one keeping the cops off me? Maybe clearing the decks just enough so I have to work for you?”
He shakes his head.
“No. Someone else is your guardian angel.”
“Who?”
“I have no idea. But you’re right. If you work for me, you’ll never have to worry about the police again.”
“I told you I already have something to do.”
“You’re awfully altruistic all of a sudden. What happened to Stark the monster? I seem to remember a bit of a madman storming into my house.”>“Who?” says Kasabian.
“The King of Candy Land. Or was it Josie and the Pussycats?”
“Great. Now she gets discreet. Forget it. Chicks only want one monster in their life and Stark got to Brigitte first.”
Mike stops working and Kasabian tries to stand. This time he makes it. His legs support him and he takes a few steps like, well, a circus dog doing a trick for biscuits.
I say, “You know, no matter how well you make his arms and legs work, he still looks like a mutt.”
Mike sighs and nods.
“To rework his whole body so it’s more human shaped, I’d have to cut it up with a plasma torch, lengthen and straighten his back legs, redo the spine, and rebalance and recalibrate the whole thing,” he says. “The only way to do that is for Kasabian to get off it.”
I look at Kasabian, walking steady for the first time since I’ve been back.
“Maybe he’s right. Maybe you should go back to your skateboard for a while and let Mike do his thing.”
Kasabian looks panicked. He stumbles back against his desk, his hound legs giving way.
“No way anyone is chopping up this body. I looked like a fucking bug on that skateboard. Now at least I’m mammal shaped.”
“I’ve got all your limbs working right for the moment,” says Mike. “Maybe there’s some way I can do your legs without taking them off.”
Kasabian sits down and slaps his computer keyboard. The screen lights up.
“Yeah. You work on that. Right now let me get back to work building my site.”
As Mike packs up his tools he looks at me.
