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“No. She’s gone way off the reservation. This holy vendetta of hers, it’s made her useless for any Marshals Service work.”
“I’m glad to hear that. She’s dead too.”
Wells doesn’t say anything for a minute. Once upon a time he was in love with Aelita. That was when she was just a zealot and not a batshit holy terror.
“Did you do it?”
“I wish I could take credit. But I saw it happen and I’m not sorry it did. On a personal note, you’ll be happy to hear that the person who killed her is also dead.”
“Who was it?”
“Medea Bava.”
He laughs.
“They’re both really dead? Where are the bodies?”
“At the bottom of the Pacific.”
Another cold little laugh.
“It’s a funny world, huh?”
“That it is. Now riddle me this, why should I work for you? I’m the one with the Qomrama. Really, you should work for me.”
“But you don’t know how to use the thing, do you? That’s not easy information to come by, even for someone with friends like the Frenchman and Father Traven.”
“Don’t talk about Traven.”
“Oh, so he’s gone too? You’re getting soft. Dead people didn’t used to bother you so much.”
“Well, he had my copy of Cat Ballou and I never got it back.”
“Funny. You’re still a funny guy.”
Candy is giving me a what-the-fuck look. I hold up a hand, telling her to be patient.
“I used the 8 Ball a couple of times, you know. I can figure out how to use it again.”
“Well enough to fight a horde of angry Devil gods?”
I don’t say anything since we both already know the answer.
“Let’s let bygones by bygones. We need each other now. You have the power and I have the infrastructure to fight these unholy bastards coming for our world. Work for the new Golden Vigil. We’re back together and fully funded by Homeland Security.”
“If I say yes, you’re going to pay me.”
“Of course. Same deal as before.”
“Wrong. I have the 8 Ball in my back pocket. I figure that makes me kind of a defense contractor. And I ought to get paid like one, meaning grossly overpaid.”
“There are rules to these things.”
“I’m sick of hearing about everyone else’s rules. Break the rules. You have no idea what getting back the Qomrama cost.”
“You’re going to let that pretty girl of yours die if you can’t blackmail the U.S. government out of a few more dollars?”
“Pay me or you can fight the Angra with pitchforks and torches.”
