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“Same thing in L.A. Some are running for the hills.”
“I’m afraid there isn’t anywhere for us to run.”
“There won’t be anywhere to run on Earth if the Angra keep making new little baby Angras.”
He frowns every time I say their name.
I say, “You don’t like talking about them, do you?”
“There is nothing but bad memories there. We—that is, I, when I was a single entity—flung the Angra from here and claimed this universe for myself. Not a noble gesture. But I was young and the young do all sorts of foolish and cruel things.”
“And you were left with a universe you didn’t quite know how to run.”
“I did my best.”
“That’s what I told Mrs. McCarthy in fifth-grade Spanish. She still flunked me.”
He sips his coffee and smiles.
“Yes. This is exactly like elementary school Spanish.”
“I guess the idea I tossed out there the last time you were in L.A. isn’t going to work. Shutting down Hell and letting everyone leave?”
He leans back, setting down his coffee.
“And let my angels go where? To a war in Heaven? To Earth, where the Angra are strongest and they’d have to hide from both them and mortals? Where should I send them? And then there are all the damned souls. What’s to be done with them?”
“Send them to L.A. We could use the company.”
“I’m sure.”
We both drink our coffee, stuck in an uncomfortable silence. I was hoping for some kind of answers here. I can do gloomy all on my own back at Bamboo House of Dolls, where the drinks are better.
“Samael’s kind of a hero these days, it sounds like.”
“Yes,” says Muninn. “I didn’t expect it of the boy. He resented having two fathers around and now he has three. It can’t be very fun for him.”
Samael was the first Lucifer, but he quit and took back his original angelic name. He went back to Heaven before things went to shit. When they did, he hightailed it back to Hell with Mr. Muninn. Samael is the prick who stuck me with the job of playing Lucifer. But we kissed and made up. We have similar tastes in Dario Argento and Takashi Miike flicks.
“Our Angra sects are cutting up humans and making chop-shop people out of them. What do you think of that?”
“It sounds horrible. Do you know why they’re doing it?”
“The theory going around is they’re going to be vacation homes for Qliphoth. Sounds like fun, huh? What’s going on with your Angra cheerleaders?”
He sighs.
“I wish I knew. I’m like Ruach when it comes to them—mostly blind and half deaf. Deumos and Merihim have disappeared. I’m sure they’re hiding somewhere in Pandemonium. They won’t want to be far from the seat of power. But they have powerful allies and remain invisible to me.”
“I got a phone call from Deumos.”
“Did you? What did she say?”
“Nothing surprising. She wanted the 8 Ball. The Qomrama.”
“No, not surprising at all. You’re not giving it to her, I assume.”
“She can have it right after she kisses my ass.”
