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“Not especially.”
We walked in silence for a bit. Finally, I say, “I’ve learned a few things about the new Death. Who he is. What he wants.”
“Will any of it kill him?”
“Maybe. Someone gave me a clue. I think I can trust her, but I’m not a hundred percent sure.”
“These aren’t one hundred percent times. Go with your gut, I say.”
“Might as well. My brain isn’t helping.”
“How is your guest doing?”
“It’s hard to tell with him. He went through his pain pills pretty fast and he wants more, but I don’t think it’s for the pain.”
“Give an angel a body and they go mad, each and every one.”
I nod.
“Hey, you know anything about breaking a blue-yonder contract?”
He shakes his head.
“It can’t be done. They’re as binding as mine were.”
“So, back in the day you wouldn’t ever give someone a break? Not even a friend?”
“Well,” he says.
We walk a little farther, past empty clubs and car lots.
“There are exceptions to everything,” he says.
“So, it could be done.”
“You’d have to make a deal with Death and I have the feeling this particular one isn’t in a dealing mood.”
“Shit.”
“Yes.”
“Someone told me that if I could get to the Tenebrae in the next twenty-four hours, I might be able to take out McCarthy.”
“Who?”
“The new Death.”
“What an evocative name for Death. ‘What happened to old Frank?’ ‘It looks like he’s McCarthyed.’ ”
“Hilarious. I keep saying you should do stand-up.”
“And I keep telling you that you’re the comedian, not me.”
“I’m not feeling so funny right now. I can’t shadow-walk anymore, so I don’t know how to get to the Tenebrae.”
Samael looks at me.
“Is that what’s bothering you?”
