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“No. I used to play clarinet in the school band.”
“Perfect. We only know three chords. You’re our new bass player.”
“Cool,” says Cindil.
I go outside with a cigarette and an Aqua Regia.
Guess this is how things are going to be for a while. Me stuck in the dirt not shadow walking and Candy pretending to be someone else. We can handle it. Other people deal with worse, right? And as long as Wormwood doesn’t get directly in my face, I can handle that too. Besides, maybe me and the Augur together can do something about them. I know I’m lying to myself, of course. Things like Wormwood don’t go away. With their wealth and power they’re dug too deep into L.A.’s hide. Maybe going respectable is my one way of beating them. If you can’t murder them your only option might be to bore them to death. Maybe I’ll get a car after all. A used brown Volvo. Let them try to figure that one out.
Samael comes in around seven. He has a flunky with him, carrying a chilled bottle of champagne in a silver ice bucket. The flunky leaves it on the front counter and excuses himself. I don’t bother looking at the bottle’s label. I won’t recognize the name and Samael will probably tell me how he snatched it from the pope’s private reserve.
He pours us each a glass and we head outside, where it’s quieter.
“You look a lot better than the last time we saw each other.”
“Yeah. I’m about back together.”
“The tailor was able to save my suit, so all you owe me is the cleaning bill.”
“Good. Send it to me.”
“It might be a bit more than you’re expecting.”
“I’d be disappointed if it wasn’t.”
I try the champagne. It’s not my favorite poison, but this stuff is better than most I’ve had.
“You heard?” I say. “People are dying again.”
“Of course.”
“You know who’s responsible?”
“Sadly, yes.”
“It’s you, isn’t it?”
He nods, stares into his drink.
“Father appointed me a few days ago. He says I should consider it a great honor to be the Angel of Death. I don’t know. I’m not used to being in the same guise, doing the same thing day after day.”
“Wait. If you’re Death, how can you be here? Shouldn’t you be off collecting souls?”
“I am. Death, like Santa Claus, can be many places at once. Me, I’m here with you. I’m also in Detroit, Nairobi, Vienna, Buenos Aires. Everywhere.”
“Doesn’t that get a little confusing?”
“It takes some getting used to, yes. I was constantly dizzy for the first couple of days. But it’s getting better.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll do a bang-up job.”
“What about you? You’re almost as acquainted with Death as I am. Would you like the job? It’s a great honor. You’re loved and feared around the world.”
“Thanks. I’ll pass. Besides, I already have a new job.”
“How about one of your friends? The Frenchman seems like a smart fellow. How do you think he would do?”
“No. No one I know wants the job. We’re all irresponsible and we all drink too much.”
