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“Shut up and sit down. You need to rest.”
“I will soon. But not yet.”
I pull Janet over and tell them, “Stay with her. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I head for a shadow as Janet says, “Be careful.”
I’m pretty much numb, but the animal part of my brain has kicked in. Allegra was right about one thing. I do need to rest. But she was wrong about something else. More people are going to die tonight.
I come out in the Jackal’s Backbone, near where the cavern meets the tunnel to the doom twins’ rumpus room. There’s no one down here. All the Lodge creeps must have run back to the mansion. That simplifies things for me.
At the tunnel entrance in the rumpus room, I lay down a little more hoodoo, sealing the Backbone from the house. Then I go back out to the road that runs in front of the place. Lodge members pound on the doors and windows, trying to get out. But the hoodoo I put down will keep them in there for a hundred years if I want. But I don’t. Tonight is for settling scores. For Janet and especially Vidocq.
I stand in the driveway where everyone can get a good look at me. They scream and pound even louder. So, I bark some Hellion at them. Not the most powerful stuff I’ve ever conjured, but enough for the job.
The fire starts on the roof and works its way down through the attic. It takes a few minutes for smoke to drift down into the living room, but eventually a thick grayness coils down from the top of the room, reaching down into the hysterical mob like the squid Kenny conjured.
As the fire expands and the sides of the house catch, I sit on a tree stump across the road and watch the place go up.
Welcome to the Land of the Dead, motherfuckers. Enjoy Hell.
I take out some of the pills Allegra gave me and pop a lorazepam. Then I sit back and watch the show. The mansion is fully engulfed now. A neighbor has probably already called the fire department, but it will take them a few minutes to get here.
I sit and watch and think of the old man as sparks shoot up like fireflies in the black L.A. sky.
Soon, the distant sound of a siren is my cue to leave. But before I can walk into a shadow, my phone rings. It’s Abbot.
“Stark, I’m here with the Council. You’ve let us down. I can’t wait any longer. We’re going in tonight.”
I check my pocket. The photo is still there.
“Give me one hour,” I say. “If what I want to try doesn’t work, I’ll kill the Stay Belows myself.”
There’s a brief silence on the line and Abbot comes back.
“One hour. Then we take over.”
I hang up and walk into a shadow.
Come out in the parking lot of Donut Universe. Inside, I slap a hundred on the counter.
“Give me a dozen of anything.”
I make one more stop before heading to Little Cairo.
When I get there, the place is jumping. The Thurl is open as usual, but the spooks aren’t tearing the ruined pyramids and Sphinxes apart anymore. Every single one is slammed against the edges of the neighborhood, clawing and pounding at the wards. The barrier is failing in a few places and Stay Belows can get their hands through. Spectral fingers grab at the warm L.A. air as freaked-out Sub Rosa muscle prowls around just outside the quarantine barrier, ready to pull the trigger and burn the spooks and everybody else to the ground.
None of the Stay Belows notice me as I use the black blade to dig a hole in one lawn. When it’s deep enough, I dump in the donuts—an assortment of jellies and crullers. With that, I drop in a bottle of Angel’s Envy rye. I hate letting go of the stuff. I hope the King Below appreciates the offering, because it’s killing me.
“If you’re down there, I can use all the help I can get.”
Done digging, I go roaming. I don’t care about the mob of spooks at the edges of the place. I only care about one, and I have a feeling he won’t be with the others.
But I can’t find the bastard anywhere. It looks like the power is off all over Little Cairo. I could hoodoo some light, but it would bring the other spooks right to me. No fucking thanks. Still, after wandering blind through the ruins for a few minutes I’m tempted to take the chance.
All around me, the street begins to shake. It only lasts a few seconds, but when it stops a streetlight lying on its side in the gutter flickers a few times, outlining one forlorn figure.
“Thanks, King. I’ll buy you a six-pack sometime.”
