you?”
He gives me a tiny nod and steps back, rubbing the
red mark where the chain broke.
“It’s nice to see you with your energy back. I’ve
been worried.”
“What does that mean?”
He waves his hand up and down me.
“Just an observation. Since you replaced our other
Lucifer, you’ve seemed so wan and . . . what? Weak? It would be awful
if people thought your armor was the only thing keeping you alive.”
How does this little shit know these things? I
should snap his neck right now.
“I tell you what. Maybe you should keep this after
all.”
I hold out the talisman.
He hesitates.
I hold it by two fingers and waggle it at him.
When he reaches for it, I let it drop. His gaze
follows it down. I slam my shoulder into him, pinning his right hand against the
wall. Grab the blade from behind my back. One quick slash and I cut off his
little finger. He howls and falls to his knees, cradling his mutilated hand
against his chest. Black blood oozes down his shirt. I pull off the glove that
covers my Kissi arm, pick the talisman up off the floor, and drop it in my
pocket. I grab him by the hair so he gets a good look at my prosthetic.
“The next time you threaten me, I’ll take your
whole arm.”
First rule of threats. Always threaten big. Second
rule. Always mean it, even if you don’t particularly want to do it.
He looks up at me.
“You pig. You human filth.”
“What do you expect from the Devil? A note in your
personnel file?”
He’s wearing a collarless gray jacket. He manages
to slip one arm out and wrap it around his bleeding hand. Leaning his good hand
on the wall, he slowly gets to his feet, grimacing and cursing, and starts away
down the hall.
I lean against the wall and light a
Malediction.
I’ve got to remember not to drink anything I don’t
get myself, preferably from outside the palace. It might not be poisoned but it
will definitely be pissed in.
I guess now there’s another thing Candy doesn’t get
to know about. I should start keeping a list.
I stay put until I finish my cigarette and
everything is quiet but the air-conditioning. Closing my eyes, I try to reach
out. Feel if there’s anything or anyone hiding nearby. I don’t get anything.
I take a long look at the false wall. Sometimes
objects can pick up residual magic when someone throws powerful hoodoo nearby.
When that happens, a lamp, a chair, or that massager mom keeps in her bedside
table that you’re not supposed to know about can give off the same vibes as a
genuinely enchanted object. That can happen to, say, a wall if someone was doing
heavy spell work around here. There’s no absolute way of knowing without going
forensic and that was Vidocq’s area, not mine. I wish he was here.
I step back and take a good look.
You’re not really there, are
you?
I charge at what I hope is a door and not a
crossbeam. It’s harder to menace people when you’re gimping around with a broken
nose.
I pass through the wall like it’s air. And hit
something hard. It cracks open. Wood splinters. Something heavy falls behind me.
I think I found the door.
I’m in the middle of a dark, cluttered room. Behind
me is the hoodoo wall, rippling like water on this side. The door is on the
floor, in pieces. Someone isn’t getting their deposit back.
Wherever the hell I am, it’s dark. All I can see in
the feeble pool of light through the wall is something that looks like a
cluttered garage. Somewhere Dad keeps his tools for the weekend projects that
help get him out of having to talk to the family.
Crates are piled all over the place. Scraps of cut
and hammered metal on the floor. Tables with vises and C-clamps. Someone forgot
their lunch. It stinks in here.
I feel along the wall. Find a light switch and
flick it on.
Turns out it wasn’t lunch after all.
Five body bags are stacked in the corner. A sixth
body wrapped in plastic is strapped to what looks like an old wooden electric
chair. There’s a tear in the side of the
He gives me a tiny nod and steps back, rubbing the
red mark where the chain broke.
“It’s nice to see you with your energy back. I’ve
been worried.”
“What does that mean?”
He waves his hand up and down me.
“Just an observation. Since you replaced our other
Lucifer, you’ve seemed so wan and . . . what? Weak? It would be awful
if people thought your armor was the only thing keeping you alive.”
How does this little shit know these things? I
should snap his neck right now.
“I tell you what. Maybe you should keep this after
all.”
I hold out the talisman.
He hesitates.
I hold it by two fingers and waggle it at him.
When he reaches for it, I let it drop. His gaze
follows it down. I slam my shoulder into him, pinning his right hand against the
wall. Grab the blade from behind my back. One quick slash and I cut off his
little finger. He howls and falls to his knees, cradling his mutilated hand
against his chest. Black blood oozes down his shirt. I pull off the glove that
covers my Kissi arm, pick the talisman up off the floor, and drop it in my
pocket. I grab him by the hair so he gets a good look at my prosthetic.
“The next time you threaten me, I’ll take your
whole arm.”
First rule of threats. Always threaten big. Second
rule. Always mean it, even if you don’t particularly want to do it.
He looks up at me.
“You pig. You human filth.”
“What do you expect from the Devil? A note in your
personnel file?”
He’s wearing a collarless gray jacket. He manages
to slip one arm out and wrap it around his bleeding hand. Leaning his good hand
on the wall, he slowly gets to his feet, grimacing and cursing, and starts away
down the hall.
I lean against the wall and light a
Malediction.
I’ve got to remember not to drink anything I don’t
get myself, preferably from outside the palace. It might not be poisoned but it
will definitely be pissed in.
I guess now there’s another thing Candy doesn’t get
to know about. I should start keeping a list.
I stay put until I finish my cigarette and
everything is quiet but the air-conditioning. Closing my eyes, I try to reach
out. Feel if there’s anything or anyone hiding nearby. I don’t get anything.
I take a long look at the false wall. Sometimes
objects can pick up residual magic when someone throws powerful hoodoo nearby.
When that happens, a lamp, a chair, or that massager mom keeps in her bedside
table that you’re not supposed to know about can give off the same vibes as a
genuinely enchanted object. That can happen to, say, a wall if someone was doing
heavy spell work around here. There’s no absolute way of knowing without going
forensic and that was Vidocq’s area, not mine. I wish he was here.
I step back and take a good look.
You’re not really there, are
you?
I charge at what I hope is a door and not a
crossbeam. It’s harder to menace people when you’re gimping around with a broken
nose.
I pass through the wall like it’s air. And hit
something hard. It cracks open. Wood splinters. Something heavy falls behind me.
I think I found the door.
I’m in the middle of a dark, cluttered room. Behind
me is the hoodoo wall, rippling like water on this side. The door is on the
floor, in pieces. Someone isn’t getting their deposit back.
Wherever the hell I am, it’s dark. All I can see in
the feeble pool of light through the wall is something that looks like a
cluttered garage. Somewhere Dad keeps his tools for the weekend projects that
help get him out of having to talk to the family.
Crates are piled all over the place. Scraps of cut
and hammered metal on the floor. Tables with vises and C-clamps. Someone forgot
their lunch. It stinks in here.
I feel along the wall. Find a light switch and
flick it on.
Turns out it wasn’t lunch after all.
Five body bags are stacked in the corner. A sixth
body wrapped in plastic is strapped to what looks like an old wooden electric
chair. There’s a tear in the side of the
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