Текст книги "Aloha from Hell"

Автор книги: Richard Kadrey

Соавторы: Richard Kadrey,Richard Kadrey,Richard Kadrey
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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Every one of us, human and monster alike, lives with an angelic boot on our throats. But we don’t see it, so we forget about it and limp along doing the stupid little things that make up our stupid little lives. Then the boot comes down on your gut, squeezing the air out of your lungs and cracking your bones like old matchsticks. And you know the only reason it’s happening is because you’re not one of the celestials on high. You’re suffering with the worst curse of all. You’re alive. We’re just bugs on God’s windshield. That’s all we are. Annoying. Disposable. A dime a dozen.

Traven says, “You toss it all off so easily. Men enslaving angels. Humans challenging both Lucifer and God. And you say you’re a nephilim, something I don’t even know if I believe in.”

“Don’t worry, Father. I believe in you.”

He’s talking about me, but it’s not what he means. I can hear it in the almost inaudible tremors in his voice.

“Ask the question, Father.”

“What do I have to look forward to in Hell? Do they have special amusements for ex-priests?”

I should have gone easier on him. The poor guy is ex-communicated. To him that means he already has one foot in the coal cart to the hot country.

“Don’t sweat Hell, Father. There are Hellions down there and damned souls that owe me favors. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

The window is down a little on his side of the car. He pushes his hair back with a hand as lined and creased as his face. He does a little grunting laugh.

“I’ve read the most powerful and harrowing demonic texts you can imagine, and this conversation is still the strangest thing I’ve heard. You really think you can make deals with fallen angels?”

“There are Hellions down there with more honor than half the humans I meet.”

“That’s not terribly comforting, but I suppose it will have to do.”

“That pretty much sums up Hell.”

The road smooths out as we near the top. I can just see Avila’s blackened roof through the trees.

I say, “Too bad guys like us can’t apply for unemployment. You think they have special forms for being fired by a deity?”

“I heard you worked for Lucifer. Lucifer isn’t God.”

“You don’t spend enough time in Hollyginime in wood.”

Traven looks up through the trees. He’s spotted Avila, too. Candy is kicking the back of my seat again, bored with the talk and the drive. She wants to get her teeth into a demon. My kind of girl.

Traven says, “You’ve told me some of what you know about the universe; now let me tell you something. If you want to know why the world and all of Creation is so broken and afflicted, look up the word ‘demiurge.’ ”

Traven turns to look at Vidocq.

“If I’m killed today, I want you to take my library. I trust you to take care of my books.”

“I would be honored,” Vidocq says. “But there will be no dying today.”

“Demiurge?” I say. “That sounds like it has something to do with God, and not in a good way. Hell, I’ve burned so many bridges with the celestial types, I’d probably be better off cozying up to your Angra Om Ya pals than to any of the local celestial types.”

“Then I think all you’ll have to do is wait.”

“I was joking. The Angra Om Ya are dead.”

“What does death mean to a god?”

“You think the old gods are coming back?”

“I don’t think they ever left.”

I SWING THE car into the big circular driveway out front and park. We get out and Traven takes the duffel bag from Vidocq.

Avila has seen better days. Most of the roof has fallen in, leaving charred wood overhead, a puzzle palace of broken beams. The place has been thoroughly looted, trashed, and tagged by waves of squatters and skate punks. Moldy leather armchairs and silk-covered love seats surround the remains of a fire pit someone has chopped out of the driveway with who knows what improvised tools. A broken roulette wheel is almost lost in the grass that grows wild on all sides of the building. The ground glitters like a disco ball from all the broken glass. Even the walls are ripped open and the copper pipes inside are long gone.

“So this is what the gates of hell looks like,” says Father Traven.

“No,” says Vidocq. “Le palais de merde.”

Even with everything that’s been thrown at it since New Year’s, the front door is still standing, like Avila’s last dying gesture was giving the finger to the world. Maybe when we’re done, I’ll let Josef and his bunch loose on the place.

I gesture for the others to stay back, and push open the door. I’ve never walked into Avila through the front before, only out, and that was just the one time. I mostly went into the place through shadows, and then only to kill people. The good old days when things were simpler.

I have the na’at and knife in my coat and the .460 cocked and locked up and ready to kill any spooky sounds or scary shadows.

Even though much of the roof is gone, it’s dim inside, so I let my eyes adjust and then sweep the room. Nothing moves. Nothing makes a sound. It’s as quiet as a pulled-pork-rib joint next to a synagogue.

I wave the others inside.

“It’s safe to go in?” asks Traven.

“It’s clear. I don’t know about safe. I don’t hear rats or even roaches in the walls. That’s not a good sign.”

“What does that mean?” asks Traven.

Vidocq says, “When even vermin abandon a building, it means that sensible people will stay out, too.”

“Right now we’re officially dumber than rats and roaches,” says Candy.

“Welcome to our world, Father.”

Traven starts to cross himself, catches himself halfway through, and drops his hand. Old habits die hard.

“Let’s go. I’m pretty sure I know where the kid is, so I’m up front. Vidocq and the father in the middle. You okay watching our asses, Candy?”

“What do you think?”

“Here we go.”

I lead them around the circular front room. We stay close to the walls. The place used to be full of antique furniture and Persian rugs. Now I can see down to the rock and grass of the hill where the floor has partially collapsed.

A couple of turns down a hall and the ceiling is intact. All of a sudden I’m missing the holes in the roof and their spooky shadows. With no lights back here, the place is pitch-black. As much as I hate it, I let the angel take the lead. Its vision is built for darkness.

The moment I ease back and let it run the show, Avila lights up like Vegas. I grab Vidocq’s sleeve and tell Traven and Candy to hold on to each other. Then I walk them slowly around the circular corridors toward the sacrifice chamber.

It doesn’t take long to find it. All roads lead here, the black nasty heart of the place. This is where I should have killed Mason. It’s the room where I rescued Aelita. I don’t think she’s ever forgiven m000r forgie for saving her. Maybe her thank-you note got lost in the mail.

The chamber’s double doors are still open, still full of bullet holes and shotgun slugs from the New Year’s Eve raid. Around here is where Candy and I had that first kiss on New Year’s, shot up and covered in other people’s blood. Good times.

A pale light comes from the room. I leave the others and step inside, sweeping the Smith & Wesson back and forth over debris from the partially collapsed roof. Going slow, I let my senses expand and fill the place, feeling for anything with lungs or a heartbeat. I feel something. I step lightly around bowling-ball-size chunks of marble that have fallen from the walls. A shaft of sunlight cuts down from a hole in the ceiling onto the stone sacrifice platform, and there’s Hunter, stretched out like a boiled lobster, ready for the butter and claw crackers.

I wave Traven and the others in. They spread out around the platform. Traven goes right for the kid. We hang back, letting the father do his thing. Hunter is lying on his back. He’s very still. His chest hardly moves. He looks like he’s been beaten, left under a heat lamp, and dragged behind a truck. Patches of blackened skin are peeling away from his arms and face. The skin that isn’t black or raw red is the greenish blue of tainted meat. Hunter’s clothes would make any self-respecting wino jealous. Worn and splitting at the seams, they’re covered in dried blood, shit, and vomit. He looks like he’s been wearing the rags for weeks instead of a couple of days.

Traven leans in right over Hunter’s mouth, listening for something. I’m waiting for the demon to take the bait and gnaw his ear off. But Hunter doesn’t move.

Traven goes back to his duffel, unzips it, and lays out a bag of sea salt and bread on the floor next to him. Next he takes out a battered wooden box. Inside is a bottle of black sacred oil and a yellowed bone pen shaped kind of like a short, thick hockey stick. He dips the pen in the oil and scrawls symbols along all four sides of the sacrifice platform. He’s creating a binding hex to keep the demon locked on the platform and away from us. I recognize most of the symbols. There’s Hebrew and Greek. Some angelic script and even some Hellion cuneiform script. It’s the last set of symbols that are the most interesting. Chicken scratches from some obscure heretical cookbook. I’ll lay you odds they’re from that Angra Om Ya book. Fine by me. Whatever hoodoo will keep Hunter and his demon on that side of the room and us over here in the cheap seats is fine by me. Now that I think about it, we should all be wearing body armor. Damn. Next exorcism for sure.

Traven’s bread is a disappointment. It looks like an ordinary round loaf of French or sourdough. I was hoping for something belching fire and spinning like lowrider rims.

Traven rips the bread apart, setting a piece down every few inches from Hunter’s throat to his crotch. He scoops up a handful of salt from the bag and drops a little mound of salt between each piece of bread. He sets the salt bag back in his duffel and moves it to the side of the room. He does it all in slow, practiced moves. A kind of moving meditation gearing up for the next step.

Traven points to Hunter’s head, where he wants me to stand. He stations Candy by the feet. Vidocq is in the middle across from the father.

Traven says, “I understand that you carry potions with you.”

Vidocq opens his coat like a flasher, showing Traven the dozens of pockets sewn into the lining.

Traven does his little smile.

“Do you have Spiritus Dei?”

“I didn’t know the Church knew about or approved of such alchemical tricks.”

Spiritus Dei is one of the best things in the universe. Like one of those all-in-one cleaners for your kitchen or hoodoo duct tape. It’ll fix anything. It’s a repellent for Hellions, demons, and pretty much any other nasty things with teeth. It’ll Scotch Guard your panties from hexes and even cure some poisons. It’s better than chicken-fried steak, but not by much.

“The church isn’t here. I am. I’d like you to have some Spiritus Dei ready to throw if Hunter should get through the wards I’ve placed around the platform.”

Vidocq nods.

“I’ll be ready.”

Traven looks at Candy and me.

“If he gets out, grab him and hold him, but try not to break him.”

“I don’t make rash promises. But he won’t get away,” I say.

Traven turns to the boy, holding his hands over him, palms down. His head is forward and eyes are closed. He’s praying. To whom? I wonder.

Traven opens his eyes, raises his hands, and starts a chant. Another prayer, blessing the bread and salt. But I’ve never heard anything like what’s coming out of his mouth, and I’ve heard drunk Hellions. Whatever language he’s speaking is full of blurps, hisses, and deep Tibetan-monk throat drones and glottal stops. It sounds like a man drowning.

Hunter’s eyes snap open. They’re yellow and bloodshot, but alert. His heart is beating a million miles an hour, but his breathing is ragged. I don’t know how both of those things can be going on inside him without him having a heart attack. His mouth slowly falls open. A vapor, as thin as fog but as bright as fire, drifts out. Guess Hunter’s mother was telling the truth when she said he spit fire when he burned the symbol into the ceiling.

It doesn’t surprise or impress Traven even a little. With one hand he pushes Hunter’s head down. With the other hand, he picks up salt and throws it into Hunter’s mouth. Then he shoves in a piece of bread to seal in whatever’s trying to get out. divto get Hunter goes completely batshit, thrashing and convulsing like he’s being electrocuted. He flails his arms at his face, trying to knock out the bread, but Traven’s magic has taken away a lot of his motor control. Traven keeps a hand over the kid’s mouth, holding the bread in place. I grab Hunter’s shoulders and Candy holds his feet to keep him from kicking.

Traven chants, and with one hand over Hunter’s mouth he sprinkles salt over the lumps of bread and wolfs them down. Each time he downs bread and salt, Hunter goes wilder and wilder. I’m holding him tight. Candy is leaning over him, resting her whole weight on Hunter’s legs.

All at once he stops moving. Goes completely limp. No one moves, in case he’s playing possum. But Hunter doesn’t twitch. Finally Traven nods to me and Candy and I let go. He takes some of the remaining salt and uses his finger to draw an elaborate sign on Hunter’s forehead. He still isn’t moving. I look at Candy and Vidocq and then back to the kid. I’m getting worried that the bread Traven shoved into Hunter’s mouth has choked him. Traven takes the bread out of Hunter’s mouth, cupping his hands around it. He holds it out with both hands.

Traven says, “The demon is in here. Use the Spiritus Dei.”

Vidocq pops the top off the small vial with his thumb and upends the Spiritus on the bread. Traven squeezes the bread like a wet sponge so that some of the liquid dribbles into Hunter’s mouth. Then Traven shoves the bread into his own mouth, chews, and swallows it quick. When it’s down, he gets a funny look on his face.

I say, “What?”

“It doesn’t taste right.”

“What does that mean?”

“I should taste the remains of the demon. It’s something, but it’s not—” That’s the last thing he gets out before Hunter’s hand snaps up and grabs him by the throat.

The kid gets a good grip and lifts Traven from the floor. Traven flails at Hunter’s arms, but he might as well be hitting tree trunks with a powder puff. I punch Hunter on the side of the head, digging a knuckle into his temple hard, but not hard enough to crack bone. He doesn’t even react, just keeps squeezing Traven. Candy leaps from the end of the platform onto Hunter’s chest. As she pushes him down, I give him one more shot in the head. I can’t hit him any harder without scrambling his brains, so I aim low, hitting his floating ribs hard enough that I can feel a couple crack. That gets the message through. Hunter gasps and drops Traven, suddenly not able to breathe. Candy gives him a decent shot to the jaw before I pull her off. That knocks Hunter back onto his back. But not for long.

As we drag Traven away from the platform, Hunter starts up his Wild Man of Borneo routine. He tries to jump off the platform and follow us, but Traven’s binding hex holds. Hunter punches, claws, and throws his whole body at the invisible barrier, but it knocks him back every time.

Vidocq rushes over, pulling another vial from under his coat. He pours the whole thing down Traven’s throat. Traven coughs. His color goes from asphyxia blue to something human. He sits up and draws in a couple of wheezing breaths. He is alive, but he doesn’t look all that happy about it.

“What’s in there?” he says to no one in particular. “I’ve never seen a demon like this before. If the salt and bread didn’t work, the Spiritus Dei should have paralyzed it.”

Hunter is on his knees prowling back and forth along the platform like a pissed-off hyena waiting for its pack to arrive and kick our asses. The invisible barrier doesn’t bother him anymore. He isn’t even trying to get out. He’s having fun. Licking it with his black tongue, spitting blood on it, and finger-painting with the clotted mess. At first it looks like he’s just doodling, but a shape begins to emerge. In a minute he stops drawing, leans close to the bloody barrier, and opens his mouth. The fire fog that drifted from his mouth earlier flows out again. Flattening against the binding barrier, it spreads out like dozens of burning snakes. When it’s done, he puffs out his chest and inhales the fire back down his throat. Then he collapses on the platform. This time I don’t sense anything coming from him. I can usually feel life, a beating heart, even the shallowest breath, but this kid doesn’t even feel dead. More like a black hole of life. Candy gets up and starts toward him, but I grab her arm. The hex barrier is still intact, but Hunter has burned a symbol into it. Sister Ludi’s, the same symbol he burned over his bed.

And then I feel Hunter alive again. Still on his back, he turns his head and looks at me.

“Do you get it now? Please say yes. Don’t make me embarrass you in front of your friends.”

It takes me a minute to get past the face to the voice.

Hunter sits up. He stands, still a mess, but looking alert and calm.

“So, do you get it?”

I nod.

He’s talking in Mason’s voice.

“You’re coming through loud and clear.”

I reach into the barrier and run my hand through the burning symbol he drew until it drifts apart. Storm clouds and miniature fireworks.

“It’s Sister Ludi’s sigil. A fake goddess for a fake possession.”

Hunter raises his hands and rolls his eyes heavenward in mock relief. He’s a riot. Bob Hope with horns and a tail. But I deserve every bit of shit he serves up. Wells and Aelita foxed me like this once before, covering up a Drifter attack with a fake demon. Would I have fallen for the gag the first time if I was still on my game Downtown? No way. This stupid world is making me weak. Or mayighweak. Obe it’s just reminding me of how weak I’ve always been. No more. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, you’re dead.

Hunter—Hunter’s body at least—shakes his head.

“I thought I was going to have to put on that medicine show forever. I mean Julia talked this idiot into exorcising me and it didn’t work. Now you drag him back and it goes tits up again. I thought that would have set off a few alarm bells.”

“It might have if I’d had time to think, but I was kind of busy with not letting your meat puppet kill him.”

Hunter smiles. Black gums and yellow teeth. I flash back on the Drifters and feel the urge to rip out his spine.

“What’s one Holy Roller more or less?”

“I like this one. He unfriended God on Facebook.”

Hunter looks skeptical.

“You sure it wasn’t the other way around? We have a lot of that type down here and I’m betting he’s on the party list. I’m getting a definite whiff of sulfur off him.”

He looks at Traven.

“You know all those suicides your Church condemns to Hell? There’s nothing they like better than having one of God’s defrocked toadies to play with. I’ll tell them to break out the party hats and get something special ready for you.”

Traven is turning white. He’s been through plenty of exorcisms, but having a rational, well-spoken demon threaten him personally is a whole new kind of fun for him.

“Don’t listen to him, Father. That’s no demon. It’s the asshole I was telling you about in the car. My friend Mason, the one who thinks he’s the new holy trinity—God, the devil, and GG Allin.”

“That’s the difference between us, Father. Ambition. He had none, so I had to have enough for both of us.”

Traven is frozen on the floor. Candy’s body vibrates, a low growl building in her throat. I put my hand on her back and shake my head. The last thing we need is for her to go full Jade.

“Don’t be too impressed, Father. He’s done this trick before. Talking through people on earth, but you don’t have any real power here, do you, sunshine?”

Mason raises an eyebrow.

“What makes you think I can’t pull this building down on you right now?”

“Because 9;s01C;Becif you had any real power, you’d have made it through that binding hex by now.”

Mason raps his knuckles on the invisible barrier.

“Good point,” he says. “You’ve got me there. I suppose I’m helpless as a kitten.”

He smooths down his filthy rags like he’s getting ready for a date with Miss America.

“And here I thought you’d be occupied with your fantasy about attacking heaven. But you must have time on your hands to be pulling stupid tricks like this.”

He shakes his head.

“I’m working twenty-four/seven on the big plan. Aelita, too. She came Downtown and brought some tchotchkes. She’s a hell of a girl.”

So it’s true. That’s not a combination I like thinking about. What do they have in common? One wants to kill God and one wants to be him, and I can’t see Aelita approving of Mason taking the old man’s place. Hell. Maybe they both want to be God and are going to do a set-up Pearly Gates time-share.

“You’re bluffing,” I say. “Aelita is a bitch on wings, but she’s not stupid. She wouldn’t have anything to do with a second-rate show pony like yours.”

“Sure she would. We have the same hobbies.”

“Like what?”

His face splits into a big grin. Those teeth again.

“Hating you.”

“I’m flattered.”

Traven grabs my arm and pulls me back a few feet.

“Stop talking to him. The demon is trying to confuse you.”

“There is no demon. There’s nothing in there but a little rich boy who wants to murder the world because some bad men took away his Etch A Sketch.”

Mason clasps his hand over his heart like he’s wounded. He spits some of Hunter’s blood on the sacrifice platform and clears his throat.

“Answer me this, Jimbo. And I mean this sincerely. What you need to focus on right now is the key question of the night: Why is this happening?”

For all I’m bullshitting him, I know he’s consumed with his plans to attack Heaven, so, yeah, I’m kind of wondering what’s really going on.

“Because" w201C;Be you’re trapped,” I say. “Because you got yourself in way over your head. Because you’re not Lucifer and not really in charge down there. You bribed a few generals into coming to your place for catered lunches and cigars. Big deal. Without General Semyazah, you’re never getting close to Heaven. And you haven’t been able to build a key to escape from Hell. You can’t admit you’re stuck down there. That’s why this is happening. Hiding in other people’s skin is as close as you’ll ever come to getting home.”

He stares at me, leaning his forehead on the barrier like a bored kid.

“You’re embarrassing yourself again by thinking small. What’s happening here is a formal invitation, but not from me. Listen.”

Hunter’s body goes slack. Mason has released control. A second later Hunter snaps back up. His eyes brighten and he looks around, but is unsteady on his feet. His lips move as he looks for his voice.

“Jim?” says Hunter.

No. Not this.

“Are you there? What’s happening? Where am I?”

I can’t see anything for a minute. It’s like someone flipped a switch and my vision has gone out. This is what happens to people in deep shock or sudden anger. “Blind rage,” they call it. It’s a real thing.

“Don’t listen. It’s the demon,” says Traven.

“Shut up.”

Alice’s voice comes out of Hunter’s mouth again.

“Jim? I don’t know where I am. An angel took me away and locked me up here. She said it was your fault. That you made her do it. I don’t believe her, but I’m scared.”

Hunter’s body twitches.

“That’s all you get of Little Miss Falling-Down-the-Rabbit-Hole for now.”

“How did you find her?”

“Don’t worry, Jimbo. She hasn’t been here all along. Except for getting mixed up with you, Alice was a good girl and all good girls go to Heaven. But God isn’t what he used to be. You should know that. So while good girls might get to Heaven, they don’t always get to stay.”

“Alice is what Aelita brought you.”

“She dropped poor Alice here like a basket of muffins from the neighborhood welcome wagon.”

“Why?ȁ ThC;Why?&D;

He doesn’t say anything for a long minute.

“Why? Because you made me do it,” he says. “You could have come down here and we could have settled this like men, but you stayed up there with your quilting bee, drinking beer and getting soft. Now you have to come down and face me. Or not. You can always leave poor Alice alone down here with me. I know Kasabian can see us through the Codex, so you can see what happens like watching the Super Bowl in that bar you like.” He smiles and takes a breath. “You thought Downtown was crazy when you were here? You ain’t seen nothing, pal.”

I start for the platform. Candy puts her hand on my shoulder. I shrug her off. She thinks I’m going to charge Hunter. I’m not. I just want to get close to see who I’m talking to.

Mason understands and kneels down so that we’re eye to eye.

He says, “Now you have it. Your invitation. You have exactly three days from when I leave this body to find Alice and take her . . . well, I really don’t care what you do with her. In the meantime, don’t worry. She’s in the safest place in town. The penthouse suite of the big asylum. Most of the inmates escaped weeks ago. The dangerous ones. Of course, the place is home to them, so they tend to wander back.”

I can see him looking back at me through Hunter’s eyes. No demon. It really is Mason.

“What’s it going to be? Are you going to play my game or are you going to stay safe in L.A. playing Gary Cooper and wasting your time saving people who don’t deserve it from things they’ll never understand?”

I lean in close to Hunter’s ear. Mason leans in to listen. I say a word in Hellion and he flies back, bouncing off the shield on the far side of the platform like he was hit with a sledgehammer. Vidocq and Candy get me from behind, throwing their full weight into me. Pulling me down. I let them. I don’t want to kill Hunter because of what’s inside him.

Mason staggers to his feet.

“You got me good, Jimbo. But that’s all right. I’ll take that as a yes. It’ll be good to see you again.”

He twitches.

“Jim? Are you still there? What’s happening? I . . .”

And Alice is gone. Hunter collapses onto the platform. It’s over.

Traven rubs away some of the binding hex marks. He and Vidocq lift Hunter from the platform and lay him out on the floor.

I’m stuck where I am. I feel a sucking sensation in my chest and for a second I can’t breathe. Gradually I feel Candy’s armsowix2019;s around me. I squeeze her hand and she lets me up.

Hunter is breathing. His eyes flicker open and closed. He doesn’t look like he’s going to drop dead this minute, but he’s still pretty Linda Blair. Traven isn’t looking so good either. He’s pale and his neck is dark with bruises and broken blood vessels where Hunter grabbed him.

I pick Hunter up and tell Candy and Vidocq to help Traven.

“We’re going out the fast way.”

They get their arms around Traven’s shoulders and steady him. Vidocq is closest to me, so I grab his arm and walk the few steps to the wall. We disappear into a shadow.

Come out again in the minimall parking lot. Pedestrians pass us on the way to their cars with take-out pizza and new manicures. A few of them stare. They must have seen us. Fuck ’em. The way we look, no one is going to tell anyone about it without a doctor shoving Thorazine down their throat.

We head across the lot for Kinski’s old hoodoo clinic. The place Allegra has taken over. A sign on the door reads EXISTENTIAL HEALING. Vidocq gets out his cell and dials Allegra. I don’t wait. I start pounding on the door.

A few good raps later, someone opens the doors looking pissed. It’s Allegra. She looks at Hunter and her eyes narrow. Then she sees Vidocq and Candy holding up Father Traven.

“Jesus, Stark. You’re like the Antichrist Santa Claus. Bring in the presents.”

We get Hunter inside and on the exam table. Allegra takes over, looking at Hunter’s eyes, shining a light into his blackened mouth. She turns and takes things out of a drawer. She presses one of them to Hunter’s forehead. A silver crucifix. Nothing happens. Then she touches iron. Gold. A mixture of garlic and holy water. Nothing happens with any of them.

“Good,” she says.

She rubs a yellowish salve on the inside of a mortar and tosses in thistle leaves, white ash bark, and things I can’t identify. She holds a match to the gloop and the whole thing goes up in a whoosh of fire, leaving only ash. She dumps it into her hands and rubs the ashes across Hunter’s forehead and eyes.

“Get me the glass, will you, Candy?” she says.

Traven is standing on his own now, so she leaves him and lifts several bundles of purple silk from a cabinet. Allegra takes one as Candy sets the rest on the exam table.

Allegra unwraps the first one and sets it over Hunter’s heart. It looks like a heavy white stone. She sets other pieces of glass on Hunter’s hands and diaphragm.

The stones are really pieces of ancientanys of an glass vessels saturated in divine light. Shards of the first stars. Kinski once used six of them to save Allegra. Now Allegra is the doctor, using them to save a kid she’s never seen before and has no reason to care about. But she does it like she’d die, too, if the kid doesn’t make it. It’s a funny world.

Hunter shudders and opens his mouth. Vapor drifts from his mouth again, but it’s the same gray now as the ash. Allegra nods.

“Whatever was in him is gone.”

“You sure?”

She looks at me.

“I know what possession looks like. This one took more stones than usual. What was in him?”

I don’t want to tell her. I’m feeling stupid and the last thing I want to do is have to hang around and explain anything.

“Candy and Vidocq can tell you.”

“Well, whatever it was, it’s gone now.”

“Good.”

She nods at Traven.

“What happened to him?”

“That’s Father Traven, the exorcist. No hoodoo injuries. The demon just grabbed his throat and squeezed like it was trying to make orange juice.”

Allegra looks past me at the father.

“Set him down in the lobby and let me get my instruments. I don’t want to move the boy for a while.”

Traven makes it to the lobby under his own steam, though Candy and I walk behind to catch him if he falls. He drops onto one of the plastic chairs. He leans forward, resting his face in his hands.

“I think I left my bag at that place,” he says.

“Don’t worry, Father. We’ll retrieve it for you,” says Vidocq.

I hand him Allegra’s car keys.

“Sorry. I’d like to go back and get it, but I have things I need to do.”