“What did Springheel invoke and why did he let it in?”
I step forward to the broken edge of the hexagon.
“He would have been here, near the opening. He’s thrown yojimbe around. He’s probably been snorting meth and doing his poppers. He starts his spell and he calls up a demon.”
“What kind of demon?”
I hold up one of the still-smoking bones with my fingertips and point to the broken edge.
“An eater. Five hundred years ago, an eater was what you called when you wanted it to look like locusts chewed up on your neighbor’s crops or wolves killed their cattle. Enoch wanted something more up close and personal. That’s why there’s a break in the hexagon. Springheel built himself a cosmic glory hole. He was a Bone Daddy.”
Wells is frowning. He really wants me to shut up. I keep going.
“He’s got a hard-on for demons. For eaters. Springheel wanted to stick as much of himself as he could get through that glory hole and get it nibbled on by a primordial retard with ten rows of shark teeth. Only something went wrong.”
“What?”
“Damned if I know. Let your techs figure it out. Springheel called an eater because that’s how he got off. But he fucked up. Broke the circle too wide or made some stupid stoner mistake to completely break the hexagon’s protection and got himself eaten.”
“You’re sure about this sick shit?”
“Who else lived here?”
“No one. He was the last of the Springheels.”
“All alone with no one to look over his shoulder. That’s a nice setting to work out really elaborate fantasies. There’s one other thing you probably ought to check out.”
“What’s that?”
“If end-of-the-line Enoch was the last member of a house that went from number one to less than zero, getting eaten might not have been a mistake. It could have been a nasty, lonely little suicide. A hard-core player partying one last time as he pisses off this mortal coil.”
Wells turns and walks away.
“Enough. How do you live inside your head? I’m not saying you’re wrong or that I disagree with your conclusions or that disgusting scenario that you obviously know a lot about. All I’m saying is stop. I don’t want to hear any more. You’ve done your job. My team will finish up. Thank you for your valuable contribution to the investigation. Now please, get the hell out of here. I don’t want to look at you for a while.”
I’ve seen Wells screaming crazy, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him upset. I guess when you’re in love with an angel, the idea of someone spending his alone time shoving his cock down demons’ throats might be disturbing. Welcome to my world, G-man. I’ll show you Hellion hobbies that make Enoch Springheel look like Jiminy Cricket.
I go back to the porch and into the kitchen. Marshal Julie is still alone up front.
When she sees me she asks, “Did you do your job?”
“I just got thrown out. That usually means I did.”
“Good for you. I’m sure the marshal is grateful that you came through for him.”
“Not really.”
“Your car is gone.”
“It wasn’t my car.”
“That’s why it’s gone. Do you need a ride?”
“Are you offering?”
She gets quiet for a minute. Stares past me over my shoulder.
“What’s going on back there? I know it’s a murder scene, but I’m supposed to stay up here and guard the doorknobs.”