Time for a sacrifice. I slit both side pockets on my coat a few inches, long enough so that the Colt .45 and the LeMat can rest inside, but far enough out that I can quick draw them. When I get the cuts the right length, I reinforce the interior and sides of the pockets with duct tape.
This is one of the reasons I'll never own a car. I'm hard on things. Everything ends up broken, ripped apart, modified, stuck together, or shot to shit. I'd be naked as Adam and cold as a polar bear if it weren't for duct tape.
If anyone ever asks you what a desperate man looks like, you can tell them that he looks like this: He's down on his hands and knees, digging through the ruins of his exploded bedroom, looking for a cigarette. If he looks hard enough, he might find a real treasure, like a bent, but only half-smoked butt. I hold it up like the Holy Grail, blow off as much of the dust as I can, and fire it up with Mason's lighter. Like my grandmother used to say, "I am blessed and highly favored."
I get out my cell and dial Kinski's number. Candy answers.
"Are you always the designated phone answerer over there?"
"Stark? Doc doesn't like phones. He thinks they're too disembodied."
"I'd love to be disembodied. All my problems solved at once."
"Ghosts don't smoke or get to drink Jack Daniel's."
"Forget it, then. I'll live forever."
"That's a better plan than what you had the last time we talked."
"That's why I called. I wanted to ask about some of that. I know you're taking the cure and trying to stay clean and all, but we're still a lot the same, too. Still monsters under the skin."
"Why do you want to talk about that?"
"I was wondering if maybe you'd like to go do some-thing with me tonight. Some friends and me, we're going to crash a New Year's Eve party and kill a whole bunch of people."
"Why, Stark. Are you flirting with me? You bad boy."
"We're going to stop a mass sacrifice, so there's going to be a lot of bad guys. I figure that having as many experienced killers as possible will help even out the odds. But it sounded like Doc Kinski's clipped your wings. You haven't tasted a human in a long time, have you?"
"Doc makes me this amazing cocktail. My iced frappuccino people substitute, I call it. I haven't fed on anyone in two years, three months, and eight days."
"If you've ever had the itch, here's your chance. And this time when you're killing, you'll be on the side of the angels. Literally."
"You sure know how to turn a girl's head." She doesn't say anything for a minute.
"Candy?"
"I'll have to talk to Doc first. I can't lie to him."
"I understand. It's up to you. My friends and me, we're going to be at Club Avila a little after ten. You know where that is?"
"Everyone knows where Avila is."
"This party is going to be special. Assuming the world doesn't end, no one is ever going to forget it."
"I'll try to be there."
"One more thing."
"Yes?"
"Thanks for treating me like, you know, a person through all this shit. I know that isn't always easy."
"You do have a habit of pissing on other people's welcome mats. But, when a gentleman gives you a booty call to a massacre, it's easy to forgive him. Ciao."
I finish my cigarette and start getting ready. I strap on the body armor, which feels tough enough, but closes with Velcro strips. I know this is state-of-the-art gear, but I'd feel more confident if it wasn't held together with the same stuff they use to fasten kids' sneakers.
I'm going to feel really bad if this all falls apart tonight. I don't want the last thing I say to Vidocq and Allegra to be "Get out."