"No, boy. Heaven doesn't worry about me anymore. Those were Kissi. They were shopping for one last angel for their New Year's party."
I look at him hard, trying to read him. Wanting a final, for-real take on him. But he's a blank wall.
He smiles at me.
"I know what you're doing. You can't read angels like regular people. Even angels can't always read other angels. Otherwise we would have never had that little dustup with Lucifer in Heaven."
"Can you read me?"
"Of course."
"What am I thinking?"
"You're afraid I'm crazy because that's one more person you can't count on. And you're afraid I'm telling the truth 'cause that means you were screwed before you ever drew your first breath."
That's exactly what I'm thinking.
"Will I be like you? Will I be able to read you someday?"
He shrugs.
"It's hard to say. With nephilim, it's always different. Some are more human and some are almost angels and can do almost anything angels do. You'll know what you can do when you can do it. That's all I can tell you."
"Let's say I believe this story. Could you fix me up with a cocktail like Candy's? Make me like a regular person?"
"I wouldn't even try."
"Why not?"
"You always had magic, but you came into your real power in Hell. You were running wild, not holding yourself back like the nephilim that grew up around humans. You found yourself and accepted what you could do without all the angst and bullshit that they went through."
"And what is it I can do?"
"Warrior is the nice word, the traditional word, but that's just a polite way of saying that you're a natural-born killer. You're Sandman Slim, the monster who kills monsters. I'm not going to drug you up to change that."
"Even if I wanted to change it?"
"Especially then. How many angels showed up to save the world the other night? Did Aelita and her little quilting bee conquer the evil at Avila's heart? No. It took a monster to walk between all the forces massed there and to beat them all. No one else could have done that."
"There were two monsters there," I remind him.
He nods.
"Right. Two monsters."
The pizza delivery boy brings out a second pile of pizza boxes, loads them in the van, backs up, and heads into the afternoon traffic. He gives us the finger on the way out of the parking lot.
"I can feel a lot of stuff pinballing around in your head. You want to tell me what you think about all this?"
"If your story is true, then one of my parents fucked an angel. Which one?"
"Why does that matter?"
"It doesn't, but I want to know."
"Your mother."
"I thought so. My father was gone a lot on sales calls. Mom was lonely and pretty. I guess that explains some things about my father."