“Your doppelgänger made a lot of enemies.”
I take out a Malediction and light it. If you went by the gasp from the crowd you’d think I was skinning a deer on the Persian rug.
“I should have let Mason kill you.”
She sips her tea and puts it down.
“What a strange thing to say. You saved us angels to keep the gates of Hell closed and now here you are. Hell itself. You saved this world from horror only to return as the embodiment of horror.”
“Guess the God-killing business doesn’t pay well if you have to wet-nurse these ankle biters.”
“I go where I’m needed.”
Cairo has inched his way closer behind me. I flick the na’at at his feet. He dances back a step. He looks like a prancing idiot but he’s a dangerous son of a bitch.
“If the hit squad in the bar were legit Sub Rosa security, why did they take off their brands?”
Cairo clears his throat.
“New security policy. Some of the boys got God. Thou shalt not mark thy body or some such. Anyway, praying calms them, so I encourage it.”
I shove Blackburn into a chair, say “Stay,” and walk over to Aelita.
“Is that the idea? You resurrect the Golden Vigil with a bunch of inbred junkie berserkers? Kill ’em all and let God sort them out.”
I turn to the room.
“Is that what the Sub Rosa is about these days?”
“Like God, the ways of the Sub Rosa are mysterious,” says Aelita. “But in the end, they’re for the good of all humanity, Sub Rosa and civilian alike.”
Someone makes a break for the door. A woman wearing a blue fur coat. She looks like a plush toy. I snap out the na’at like a whip, grab one of her ankles, and lift her off the floor. Drop her down on a bunch of blue bloods still holding their teacups.
“Next person that runs, I take their head.”
I retract the na’at and lean on the desk. Aelita rolls away from me a few inches.
“What about the freaky little girl with the knife? Is she part of your good works or are you running a thrill-kill day-care program?”
“Is the great Sandman Slim afraid of a ghost child?”
She makes a tsk-tsk sound.
“Don’t concern yourself with the girl. We’re dealing with her.”
“Deal faster. She killed someone tonight. A Sub Rosa who stopped in for a drink. Not bothering anyone. Playing with his damn phone.”
“If you’re so frightened, why not come in under the synod’s protection? Our psychics tell us that things aren’t going well in Hell. We can protect you from your enemies in this world and the celestial realms.”
“A two-for-one sale. How much?”
“Nothing you need. Burdens really. Give me the singularity and the Qomrama Om Ya and you’ll officially be under the Sub Rosa’s protection.”
So that’s what the Magic 8 Ball is called. It sounds like a Hellion sneezing.
“I survived Hell. I think I can survive Hollywood.”
“Then just the Qomrama.”