He takes the smoke and I light it with Mason’s lighter. Mike nods.
“What choice do I have?”
“None. I’ll be in touch with the details.”
Candy starts out. I follow but stop at the door to put on my glove.
“What’s the story with the vucari out front?”
Mike shakes his head. Wipes the tears from his eyes with the heel of his hand.
“My cousins. From the old country. Fucking Cossacks.”
“But you’re not a Lurker.”
“It was a mixed marriage,” he says.
“I see why you made the deal. If I had to work with family, I’d prefer Hell too.”
“Yeah. Maybe I’ll sell you my soul back,” he says. Then quickly, “I’m only kidding.”
“I know, Mike. I know.”
We go back to the Porsche. Mike’s cousins beat on the dead car, smiling at us like they’re tenderizing steaks for our dinner.
I get out my phone and dial Amanda Fischer’s number. She answers on the fifth ring.
“I don’t recognize your number. How did you get this one?”
“Don’t you know me, Amanda?” I say in my spookiest Hail Satan voice. “It’s Mr. Macheath.”
The line goes quiet. I hear breathing, then, “This doesn’t sound like Mr. Macheath. How do I know it’s you?”
I try to remember what happened when I met her and her Devil toadies at the Chateau Marmont with Lucifer 1.0.
“I have the lovely pyx you gave me on the mantel in my library.”
“Master!”
“New rule. Don’t call me ‘master.’ Lucifer will do.”
“Yes, Lucifer. What can I do for you, Master?”
This shit again. Why are all Hellions and devil worshippers bottoms?
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“It’s quite all right. Now I need you to do some things for me. I need some information.”
“Yes, Lucifer. What kind of information?”
“I want everything you can find about a place called Blue Heaven. Where it is. How you get in.”
“I didn’t think anywhere was barred to you.”
“You’ll notice that part of the name includes the word ‘Heaven.’ All Heavens have a waiting list to get in and my name is at the bottom.”
“Of course, Lucifer. Sorry.”