LITMIR.BIZ

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see? No problems. He was able to perform his job, return, and is now awake, refreshed, and completely coherent.” He looks at Sandoval. “I know you’re not used to dealing with creatures such as this but trust me, Eva. He is functioning perfectly normally.”

      Speaking of normal, I pour myself a drink at Eva’s bar.

      “Thanks, Howard. And if you ever call me ‘creature’ again, I’m going to cut off your tongue with bolt cutters.”

      Sandoval pats me on the arm.

      “Careful, Stark. You want Howard to be your friend on your trip back to the world of the living.”

      “Just tell Dr. Frankenstein to watch his language.”

      “Of course. I’m sure he understands what a sensitive snowflake you are,” she says.

      “What were you and Sinclair gossiping about when I came in?”

      She looks over at him.

      Sinclair says, “There were two more assassinations. Jared Glanton and Tetsuya Shin.”

      “Here in L.A.?”

      “No,” says Sandoval. “Jared was in our New York office, Tetsuya in Buenos Aires.”

      “And they were the heads of their branches?”

      “Yes.”

      “Good. At least the pattern is confirmed. Which one of you runs L.A.?”

      “That would be me,” says Sandoval.

      “Then you’re not going to get a bullet in the head.”

      “What makes you say that?” say Sinclair.

      “Because they’re going to blow us up, Barron,” Sandoval says.

      “Ah. Right.”

      She looks at me. “That’s enough of you questioning us. What did you learn from that horrid woman in the basement?”

      I glance at Howard, but he’s staring at a painting on the wall and won’t look at me.

      “I’ve got good news. The ritual is tomorrow. And I know where and when.”

      Eva goes over to Sinclair. They whisper to each other for a minute.

      “Are you sure?” he says. “We were told it was the weekend.”

      “She might be lying,” Sandoval says.

      “She wasn’t. I made sure she knew it wasn’t in her best interest.”

      Sandoval holds up a hand.

      “Don’t tell me what you did. I don’t want to know.”

      “Don’t worry. There were no bolt cutters involved.”

      “Not another word.”

      Sinclair says, “Where will the ritual take place?”

      “At the Chapel of St. Alexis. Exactly at sunset.”

      He looks at Sandoval.

      “That’s right downtown. We could have a hundred armed associates there by then.”

      “That’s a great idea,” I say. “Scare them off so they disappear and reschedule the ritual without us knowing when or where.”

      “How do you want to handle it, then?” says Sandoval.

      “I’ll take care of it myself. I don’t think there will be many faction people there because the ones who show up are committing suicide.”

      “How will you do it?” says Sinclair.

      “I’ll know when I see the setup, but I imagine I’ll basically just kill them all and take their stuff. Is that okay with everyone?”

      Sandoval says, “It’s fine with me.”

      “Me too,” says Sinclair.

      Howard just grunts.

      “Will you need anything from us?” says Sandoval.

      “Body armor would be nice. Until I’m a hundred percent back, I’d like to keep bullets at a pleasant distance. I also need a couple of boxes of nine-millimeter ammo, plus three extended round clips. And bullets for the rifle I took from Marcella’s boys. A hundred rounds of 5.56 × 45 millimeter.”

      “I don’t understand,” says Sandoval. “Can’t you simply use magic to kill them all?”

      I shake my head.

      “I won’t know that until I get there. There could be wards, charms, enchantments. A million little tricks that could slow down my hoodoo. I want to keep my body in one piece and that means being prepared for anything. Besides, sometimes a gun is just quicker.”

      Sinclair has been scribbling notes on a piece of paper. When he’s done he looks over at me.

      “Aside from the armor and the guns, is there anything else you need?”

      I finish my drink.

      “Yes. Before I have another one of these, I want a goddamn cigarette.”

      Sandoval goes to her desk and pulls out a box of Nat Sherman Classics. Tosses it to me along with a gold lighter.

      I sniff the box.

      “Thanks, Santa.”

      She nods at me.

      “Eat something before you have more liquor. We want you in decent shape for tomorrow.”

      I nod and head back to my room with my presents.

      “I’ll get something when I’m out.”

      “Where are you going?” says Sandoval.

      “I’m taking a walk. Personal stuff.”

      “What I mean is, will it be dangerous?”

      “My ego might get bruised, if that’s what you’re asking.”

      Howard says, “Remember to take care of your body. The healthier it is, the easier your transition will be. Damage it too much and I might not be able to bring you back fully.”

      “You just be ready tomorrow night, Dr. Frankenstein. This monster wants to be able to eat donuts again.”

      “What the hell does that mean?” says Sinclair.

      “Don’t worry about it. Just be ready.”

      I STILL HAVE some of Sinclair’s cash burning a hole in my pocket. Bamboo House of Dolls has good drinks and good food, so that’s destination two. Before that, though, I need to make one other stop.

      It’s closing time at Max Overdrive and Kasabian is hustling the last customers out the door. It’s Friday night so I know what happens next. I light a Sherman and wait for it. Sure enough, in a few minutes, the door opens again and more people file out. Allegra is in the lead, followed by Brigitte Bardo. Candy and Alessa are last. They’re laughing, holding hands as they head out for a night of drinking, and my heart stutters for a minute. It’s one thing to wish them happiness in the abstract, but it’s another to see Candy laughing and in love without me. It hurts, but I’m a big boy, so I stay in the dark across the street and finish my cigarette.

      Kasabian is still in the store putting money and discs away before heading out to join them. I wait until Candy and the others are out of sight before stepping into a shadow.

      And step out again in the back of Max Overdrive. I watch Kasabian for a minute. He looks good. The mechanical body Manimal Mike made for him moves smoothly and naturally. He even has a few upgrades. His hands look human, not like the metal claws I remember. He’s wearing a bulky track suit zipped up to his neck to hide his stainless steel torso and legs. The suit hangs loose on him like someone deflated him. Still, he looks happy and healthy enough.

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