the blast. They probably hurt like hell, but they’ll help convince the other officers he was in a serious fight.
“There’s one other thing,” I say. “It’s going to piss you off, but you can use it to persuade any of the holdouts.”
“What is it?”
“The Kissi are coming. I cut them into the game. It wouldn’t be a party without them.”
He’s back over to me in three quick steps.
“Are you mad?”
“Relax. Just because they’re crazy doesn’t mean they aren’t useful. But when it comes to dealing with them, you need to listen to me.”
His eyes narrow. He’s wondering if Azazel was right and I’m the liar who’s going to get them all killed.
“I’ll need to hear your plan before I agree to anything.”
“Fair enough. You’re going to need whatever generals you still trust and some goddamn fast runners.”
IT ISN’T HARD to guess where Lucifer’s office is. The penthouse is huge. It’s basically an old-school Hollywood mansion bolted to the top of a classy hotel, with multiple bedrooms, a kitchen, I don’t know how many goddamn showers, plus expensive furniture and enough art to start a tacky museum. San Simeon meets the Playboy Mansion.
In the middle of a large meeting room is a table with the same floating 3-D map I saw at Mammon’s palace. A gaggle of Hellion generals and staff officers are gathered on the balcony talking, arguing, and waving their hands describing details of battle maneuvers.
I stay half a step behind Semyazah, playing the humble underling. No one turns our way until I clear my throat extra loud. The officers turn. Then do nothing for a few seconds. A couple head over to Semyazah.
“General?”
“You look surprised to see me. When Hell is at war, then I’m at war and nothing could keep me away from my legions. Not even Tartarus.”
More officers come over.
“Did Mason free you?” asks a general who, if I remember right, might be Belial.
I say, “No one lets anyone out of Tartarus. The general led the escape himself.”
They seem to notice me for the first time.
“Who is this?” Belial asks.
“Just a guide,” I say. “The general freed us from Tartarus, so in gratitude I showed him the quickest route back here.”
The oldest and most battle-worn of the officers steps out in front of the others. It’s Baphomet, one of Lucifer’s first converts.
“That’s quite a story, General,” he says. “It might answer a troubling question. When we heard the rumbles to the south, Mason Faim ordered us to use artillery to lay waste to that entire region of Pandemonium. I refused an order. Firing on my people was never part of our plans. I persuaded much of the officer corps to join me. Now it seems that Mason Faim has disappeared, allegedly preparing his own alternate war plan.”
“What plan?” asks Semyazah.
“I have no idea.”
A pale officer comes to stand beside Baphomet. I think it’s General Shax.
“The truth is that many of us have been having increasing doubts about this mortals’ war. What wilighar. Whal it profit either of us if both Heaven and Hell are laid to waste?”
Semyazah steps forward and gestures for the other officers to come closer.
“The destruction of both worlds has always been Mason Faim’s plan. Let me tell you what I know and you’ll understand why he banished me.”
While they talk, I slip back out the same shadow we used to come in.
I COME OUT in Lucifer’s old office. Mason has taken it over completely. All the Hellion art and tapestries showing the fall from grace are gone. Maybe they weren’t ever here. This version of Lucifer’s office looks like a top- floor office at the New York Stock Exchange. Nice paneling. Cushy chairs. A lot of expensive-looking paintings on the walls. I prefer Lucifer’s slaughter art. At least that didn’t look rented.
Mason’s office is part office and part lab. A lot of the equipment is the same kind of alchemical gear that Vidocq uses. There’s an area with machining tools and a home-brew blast furnace that’s scorched one wall black. It’s surrounded by stacks of raw iron slugs. The floor and tables are covered with dozens of failed copies of the key to the Room of Thirteen Doors. I wonder how many of those keys I can shove up Mason’s ass before they come out his eyes.
Papers, blueprints, scrolls, and spell books are scattered all over Mason’s desk and the floor. Someone has dumped the contents of the drawers on the floor. I sit in Mason’s desk chair, close my eyes, and step aside so the angel can take over for a while and read the room. It feels around for any signs of him, not just in the room, but also in the aether, where hoodoo leaves trails and powerful magic leaves the magician’s fingerprints. There’s nothing there. Not an easy trick. He really wants to keep his backup plan to himself.
There’s something familiar in a wooden box doubling as a trash can. I upend it and the leather satchel Jack stole from me falls out. I open it and take out the carefully folded cloth. My face is still there. At this point I’m so far past numb that I’m not even happy to find it. More like relieved that there’s one less thing to run around after.
I push everything off Mason’s desk with my robo-bug arm and lay out my skin. I chant, letting the rhythm and the hougans’ words drift back into my head. I rub my temples until the flesh goes soft. When it feels loose I pinch
