“You don’t have to. Just tell me, would you like to be whole and complete again?”
“Are you God or Dear Abby?”
“You’re avoiding the question because the answer is yes and you’re too proud and hurt to say it.”
“Bullshit.”
“You can’t lie to me, James. I’m God.”
“Fine. Sure. I’d like to be one big slice of apple pie but I’m not kissing Saint James’s ass.”
“You don’t have to. While you were talking I reintegrated you.”
I look at my hands.
“Bullshit. If he was back in my head, he’d be screaming. I don’t feel any different.”
“Which is exactly as it should be. When you’re whole, it’s not necessary to think about yourself as whole. You simply are.”
“Cool it with the koans. Wild Bill is my Buddhism adviser.”
I look at myself in an old mirrored shield.
“I don’t know how I feel about this.”
“Of course you do. You’re angry. You’re always angry with me. God tricked you again. But let me remind you of something. I still am God and there are certain things I can and will do for the good of my children, including you. You’re whole because it’s necessary for you to be whole and there’s nothing you or Lucifer or Sandman Slim can do about it.”
“See? You do have the right attitude to be a good Lucifer.”
Mr. Muninn walks to an old L.A. Red Car and steps inside.
“I’ll miss my collection.”
“It’s not going anywhere.”
“I’ll miss my solitude.”
“I got very big on delegating Lucifer’s duties at the end. Keep the same policy and have all the solitude you want. Trust me. You don’t want to sit around working out budget projections for the next thousand years.”
He steps out of the Red Car and perches on a Persian hoodoo carpet hovering three feet off the ground.
“One last thing before I go. Do you forgive me for deceiving you all this time?”
“Sure. Do you forgive me for being a loudmouth asshole Abomination?”
He holds up a hand. Shakes his head.
“You’re only an Abomination to Aelita and her ilk. You’re simply James Stark to me. Not nephilim or monster. Just Stark.”
“Your brother Neshamah told me his name. What’s yours?”
“Can’t we stick with Muninn? It’s the name I prefer.”
“Muninn it is.”
“I suppose it’s time for me to be going.”
I touch my chest. Lucifer’s armor is gone. I look at Mr. Muninn and he’s wearing it. It looks funny strapped to his round body.
“That’s a good look for you,” I lie.
He raps his knuckles on the metal.
“I haven’t worn armor since the war with Lucifer. Now here I am wearing his, preparing to become him. Even I
