Kill the Dead

I hope Carlos doesn’t mind us being here. For the time being, he’s pretty much my Plan A for not starving to death. Plan B, C, and D, too. Max Overload is dead and I don’t know if it’ll ever be back. I don’t want to think about how many thousands of dollars fixing the place up and restocking the shelves will be. It’s not like we have a dime. The insurance company canceled us after the explosion back in January. The Vigil is gone. And what are the chances that Lucifer will keep paying me a stipend after he goes home to Kansas? I’m too well known to knock over liquor stores and too ugly to be a rent boy. What’s minimum wage these days? Maybe Carlos will hire me to clean up after closing. It’s good to see Bamboo House full of drunken monsters and crazy civilians. Maybe Brigitte was right after all. Maybe a little danger will bring in the crowds. The place still doesn’t need a velvet rope, but I don’t see business slacking off for a while. People need a drink when they survive an apocalypse. Speaking of which. I look for Carlos to order a shot of Jack and there’s already one at my elbow. Who says he’s not psychic? “How’s that hole in your chest doing?” comes a voice from behind me. “I have a nice new scar. I don’t know how much of Johnny’s blood you put on the knife, but it left a mark on my heart. I might need a doctor.” “We’ll stock up on lollipops,” says Candy. She and Allegra squeeze in next to me at the crowded bar. I say, “Next time you decide to stab someone to cure them from a horrible disease, try using a smaller knife.” “I could have given you the potion in a needle like I gave Brigitte, but no, you had to be a baby about it.” “You shouldn’t stab babies either. I’m not even a doctor and I know that.” “We only stab the ugly ones,” says Allegra. Allegra and Candy have been stuck together like Chang and Eng since the night I came back from the Jackal’s Backbone. With Kinski gone, we need a new hoodoo doc who can help Lurkers, take bullets out of chests without cracking them open, and juggle those hunks of God’s broken glass. “How’s boot camp?” Allegra does an exaggerated sigh. “Harder than art school, but more fun than stopping kids from shoplifting Faces of Death at the store.” “She picks up on doc’s magic healing gear fast,” says Candy. “I never had the head for it, but she zeros right in.” “Eugene’s books help with the obscure stuff. Did you know that when necromancers and Houngans are allergic to Mandrake root, their balls can swell up to the size of cantaloupes?” “I never wanted to know that. Soon you’ll be doctor to the stars and monsters. Dr. Kildare with two l’s.” “Florence Frightingale,” says Allegra. Candy smiles. “I told her that one.” Allegra says, “We’re going to head back to the clinic. Candy is going to show me fun things to do with leeches.” “It’s always a party with you two.” It’s good to see Allegra excited. And Candy with something to occupy her mind. I hold up my drink. “To Doc Kinski.” We clink glasses and drink.