“Last time I was here, you said I only came over when I wanted a potion or needed to get sewn up, so I thought I’d come over and try to act like a person for a while.” She steps back and opens the door more. “Come in.” Vidocq comes over, wiping his hands on a black rag that I’m guessing didn’t start out that color. He grabs me in a bear hug. “Good to see you, my boy. And look, no blood. We need some wine to celebrate.” “Thanks.” As he grabs a wine bottle and glasses off the counter, he says, “Allegra was going to call you. Tell him.” She smiles at me. “The Cupbearer’s elixir is ready. We finished it maybe an hour ago.” Vidocq comes back with the bottle, hands out glasses, and pours wine for everyone. “Allegra figured it out. Often, when those old witches wrote their potions down, they would leave out a step or two to preserve their secrets. We worked all night, but the mixture wouldn’t hold together. Then Allegra intuited a solution. You want to preserve your body, so that’s what we gave it. I found one of your bloody shirts in the trash, cut a piece, and dropped it in. That’s the trick. The elixir must be made for each individual. And this one is yours.” He hands me a small amber-colored antique apothecary bottle. Like something Mattie Earp would use to hide her laudanum from Wyatt. “Thanks. I mean it.” Vidocq stands next to Allegra, puts his arm around her, and kisses her on the temple. “She will replace us all soon. And you, you’ll be back to yourself, as scarred and lined as Lucifer’s scrotum.” What can you say to that? I hold up my glass. “To the devil’s balls.” Allegra and Vidocq hold up theirs. He says, “Pour les bourses du diable.” Vidocq and I drain our glasses. Allegra sips hers politely. She says, “Speaking of the devil, is it true you’re working for him?” I put my hand over the wound where the bullet went in. “Looks that way. I saved the bastard’s life last night.” Allegra is looking at me like a disapproving schoolmarm, but Vidocq leans in for a close look at the bullet hole. “Saint Raphael’s silk. Les petites araignees do beautiful work, don’t they?” “I wouldn’t know. I had my eyes closed.” He laughs and pours us more wine. “I don’t blame you. They’re ugly little buggers.” Allegra shakes her head when he offers her some. “How can you work for him?” “I work for him because he pays me, same as the Vigil.”
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