I’m about to step into a shadow when my phone rings. I check the caller ID. It’s Allegra. I hit the talk button.
“How is she?”
I don’t her anything for a minute.
“Allegra? How is she?”
“I don’t know what to say. I was only gone a minute.”
“What’s happened?”
“Candy hadn’t moved, hadn’t changed since you left. I went to the closet for some supplies.”
“Is she alive?”
I must have shouted, because I startle Julie.
“I think so. I’m so sorry. I heard a noise while I was out of the room. When I came back, Fairuza was on the floor and a window was broken. She’s gone, Stark. She’s gone.”
I hang up.
“What’s wrong?” says Julie.
My mind is going a million miles an hour.
“He did this.”
“Saint Nick? What did he do?”
I push past her, pulling the Colt. Julie gets in front of me.
“Stop. Talk to me. What’s happened?”
“Candy is missing, and I know that motherfucker had something to do with it.”
“Then what good is it killing him? Think about it.”
I do. I start for the cells again.
“Stop,” says Julie. “What’s your plan? Kill Saint Nick? Tear up the city looking for Candy so you’ll feel in control? The Vigil has resources you wouldn’t believe. We can find anyone. What do you have besides anger? Be smart for once. Let me handle this. You go home. I’ll call you when we find her.”
I look at her. Is this more Vigil bullshit? Is she on their side or mine?
“Please,” she says. “If you kill him, there’s no coming back. You’ll have the Marshals Ser-vice, Homeland Security, and the Vigil after you.”
In my mind I can see Mason’s head exploding. It feels even better than the first time.
Julie says, “I promise you I’ll find her. Give me twelve hours.”
I get out my phone and set a timer.
“Twelve hours. After that, he’s mine and I’ll hurt anyone who gets in my way.”
Julie nods.
“Okay. Let me go talk to Wells and tell him what’s happened.”
I nod and start for a shadow.
“Twelve hours.”
“Don’t come back unless I call you,” she says.
I GO HOME, fire up the Hellion hog, and head out again. But I don’t need a bike. I need a goddamn ark to get around. On some of the side streets off Hollywood and Sunset, the water comes up to the hubs. Even a Hellion bike starts getting pissed off after a while at that kind of thing. The Hellion hog was built for Hell’s heat, not L.A.’s Titanic--on--its--last--legs act. The bike coughs and threatens to tap out a -couple of times, but it keeps going. I lose track of time in the empty streets.
Here and there, stop lights work. A single streetlamp glows. Every now and then I see another vehicle in the street. Whenever I do, it veers off onto another street. Looters probably, afraid I’m out scouting for LAPD. Take it all, you soggy bastards. I’d love to know who you’re going to fence it to. There’s something almost comforting in the fact that even at the end of the world, there’s always going to be one guy ready to pick your pocket.
I go by Bamboo House of Dolls first. Then Vidocq and Allegra’s place. Nothing. I call Brigitte. She hasn’t heard from Candy. Where else would she have gone? Maybe to be with other Jades? Do I know any other Jades? Just Rinko, Candy’s ex--girlfriend. I’m the last person on the planet she wants to hear from and the last she’d tell anything to. What an idiot scene this is. Me driving in circles in a monsoon like the Flying fucking Dutchman hoping to spot one lone girl on a million square miles of Southern California roads. It’s my fault and a little Candy’s, I guess. We’re both so closemouthed about our pasts. I keep waiting for her to tell me about the Jade world when she’s ready and she wants me to talk about Doc and that whole mess. Tonight’s lesson, class, is—-assuming we live through this—-to ask more questions. Man, I hate the sound of that. I just want to go back to the Chateau Marmont, order room ser-vice, get drunk together, and break all the furniture in the master bedroom. Is that too much to ask?
After the bike finally stalls a -couple of times and the rain is coming down so hard I can’t see more than five feet ahead of me, I turn back for Max Overdrive.
I’m putting on dry clothes when the phone rings. It’s Julie.
“Have you found Candy?”
“Not yet, but we’re following up on leads.”
“Why did you call?”
“Wells wants you to come in. It’s about Saint Nick.”
“Stop calling him that. His name is Mason Faim.”
“How do you know?”
“Because back when he was a person I killed him.”
“You know a lot of dead -people.”
“What does Wells want?”
“Saint Nick, Mason Faim, whoever, won’t talk to him. He wants to talk to you.”
“I’ll be right there.”
I get a dry coat and a gun. I step through a shadow.
THEY HAVE MASON in a cell with walls thick enough to stop a meteor. They’re covered from end to end, top to bottom, in a hasty scrawl of protective wards and crosses. It’s like they let a gang of junior high taggers go at the cell with a copy of The Little Wizard’s Handbook of Scary--Looking Shit.
Inside, Mason is seated at a metal table bolted to the floor. The walls are covered in binding hexes. Mason is cuffed hand and foot with cold iron shackles and dressed in orange coveralls. The zipper on the front of his jailbird suit is pulled down low enough that everyone can see the sutures holding his chop--shop body together. All that and his mismatched eyes make him look like a garage--sale--love--doll--at--Hammer Studios Frankenstein movie.
There are guards outside, but the room is empty. Julie follows me in. I pull up a chair and sit down across from Mason.
“Where’s Candy?”
“It’s good to see you too, Jimmy.”
“Where’s Candy?”
He shrugs.
“You’re the one with the sweet tooth. I always preferred my snacks salty.”
“Don’t be cute. I can kill you before anyone here can stop me.”
Mason leans on the table.
“You already did, remember? That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. You cheated.”
“I sure did.”
“You told me not to use magic and then you went ahead and used it yourself.”
“My game. My rules.”
“That’s exactly what I was going to say to you.”
“I’m not playing games with you. I’m going to ask questions and you’re going to answer them.”
He leans back in his chair, looking relaxed.
“And what if I don’t? You’ll kill me? How did that work out last time? You ended up stuck in Hell playing Lucifer. Badly. Your lover left you. Heaven, Hell, and L.A. suffered all sorts of calamities. And through it all, the Angra grew stronger. No, killing me just made things worse for everybody. Besides, you think I can’t find my way into a new body? You could fill a stadium with all the bodies my friends and I have created. And all I need is one. You can’t win playing your old games, Jimmy.”
“Where’s Candy?”
“In the cut--glass bowl on Grandma’s coffee table.”
Before he or Julie can move, I lean across the table and punch him. He shakes it off and looks at me.
“In a caravan to Timbuktu.”
I hit him again.
“On the Matterhorn ride at Disneyland.”
I start to hit him again when I hear Julie.
“Stark! Stop it.”
Mason spits blood on the floor.
“Tell you what, Jimbo. You like games. Play a game with me and I’ll tell you everything I know about your squeeze.”
“What kind of game?”
He turns to Julie.
“Do you have any playing cards around here?”
“We have a few games in the break room,” she says. “I’ll check.”
“Hurry back, darling.”
Mason turns back and raises an eyebrow at me. His chop--shop face is almost as scarred as mine.
“One of yours?” he says.
“You don’t need to know anything about her. Or anyone else here. I’m the only one you need to worry about.”
“How is it?”
“How’s what?”
He opens his hands, rattling the shackles.
“The Qomrama. Having fun with it? Teaching it to do tricks. Fetch? Roll over.”
“We’re doing great with it. The Shonin practically has it sussed.”
“The Shonin. I’ve heard about him.”
“From who?”
“A little demon told me.”
“Where’s Candy?”
Mason looks down at the table. Purses his lips.
“Every time you say something stupid or break a rule you lose a turn.”
“We aren’t playing yet.”
“Yes we are.”