I lean on the sofa.
“Did you bring me here to kill me? I could have stayed in bed for that.”
He scratches his chin.
“I thought about it. I had to ask myself if your continued existence was more of an asset or a liability for the universe.”
“And?”
“I’ve put off a final decision for the time being.”
“Thanks, I guess. I mean all us nondeities are born with a gun to our heads and someday it’ll go off. At least I know I’m not immortal. The laundry bills would have killed me.”
Muninn goes out into the hall and we follow. He walks us down to the main room by the big picture windows.
“The real reason I wanted to bring you here was to remind you of the state Hell was in when you left.”
I get a bad feeling in my gut.
“You’re not going to make me Lucifer again, are you?”
“No. That would be cruel to the damned. But I wanted you to have a last look at the place. As I said before, everything is different now.”
“Are you making Samael Lucifer again?”
Muninn seems lost in his thoughts again. Like he’s still trying to find the words.
“There won’t be any more Lucifers,” he says. “And no more Hell. At least not in its present form.”
“I’m not getting you.”
“We talked once . . . well, you harangued and I politely listened, about opening the gates of Hell. Dismantling it in a sense. Opening Heaven to whoever among the fallen can make their way there and who choose to stay. Hell will remain as it is. With a few repairs to make it more hospitable. Any angel or soul that chooses to remain here can do so.”
“That’s great news. Really.”
He nods, but doesn’t look happy.
“Now that things have changed, we must change with them.”
“You’re going home now to run Heaven, I guess.”
He shakes his head.
“No. I’m old and worn out and need a rest. Samael will rule in Heaven.”
Samael smiles like it’s his birthday and he got a free Grand Slam breakfast at Denny’s. I give him a -couple of seconds of applause.
“Lucifer finally gets to make Heaven the way he wants it. What will the tabloids say?”
“That I’m a reformed devil. Don’t forget to mention that when they call you for a quote.”
“He won’t be entirely in charge, of course,” says Muninn. “More of a regent taking care of things day--to--day in my place.”
Samael shrugs.
“I tried to get him to retire, but he won’t give up the family business.”
I look at Muninn.
“Where are you going?”
“Where I wanted to be all along. Back to my cavern under Los Angeles. Maybe I’ll even reopen my shop in the Bradbury Building.”
“That sounds great. I’ll stop by and say hi.”
“Yes. You should,” he says. “But not for a while.”
“Understood.”
He takes a battered piece of metal from his pocket. It looks like an old skeleton key, but one that he saved from a garbage disposal.
“I thought about adding this to my collection, but since you gave me the Mithras I thought you might like it.”
He hands it to me.
“The possession key?”
Muninn nods. He walks down the hall and we have to follow again. He goes into the kitchen and starts making a cup of tea.
“You have some bad history with the key. I thought you might like to see that no one else had it. Even me.”
“Is this another test? Like when you gave me the Mithras?”
He spoons leaves into a tea ball.
“I’m letting you test yourself.”
I weigh the mangled key in my hand.
“I might actually have a use for this.”
He looks up, surprised.
“You’re going to use it, then?”
“Just once. And with her permission.”
He puts a kettle on to boil.
“I’m too tired to care about your schemes. Do what you want as long as the other person agrees.”
“Thanks.”
He goes to the refrigerator and looks around for milk. Samael taps me on the shoulder.
“Time to go,” he says.
“Bye, Mr. Muninn. I’ll see you around. But not for a while.”
“But not forever either.”
“Don’t say a word,” says Samael. “For once, leave while you’re still ahead.”
We go down a few floors in the elevator.
“Your friends have adjoining rooms at the end of the hall on the right. I’m on the floor just below Father’s. Take your time. Come get me when you’re done and I’ll take you home.”
“Thanks.”
He nods and goes back upstairs.
I walk down the hall and knock on a door. A man’s voice says, “Come on in.”
Standing in the middle of the room in a hotel robe as fine as a terry--cloth Cadillac, and with a glass of whiskey in his hand, is Wild Bill. He turns around once to show me his good fortune.
“Hi, Bill. How are you doing?”
He comes over and shakes my hand.
“I’ve been worse. The grub in this place is par--damn--excellence.”
“Fancy talk for a gunslinger.”
“I’m no dandy, but a feller could get used to this.”
“Or maybe something better. You heard about the changes happening around here?”
He sips his drink.
“ ’Bout opening up the place? Yeah. I heard. I can’t say I entirely hold with letting all those murderers and bushwhackers out of here.”
“I guess it’s a philosophical thing. Can even busted-up souls be saved or redeemed or something?”
He looks at me.
“What do you think?”
“I wanted to kill everyone in the world, but I got over it. Maybe some of these other idiots can too.”
He nods like he’s thinking it over.
“I hear they’re leaving the place open for folks who don’t want to go.”
“You’re thinking about staying?”
“Hell no. I’m no fool. But I can’t say what Heaven’s about. I’ll go, but I’m keeping the saloon in case the place isn’t to my liking.”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
“What about you? Where are you headed?”
“When I came down here I thought maybe it was going to be permanent. But it doesn’t look that way, so I’ll be heading home to Earth.”
He comes closer. Taps his finger on my chest. It hurts.
“Be good to your gal. I could’ve done a lot better in that department. Maybe I’ll get a chance to make up for some things like that.”
I nod so he’ll stop poking me.
“Listen, Bill, something happened last night and I won’t be able to come Downtown again or up to Heaven.”
He puts his hands behind his back and looks at me.
“The old man finally clipped your wings?”
“Something like that.”