The Getaway God

I owe Julie a lot. So does Candy. More than either of us can ever repay, but I guess I’ll try playing second fiddle now that she’s reopened her detective agency.

 

“I don’t see her.”

 

“Good. That’s the idea.”

 

She pours herself a drink in Carlos’s glass.

 

“I hear through the grapevine that Wells might not go to prison after all. I put in my report about possession and mind control and someone back east believed me. They’ll want your report too. To corroborate mine.”

 

“To help Wells?”

 

“You said you would.”

 

“I say a lot of stupid things.”

 

She holds up her glass. I clink mine against hers.

 

“I’ll do it this week.”

 

“Tomorrow.”

 

“Yes, boss.”

 

The best--dressed man in L.A. bellies up to the bar and asks Fairuza a question. She points to where I’m sitting and he heads in our direction.

 

I lean over to Julie.

 

“You can stay for this or you can leave. If you stay, it’ll be weird. If you go, you’ll be sorry.”

 

Julie squints at me.

 

“I hope you aren’t going to write your reports in riddles like that.”

 

Samael reaches our table.

 

“Too late now,” I say.

 

“Too late for what?” says Samael.

 

“For her to avoid you. Now that you’re here, please be nice.”

 

He beams down at Julie and puts out his hand.

 

“Hello. I’m Samael.”

 

“Another one--name guy. Like Stark.”

 

He pulls up a chair and sits down.

 

“We do share that affectation, I’m afraid.”

 

I point at him.

 

“For me it’s an affectation. For him it’s just his name. He doesn’t have a last name.”

 

“Everyone has a last name,” says Julie.

 

“Not angels.”

 

She looks at me, then Samael.

 

“Is this another one of your tall tales? Going to Hell? Hanging around with God?”

 

“This is your new employer?” says Samael. “She doesn’t seems to have a lot of faith in you.”

 

“What we are and what we do is hard for sane -people to accept.”

 

“You’re serious,” says Julie. “This man is an angel.”

 

“Why is that so surprising?” he says. “It’s Christmas. L.A. must be full of angels.”

 

Samael reaches into his coat and pulls out a bottle of Aqua Regia and sets it on the table.

 

“You are a God,” I say.

 

“No. But I’ll do in his stead.”

 

Julie looks at us.

 

“You two are so full of shit.”

 

Samael says, “This man fights monsters for you. He fought a serial killer who couldn’t possibly be a mere human. He killed ancient evils and is sitting here right now with bullets in his chest, and you can’t take his word for it that I’m an angel?”

 

Julie blinks.

 

“No one’s ever asked me a question like that before.”

 

Samael gives her his ten--thousand--watt smile.

 

“Of course we’re joking, my dear. There’s no such thing as angels. They’re an old folktale, like leprechauns and virgins.”

 

He gets up from the table. Puts his finger on top of the Aqua Regia bottle.

 

“I’ve left a case of this and some Maledictions at home for you.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Samael.”

 

“And to you. Nice meeting you, Julie.”

 

“How do you know my name?”

 

“It’s just a trick I can do.”

 

“Stark said that to me when we first met.”

 

“I guess all us angelic frauds know the same jokes.”

 

He turns, weaves his way through the crowd, and heads out, slowing for just a second to look at the blonde with Brigitte.

 

“Will Samael be coming around the office when we’re working together?” says Julie. “He’s kind of cute, in a vaguely sinister way.”

 

“And that’s your type?”

 

She looks at me.

 

“Unfortunately, it is.”

 

I start to get up and walk to the bathroom when I notice Brigitte heading our way. She comes over and hugs me.

 

“Merry Christmas, James.”

 

“Merry Christmas to you.”

 

She points to the blonde. She’s Japanese. Young, in a shaggy pink fake--fur coat.

 

“Have you two met?”

 

“Hi,” she says. “I’m Chihiro.”

 

She puts out her hand and I shake it.

 

“Like the girl in Spirited Away.”

 

“What’s that?” she says.

 

“It’s a movie.”

 

She smiles crookedly.

 

“I’ll have to watch it sometime.”

 

“I think you’d like it.”

 

“May we join you?” says Brigitte.

 

“Of course.”

 

Brigitte brings over a chair. She sits next to Julie and Chihiro sits where Samael was, next to me.

 

Julie does a small wave.

 

“Hi. I’m Julie.”

 

I can’t take my eyes off Chihiro.

 

“Sorry. This is Julie. My new boss.”

 

“New boss? What kind of work do you do?” says Chihiro.

 

“I used to work for the government. But now I run a detective agency.”

 

Chihiro nods.

 

“This is a good town for it. Things go missing all the time.”

 

“It’s our job to bring them back home again,” I say.

 

“You any good at it?” says Chihiro.

 

“We’ll just have to wait and see.”

 

“Don’t wait too long. It might get away.”

 

“Then I wasn’t supposed to find it in the first place.”

 

Chihiro raises her eyebrows.

 

“You’re a philosopher.”

 

“No. Just drunk.”

 

“That sounds like a very good idea,” says Brigitte. “Let’s all have too many drinks. I’ll get us more glasses.”

 

Chihiro presses her leg against mine under the table. I want to kiss her and I know she wants to kiss me too, but we’ll have to take it slow. Let the idea of Candy being dead settle into everyone’s mind.

 

She has a new name and she’s blonde now. To the ones who can’t see past the glamour. Having Julie here was a good test. She didn’t spot Candy at all. It took my hoodoo, Vidocq’s alchemy, and Allegra’s herbs and potions to come up with a glamour strong enough to fool even most Sub Rosa. I don’t know how long it will last, but we have the formula now, so we can reapply it when we have to. Too bad we’re the only ones who can ever know about the stuff. We could make a fortune selling it.

 

“What do you do for a living, Chihiro?” says Julie.

 

“I’m a guitarist.”

 

“Are you in a band? Would I have heard of you?”

 

“We broke up, unfortunately. But I’m putting a new one together.”

 

“Good luck,” says Julie.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Chihiro looks at me.

 

“Aren’t you going to say good luck?”

 

“I don’t think I have to. By the way, I have a guitar at home that no one is using. It’s red . . .”

 

“Sold,” she says. “When can I come by and see it?”

 

“Tomorrow. Around one?”

 

“A late riser? Me too. I’ll be there on the dot.”

 

Brigitte comes back with glasses and a bottle of vodka.

 

“I know the whiskey and I’ve heard of the vodka,” says Julie.

 

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