SANDMAN SLIM

I take the Zippo out of my pocket. "What am I going do with this thing?"

"Keep it. My exceptional knowledge of magic and the transmutation of elements tells me that it is not an ordinary lighter."

"It's a stupid vessel for such a powerful talisman."

"Perhaps it was created for someone Mason knew would be drawn to it."

"You think Mason left it for me?"

Vidocq shrugs wearily. "I don't know. But it does seem more votre modele than the other members of your Circle."

"Yeah. I walked right off that cliff. But maybe the lighter will tell us something."

"Let us hope."

"So, you think Mason knows I'm back."

"You just blew up his home. He might suspect something."

I open and close my hands on the steering wheel, holding it tight. "I'm not ready yet. I barely have my feet on the ground."

"Opportunity always comes too early or too late. But with what you found tonight, you are one step closer to your heart's desire."

I flip open the top of the lighter and strike it once. Vidocq jerks away, banging his shoulder into the door. The little flame flickers, but nothing else happens. I want a cigarette, but my throat and lungs feel like hot gravel. I close the lighter and put it back in my pocket.

"When we meet this guy with the Spiritus Dei, I'll pay."

"Excellent. I was about to suggest that very thing. You should meet him as soon as possible."

"You think?"

"Absolument. He is a man who knows and possesses many useful things. And I think soon you will need more than your Sundance Kid guns to stay alive."

AFTER I DROP OFF Vidocq, I stop behind a nearby Safeway, wipe the Luger for prints, and stuff it in the bottom of a very full and very smelly Dumpster. I don't want the Luger near me. Who knows what crimes those Nazi freaks committed with it.

The Bamboo House of Dolls will be closed by now, but I need something to drink. I ditch the Porsche a block from Donut Universe, get a large black coffee and a couple of old-fashioneds, and walk the few blocks to Max Overdrive.

I've finished the coffee and one of the doughnuts when I reach the store. The lights are on. The front door is open and the glass shattered. I throw away the food, pull Azazel's knife from my boot, and go inside quietly. The place is a wreck. Racks are turned over and discs and cases are scattered everywhere. The cash register, though, looks untouched, so it wasn't thieves or crackheads who got in.

I kick through the broken glass and discs wondering who would want to just trash the place when I see a shoe sticking out from under one of the upturned racks. I grab the rack and flip it over. Allegra is lying there. She's a mess. Her clothes are torn and her hands and face are bloody. I put my ear against her chest and am relieved to hear a slow and steady heartbeat. She weighs practically nothing, so I pick her up and carry her to my room. The door at the top of the stairs has been kicked in. I set Allegra on the bed and cover her with a blanket. When I go into the bathroom to get a wet cloth, I see something a lot scarier than the ghouls in Mason's basement. The door to Kasabian's closet is ripped off its hinges. He's gone.

I clean the blood off Allegra's face and drape the cool cloth across her forehead. When I push open her eyelids, her pupils are wide and they stay that way. A concussion. Not good. She moves her head and groans a little before pushing my hand away.

"What happened? I'm cold."

She's going into shock. I wrap the sheet around her. "You're hurt."

"Mr. Kasabian left. He looked dead, but he said goodbye."

"I'm taking you to the hospital."

She sits upright. Almost. She gets halfway up and drops back down.

"No hospital."

"You have to. You're hurt."

"No hospital. They might call the cops."

I didn't see that coming. "I'm taking you anyway."

That's exactly the wrong thing to say. Allegra grabs my arm, pulls herself up and tries to slap me. It's pretty impressive for someone who's gasping like a dying goldfish.

"No hospitals! No cops!"

Having finally gotten the point, I help her back down on the bed. Scraps of paper, half-eaten burritos, and ashtrays full of cigarettes are piled on Kasabian's worktable. I paw around the debris until I find the phone. I dial Kinski's number. Someone picks up on the sixth ring.

"Is this Candy? This is Stark."

"Stark? Lovely to hear from you. Tell me, Stark, do the clocks on your planet work like ours? Because the ones here on Earth tell me that it's late for chitchat."

"Shut up. I have a civilian here and I'm pretty sure she's been hurt with magic. I don't know how bad, but I think she's got a concussion. Kinski is the only doctor I know about in L.A., so I'm bringing her to see him. If he isn't there when I get there, I'm going to be extremely unhappy."

"Okay. Do you have the address?"

Fucking brilliant. I'm threatening people I don't know, but need, at an address I don't have.

"Give it to me." She does.

"See you soon," she says.