The Daimonion Codex is Lucifer’s private notebook, reference book, strategy, spell and wisdom book, and anything-else-you-can-think-of book.
“The Codex is for official Hellion business and I only use it when the big man asks me because he’s too busy to find something himself.”
Satan’s Big Little Book of Badass. A kind of Bizarro World Boy Scout manual. High-grade Gnostic porn. The Codex is the second most important document in the universe, right after the Scroll of Creation in you-know-who’s personal library.
“Bullshit. Every time I leave the room, you’re in there trying to find some angle that’ll get your body back.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You always were a terrible liar, Kas. A career crook should be able to bull better than that.”
“Leave me alone. When I get a spare minute, I’ll look for your monster. Now let me eat these while they’re warm.”
I sit back on the bed and sip the glass of Jack. On the monitor, Peter Fonda is shooting at carloads of backwoods demon fanciers from the roof of a speeding camper.
“You been watching this all day?”
Kasabian talks between mouthfuls of food.
“No. Before that it was Shout at the Devil, only there wasn’t any devil in it.”
“No. That’s a war movie.”
“Why doesn’t it say that on the box? ‘Warning: Lee Marvin might look pissed off, but he’s not the devil. There’s not one fucking devil in this thing.’”
“Watch what you want, but promise me that I’m never going to ever come in here and find you spanking yourself to The Devil in Miss Jones.”
“You’re a scream, Milton Berle. Now I’m not going to tell you the good news.”
“What good news?”
Kasabian takes a last bite of tamale and lets it fall into the bucket. Then he takes it and the Styrofoam container to the end of the table and waits. I haul my ass up off the bed and step on the trash-can pedal. When it opens, he tosses in the Styrofoam and upends the bucket into the can.
“What good news?”
Kasabian goes back to where he’d been working, leans over the table, and sets the bucket underneath, next to the minifridge. Then he finally looks at me.
“You have an actual job. Starting tonight. Something a lot better than stepping on bugs for the Wells.”
“I’ve already got a job tonight. Straight consulting for the Vigil. No killing.”
“When are you supposed to do it?”
“Around three? Why?”
“Good. You’ll probably be done by then.”
“Done doing what?”
He smiles at me exactly the way you don’t want a dead man to smile at you.
“The big man is in town. He wants to see you tonight at the Chateau Marmont.”
Damn. I finish my drink.
“What’s Lucifer doing in L.A.?”
“What do I know? I’m just the answering machine.”