“They didn’t keep human hookers in the inner sanctum. For the right price and a few blood oaths, you could fuck an angel.”
Traven turns and looks at me, his face a blank mask.
“I’m not joking,” I say. “No one knows who started the place or what kind of hoodoo they used to capture and keep them. L.A.’s a major power spot, so for all anyone knows, it might have been here in some form forever.”
“And you think that’s where the boy is being held?”
I nod.
“I knew the last angel that got dragged up there. Her name is Aelita. She ran the Golden Vigil. God’s Pinkertons on earth. Real turbocharged assholes.”
“Yes. I know about the Golden Vigil. You think this Aelita was taken there to become another prostitute?”
“No, she and the other angels were going to be sacrificed to open the gates of Hell. You see an old buddy of mine, Mason, has ambition the size of King Kong’s balls. He wants to knock off Lucifer and take over Hell. Then he wants to stick a fork in God and grab Heaven. He’s hard-core enough that he might be able to pull it off. You still with me, Father?”
Out of the corner of my eye I see Traven squinting. He doesn’t know what to believe. I guess it’s a lot to absorb when you’ve spent your life in church libraries, reading the books, learning the stories, and then finding out you have no idea how the universe really works. All these years he’s been thoroughly shielded from everything but writer’s cramp. Now he finds out that a real-life low-down biblical horror show was going on across town from where he brushed his teeth in holy water every night before bed. I can’t blame him if his mind is a little blown.
“You want a cigarette?”
“That’s would be nice,” he says.
I hand him Mason’s lighter and the pack of Maledictions from my pocket. Listen to him rustle the pack and spark the lighter. He coughs at the first puff but keeps smoking. Maledictions are easier to take when you’re doomed.
“You were talking about a man named Mason trying to open Hell. I gather you stopped him.”
“Something like that.”
“And we killed an ass load of devil minions and dark magicians along the way,” says Candy.
Traven turns in his seat to look at her.
“You were there, too?”
She smiles.
“Stark invites me to all his massacres. Isn’t that right?”
She kicks the back of my seat. I look at her in the rearview mirror.
“You’re not helping.”
She smiles and settles down in her seat.
Traven puffs quietly on the Malediction, staring out the window as I steer us into the hills.
“So, because you stopped the sacrifice, you think that Hunter is in Avila?”
“Yeah. Mason and Aelita are behind this whole thing. They set the Qlipuffs on Hunter.”
“Qliphoth. Why not send the demon after you?”
“Because Mason has a truly fucked-up sense of humor. I knew Hunter’s brother and Mason would bust a gut using the kid to get me back up here. Aelita is helping just because she generally hates my guts.”
“I thought you said you saved her.”
“Yeah, when she found out I’m not exactly human, she got testy. A real racist.”
“You know, yesterday if someone told me I’d be driving to an exorcism with a nephilim I would have been surprised. Today, though . . .”