Tiger Girl stands there with the strap in her hand and her bag on the ground, having no idea what just happened. I do. The little ghost girl is behind her. Maybe twenty feet away and walking fast. She’s laughing that high childish tinkling laugh. Finally Tiger Girl hears her and turns around. She just stands there. She knows who the girl is, and like most normal people when confronted with flat-out evil, her brain vapor locks and she freezes in place. Me, I pull the Sig and start shooting.
Cars skid. People scream and dive for cover.
All the noise snaps Tiger Girl out of her trance. She dives for cover and I keep firing. When I reach the sidewalk, I get between her and the ghost. The Spiritus Dei–covered bullets punch holes in the little girl. She stretches like warm taffy every time one hits but the hole snaps back and closes by the time the next bullet reaches her. She doesn’t come any closer but she sure as hell doesn’t leave.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Candy jump from between two cars.
I yell “No!” but it’s too late.
Candy heads straight for the girl, probably thinking she’s wounded. She’s not. The little girl turns, and even though Candy is moving Jade fast, the girl’s knife blurs the air and she slashes Candy across the stomach. Candy falls. The momentum carries her a few feet away, where she lies on the pavement tucked up in a little ball. Ghost Girl gets over her with the knife held in both hands. I’m wearing a long, deep-pocketed coat I found in Samael’s closet. I reach into a pocket and whistle. The girl looks at me. I do a Dizzy Dean windup and throw the Magic 8 Ball at her as hard as I can.
She screams when she sees it, a long, high-pitched wail like a giant’s fingernails scraping over miles of blackboard. She shrieks louder when the 8 Ball hits her, tearing a hole in her side. There’s no blood or bone. It looks like someone ripped a piece out of a photo in a magazine. The girl’s face turns dark like she’s about to start crying. She disappears.
I run to Candy. Pick her up in my arms and lean down to grab the 8 Ball. When I turn to get Tiger Girl, the little girl is there. She slashes at Candy again. I pivot away fast enough to protect Candy but the girl slices my arm. I hold the 8 Ball like a rock and slam it into her face. She turns dark again and this time her scream is loud enough to crack the glass in nearby cars. When she disappears, I grab Tiger Girl’s arm.
“Come on. She might come back.”
“That was the ghost.”
“No shit.”
I slide open the van’s side door and put her and Candy in the back. Grab the big Chateau towel we were using as a tablecloth and have Tiger Girl hold it to Candy’s stomach. Candy moans and tries to curl into an even tighter ball.
“What the hell . . . ?” she says.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I’m taking you to the clinic.”
Cairo lives in Silver Lake and Allegra’s clinic is right on the edge of the neighborhood. It’s a short drive and even shorter through three red lights. Each one explodes when I throw hard, fast hoodoo to turn it back to green. Not having the Key to the Room of Thirteen Doors was a pain in the ass before, but now this is Candy’s life. I never really thought about killing Saint James, but if Candy doesn’t come through this, I might have to.
Someone inside must hear the van screech to a stop in the parking lot. Fairuza, the Ludere girl, opens the door and she and Rinko come out. Candy is awake and wobbly, but on her feet. Rinko guides her inside without even looking at me and Fairuza closes and locks the door.
Candy’s blood is all over me and the back of the van. I pour the last of the sake on my hands and the knife slash on my arm. The burning feels good. I get back in the van and wrap Candy’s towel around my arm. Toss the other towel to Tiger Girl.
“Your dress is messed up.”
She looks down and sees streaks of blood. There really isn’t that much but she lets out a panicked moan.
“No. Shit. Goddamn.”
I’m tempted to tell her that even if God cared, He isn’t in a position to do anything about it, but I keep my mouth shut. It’s done enough damage today.
“Calm down,” I say. “None of it’s your blood.”
Tiger Girl pats herself down enough to see that I’m right.
The sky shifts between blue, pistachio green, and the kind of deep purple I remember from when Downtown was on fire. Clouds turn to metal and burst into flame before going white and puffy again.
“We can’t stay here and I can’t drive this van across town.”
I dial the Chateau.
“Can you send a limo for me right now?”
“Certainly, Mr. Macheath.”
I give the clerk the address.
“Make it fast. Tell the driver I’ll keep his or her ass out of the fire forever if they get here in ten minutes.”