“I take something from everyone whose soul I hold. Not take. They choose what they want to give me. It’s a symbolic act. A physical reminder of our deal. These are trinkets from Hollywood friends.”
He holds the gold necklace higher so I can get a good look.
“This is Simon’s. Simon Ritchie. The head of the studio. Simon imagines that he’s very clever. Very ironic. The necklace belonged to his first wife. It was her First Communion gift. A rosary necklace with a pretty little cross. Of course, she was just a girl when she received it, so at some point she added a gold unicorn charm. A darling thing, though I’m not sure the Church would approve.”
“What does he or she get for all this?”
“Simon? He gets a little more time.”
Lucifer takes a long drag on the Malediction and puts the necklace back with the other soul souvenirs.
“That’s all you people ever want. A little more time in a world that all of you, in your heart of hearts, secretly despise.”
“I don’t keep it a secret.”
“And that’s why I like you, Jimmy. We’re alike in so many ways. Plus, you’re so very good at making things dead. That’s what you’re going to do for me while I’m here. Not kill so much as prevent a killing, namely mine. You’re going to be my bodyguard whenever I’m out in public.”
“You’re the devil. You gave God a rusty trombone and lived to talk about it. Why would you need a bodyguard?”
“Of course, no one can kill me permanently, but this physical body I inhabit on earth can be injured, even destroyed. Wouldn’t it be embarrassing if it turned up riddled with bullets? We don’t want that kind of negative buzz just as the production is getting off the ground.”
“You need a new PR guy, not a bodyguard.”
“All the most famous people travel with private security these days, don’t they? You’re mine. Sandman Slim by my side, ready to snap necks at a moment’s notice. That will be quite a photo op. For both of us.”
“That’s exactly what I want. More people knowing who I am.”
Lucifer laughs.
“Don’t worry. The civilian media won’t see either of us. This is purely for the benefit of our sort of people.”
“The Sub Rosa.”
“Exactly.”
“Is that who owns the studio?”
“No. It’s a civilian gentleman, but most of his staff is Sub Rosa. The studio even has an outreach program, providing unskilled jobs to Lurkers that want to crawl out of the sewers and into the real world.”
“Sub Rosas get the corner office and Lurkers get to clean the toilets. Same as it ever was.”
“That sounds like class warfare, Jimmy. You’re not a socialist, are you?”
“Considering who and what I am …”
“An abomination?”
“Right. Considering that most Sub Rosa probably consider me a Lurker, do you really want me around so one of them can say something cute at a party and I have to pry his head off with a shrimp fork?”
Lucifer seems to think for a moment, sets down his drink, and leans forward in his seat. He speaks very quietly.
“Do you think for one second that I would allow any of the walking excrement that infests this world to insult me or anyone in my employ? You might be a natural-born killer, but I specialize in torment that lasts a million years. You think you’ve seen horrors because you were in the arena. Trust me, you have no idea what real horror looks like or the terrible things I’ve done to keep my throne. You’ll be by my side while I’m in Los Angeles because in this task and in all others, I’m as much your bodyguard as you are mine.”
It’s moments like this, when Lucifer gets rolling and the words and the intensity start flowing, that I understand how one lone angel convinced a third of Heaven’s worker bees to turn the dump over. And that was just the third with the cojones to follow him. I have a feeling that a lot of other angels listened, but were too scared to join the party. If I was some lower-class grease-monkey angel caught in the cross fire of an argument between Lucifer and Aelita—oh wait, I am—I’d probably think twice about giving God the finger and running off to never-never land with Satan and the Lost Boys. But I’d still go.
I want to ask what that part about us being each other’s bodyguard means, but when he gets like this, it’s scary to ask direct questions, so I go another way.
“What do I have to do as your bodyguard?”