“I need a shower. Will you call room service and have them send up some food?” I say. “A real spread. I just took one of the Devil’s souls. I might as well steal more of his food.”
I throw the coat on the pile of dirty and ruined clothes in the closet. At least it’s a slash and not bullet holes or blood. A slash I can get fixed.
I step in the shower and let the hot water wash the last of Kill City and Hell off me. I should turn on the news. I wonder what people are saying happened to Kill City. And about the strange people seen swimming from the sinking mall. Shit. Some of those pricks had cameras. With luck, they were just shooting the wreckage and didn’t get any shots of me. It might be about time to go totally Batman. Get a pointy mask and a cape. Maybe an hourglass-shaped muscle car. Call it the Sandmanmobile. That would really fox the cops.
The food is up by the time I dry off.
Lobster. Steak. Dim sum. Salads with vegetables they must have flown in from the dark side of the moon. Enough bread and desserts to give Canada a coronary. I love taking advantage of rich people.
I load up a plate with lobster tail and take it to the sofa. While I was in the shower they’ve moved on from Destroy All Monsters to Godzilla vs. Space Godzilla. Just another kaiju night at home with the kids.
Candy leans against my shoulder, eating dumplings. All might not be forgiven but enough is for now.
“In the attic under his Avengers collection,” I say.
Candy and Kasabian look at me.
“Your hoarder,” I say. “I found him in Hell. Dad’s gold coins are hidden under his Avengers collection in the attic.”
“Like TV–Mrs. Peel The Avengers or comic-book the Avengers?” he says.
“I have no idea.”
“You’re going to have to do better than that if you want a piece of the business.”
“Don’t hold your breath for any more interviews with the dead. I won’t be welcome in Hell for a long time.”
“You had to get messy?” says Candy.
“Well, they didn’t give up Traven gratefully. I know you were pissed, but I’m glad you didn’t see me doing that.”
“What?”
“Murder.”
“Tell me about it later.”
“I’d rather not.”
“But you will.”
“Sure.”
AN HOUR LATER Manimal Mike is in the penthouse crouched by the hound, going over every inch of it, examining the details with a flashlight.
“She has a fair amount of corrosion, but nothing I can’t clean up.”
He nods, satisfied.
“This will work. I can fix Kasabian’s leg and use the frame to build a new torso, closer to human proportions.”
“How soon?” says Kasabian.
Mike frowns and shakes his head.
“I’ll have to get it back to the shop to be sure. Some of the joints are locked and I’ll have to clean and reseal everything.”
“How soon?”