Declan’s lips curl in a sly smile.
“He’s a smart man.”
“Yeah, he is. Ask nice and he’ll guess your weight. What makes you think I have it?”
“Because you were seen using it. On the child ghost.”
Oh, right.
The Qomrama is a weapon designed by old gods, the Angra Om Ya, to kill other gods. Namely ours. Turns out that the universe really belongs to the Angra and our God foxed them out of it. Now they’re pissed and they want it back. The child ghost, Lamia, was a piece of one of the Angra that leaked through to this universe, and in a pretty blue dress and with a great big knife, she came close to destroying the world.
“You got me there. I guess I did have it.”
“Did?” says Declan.
Candy nods.
“As in past tense. As in it went bye-bye, Charlie.”
Declan cocks his head. A coy move I’d call him on if I wasn’t sure it would cost me money.
“Come now. Who could take it from you, Mr. Stark?”
“A crazy rogue angel named Aelita.”
Declan doesn’t say anything for a minute, like he’s thinking things over.
“If it’s a question of payment, I can offer you more than money. A man like you must have a use for power objects. I can offer you the Spear of Destiny. The actual spear that pierced Christ’s side on the Cross.”
Samael rolls his eyes. He’s heard the line before. Candy smiles. She thinks she’s getting a new toy.
“No thanks. I already have one of those. Right between my Nunchucks of Fate and my Zip Gun of Doom.”
“I’m disappointed to hear that,” says Declan.
“How do you think I feel? I just lost a million dollars.”
“Not if you find it. If, for instance, you manage to reacquire it, I wouldn’t ask how.”
“How open-minded of you.”
Declan’s eyes flicker to Samael and back to me.
“Can I ask what kind of business you are discussing?”
“I was updating their Wikipedia pages,” says Candy. “Do you have one? I can do yours too.”
Declan gives her an indulgent smile.
“I’m afraid I’m not nearly as colorful as these gentlemen. But thank you for the kind offer.”
He reaches into an interior pocket in his jacket and pulls out a business card. He sets it on the table.
“I suppose there isn’t a lot more for us to talk about here in public. If you’re interested in getting serious, you can reach me here.”
“If I find anything interesting under the sofa cushions.”
“Exactly,” says Declan. He holds out his hand. I don’t shake it. After a minute he drops it to his side.