Semyazah nods.

“I’ll look into it.”

“And keep an eye on the Bamboo House of Dolls. And Bill.”

Bill throws down the pillow he’s been fluffing and stands up straight.

“I don’t need a goddamn demon looking over my shoulder.”

“I bet that’s what you said in Deadwood.”

He sits back down.

“I suppose you’re right but that’s an unkind way to put it.”

“I told you the search party would come back empty-handed. I don’t have a good side to find.”

Semyazah looks a little dazed. What I’ve done to Lucifer’s beautiful room. How I let a damned soul talk back to me. Maybe imagination and rolling with the weirdness of the moment is what humans have over angels.

“Let people know if Bill or the bar get scratched, I’m going to cut so many throats they’ll think I’m getting paid piecework.”

“Always the diplomat.”

“Oh. If you feel like overthrowing me while I’m gone, please do.”

“Thank you for your permission but, no, I prefer soldiers to politicians and madmen.”

I weigh the duffel bag in my hand. It’s just a few pounds. Not much to show for three months as God’s redheaded stepchild.

“If Deumos breaks her neck or chokes to death on a ham sandwich, you’re going to have to do something about it.”

“I won’t send troops into the Tabernacle.”

“Then make sure there’s no reason to. You have spies in the church?”

“I’m a general. I have spies everywhere.”

“Good. Give them a kick in the ass and tell them to keep their eyes on Merihim and his sky pilots. One more thing. I want someone to make a list of all the current punishments for damned souls. We’re going to be making a few changes there.”

“Is that all, Lucifer?”

I walk to him and put out my hand.

“Good luck, General.”

Semyazah stares at it and then at me before putting out his own hand.

“I won’t see you off, if you don’t mind.”

“Until we figure things out, the farther you stay away from me the better.”

Semyazah nods curtly and goes off to polish bullets or give the troops a sponge bath, whatever it is generals do between wars.

Bill is on his feet. He has his hat in his hand and he’s looking at the floor.

“What can I say, Bill? You’re my Abilene Bodhisattva. I’m trying to pick and choose my fights better. All those people that got killed in the market, it wasn’t me. It was the Magic 8 Ball. I swear on Lee Van Cleef’s grave.”

He shakes his head, smiling.

“I don’t understand half of what you just said but that’s all right. We never had royalty in the family before.”

Bill isn’t the hugging type, so we shake hands.

On his way out he says, “Don’t forget the bed. I’ll owe you a drink when you get back.”

“If things go right, everyone in Creation is going to owe me a drink.”

When I’m alone I go to the phone and push the PISSANTS button.

A female voice picks up.

“My lord?”

“Who is this?”

“Malabraxas. I’m assistant to Brimborion.”

“He isn’t coming to work for like forever, so you get to steal all his Post-its. But before that, I want you to call down and clear out the garage. I don’t want anyone down there for an hour.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Don’t call me ‘lord.’ ”

“Yes, Lucifer.”

“You got it on the first try. Congratulations. You just got Brimborion’s job. Let Semyazah know. Also, send a cleanup crew to my room. There’s a couple of bodies. They can’t miss them. But don’t call them until after you clear out the garage.”

“Yes, Lucifer.”

I go to the closet and get out my bloody leather bike pants and hoodie. I found it in a cemetery when I first got back from Hell. Yeah, that’s kind of disgusting but I’m the only one who knows where it came from and it doesn’t smell any worse than anything else down here. After surviving the market, the Magic 8 Ball, being burned in effigy, and getting my arm cut off, it feels kind of like a good-luck charm.

I take a quick look around at the room. Nothing I need or want. I pick up the duffel, step over Brimborion’s body, and head back to the library.

I step around the hexes in the floor. I should have told Semyazah about them but he’s a smart guy. He’ll send in another smart guy to check the place out first. With any luck, he’ll be smart enough to look before he leaps. If not, it will be just one more Hellion watercooler story. Did you hear the one about Phil’s head exploding in the library?

I open the false bookshelves, lock them from the inside, and go down the stairs.

The garage is empty. The sound of my boots echoes down to deep, deep sublevels. A B-movie Halloween spook show. I could make a fortune selling weekend Hell junkets to the movie biz. Nonmortal ones, of course. Vampire sound techs. Nahual film editors. Jade cinematographers. Give them the full tour. Where I first landed down here. The arena. The palace where I murdered my first Hellion. The field where the red legger cut off my arm. I wonder where it is now? I should check eBay.

I go to the bike, secure the duffel on the back, and do a quick walk around checking for oil leaks, a flat tire, or a broken chain. It looks fine. I swing my leg over the bike and kick it to life. It sounds good. Like it could crack the foundations of the palace.

I get a glove out of my coat pocket and put it on my Kissi hand. Better get used to it. I’ll be hiding it a lot more soon. I hope.

Time to let go of a lot that happened over the last hundred days. I got ruthless and I got lucky. On the upside, I stayed alive this whole time. I found the 8 Ball. I even figured out Marchosias’s game. On the downside, Samael tricked me into cleaning up his mess again. Creating the Council so I could put the right people in the right places and take the heat for everything that went wrong. Kick Buer’s ass into building a City Hall that doesn’t look like skinhead porn. Get Semyazah on board with keeping Lucifer, any Lucifer, alive at all costs. Draw Marchosias out and almost take the bullet that sooner or later would have been aimed at Samael’s head. Obyzuth was the real ringer, though. She led me to Deumos and something that will change Hell forever. Whether or not that’s a good thing we’ll find out when the place becomes something new or blows itself apart. Samael handed me a leaf blower and left me to clear off the driveway, and for what? So he could stay in Heaven? Or is he going to blow back into town looking like Steve McQueen driving the Batmobile? If he does, I’ll shake his hand and thank him. Take the place back over. Pretend you fixed it all yourself and suck up the applause. Just let me go home and stay there.

I heel up the kickstand and wait, feeling the weight of the Hellion hog against my body. Letting it rattle my bones.

Don’t fear God

Don’t worry about death

What is good is easy to get, and

What is terrible is easy to endure

The only thing I’m sicker of than philosophy is philosophers. I bet Epicurus is living free and easy in Eleusis, the province of Hell reserved for righteous pagans. Next time I’ll trade places with him and sip wine with the vestal virgins while Epicurus runs Bedlam’s outhouse for a while. Then you tell me how easy it is to roll with the terrible, you goat-cheese-salad asshole.

I put the bike in gear and roll by the kennels before heading for the garage gate.

I’m leaving by the front door this time. No sneaking out the back. There’s no reason to be subtle. In a palace, rumors are like flying monkeys. Annoying as vegan desserts and hard to stop once they’re airborne. Besides Bill and Semyazah, no one is supposed to know when and where I’m leaving. But of course people do. Everyone in the fucking palace.

Troops from ten Hellion legions are spread out across the lawn when I roll up to street level. They’re dead silent. Dead still. They’re not blocking Lucifer’s way, but they’re not happy to see me rolling out on my own. Someone is going to twitch first. It might as well be me.