I take a bite of a rib and suck the barbecue sauce off my fingers.

“Do you think Lucifer has access to only one body? Look into my eyes. Can’t you sense my power and glory and all the other shit that makes your crowd moist?”

“Do you know who you’re talking to? Watch your mouth,” says Muttonchops. He has a high-toned British accent. The kind that says, “I’ve never opened a door for myself my whole life.”

“Why do I care who she is if she doesn’t know who I am? Doesn’t the fact I’m in here with many tasty snacks tell you something?”

“Yes,” Muttonchops says. “That you’re a clever enough impostor to fool the hotel. But you can’t fool us.”

“What’s he doing here?” squawks the pretty boy.

He points at Traven.

“He has the stink of God all over him.”

“He’s a colleague. If that’s a problem, you can all ride down the elevator shaft headfirst.”

Muttonchops says “There’s the proof, eh, Amanda?”

She nods.

“A crude threat not worthy of our lord. We’re leaving.”

They’re headed for the door when Traven says, “Which one of them carries the least sin?”

All three stop and look back like questioning their dedication to sin is an insult.

I look them over.

“The kid.”

Traven walks to him and puts his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“What’s your name, son?”

The kid leans back away from him.

“Luke.”

“Do you want to go to Hell, Luke?”

Luke looks at the others for help. Muttonchops takes a couple of steps in their direction but stops when the knife I throw at his feet embeds itself in the tile floor with a metallic twang.

“Do you want to go to Hell?” Traven asks.

Luke puts his hands in his jacket pockets. Stands up straight, trying to look defiant.

“To be with Lord Lucifer forever? Yes. Of course.”

“I can help you with that right now.”

Traven shoves Luke against the wall so hard his head bounces off the marble. When the kid opens his mouth to yell, Traven holds it open and leans in like he’s going to kiss him. Luke pulls back but there’s nowhere to go.

Black vapor drifts from Traven’s mouth into Luke’s. A breeze of dust. A wet, oily stream of fluid. Buzzing things like microscopic wasps. It smells like burning feathers and rancid onions. The kid’s face darkens with sin until he’s as black as Manimal Mike. When Traven steps back, Luke collapses on the floor, coughing and drooling on his designer lapels. Amanda and Muttonchops rush to him.

Traven looks down at Luke and says, “Did you think damnation would be easy?”

Amanda screams, “What have you done to my son?”

“I damned him for all eternity. Isn’t that right, Lucifer?”

“The father here gave him a black karma enema. Luke is stuffed with more sin than the entire NBA.”

I kneel down and push up Luke’s eyelids to have a look at his pupils. They’re pinpoints. Barely visible.

“You understand that there are traditions and procedures Downtown. My guess is that bloated with this much sin, there isn’t much I can do for him. He’ll end up on a paddleboat on the river of fire. Or in the Cave of the Despised, with razor crystals and flesh-eating spiders. Which do you think he’d prefer, Mom?”

Muttonchops looks at the kid. Takes out a silver coin and puts it on the kid’s tongue. Black tarnish creeps over its face. In a few seconds it looks a hundred years old. He looks at Amanda.

“He’s telling the truth. I’ve never seen so much sin in one body.”

He turns to me and bows his head.

“Forgive us, Lucifer. We were blinded by your outward appearance and couldn’t see the real you.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to nose-polish my ass Downtown. Right now I want the answers to my questions.”

“And my son?” says Amanda.

“Answer my questions and I’ll see what I can do for Little Lord Fuckitall.”

“Praise to you, my lord.”

“He wishes to only be addressed as Lucifer,” Amanda says to Muttonchops.

“Forgive me.”

Luke opens his eyes and tries to push Amanda away but he’s too weak. She and Muttonchops help him to the sofa and leave him slumped like a jellyfish on a rocking chair.

“You asked about Blue Heaven,” says Muttonchops.

He takes a piece of paper from an inside pocket of his jacket.

“It has many names but its real name translates roughly as ‘the Dayward.’ It doesn’t exist in any one location. It exists in time. It’s said that in 1582, when Pope Gregory switched from the old Julian to the Christian calendar, fifteen days were lost. Those fifteen days, existing outside of our space and time, are the Dayward. Blue Heaven.”

“And how do you get there?”

“I haven’t been able to find that out, Lucifer.”

“Not a good start, Lemmy. What about the little girl?”

Amanda touches the back of her hand to Luke’s forehead. Brushes back some hair that’s fallen over his face.

“We don’t have her true name but we believe that her living form was a child known as the Imp of Madrid. She actually lived in Sangre de Sant Joan, a trading village outside of the city. The story is that she killed and mutilated travelers along the nearby road. When people stopped traveling there, she killed the inhabitants of a nearby town. When they called in priests and wolf hunters for protection, she killed them and turned on her own people. After she murdered and mutilated half the village, the men managed to corner her in a barn and lock her in. They burned her alive. When they found her body, a priest dismembered her corpse, down to the individual bones. They believed that if you left bodies inhabited by evil spirits intact, they could reanimate. By separating the bones, she couldn’t revive. A child’s body has two hundred and eight bones. They buried each one in a separate grave. The Imp of Madrid’s body takes up an entire cemetery. No one else has ever been buried there and the ground remains unconsecrated.”

“So, a typical Valley girl.”

No laughs. Even Traven won’t give me a polite smile. Bunch of stiffs.

“Have you ever heard of something called the Qomrama Om Ya?”

“No,” says Amanda.

“What about you, Wolverine?”

Muttonchops shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, Lucifer.”

I go to the buffet and pick up a piece of rumaki. Hold it up for the room.

“Dig in. There’s plenty for everyone.”

Amanda glances at Luke.

“Thank you, no.”

I bite the rumaki and talk with a full mouth.

“How about you, Father? You just had a workout.”

Traven comes over, pours himself some mineral water, and goes to sit by the window.

“You ever hear of a guy named Teddy Osterberg?” I say.

Amanda brightens.

“Yes. Teddy is part of the family. That is, he’s part of your temple in Los Angeles. He’s not terribly observant but his family has honored you for three generations.”

“What about King Cairo? Any of you know him?”

Luke rolls over in his chair and kicks his feet, trying to get them flat on the ground.

“Cairo,” he says. Of course the little shit knows him. Rich kids like him love hanging around criminals. Slumming to the rich is like NASCAR to tobacco chewers.

“Write down his address and phone number.”

Luke gets his phone from inside his coat. Fumbles and drops the thing. He sits up and pats himself down for a pen and paper. I grab the phone from his hand and type KING CAIRO in the address book. A phone number and address come up. I copy them down on hotel stationery. Toss the phone into Luke’s lap. He’s coming around. Still obsidian black. Still silted up with sin.

“Amanda, does Teddy know who Mr. Macheath is?”

“I don’t believe so, Lucifer.”

“Good. I want you to tell Teddy that Mr. Macheath, a bigwig from an out-of-town temple, is coming to see him but don’t tell him anything more about me.”

“You should know that Teddy has always been a bit of a recluse and even more so since he was mugged a few months ago. He hardly sees anybody.”