“How’s Hunter doing?”

“Much better. He can go home tomorrow.”

“Good for him.”

“Is there anything I can do to help besides tape things?”

I get a pen and paper off Kasabian’s desk and scrawl lines and shapes. My memory isn’t a hundred percent on how the seven symbols Alice was writing looked, but I draw them as well as I can. I hand Traven the paper.

“Do you know what these are?”

He carries the paper over to a lamp and stares at it for a minute.

“This is a very rare script. It’s a kind of cipher combining pictograms and letters. Each letter has a numeric value, but their meaning changes in relation to their position in relation to the other characters. Where did you see this?”

“A friend showed it to me. What is it?”

“It’s the secret language the fallen angels used to plan their rebellion in Heaven.”

“Do you know what it says?”

“May I borrow your pen? I’ll need to do scenneed toome calculations.”

I toss it to him and he starts scribbling on the paper.

I’m on my knees next to Candy with Alice’s life spread around me on the floor. It’s like I’ve fallen into a Hank Williams song. I push the T-shirt, underwear, jewels, and address books around like I’m looking for the prize in a box of Cracker Jacks. Candy upends a pair of green dress shoes with one broken heel and something falls out. It’s a small toy, a plastic rabbit with beard stubble and a cigarette jammed between its lips. Candy holds it up.

“What’s this?”

“Alice said it was me in a former life.”

Candy smiles.

“I think we have a winner.”

“Eleusis,” says Traven.

I look at him.

“What’s Eleusis?”

He raises his eyebrows.

“I thought you’d be the one to know. It’s a region of Hell.”

“Never heard of it.”

He comes over and hands me the sheet of paper. It’s just chicken scratches and his calculations.

Traven says, “Dante wrote about Eleusis in the Inferno, though he didn’t call it by that name. Some translations described it as the woods given to the virtuous pagans. Dante described it as a green and pleasant place for pre-Christian men and women who weren’t sinners but couldn’t get into Heaven because they weren’t redeemed by Christ’s sacrifice.”

“Wait, Heaven is punishing those for being born too early?”

“It’s not punishment. It’s like Limbo. A work-around invented by the Church centuries ago. If humanity can only be redeemed by Christ’s death, what happens to the virtuous prophets of the Old Testament? Eleusis in Greece was the site of ancient mystery rites and therefore a vaguely mystical region as good as any to dispose of the pagans.”

I hand the paper back to him.

“Then Eleusis is where Mason has Alice.”

“From what I recall, it’s a long way from Pandemonium. Halfway across Hell in fact.”

“Does going across Hell get me frequent-flier miles?”

I take my coat off the bed and load in the na’at, the knife, and the other gear.

It’s still two hours until sundown.

“We can sit here and stare at each other or we can have a drink and send for some food.”

“Food,” says Vidocq, and the others agree.

Kasabian turns around. Suddenly we have his attention.

“What kind of food?”

“Chicken and waffles,” says Candy.

“From Roscoe’s?” says Allegra. “I don’t think they deliver.”

“Everyone delivers if you pay them enough,” says Kasabian. He types something into the computer and a phone app opens on the screen. “Watch. I’m the king of overtipping.”

I say, “As long as you’re wasting my money, get Donut Universe to send over a wheelbarrow-ful of whatever’s fresh.”

Traven is staring at the paper with the angelic cipher.

“What’s up, Father? Not a waffle fan?”

He says, “I’m horrified by what you’re about to do, but I’m also a little envious. Hell is waiting for me when I die, but I don’t know what it is, and that scares me. But you can walk its streets without being afraid. I’d give anything for that.”

“If anyone ever makes you that offer, don’t take it. It’s a sucker’s bet. And I told you. I’ll show you around if you end up Downtown.”

Traven taps the pen against the paper nervously. He doesn’t even know he’s doing it. He’s picturing flames and oceans of boiling blood. If I tell him it’s not like that, he won’t believe me. No one ever really believes what you tell them about Hell.

“You and your friends have shown me more of the universe in the last couple of days than the Church did in years. I wish I could do more to show my gratitude,” he says.

“Do you have a car?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Is it insured? Like, well insured?”

“It was my late mother’s car. She was a careful driver and had every kind of insurance there is.”

“f y00">Ên I borrow it?”

Traven takes out his keys and hands them to me.

“How long will you need it?”

“Just tonight.”

TWO HOURS GOES a lot faster with whiskey and food than it does without either.

By the time the sun’s gone down, everyone is pretty much acting like a person again and not a mourner in training. Candy catches me looking out the window.

“You probably need to get going soon.”

“Yeah, I do.”

We get up from where we’ve been eating on the floor and I put on my jacket. I’m very aware of its weight on my body. Nervousness is all about heightened senses.

Traven is the closest to me. I shake his hand and he nods. Vidocq grabs me in a massive bear hug.

“No good-byes. I’ll see you soon.”

“Sooner than that.”

Allegra comes over and pecks me on the cheek. It’s sweet and she means it, but I don’t think she’s ever quite forgiven me for working for Lucifer a couple of months ago.

Candy loops her arm in mine and walks me to the door.

“Do you want me to walk with you to the car?”

“You should stay here with the others. From here on out, I need to not be Stark. I need to be Sandman Slim and a very bad person.”

“You mean more so.”

“Yeah. That’s what I mean.”

Candy puts the plastic rabbit in my hand and we kiss.

Before I go outside, I look at Kasabian. He’s gone back to the beginning of the DVD and the opening credits for The Wizard of Oz are playing.

“See you soon, Alfredo Garcia.”

He doesn’t look up.

“Shut up. The movie’s starting.”

I open the door and look at Candy.

“Three days.”

She nods.

“Three days.”

I close the door and get out the car keys.

TRAVEN’S KEYS ARE for a Geo Metro, a glass-enclosed gum wad of fiberglass that’s like a car the same way movie-theater nachos are like food. Holding the keys out in front of me like the world’s most pathetic magic wand, I push the lock button. Something a few cars up chirps. The Geo is exactly like the kind of car that a preacher’s mother would drive. It’s blue and looks like something that should come free with a kid’s meal at a burger joint. This isn’t how I imagined I’d be leaving this world, but I don’t have time to hunt and kill a real car. The only thing worse than driving a car like this is having someone see you driving a car like this. Naturally, that’s when I see Medea Bava strolling over from across the street. I already have the door open, so I can’t even pretend I was going to steal something else. I get the Maledictions out and light one. Going back to Hell may be the worst thing I ever do, but at least I’ll be able to get decent cigarettes.

“Why are you bugging me, Medea? I’m leaving town and may not be coming back. Go buy yourself a new crown of thorns. You win.”

Medea stops in the street so that cars have to drive around her. She just looks at me, her face sweeping through the phases of the moon, turning her from a beautiful young woman to an old crone and back again.

“You’re as constant as the stars in a few things, Sandman Slim. For example, your stupidity and selfishness.”