didn’t tell us that they were using magicians as security at Avila,” I say.
“Are they? That’s new. But you rose to the challenge and completed your mission. I look forward to doing more business together.”
“What else do you know about Avila? You know what they’re hiding in that blank spot in the blueprints. Don’t you?”
Muninn looks troubled.
“You don’t want to know about these things. I don’t want to know about them and I’ve seen whole civilizations turned to salt or buried in ice.”
“What’s in there?”
Muninn shakes his head.
“A bordello. The secret one. A celestial bordello full of creatures seldom seen here on Earth. But the real reason those so inclined go there, risk their lives and their souls, is for the pleasure of abusing captive angels. These are the injured ones who fell to Earth during Lucifer’s uprising and new ones that they’ve captured since, though I have no idea how one goes about capturing an angel.” Muninn looks at me. “There. Are you happier knowing? Will you sleep better tonight? Young man, there are some things in the world so profane that their only real value is in not knowing about them.”
I wipe blood off my lips with my tuxedo sleeve while Muninn brings over a bottle dusty enough to have been on Noah’s Ark. He pours three drinks in three crystal glasses. When he raises his, Vidocq and I follow.
“To God above,” he says, and tosses the drink over his right shoulder. Vidocq and I do the same. He pours three more drinks.
“To the devil below.” He tosses the drink over his left shoulder. So do we.
Muninn pours three more drinks, each twice as full as the first two.
“To us. The ones who did real work tonight while those other two were off playing tiddledywinks with poor fools’ souls.” He raises his glass and knocks the whole thing off in one gulp. The stuff burns like rose-flavored battery acid, but I don’t taste blood anymore.
Muninn sets down his glass, takes a blue bottle from the end of the table, and sets it in front of Vidocq.
“Spiritus Dei, my friend.”
Vidocq beams. “Thank you. That’s more than I was hoping for.”
“If you have extra, can I have some?” I ask. “I want to put it on my bullets. I might have to shoot things that don’t die easy.”
Muninn goes to a shelf and comes back with a smaller version of the bottle he gave Vidocq.
“On account,” he says.
“Thanks.”
“And I owe you some cash, too, I believe.”
“That would be nice. Do you have an ATM down here under all these clocks and bones?”
Muninn walks to a corner of the room piled twenty-feet high with boxes of bills and chests overflowing with gold and silver coins. The little man pokes through the pile like an old codger trying to choose just the right ripe peach at the grocery store.
“Ah.” He pulls down a box marked U.S. TREASURY and hands me a neatly banded stack of brand new bills. I riffle the stack, enjoying the feel of money in my hands. The bills are all hundreds. Next to the counter girl at Donut Universe, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen since coming back to Earth.
Over Muninn’s shoulder there’s a glass decanter with a small blue flame, not much more than a match head, hovering at the center.
“Is that what it looks like?” I ask.
“What does it look like?”
“It looks like the Mithras. The first fire.”
“Right you are. The first fire in the universe. And the last. There are many in this world, and others, who believe that at the end of time the Mithras will escape and grow until it has burned down all of Creation. The ashes of our existence will fertilize the soil for the universe to follow.”
“How much is something like that worth?”
“It’s not for sale. And if it were, not in this lifetime or with the accumulated wealth of your next thousand lifetimes could you afford it. Don’t be too ambitious too quickly, my friend. If we’re able to do business more regularly—and I think that we can—then your payment will increase and become considerably more interesting.”
I put the bills Muninn gave me into the inside pocket of the tuxedo jacket.
“Who were we working for tonight?” I ask.
“That’s confidential.”
“Not even a hint?”
“Answers are easy, but hints cost money. Save yours for now. You’re going to need a new suit,” he says, fingering a hole in my sleeve where some of the golden sparks have burned through.
We say good night and start back up the steps to Muninn’s store.
“Would you mind picking up those coins you dropped?”
I wave to him and pick up each one as we pass. When we reach the shop, I drop them in the bowl I’d stolen them from.
In the elevator, Vidocq asks, “Why do you care who Muninn’s client is?”
“That’s was a big coincidence walking into Jayne-Anne’s place tonight. It’s the second time since I’ve been back that I happened to stumble into a member of the circle. I want to know if I’m being set up.”
“Muninn will never tell you. It’s a matter of honor for men like him. We must be more careful.”
The elevator reaches the ground floor and Vidocq slides the brass gate open.
“This is going to get worse, you know. That run-in with those goons tonight? That’s nothing.”
“Inter urinas et faeces nascimur. We are born between piss and shit,” he says. “Many wanted to kill me back in my day in France. The criminals I sent to prison. The local police who never believed I was anything other than the rogue and thief I was in my youth. Even the Sûreté, the special police force I built for Paris, one based on true scientific principles—even they were corrupted by those in power and turned against me. Most of what I’ve built or had has been taken away from me by liars and curs, so if you’re going to tell me to go away or that I don’t have to stay for what’s coming, kiss my arse. The things that Mason and his friends do—they are the things of men. Mason has power, maybe more power than any magician in history, but he is still a man. I am not afraid of any man.”
“Let’s go get drunk.”
“And piss on our enemies from a great height.”
I’M SITTING AT the bar in the Bamboo House of Dolls, playing with the Barbie-size keyboard on my new phone. Phones are like toys now. They fit in your pocket, light up and vibrate like joy buzzers. Plus, you can get—I mean, “access”—the
