TWO POTENT LEY lines meet where Beverly Drive and Wilshire Boulevard cross. Beverly Hills is a major power spot in a city that’s a major power spot. The layout of Convergence L.A. might be twisted all out of shape, but power is power and Lucifer’s palace is right where the two lines meet. But his palace is different here. And it’s not his palace anymore. It’s Mason’s. Other than that, I’m right about everything.

Back on earth, the Beverly Wilshire Hotel has some of the most expensive rooms in the world. The nicer ones average around 10K a night, but that’s okay because the mints on your pillow are extra big. The hotel was built in the twenties, when movie stars were still movie stars, rich people skin-popped monkey glands to stay young, and black people had to come in through the kitchen. Except for the big screen TVs, Louis XIV wouldn’t feel out of place there. In case you’re slow and haven’t figured it out yet, the Beverly Wilshire is Lucifer/Mason’s palace in Convergence town.

Semyazah and I are on the roof of a Bank of America building a few blocks down Wilshire. An earthquake has smashed most of the first three floors and fires gutted the rest. The roof seems stable enough, though I wouldn’t want to be us if a big quake hits right now. From here, Semyazah and I can see most of Beverly Hills. It’s filled with Hell’s legions, attack vehicles, and weapons. Many, many troops and weapons. They stretch for over a mile in every direction. On another day, seeing all this Infernal firepower would make me consider wetting my pants, but today it’s just one more thing to cross off my bucket list.

“We need to talk over some things before you go to your troops.”

Semyazah only half turns. Most of his attention is focused on the soldiers in the street.

I say, “I’m going to tell you a few things and you’re going to have to go along with them or all of this is going to fall apart.”

Now he looks at me.

“I’ve been a general in the Infernal legions since we fought in Heaven. I’m not used to taking orders from a mortal. Especially one who’s killed my people, good soldiers, for eleven years.”

“At least you chose to be down in Heaven’s toilet. I was shanghaied.”

Semyazah touches a finger to his lips.

“We seem to have reached an impasse.”

I shrug.

“Stay up here in the cheap seats if you want, but I’m going to try and stop this thing, and if that means killing every one of your pals in uniform, oh well. And after I save your shitty little world, we can call the movers for your stuff. I hear there’s plenty of room in Tart201room inarus these days.”

I start for one of the fat shadows cast by the hill fires.

“Try to understand my position,” says Semyazah. “I can’t very well rally troops to my side by telling them that I allowed myself to be rescued by our worst enemy.”

I look back at him.

“That’s the best part. You’re not going to mention me at all. You broke out of Tartarus on your own. You got all the brujas and wizards and table tappers together, organized them, and you led the final assault on the Gobah yourself.”

“I don’t know. It’s easier for them to believe that I’ve been cowering in a hole somewhere.”

“Mammon knew where you were in Tartarus, so the rest of them will know, too. And I guarantee they all heard the explosion when the boiler blew. Between that fucked-up uniform and the blisters on your face, they’ll believe you.”

“Possibly.”

“Tell them you broke out to save your men from Mason’s war.”

Semyazah grunts.

“It’s a good line because it’s true,” I say. “Mason is as suicidal as he is homicidal. He wants to burn down everything you ever cared about.”

Semyazah looks at the palace and absentmindedly touches the blisters on the side of his face that was toward the blast. They probably hurt like hell, but they’ll help convince the other officers he was in a serious fight.

“There’s one other thing,” I say. “It’s going to piss you off, but you can use it to persuade any of the holdouts.”

“What is it?”

“The Kissi are coming. I cut them into the game. It wouldn’t be a party without them.”

He’s back over to me in three quick steps.

“Are you mad?”

“Relax. Just because they’re crazy doesn’t mean they aren’t useful. But when it comes to dealing with them, you need to listen to me.”

His eyes narrow. He’s wondering if Azazel was right and I’m the liar who’s going to get them all killed.

“I’ll need to hear your plan before I agree to anything.”

“Fair enough. You’re going to need whatever generals you still trust and some goddamn fast runners.”

IT ISN’T HARD to guess where Lucifer’s office is. The penthouse is huge. It’s basically an old-school Hollywood mansion bolted to the top of a classy hotel, with multiple bedrooms, a kitchen, I don’t know how many goddamn showers, plus expensive furniture and enough art to start a tacky museum. San Simeon meets the Playboy Mansion.

In the middle of a large meeting room is a table with the same floating 3-D map I saw at Mammon’s palace. A gaggle of Hellion generals and staff officers are gathered on the balcony talking, arguing, and waving their hands describing details of battle maneuvers.

I stay half a step behind Semyazah, playing the humble underling. No one turns our way until I clear my throat extra loud. The officers turn. Then do nothing for a few seconds. A couple head over to Semyazah.

“General?”

“You look surprised to see me. When Hell is at war, then I’m at war and nothing could keep me away from my legions. Not even Tartarus.”

More officers come over.

“Did Mason free you?” asks a general who, if I remember right, might be Belial.

I say, “No one lets anyone out of Tartarus. The general led the escape himself.”

They seem to notice me for the first time.

“Who is this?” Belial asks.

“Just a guide,” I say. “The general freed us from Tartarus, so in gratitude I showed him the quickest route back here.”

The oldest and most battle-worn of the officers steps out in front of the others. It’s Baphomet, one of Lucifer’s first converts.

“That’s quite a story, General,” he says. “It might answer a troubling question. When we heard the rumbles to the south, Mason Faim ordered us to use artillery to lay waste to that entire region of Pandemonium. I refused an order. Firing on my people was never part of our plans. I persuaded much of the officer corps to join me. Now it seems that Mason Faim has disappeared, allegedly preparing his own alternate war plan.”

“What plan?” asks Semyazah.

“I have no idea.”

A pale officer comes to stand beside Baphomet. I think it’s General Shax.

“The truth is that many of us have been having increasing doubts about this mortals’ war. What wilighar. Whal it profit either of us if both Heaven and Hell are laid to waste?”

Semyazah steps forward and gestures for the other officers to come closer.

“The destruction of both worlds has always been Mason Faim’s plan. Let me tell you what I know and you’ll understand why he banished me.”

While they talk, I slip back out the same shadow we used to come in.

I COME OUT in Lucifer’s old office. Mason has taken it over completely. All the Hellion art and tapestries showing the fall from grace are gone. Maybe they weren’t ever here. This version of Lucifer’s office looks like a top-floor office at the New York Stock Exchange. Nice paneling. Cushy chairs. A lot of expensive-looking paintings on the walls. I prefer Lucifer’s slaughter art. At least that didn’t look rented.

Mason’s office is part office and part lab. A lot of the equipment is the same kind of alchemical gear that Vidocq uses. There’s an area with machining tools and a home-brew blast furnace that’s scorched one wall black. It’s surrounded by stacks of raw iron slugs. The floor and tables are covered with dozens of failed copies of the key to the Room of Thirteen Doors. I wonder how many of those keys I can shove up Mason’s ass before they come out his eyes.