But whatever is in my blood is making it hard to keep my eyes open. Mason is playing operation, cutting me up like a weekend surgeon, but it doesn’t even hurt anymore. I have my hand in his chest, but when I find his heart, I don’t have the strength to grab it. My hand falls out of him as my muscles decide it’s break time. I can’t even keep my eyes open. It finally occurs to me that this isn’t sleep. I’m dying.

The last thing I see before I’m gone is Mason pulling a piece of glowing metal from my chest. Then the lights go out.

AND I’M REALLY no-shit, no-fake-outs-or-take-backs, no-paralyzing-spells-or-glamours dead. I don’t know how I know I’m dead, but I do and all I have are questions. Like, where’s all the light coming from? I thought death would be a lot blacker than this. Also, it feels like I’m stuck in someone el, In someose’s death because this one is two sizes too small. Death doesn’t feel much like dying. More like being on a crowded bus. And what’s with all the jagged edges that keep poking me? Maybe I’m still stuck in my dead body while it’s on ice. Fucking great. My body’s gone because one asshole stabbed me and now my soul is going to get the flu because another asshole stuck me in a morgue deep freeze. I fucking hate Mason. He can even make death a pain in the ass.

Somewhere far, far away, Alice is screaming. Then Mason screams. A pattern is developing. I don’t know what’s going on, but someone’s moved my body. It’s dark again, but I’m not on ice anymore. There’s more screaming. It hurts my ears and I would really appreciate it if whoever’s doing it would shut the fuck up and let me be dead. I sit up to tell them that, but it feels like I gained a thousand pounds since I died. My head and arm weigh a hundred pounds each. I open my eyes to see what’s wrong with them, but they’re fine.

Why are my eyes open if I’m dead? And why is there a second me standing there with Mason in one hand and a Gladius in the other? Alice kneels down in front of me.

“Are you all right?”

I try to tell her yes but all that comes out is, “Being dead is stupid.”

Did I say that? I’m not sure, but it’s true. I’m pretty sure I’m alive again because there’s a big hole in my chest and it hurts like I got shot with rock salt and porcupine quills.

The other me drops Mason, kneels down, and puts his hand against my chest. I feel the hole closing, the bone, muscle, and skin knitting back together. I stare at the other me and my face stares back at me.

“Goddammit, did someone cut my face off again?”

The other me helps me to my feet. This close I see that he’s exactly me. He’s me without the scars and eleven years younger.

“How do you feel?” asks the other me.

“Like Lazarus if Jesus brought him back to life by having Mike Tyson use him as a speed bag.”

“He’s all right,” says the other me.

Mason is on his back where the other me dropped him. I go for him, but I’m still a little limp, so I don’t so much attack him as fall on him like a cow thrown from a blimp. The other me pulls me to my feet.

“I know who you are,” I say to the other me. “It’s quiet all of a sudden. You’re the Boy Scout who’s been squatting in my brain. You owe me back rent, fucker.”

“Why don’t you take it out of Kasabian’s beer money? Or yours.”

I look at Alice.

“Is this real? Or am I back in Mason’s hallucination?”

She shakes her head and comes over like she wants to put her arm around me but remembers she can’t and ends up standing a few feet away looking awkward.

“It’s real. He appeared the moment you died and took the key back from Mason.”

“Is Mason still alive?”

“Unfortunately. He’s playing possum now,” says the angel. “First he was afraid of me and now there are two of us.”

“What just happened?”

“You died. The mortal part. But I’m not mortal. Cutting us like that wasn’t going to kill me, so I brought you back.”

“How?”

The angel smiles and picks up something small and black from the floor. It’s about the size of a robin’s egg and smells like cordite.

“It was Lucifer’s stone. That stupid white rock we’ve been carrying around for months. It’s a soul trap. When Mason killed you, it released me and sent your soul into the stone.”

“He put it in your chest and touched your heart with his Gladius,” says Alice. “It released your soul back into your body.”

“And then you spackled me shut. You’re a lot better roommate than Kasabian.”

I go over to Mason and kick him a couple of times.

“Where’s his knife?”

“Over here,” says Alice.

I go over and pick it up.

“Good. I think it’s time to wrap things up. Don’t you?”

“The faster the better.”

Angel me gestures at Mason.

“He’s wearing Lucifer’s armor. He can’t die as long as he has that on.”

“Get him out of it, will you?”

“My pleasure.”

While angel me strips Mason, I get Mason’s desk chairighs desk and roll it to the middle of the room. I get a chair from his worktable and set it facing the other.

“When you’re done, bring him over here.”

The angel drops Mason into his chair and I spin his knife in my hand.

“It’s been a hell of a day,” I say.

Mason nods.

“A little busier than most.”

He keeps an eye on the knife. I’m tempted to tease him with it, but this whole thing has been about us playing kid games with each other, so I let it go.

I shrug off my coat and the hoodie, giving Mason and Alice their first really good look at my Kissi arm.

I look at Alice and what she said to me in that last dream comes back to me. “I love you, but I’m over your moony guilt trip. Dream about that girl you’re lying next to for a change.” She was right. I love her but that part of our lives is over with. Besides, Alice can’t stand looking at the Kissi arm. Candy would love it.

I pull up my pant leg and cut the duct tape that’s holding the .357 snub-nose in place. I toss the knife and it sticks into the floor between us.

I say, “I finally know why you left the lighter for me to find in your basement. It was so no matter how lost I got, I could always find my way through the dark and get right here, right now. It’s taken a few twists and turns, but here we are. A couple of little lost lambs who finally found their way home.”

Mason nods at the pistol.

“That was real poetry. If you shoot me with that thing, you’re going to spoil the moment.”

“I used to think we were connected because we’re badass hoodoo men. But it’s because we’re losers. We can’t kill the universe, and after all the shit we’ve pulled, we can’t kill each other. And we can’t keep doing this forever. So let’s just do what we’ve both been wanting to do since we met.”

“What did you have in mind? One of those retreats where men sit around in drum circles and talk about their fathers? Or take your gun and male-bond while knocking over some liquor stores?”

I open the chamber and tilt the pistol so the shells fall out. I put one back in, spin the chamber, and slap it closed.

“Let’s keep it simple,” I say. I pull back the hammer. “Since we can’t seem to kill each other, we’re going to let the universe decide which one of us dies. I’ll go first.”

Alice turns away. The angel has his arm around her.

I put the pistol to the side of my head. Pull the trigger.

Click.

I’m still alive.

I hand Mason the pistol, butt end first. The angel comes up behind him and grabs his shoulder. I toss the angel the knife. He holds it to Mason’s throat.

I say, “Here’s the thing. I didn’t use magic just then, so neither are you. That angel on your shoulder can look inside you all the way down to your atoms, so he’ll see if you try to throw any hexes. If you cheat or even think about cheating, Johnny Angel there is going to cut you a new blowhole.”

Mason sits for a minute, both hands on the gun, letting it dangle between his knees, barrel to the floor.