I pour myself a drink. Semyazah follows me back to the desk. If looks could kill.

“Retaliating against those pathetic witches? They couldn’t have attacked you. Or called you. They’re rabble with no resources. Deumos’s followers are as lost as any damned mortal soul in Hell. By attacking them, you’re making those fools more important than they have any right to be.”

Merihim is just listening. He picks up random books and objects from the shelves. The same above-it-all bullshit he always pulls when he’s trying to figure out who has the upper hand in a discussion. Sometimes he reminds me of Medea Bava, the head of Sub Rosa inquisition. Marchosias looks at me like I’m barbecue ribs and she’s trying to decide between a Texas red sauce and Carolina mustard.

Merihim says, “I’m not so sure. Our lord’s tone is boorish but he might be right to stop this false prophet with one short swift blow. Deumos wants to weaken our true church and divide the people.”

“I agree,” says Marchosias. “Are we going to stand around like those sheep in Heaven as she transforms herself into a new Lucifer and leads a rebellion against us?”

The general isn’t happy his two compadres disagree with him. How far can I push him?

“Semyazah’s just mad he missed raiding Deumos’s church with Vetis. Don’t worry. I’ll wake you the next time so you can join the fun.”

He takes a couple of steps in my direction.

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that.”

I push myself up off the desk.

“Like what? Your boss?”

“Like a fraud and a coward who plans to desert us the moment he finds a way out of Hell.”

“Damn right. Your war landed you here. Me, I just slipped on a banana peel.”

Marchosias taps a fingernail on the bookcase to get our attention.

“If it helps, we’ve identified the three soldiers who attacked you. They’re from different companies within the legion. We’re interrogating their comrades and senior officers. We’re also interrogating the weapon masters and taking an inventory of the armory to see where they might have found their guns.”

“Great. So you’re going to chat up what, four hundred soldiers who are all going to lie and stick up for their buddies. And how long is it going to take to count every pistol in the armory? How will you even know if you can trust the count? You’d be better off wandering the streets wearing a big sign that says ‘Did You Do It?’ ”

Semyazah lowers his head and half smiles.

“This is the great and terrifying Sandman Slim, the monster who kills monsters? I never thought a feeble attack and a phone call would have you behaving like this. It’s unbecoming for an assassin or the lord of Hell.”

I sit down at the desk and sip my drink.

“Come on, boys and girls. We all know I’m a terrible Lucifer. I only got the job because I killed Mason.”

“Don’t be so modest,” says Marchosias. “No one else could stop him. I mean no slight, General, but if it wasn’t for Stark, Heaven would have laid waste to all of Hell and we’d be dead.”

“So what? Killing Mason doesn’t qualify me to run a muffin stand in a mall. You’re all more qualified to be Lucifer than I am but none of you has the sand to step up and do it.”

Merihim shakes his head.

“This is absurd and insulting. Come. Let’s leave our lord to think his deep thoughts.”

He starts for the door and Semyazah follows. Marchosias rolls her eyes and starts after them.

“Don’t be so hasty,” she says.

I shout some hoodoo and the door seals itself shut.

“We’re having this out right now. Everyone agrees I’m no good. Let’s do something about it. No one leaves until there’s a new Lucifer.”

They stare at me.

“You assholes love your rituals. Let’s try this one on for size. Kill me and you get the job. Wound me and I’ll give up. Trust me. I’m not going to fight hard to stay Lucifer.”

I pull the black blade from behind my back with the Kissi arm. It feels awkward using my left hand, but the effect is worth it.

I hold out the knife to each of them.

“How about it? General? Merihim? Marchosias?”

I throw the blade so it sticks point first in the floor between them.

“Why don’t you all do it together? I can’t possibly take all three of you at once.”

No one moves. Merihim’s body language says he’s somewhere between fainting and doing a Cowardly Lion dive out of the nearest window. Marchosias backs away behind a bust of Lucifer on a short marble pillar.

Semyazah’s eyes narrow. I gave his ego a hotfoot. He looks like he might actually go for the blade.

The moment his shoulder twitches, I kick the desk chair in front of him. He’s quick. The chair catches one of his legs but he still manages to get the knife. Rolling to his feet, he throws it at me. It’s a pretty good shot for someone off balance on a hurt leg. But I’ve had a lot of knives heaved at me over the years. I know what good aim looks like and knife throwing isn’t Semyazah’s specialty. All I have to do is lean back and the knife sails past. Semyazah grabs a metal candle stand, holding it in front of him like a spear.

It’s three fast steps to where he’s planted himself. I drag the desk behind me as I go. Whip it around like a baseball bat, crashing through a bookshelf and catching him on the side. There’s a loud crack as I make contact and he half flies, half slides down the marble floor to the library doors.

Blood flows into my left eye. The crack when I hit Semyazah wasn’t from him or the desk. It was a derringer he’s pulled from his sleeve. The shot grazed the side of my head.

Merihim and Marchosias are backed up against shelves full of Hellion art books. Merihim has gone dead white. I throw each of them over a shoulder in a kind of half-assed fireman’s carry, holding them low. Keeping their bodies between me and Semyazah. The general is flat on his back but he could be playing possum and he has at least one bullet left in the pocket gun. Merihim starts thrashing when he figures out he’s a human shield. I pull my arm a little tighter and squeeze the air out of him.

When I’m over Semyazah, I step onto the arm holding the gun. The general’s eyes are open but he doesn’t move. I don’t think he’s broken. Just a little dazed. I toss Merihim and Marchosias down on either side of him, take the derringer, and drop the hammer so it won’t go off in my pocket.

A minute later Semyazah sits up. I take the knife from a scabbard on his belt and slap it into his hand.

“We aren’t done yet. It’s still three against one and I’m not armed. You drew first blood, General. Take your shot. Kill me.”

He doesn’t move. I can’t tell if his gaze is uncertain or unfocused.

“Afraid you’ll miss?”

I grab him with the Kissi hand and press the tip of the blade into the base of my throat.

“Now you can’t. Kill me. Become Lucifer.”

When Semyazah doesn’t budge, Merihim grabs his hand and pushes. The blade goes in far enough to draw blood. I feel it run down my neck and under the armor. Semyazah twists and punches Merihim in the face. The preacher lets go of the knife when Semyazah elbows him in the throat. He looks at Marchosias like he’s about to deck her. She holds up her hands, shaking her head.

Semyazah slides the knife back into its scabbard.

“This doesn’t change anything. You’re still a coward and a fraud.”

“And you won’t do anything about it ’cause you’d rather have a coward and a fraud on the throne than sit there yourself.”

I find my knife where it’s embedded in the wall and slip it into the waistband at my back. Walk back to where the last of Bill’s bourbon fell. The bottle hit the floor but didn’t break. Lucky me. My desk is cracked and splintered but still has four legs. I pull it upright and sit down, taking a couple of pulls from the bottle. The wound on my head throbs but is already scabbing over; my burned hand, though, got bounced around enough that it throbs and aches.