I shrug.

“That all depends on you. You asked me to take the singularity to one of your brothers in Hell. You said you’d owe me a favor. I made the delivery and now I’m calling in the favor. That’s if you’re willing to keep your part of the bargain.”

“Do you have the singularity with you?”

“No. It’s somewhere safe. I’ll keep it for now. If I get bored, maybe I’ll start a new universe, just like the Angra Om Ya.”

“I know Father Traven told you the story. Would you like to hear my side of it?”

“Yes. But not right this minute. I took some bullets today, and don’t tell anyone, but they still hurt.”

“Would you like me to take them out for you?”

“Sure. Later. Right now I want to get the other thing settled. Are you willing to do me the favor you promised?”

“Yes.”

“I think you know what it is.”

“I suspect so.”

I walk over to him, passing a table piled with old Hollywood head shots and shattered pieces of the Druj Ammun seal.

“I don’t care if you didn’t really create the universe. You still made the souls. There are a lot of them Downtown that could use someone to keep an eye on them better than Hellions can. The Hellions aren’t doing all that well themselves. They’re killing each other when they aren’t killing themselves. Hellions are your children too, right? They can both use the kind of help a half-assed Lucifer like me can’t give them.”

“And you think I have the right experience to be Lucifer? I’m not sure if I should be flattered or hurt.”

“You’re a deity. At least you have something to work from. I was just playing free jazz. You really need to take the job. If I go back to Hell, I’ll never leave and Hell will burn without a Lucifer.”

He looks away and throws the last of the coins in the air. They hang there before falling on the table in a neat stack.

“Of course I’ll go. A bargain is a bargain. But you must do something for me first.”

“What?”

“Forgive the part of you you call Saint James.”

“Forget it. He’s a useless Pat Boone twerp with a bad case of poor poor pitiful me. I’m always the bad guy and he’s always the victim. Forget it. He left. He can stay left.”

“Are you sure that’s how you want it?”

“I have the armor. I don’t need him.”

“But you just appointed me Lucifer. The armor is mine.”

I hadn’t thought of that.

“He left. I don’t beg favors.”

“You don’t have to. Just tell me, would you like to be whole and complete again?”

“Are you God or Dear Abby?”

“You’re avoiding the question because the answer is yes and you’re too proud and hurt to say it.”

“Bullshit.”

“You can’t lie to me, James. I’m God.”

“Fine. Sure. I’d like to be one big slice of apple pie but I’m not kissing Saint James’s ass.”

“You don’t have to. While you were talking I reintegrated you.”

I look at my hands.

“Bullshit. If he was back in my head, he’d be screaming. I don’t feel any different.”

“Which is exactly as it should be. When you’re whole, it’s not necessary to think about yourself as whole. You simply are.”

“Cool it with the koans. Wild Bill is my Buddhism adviser.”

I look at myself in an old mirrored shield.

“I don’t know how I feel about this.”

“Of course you do. You’re angry. You’re always angry with me. God tricked you again. But let me remind you of something. I still am God and there are certain things I can and will do for the good of my children, including you. You’re whole because it’s necessary for you to be whole and there’s nothing you or Lucifer or Sandman Slim can do about it.”

“See? You do have the right attitude to be a good Lucifer.”

Mr. Muninn walks to an old L.A. Red Car and steps inside.

“I’ll miss my collection.”

“It’s not going anywhere.”

“I’ll miss my solitude.”

“I got very big on delegating Lucifer’s duties at the end. Keep the same policy and have all the solitude you want. Trust me. You don’t want to sit around working out budget projections for the next thousand years.”

He steps out of the Red Car and perches on a Persian hoodoo carpet hovering three feet off the ground.

“One last thing before I go. Do you forgive me for deceiving you all this time?”

“Sure. Do you forgive me for being a loudmouth asshole Abomination?”

He holds up a hand. Shakes his head.

“You’re only an Abomination to Aelita and her ilk. You’re simply James Stark to me. Not nephilim or monster. Just Stark.”

“Your brother Neshamah told me his name. What’s yours?”

“Can’t we stick with Muninn? It’s the name I prefer.”

“Muninn it is.”

“I suppose it’s time for me to be going.”

I touch my chest. Lucifer’s armor is gone. I look at Mr. Muninn and he’s wearing it. It looks funny strapped to his round body.

“That’s a good look for you,” I lie.

He raps his knuckles on the metal.

“I haven’t worn armor since the war with Lucifer. Now here I am wearing his, preparing to become him. Even I couldn’t have predicted that.”

“It’ll get the groundlings’ attention when you walk in like that.”

He looks strange. Like he’s made of dense smoke.

“Will you come and visit?”

I feel a familiar weight inside my chest. The Key is back inside me.

“I’ll come down. Take care of yourself and Wild Bill for me. One last thing. If you were going to hide a stolen soul, where would you put it?”

He thinks for a few seconds.

“The Guff. The hall of souls. Where new souls wait to be born into bodies.”

“Someone stole Tuatha Fortune’s. Normally I wouldn’t care about the Augur’s family troubles but that seems kind of harsh even for rich bastards. If you happen to find Tuatha’s soul under the sofa cushions, maybe you could send it home.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Take care, James.”

“You too, Mr. Muninn.”

The smoke drifts apart like parting fog and Mr. Muninn is gone. There’s something in my hand. Three deformed bullets. I open my shirt. No holes. No pain.

I step through a shadow and into the Room of Thirteen Doors. It’s as cool and silent and perfect as I remember. I go through the Door of Ice, the portal to neutral places, and out into the street. I push the Hellion hog into Muninn’s cavern for safekeeping. I don’t know if I can ride it once reality gets back to normal. If I can’t, I think Mr. Muninn would like it in his collection.

I step back into a shadow, feeling at home again. I can’t hear Saint James in my head, but with luck, he feels it too.

I come out of a shadow in the hallway in the Chateau with the grandfather clock. I step through. Kasabian is watching Major Dundee on the big screen. He glances over his shoulder when I come in then turns back to the screen.

“I think we’ll have to clear out of here soon.”

“When?”

“Not until they figure out I’m not Macheath anymore. A few days. Maybe a week. I don’t know.”

He nods, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“I had a feeling this was too good to be true. Okay. They haven’t sent up any food for a while. Tell them to bring a few carts. Start stockpiling so we can take it with us when we get the bum’s rush.”

I sit on the arm of the leather sofa, suddenly very tired.

“I can’t keep doing this. Saving the world and ending up broke and homeless.”

Kasabian crushes a beer can in one of his hellhound hands and opens another one-handed. Neat trick.

“Speak for yourself,” he says. “I’ve got my future locked. Between the Codex, your magic eyeball, and the Hellion translator you said you’re getting, I’m going to become the biggest medium on the Web. I can actually see into Hell, which is where most people’s asshole relatives are going to be. Isn’t that something? I’ll be the only honest online psychic in the world. I’ll make a fortune.”

“Yeah. Telling people their loved ones are burning in eternal hellfire will have the money rolling in.”