butt ends out.
They must be partying hard Downtown tonight, waiting for the velvet rope to come down and the doors to the VIP section of Creation to be blown off their hinges.
What’s going on in Heaven? Are all the ranks of the angelic throng on their knees, praying for humanity’s faith in the Word to pull them through? Me, I bet it’s more like a sports bar the night before the Super Bowl. Crowds of drunken, winged frat boys with team hats and big foam fingers. Maybe that’s why Heaven is silent and God doesn’t speak to Man anymore. Heavenly intervention would blow the point spread.
THERE’S TOO MUCH weird, magic-cloaking static and protection hoodoo around the Vigil’s warehouse. I don’t have time to find a straight path inside through the room, so I have to use a shadow a few blocks south and run the rest of the way.
A line of low-profile, matte-black transports warm up their engines in the parking lot. They’re nearly silent, and where their bodies touch the dark, they disappear. Stealth party vans. If I’d known about these, I wouldn’t have bothered stealing all those cars.
The rear hatch of the lead van is open. Wells motions me over, squinting at me like a constipated Clint Eastwood.
“Why’d I know you were going to cut it short? Two more minutes and we’d have been gone.”
“Your damned Flatulence Accelerator has the whole area fuzzed out. I had to walk halfway here.”
Wells holds up a hand. “Wait. You couldn’t even get here with the pixie hocus pocus you’re going to use to get us into Avila? I am not filled with confidence.”
“Relax. I’ve already broken into Avila. They don’t have anything like your setup.”
“And what if they have? What if they’ve brought in a load of technology and dark magicians?”
“Then we do it your way. Blow the place open. Take heavy losses. Get inside. We’re walking into the O.K. Corral. You want a guarantee that your hair won’t get mussed, Marshal Wells?”
“You get any of my people killed unnecessarily, I’m coming after you.”
“Take a number.”
Wells steps up into the transport. I take a quick look around the lot. No sign of Candy. Guess she really has taken the cure.
I get in the transport and squeeze into a seat next to Wells.
THE TRANSPORT MIGHT have been quiet outside, but inside it’s like sitting in a washing machine. None of the Vigil crew is talking. A few are praying, but most probably don’t want to have to shout over the noise.
Wells’s G-men are wrapped up in weird electronics and nylon webbing, and holding strange guns. Some are in aluminum-coated full-body suits like foundry workers. The rest are in black pants and skintight tops that stretch over their heads like balaclavas. The ones not carrying guns are wrapped up in metal exoskeletons like they’re being raped by robots.
I lean over and shout into Wells’s ear.
“Seriously, you people should try to learn just a little magic. I saw celestial types working at your warehouse. They could teach you something. I know you civilians can’t handle any really heavy magic, but maybe you could pick up something useful so you wouldn’t have to dress up like the Terminator’s retarded cousin.”
Wells shouts back, “Learn your kind of magic so I can spend eternity in Hell with people like you? No thanks. I’ll stick to the weapons Heaven’s given us.”
“You’d think if Heaven was that completely on your side, it’d be a little more helpful.”
“Aelita, God’s hand on Earth, is on our side. You’d be able to understand that if you didn’t have a soul dirtier than a hobo’s boxer shorts.”
“All I’m saying is that I don’t trust either side. Heaven just might be hedging its bets.”
“I’m sure that’s what you think, but our weapons have never failed us yet.”
“Suit yourself. But with magic, I don’t ever run out of ammo.”
“No, just brains.”
WE STICK TO backstreets until we get north of the city, then cut overland through the hills and canyons until we cut south near the Stone Canyon reservoir. Come down through Bel Air, paralleling North Beverly Glen Boulevard. The drivers up front wear helmets like fighter pilots, with night vision and heads-up displays. Monitors over our heads show us what they’re seeing. It’s nothing special. Trees as we mow our way through the hills. Flares and pinpoints of light when we come close to a housing development. This is either the worst amusement park ride in history or I’m back in Hell.
Soon we’re at the bottom of one especially tall hill with lights like a piece of the sun is sitting on top. That’s how Club Avila looks through night vision. To anyone driving by, it would be just another gated mansion.
There are six transports in our convoy. Four of us stay put while two drive onto Beverly Glen so they can roll up to Avila’s front door.
Wells say, “We’re flanking them. A-team will initiate the attack at the front, drawing the club’s security that way. You’re going to get us inside so we can attack from the rear.”
I nod.
“Listen to me,” says Wells. “I don’t want this to be the last night of the world, so I’m going to ask you one more time, are you sure you can get us all inside? There’s still time to catch up with the other team if you can’t.”
I say, “I was in a rush earlier. I didn’t take the time to find a good way in. But I can walk into Heaven or Hell or anywhere in between. I can damn sure walk us into this place.”
“You know I’m going to shoot you if you say you can and you can’t.”
“That won’t kill me, but I tell you what. If I can’t get us inside, I’ll show you what will.”
Wells looks back, nods at his G-men, and then turns back to me.
“Let’s get going.”
I swing up the Whip-It gun and pump a shell into the chamber.
“What was all that BS in the transport about you only using magic?”
“This is magic. Wild Bill magic.”
“Just get us inside, Sandman Slick.”
“Hold on to my shoulder and keep your eyes shut. Tell the guy behind you to do the same thing and all the way down the line. Whatever you do, don’t open your eyes or let go of me until you’re completely inside Avila. You don’t want to be stuck with half your ass sticking out of a hill.”
Wells passes the instructions down the line. I should have bought blindfolds. I hope I scared Wells and his crew enough to really keep their eyes closed. The Vigil just wants to get inside the club. I don’t need everyone who works for them knowing about the Room of Thirteen Doors.
Wells comes back a minute later and thumps his hand on my shoulder.
“Time for you to redeem your sorry ass.”
“Okay, Dorothy, click your heels together three times and say, ‘There’s no place like home.’”
I step into the dark at the bottom of the hill. I’ve never tried to walk this many people in and out of a shadow before. I hope I don’t kill everyone.
A second later, we’re inside Jayne’s office in the club. It looks pretty much the same as when Vidocq and I were here a day or two ago. I doubt anyone has been inside since Jayne turned up dead.
“You can open your eyes,” I say.
“Gabriel’s swinging blue balls, boy. You did it. You actually did something.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
The room