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“All cars are mine. You should know that by now.”

Sally yanks the steering wheel hard to the right and we scream across the freeway as she pulls a perfect one-eighty through an open space in the concrete road divider no wider than a couple of shopping carts. If my heart was still beating, it would be going really fast right now.

“Where are we going?”

“Want to see a movie?” says Sally.

“What movie?”

“I don’t know. Let’s see what’s playing at the drive-in.”

WE COME OFF the freeway and blow through the streets of Hollywood like a cruise missile. Red lights turn green. Lanes open before us. When the cars slow, Sally takes us down side streets I’ve never seen before and swings us back onto the boulevard well past the traffic snarls.

I say, “Howard had a deal with a lot of badass angels and you ruined it. They’re going to be pissed.”

She screws up her face like she smelled curdled milk.

“How boring, worrying about what angels think of you.”

When she spots the Devil’s Door, Sally twists the steering wheel, sending the Bugatti onto the sidewalk. The drive-in lights are off, but the gate is open. Sally doesn’t slow but blows through them and squeals to a stop by the concession stand.

She gets out and comes around to my side. When I open my door my legs don’t work. Sally stands there for a minute looking at me.

“Really?” she says. “You’re going to make me do this?”

Sally likes road food. The kind of junk you find at gas station food marts. Cupcakes. Stale cookies. Potato chips. She pulls me out of the car like I weigh about as much as a bag of Twinkies and carries me in her arms to where some startled people I know are waiting for us. Sets me on the ground like I’m light as a feather.

“Thanks, Sally.”

“You’re going to owe me a much nicer car before this is over with.”

I raise myself a few inches on my elbows.

Ray, Brigitte, and Vidocq come over.

“It’s going to be okay,” says Ray.

Vidocq says, “It’s not quite Ludovico’s Ellicit.”

“But we think it’s from the same region,” adds Ray. “It’s a kind of necromancy, but different.”

“Now you’re just confusing him,” says Brigitte. She kneels down and puts a hand on my arm. “The spell is a little creative, but we think it will work.”

Sally stands next to Candy.

They’re a little behind me. It hurts to turn my head, so I mostly listen to them.

“Are you Sally?” Candy says. “Thanks for bringing him.”

“I take it you’re the one he’s running away from.”

“Running away?”

“According to him, he’s done something unforgivable. I think he’s exaggerating, but I’m not the one he’s in love with, so what does it matter what I think?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you do. Do you think you can save him?”