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“I don’t know what salvation means to them, but I bet there’s a lot of tentacles and screaming involved.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong. It’s a holy thing we’re doing.”

“I swear to everything that shits and crawls through Hell, if you say it’s a crusade, I’m going to leave you here.”

She looks me in the eye.

“Sensitive about righteous people doing righteous work?”

“No. I just spent a year on a crusade. I’m sick of lunatics telling me there’s absolution and ice cream over the next hill.”

“You just had the wrong leader,” she says.

“And you’re one holy-roller inch from me leaving you here with the fuckers upstairs.”

She glances at the door, then at me.

“Where are we going?” she says.

“Disneyland, to ride the teacups. Now come on.”

I take her arm and haul her toward a shadow. She tries to pull away, but I’m heavier, stronger, and a lot more pissed off right now.

“Fuck you,” she yells, and tries to claw my face. I push her out of the shadow on the other side.

Marcella lands on her ass at the corner of Hollywood and Vine.

She looks around, a little stunned. I put out my hand to help her up and she knocks it away. Grabs a light pole and pulls herself to her feet.

“What kind of trick is this?” she says. “Is this another part of Hell?”

“Yes, but not in the way you mean.”

She gives me a funny look, halfway between fury and blind panic. I get a twenty from my pocket and slap it into her hand. She still doesn’t get it.

I say, “I’m letting you go. That twenty won’t take you far in a cab, but it will get you out of the neighborhood. There’s a couple of old pay phones on Sunset just past Fairfax. I don’t know if they still work, but they’re worth a shot. Call your people. Go home or wherever the fuck you assholes hold your tent revivals.”

She stands there like a stunned deer.

“If this is a trick it’s going to make your mom cry, Boy Scout.”

I turn around.

“No tricks. See you around, Marcella.”

“Why?” she says.

“Because you’re Wormwood, which makes you garbage. But if I left you back there, everything they want to do to me they’d do to you. I can’t stop them right now, but I can take that away from them, at least.”

I leave her there. I don’t know if she gets in a cab or goes for pizza. I just walk away.

Ivar Avenue is a block west. I head up to Bamboo House of Dolls. I need time to think. Along the way, I put on a glamour. Everybody likes this face. Who am I to argue with that?

The bar is buzzing when I get inside. It’s nice to see that the place can still pull a crowd, at least on the weekends. There are more Lurkers tonight, too. Some blue-skinned Ludere and a table of always-loud, always-drunk Nahual beast men. Being in a crowded bar alone can be depressing, especially if it’s one you’re used to spending time in with friends. There’s only one good reason to ever come to a bar on the weekend by yourself, and that’s because no matter how crowded it gets, there’s always one lone, sad seat at the bar that no one will take. It’s an unconscious thing. No normal person will touch the seat because on some animal level, they know that it’s reserved for loners and losers too broke or pathetic to even pay for companionship. A perfect place for me tonight.

Carlos gives me a nod and a pitying half smile when he sees me.

“Good to see you back. Jack Daniel’s, right?”