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“Of course.”

I get a bottle of bourbon and two glasses and sit on one of the sofas.

Abbot’s bodyguards reluctantly file into the kitchen. It must be hard on them. On the one hand, I just saved them. On the other hand, I’m a known menace. It’s why I like freelancing. Less wear and tear on your psyche.

Abbot sits down on the sofa across from me. I pour two sizable glasses of bourbon and push one to his side of the coffee table. He doesn’t move to pick it up. I pick up mine, raise it in a toast, and drink half. The perfect thing to clear the smoke out of your throat.

Abbot says, “So, tell me seriously. Where have you been for the past year?”

My injured shoulder is beginning to itch. I take off my coat and pick pieces of yacht wood out of my skin. When I start to set a bloody splinter on the table, Abbott shoves a year-old copy of Vogue from the end of the table under it.

“I told you. I was dead.”

“Be serious.”

“I am. I was dead and in Hell. Then somebody brought me back.”

“Who?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Who?” he says a bit more insistently.

“Wormwood.”

He leans against the back of the sofa, then forward again.

“Which version of Wormwood was it?”

Should have known he’d know the dirt.

“The original.”

“Why did they bring you back?”

“To stop the faction from blowing up L.A., which I did. You’re welcome.”

Abbot frowns.

“They knew about that? I thought we were the only ones.”

“Pardon me for asking, but I’ve been gone and don’t know who the players are anymore. Who is ‘we’?”

“The Sub Rosa, of course.”

I look at Abbot hard. His pupils and heartbeat are funny.

I say, “I get the feeling there’s more to that sentence. Like it should be the Sub Rosa … and somebody else.”

Abbot looks in the direction of the kitchen, like he’s regretting sending his goons away. Finally, he looks back at me and says, “I mean the Sub Rosa and the group you call the faction. They’ve been trying to take over the city, both the Sub Rosa and civilian worlds. We stepped in to stop them. I thought we had a deal.”

“You made a deal with the faction?”

He sits up straight. “Are you judging me? It sounds like we both made deals with the Devil.”

“No. I know the Devil. He wouldn’t pull shit like this.”

Abbot thinks for a minute.