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“What about them?”

“You’re afraid of leaving them behind.”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“We’re friends now. I’ll make sure their transmogrification is an easy one.”

We’re almost to Elysian Park. I look at Vincent.

“Thanks . . . I guess.”

“You don’t want them to die at all.”

“No one wants ­people they care about to die.”

Vincent stares out the window and starts to hum. It takes me a minute to get the song. “Chim Chim Cher-­ee” from Mary Poppins. I imagine him in his room, humming all the songs from all the movies he’s watched with Kasabian.

“Things were easy before, less frightening when you came back from Hell and knew you could go back when you wanted, weren’t they?”

“A lot easier.”

“We’re the same, then. I can’t go home and neither can you.”

I never thought of Hell as home before, but in a twisted way he might be right. It’s the place I always think of running to when things get bad here. Maybe home isn’t the place you love, just the place you know best.

I say, “Maybe tonight will change that. Maybe I’ll be able to walk to Hell and back again, and if that happens, maybe you can too.”

Vincent settles back into his seat.

“Going home won’t make me me again.”

“One step at a time, man.”

I stop under the 5 Freeway near Lupe’s and get out with my na’at in my hand. If things go sideways I don’t want to attract any cops with gunfire.

Vincent follows me out of the car, looks around.

“What are we afraid of?”

“Lions, and tigers, and bears. And shitheads who want our cash.”

“I don’t have any money.”

“If you explain that to them, I’m sure they’ll understand.”

When I’m sure there’s no one on the street, I grab Vincent’s sleeve and pull him behind me into Piss Alley. I see his face change when the smell hits him.

“Oh my,” he says.

“Not so great having senses now, is it?”

“Why are we here?”

“To see if I’m getting wings. Stand over there,” I tell him.

He goes to where I’m pointing, a trash can well away from the Duesenberg. I extend the na’at to the length of a sword and twist the grip to shape it into a blade. Holding the na’at up, ready to gut anything waiting for me in the car, I use one hand to twist the wires holding the trunk closed.

It pops opens and nothing attacks me. A few rats scatter down through the exposed undercarriage, but they mostly head off in the direction of Lupe’s to party in the Dumpster out back.