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“I thought you could do magic,” she says. “Can’t you just wave a wand and make it disappear?”

“First off, only hillbillies and Harry Potter use wands anymore. Second, I mostly know Hellion magic. Melting faces and killing things. If I try hoodoo at home I’m afraid I’ll just blow out the windows.”

“You really can’t afford paint remover?”

I sip my coffee.

“We have a little money, just not enough to blow on luxuries like cleaning products and food.”

“You know, you could have asked me for an advance on your salary.”

­“People do that?”

“Normal ­people, all the time. I’ll write you a check right now. Will five hundred dollars do?”

“It would do great, but you know I’m legally dead, right? I don’t have a bank account, a passport, or a library card.”

Julie puts down her pen. I can tell she’s rethinking the wisdom of offering me a job.

“Fine, man of mystery. I’ll bring you some cash tomorrow.”

“Appreciate it. I was one day from hanging around with one of those signs. You know, ‘Will Save the World for Food.’ ”

“Panhandling is illegal. I saved you from a life of crime.”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want to get a bad reputation or anything.”

Here I am again, scrambling for pocket change. Getting screwed out of half a million dollars by the Golden Vigil has left me a little touchy about money. I’m lucky Julie offered me a job. I owe her a lot, more than Candy—­Chihiro—­and I can ever repay.

“So, how’s our guest?” says Julie.

“Our guest? You mean the bum in my storage room? He’s still asleep.”

She frowns.

“Is that good? Maybe we should take him to a doctor.”

“And tell him what when he sees the guy’s heart is gone, but he’s still alive?”

“Touché. So what do you think we should do?”

“I had Allegra and Vidocq patch him up, but he is Death. Give him a ­couple of more days. If he doesn’t come around, we’ll figure out a plan B.”

“I thought Death would be better at, well . . .”

She shrugs. I pick up my coffee.

“Being dead? Look, we don’t even know if he is who he says he is. He could be a lunatic angel gone off his meds, or some mad scientist’s Christmas present gone wrong. The real point is, I don’t like him and I want him out of my place as soon as possible.”

Julie ignores the remark and picks through some of the printouts on the table.

“You’re the magic man, so you’re in charge of him for the time being. But there’s something I wanted to show you.”

She pushes some of the papers across the desk to me. I pick them up.

“What is all this?”

“Articles. Police and accident reports. Patient records from the last week.”