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I hold it up to the light coming in from the parking lot lights. The box is lacquered black wood rimmed with gold and ornate flourishes that I recognize instantly.

“It was made in Hell. That doesn’t mean I know what it is.”

“Open it.”

I set the box on the passenger seat, well away from me. Pop the latch and push the top back with the tip of my knife. Nothing explodes. No poison gas or hungry ghosts. Inside the box is a padded compartment holding a glass vial full of a watery black substance.

“Okay. I found it. What is it?”

He leans forward again, groaning.

“They need it.”

“Who?”

“The rebel angels.”

I put the vial back in the box and look at him.

“That makes you one of the good guys. How do I know you’re not gaslighting me?”

“Listen,” he says. “I’m dying. There are many of us loyal angels left, but I’m not sure enough. If we fall, the rebel angels will bar all human souls from entering Heaven.”

“What about the ones already there?”

“I doubt they’ll last long.”

“And this black ink is supposed to mean something to me?”

“Black milk, it’s called. No human will enter Heaven as long as they have it.”

The angel looks at his hands. They’re shiny with blood.

“We’re near a friend’s clinic. You should let me take you.”

“It’s too late for that.”

I’m not going to argue. Angels don’t take it well. “What am I supposed to do with this stuff?”

The angel shakes his head.

“I was hoping you’d recognize it. Find out what it is. Find out how to destroy it.”

“How am I supposed to do that? I can’t get to Hell anymore. I’ve lost the Room. I’m as landlocked as any of these other mortal assholes.”

He frowns at me.

“You can’t travel to Hell. You can’t find the secret of the black milk.” He drops his head. “We were so afraid of you once. Abomination, we called you. Now look at you. When you were a monster at least you were good for something. What good are you now?”

I ask myself that every night I get into bed with Candy. But I’m not going to tell this halo polisher about it. When I look at him, he’s staring straight at me.

“Where are you going tonight?”

“None of your business.”

“Y

ou used to be an honest monster. Now you keep secrets from your friends. Your lover. Probably from yourself.”