Aloha from Hell

“What happened to Uriel? I know Aelita killed him, so he must have ended up in Tartarus. If he’s still down there, he would have found me.”

Semyazah nods but doesn’t look right at me.

“I wasn’t there when Uriel came to Tartarus. I heard that the Gobah were waiting for him. He was taken to the furnace immediately.”

That’s pretty much what I imagined. Aelita’s a planner. She’d have everything set up in advance. Smart woman. Dead woman.

I shake my head, trying not to show anything other than information received.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

We step into a shadow.

TWO POTENT LEY lines meet where Beverly Drive and Wilshire Boulevard cross. Beverly Hills is a major power spot in a city that’s a major power spot. The layout of Convergence L.A. might be twisted all out of shape, but power is power and Lucifer’s palace is right where the two lines meet. But his palace is different here. And it’s not his palace anymore. It’s Mason’s. Other than that, I’m right about everything.

Back on earth, the Beverly Wilshire Hotel has some of the most expensive rooms in the world. The nicer ones average around 10K a night, but that’s okay because the mints on your pillow are extra big. The hotel was built in the twenties, when movie stars were still movie stars, rich people skin-popped monkey glands to stay young, and black people had to come in through the kitchen. Except for the big screen TVs, Louis XIV wouldn’t feel out of place there. In case you’re slow and haven’t figured it out yet, the Beverly Wilshire is Lucifer/Mason’s palace in Convergence town.

Semyazah and I are on the roof of a Bank of America building a few blocks down Wilshire. An earthquake has smashed most of the first three floors and fires gutted the rest. The roof seems stable enough, though I wouldn’t want to be us if a big quake hits right now. From here, Semyazah and I can see most of Beverly Hills. It’s filled with Hell’s legions, attack vehicles, and weapons. Many, many troops and weapons. They stretch for over a mile in every direction. On another day, seeing all this Infernal firepower would make me consider wetting my pants, but today it’s just one more thing to cross off my bucket list.

“We need to talk over some things before you go to your troops.”

Semyazah only half turns. Most of his attention is focused on the soldiers in the street.

I say, “I’m going to tell you a few things and you’re going to have to go along with them or all of this is going to fall apart.”

Now he looks at me.

“I’ve been a general in the Infernal legions since we fought in Heaven. I’m not used to taking orders from a mortal. Especially one who’s killed my people, good soldiers, for eleven years.”

“At least you chose to be down in Heaven’s toilet. I was shanghaied.”

Semyazah touches a finger to his lips.

“We seem to have reached an impasse.”

I shrug.

“Stay up here in the cheap seats if you want, but I’m going to try and stop this thing, and if that means killing every one of your pals in uniform, oh well. And after I save your shitty little world, we can call the movers for your stuff. I hear there’s plenty of room in Tart201room inarus these days.”

I start for one of the fat shadows cast by the hill fires.

“Try to understand my position,” says Semyazah. “I can’t very well rally troops to my side by telling them that I allowed myself to be rescued by our worst enemy.”

I look back at him.

“That’s the best part. You’re not going to mention me at all. You broke out of Tartarus on your own. You got all the brujas and wizards and table tappers together, organized them, and you led the final assault on the Gobah yourself.”

“I don’t know. It’s easier for them to believe that I’ve been cowering in a hole somewhere.”

“Mammon knew where you were in Tartarus, so the rest of them will know, too. And I guarantee they all heard the explosion when the boiler blew. Between that fucked-up uniform and the blisters on your face, they’ll believe you.”

“Possibly.”

“Tell them you broke out to save your men from Mason’s war.”

Semyazah grunts.

“It’s a good line because it’s true,” I say. “Mason is as suicidal as he is homicidal. He wants to burn down everything you ever cared about.”

Semyazah looks at the palace and absentmindedly touches the blisters on the side of his face that was toward the blast. They probably hurt like hell, but they’ll help convince the other officers he was in a serious fight.

“There’s one other thing,” I say. “It’s going to piss you off, but you can use it to persuade any of the holdouts.”

“What is it?”

“The Kissi are coming. I cut them into the game. It wouldn’t be a party without them.”

He’s back over to me in three quick steps.

“Are you mad?”

“Relax. Just because they’re crazy doesn’t mean they aren’t useful. But when it comes to dealing with them, you need to listen to me.”

His eyes narrow. He’s wondering if Azazel was right and I’m the liar who’s going to get them all killed.

“I’ll need to hear your plan before I agree to anything.”