There’d been no time to pack Friday afternoon, no time to plan, barely time for Asmador to toss the money and what was left of the weed into the trunk of the BMW and haul ass before the cops showed up at Murphy’s farm. Luckily the dirt road leading from the barn to the county road curved behind the hills to the north, blocking the view of the retreating Beemer from the deputies, so Asmador had gotten away clean, and was well into the next county by the time the cops finished setting up their roadblocks behind him.
“That was a close one,” he’d muttered, talking aloud to keep himself company.
“You think?” A voice from the backseat.
Startled, Asmador had glanced up at the rearview mirror, where he saw the reflection of a handsome, redheaded youth grinning at him mischievously. “Eyes front,” Sammael had remarked as a car horn blared. Asmador had turned back again, discovered he’d drifted into the lane of oncoming traffic, and jerked the wheel to the right just in time to avoid a head-on collision with a black Jetta. He’d caught a glimpse of the chalk white face of the other driver as the Jetta shot by.
“That was close,” the Poison Angel had said calmly; somehow he’d magically transported himself into the front passenger seat.
“What are you doing here?”
“The Council sent me. They are mightily p.o.’d.”
“The Book! I left the Book in the barn!”
Sammael had winked broadly. “Lucky for you, you have friends in low places. Bear in mind, though: this is a one-time only deal. You fuck up again, you’re on your own. Oh, and by the way, you stink to high heaven, as the saying goes. Better get out of those clothes before they arrest you as a health hazard.”
Then he was gone, and in his place, lying on the bucket seat, had been a perfect copy of the Book, identical to it in every aspect but one. This simulacrum was perpetually on fire, bathed in lambent blue flames that flickered and danced like heat lightning across its surface, but like the flames of the burning bush in Exodus, failed to consume it, or even scorch the leather upholstery on which it lay.