The real problem was that he never seemed to be able to hold onto mortal money even when he had it. That was the whole conundrum with sleeping outdoors. Paper currency always seemed to flutter right through his hands. He’d wondered many times if clerks in various shops were shortchanging him. The one time he accused a clerk to his face, the guy started to call the police. Qaphsiel had panicked and run away. Over the years he’d dealt with sword-wielding warriors, Praetorian guards, knights, Cossacks, Magyars, Huns, gendarmes, Redcoats, Johnny Rebs, corrupt constables, and every shape, size, and manner of mugger. But he did not want to deal with modern American police. They had too many cars. Too many guns. DNA databases. Fingerprint databases. Photo databases. And considering that his DNA wasn’t human, he had no fingerprints, and he couldn’t be photographed, it seemed best to steer clear of police altogether.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. It was an old woman in sunglasses and a Disneyland T-shirt. “Excuse me. Do you know the way to the La Brea Tar Pits?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Qaphsiel.

“Oh. I saw your map and thought you might.”

He shook his head. “It’s not that kind of map. It charts the past, the present, the forces of nature, God, and probability, but not the way to tourist attractions.”

“That sounds useful,” said the old woman. “Where can I get one?”

“You can’t.”

“Where did you get yours?”

“From the archangel Gabriel.”

The woman frowned. “Is that a Web site?”

“No. Well, maybe he has one these days. I’m not sure,” said Qaphsiel. “I don’t use computers.”

“You sound like my mother,” said an old man with the old woman. “She took a course down at the library and now she’s on my machine all the time.”

“Thank you. I’ll certainly consider taking a course.”

“Can I have just a peek at your map?” said the old woman.

“It’s not for mortal eyes,” Qaphsiel said.

“Just a peek?”

Qaphsiel looked past her. “I’m sure they sell maps in one of the malls across the street. Why don’t you check there?”

“Does your map show the bus lines?” said the old man.

“No.”

“Just a peek?” said the old woman.

“Fine.” Qaphsiel turned the map around and held it up where the woman could see. She cocked her head to the side.

“There’s nothing on it.”

“I told you it’s not for mortal eyes.”

“Maybe you need to talk to someone about medication,” said the old man. “My cousin used to see little lawn flamingos crawling up his legs. Now they’ve got him on the lithium and he’s doing fine.”

“Let’s go across the street,” said Qaphsiel. “Maybe they’ll take gold for a map. My treat.”

“That’s not necessary,” said the old woman. “Is there anything interesting to see around here?”