They took an elevator up a few floors—past Unspeakable Horrors, past Death Rays et al., past the Liminal Lunchroom—to the garage. Nelson insisted on driving them to the burrito joint. They lurched and squealed down the exit ramp, and he hit the street going the wrong way at forty miles an hour before pulling into the right lane. He smiled.

No. It wasn’t going to take long for her to hate him again at all.

To Bayliss, the restaurant didn’t look like it had opened so much as escaped whatever government agency wanted to close it, burn it to the ground, and salt the Earth. The interior of the place reminded her of movies about gulags and prison dining halls. She wondered who was going to shank her first, one of the grim diners, the cook, or the food.

“Bring me up to speed,” said Nelson, biting into his carnitas, black bean, and double sour cream burrito. “How’s Coopster and Morton? They Mr. Babylon’s bitches yet?”

“It’s in my report. I e-mailed it to you.”

“I was a little busy saving our boss from being a spook’s timeshare. Spitball it for me. How are the lads?”

Bayliss had an egg whites and soy sausage breakfast burrito. It tasted like whatever chicken laid the eggs was free range in a crack house. She didn’t want to think about the sausage. She was certain they weren’t soy, but wasn’t sure if the animal the meat came from was of this Earth. Considering where she worked, Bayliss had seen a lot of animals she didn’t want near her mouth, much less in it. But Nelson had paid, so out of politeness she picked at the egg whites with the tip of a plastic fork.

“Cooper and Morton met with Babylon and appear to have accepted the job.”

“Hrrr mrrr, hrrrr?” said Nelson.

“What?”

Nelson swallowed a mouthful of burrito. “I said, ‘When are they doing it?’”

“Intel says three days. On the night of the next new moon.”

Nelson reached for the hot sauce. He poured it on until his burrito looked like it had been shot in the line of duty. “Why the new moon?” he said.

“We don’t know. Maybe Babylon is a reverse werewolf. He only turns when there’s no moon.”

Nelson stopped with the burrito halfway to his mouth. “Is that a real thing?”

“No,” said Bayliss, looking away. “I just made it up.”

Nelson set down the burrito and took a pull from his crucifix. An old woman crossed herself when she saw him. “Nice one,” he said to Bayliss. “That was really passive-aggressive. You just might make an agent yet.”

“I am an agent,” she said.

Nelson cocked his head. “You sure? I thought you were assigned to get me drinks so I didn’t have to stop being so amazing at my job.”