“Speaking of which,” Lucifer added, “you have five years to sigh in.”

Blake raised his eyebrows. “You’re a Bowie fan?”

Lucifer smiled. “We wore out a vinyl copy of Scary Monsters before it finally came out on CD.”

“I like Diamond Dogs.”

”’This isn’t rock and roll; this is genocide?’” Lucifer smiled. “You’re clever, but why don’t we skip the dance?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You amplified the Bowie reference to show Us we were friends. Standard interrogation technique. What you really want to know is: why five years?”

“Alright,” Blake said, “why?”

“Because We underestimated Our opponent. Our strategies were sound, and everything went as intended but for a tiny matter in which Our opponent used Our own asset against Us.”

“How?”

“You’ll find out,” Lucifer said. “Now, We have work to do – more than We intended.”

When Lucifer vanished, Blake couldn’t help feeling a pang of loss, though he knew better. “You sonuvabitch,” he whispered, holding himself.