“With flying colors,” said a voice that was definitely not Lisa’s or her characterization of Renfield.
Raven turned and looked at the source, and it was Rofocale, dressed in a distinctive red robe and standing beside his bed.
“Where is—?”
“Right here?” said Lisa, and he realized that she was standing just to his right, and that she looked like his Lisa again.
“How are you feeling?” he asked Rofocale.
“Better,” said Rofocale. “And you?”
“Fine,” said Raven. “But then, nobody shot me.”
“Waste of time,” said Rofocale contemptuously. “You can temporarily damage a demon, cause him great discomfort—but you cannot kill him.”
Raven turned to Lisa. “Please tell me that Mistress of Illusions isn’t another name or term for demon.”
She smiled and laid her hand on his. “It’s not, Eddie.”
“It’s nice to be called Eddie again.”
“Don’t get used to it,” said Rofocale.
“Oh, shit!” muttered Raven. “Another test?”
Rofocale nodded his massive head. “You’re not ready for the ultimate encounter yet. Trust me on this, Eddie Raven.”
“I don’t suppose I have the freedom or authority to respectfully decline any more tests?”
Rofocale smiled. “I like your attitude, Eddie. And no, that particular freedom is denied you.”
Raven turned to Lisa. “And I don’t suppose you can overrule him?”
“Why would I?” she answered. “We’re all on the same side, Eddie.”
He frowned. “I don’t even know what side that is.”
“You will soon enough,” said Rofocale. He frowned. “You know, I was just going out for my first meal in weeks since leaving the hospital, when I intuited that your vampiric adventure was over.” He paused. “It’s got to be three in the morning, or thereabouts, and I’m unacquainted with New York City. Why don’t you recommend a good all-night restaurant, or better still, come along and join me?”
Raven frowned. “I thought you lived here.”
“The apartment?” said Rofocale. “A mere convenience. I probably hadn’t used it five nights in the five years leading up to the incident at Mako’s shop.”
Raven glanced quickly at Lisa, who nodded her assent.
“Okay, we’ll join you,” he said. “But I’m going to want some answers before the meal’s over.”
“Fair enough,” said Rofocale. “Now, where are we going?”
“Depends on what you like to eat,” said Raven. “Screaming newborn babies perhaps?”
“I assume that is your notion of a joke rather than a legitimate guess.”
“Let’s say that I hope it is,” replied Raven. “But after the past few weeks, I’m not as certain as I wish I was.”
“Human food is fine.”
“Well, my favorite dish is veal parmesan, and I love pastitso with dolmades and saganaki, but there aren’t any good Italian or Greek joints around here that are open at three in the morning, so how’s about some steak and eggs?”
“Fine. I can imbibe and digest just about anything.”
“Okay,” said Raven. “Barnaby’s is an all-nighter, and it’s about three blocks from here.” He walked to the door, opened it for Lisa, followed her to the elevator, and kept the sliding door open for Rofocale.
“You’re not even limping,” noted Raven. “You were in a pretty bad way the last few times I saw you.”
“I should probably answer that clean living does it,” said Rofocale with an almost frightening smile. He turned to Lisa. “How did he do?”
“He passed the tests,” she replied.
“With creativity, or merely with strength and courage?”
“With complete creativity,” said Lisa.
“Good. More and more it looks like he is the Chosen One.”
“Chosen One?” said Raven, frowning.
“Just an expression,” said Rofocale. “Pay no attention to it.”
“Your nose just grew six inches,” said Raven.
Rofocale placed his hand on his nose and frowned. “What are you talking about, Eddie Raven?”
“Never mind.”
“Not so far,” she replied.
“Cut it out,” said Raven.
Lisa turned to him. “I don’t understand, Eddie.”
“I’ve just put my life on the line in a bunch of crazed scenarios that most men couldn’t have survived for five minutes,” he said. “And you two are making it sound like I’ve made it through kindergarten or maybe first grade, and grad school still lies ahead.”
“Actually,” said Rofocale, “that’s very well put, Eddie.”
“Damn!” muttered Raven. “I knew you were going to say something like that.”
“Don’t look so grim,” said the demon. “It should be a matter of great pride.”
Raven merely glared at him and made no reply.
They reached the restaurant, which had clearly been built close to a century ago and had gone through many face changes, seated themselves at a table that boasted four plates, four cups, and a coffeepot, and waited for a waiter to come by.
Lisa filled Rofocale’s coffee cup, and was about to do the same for Raven when he held up his hand.
“None for me,” he said. “I’ve lost my appetite.”
She stared at him for a moment, then filled her own cup, added some cream, and took a sip.
“It’s really quite good, Eddie.”
“I’m sure it is.”
“Well, we may as well discuss his next test,” said Rofocale, “before he gets so annoyed with his situation that he just gets up and walks out of here all alone.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” said Raven. Then, after a few seconds’ consideration, added, “Probably.”
“What do you think of horses, Eddie?”
“I saw American Pharoah win the Belmont during his Triple Crown year,” answered Raven.
“Not that kind of horse.”
“What kind, then?”
Rofocale seemed at a loss for an answer, and looked across the table at Lisa.
“Cowboys’ horses,” she said. “Like Silver and Trigger, only the real thing.”
“I suppose they’re okay,” said Raven. “Why?”
“They’re going to be the primary form of transportation during your next test,” she said. “Remember any cowboys’ names from your reading?”
“Sure,” said Raven. “Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday, Billy the Kid, Will Bill Hickok, a few others.”
“And any incident?” persisted Lisa.
“The Gunfight at the O.K. Corral.”
“Good,” said Rofocale. “We won’t be dropping him cold.”
“We’ll be doing worse than that,” said Lisa seriously.
“True,” agreed Rofocale.
“What the hell are you talking about?” demanded Raven.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” said Rofocale.
“And I’ll try to find a way to join you,” said Lisa.
“So I’m going to be a gunslinger in the Wild West,” said Raven. “Could be worse, I suppose.”
“Not much,” said Lisa, her voice thick with sympathy.
“Can you at least tell me where I’m going?”
“Yes, Eddie,” she said.
“Well?”
“Tombstone.”