Free SS 04: Devil Said Bang: A Sandman Slim Novel by Richard Kadrey

overalls.
    “She’s a friend of yours?”
    I shake my head.
    “I don’t even know her name.”
    On the screen I watch myself unwrapping the
soldier’s body.
    Merihim cocks his head.
    “I can’t help but be curious: you want us to find a
complete stranger to ease the burden of her damnation but you’ve never once
asked about your mother or father.”
    “I don’t have to. Believe it or not, I’m capable of
doing a few things on my own. They’re not here. It turns out being drunk and
miserable are only venial sins after all. Lucky them.”
    Ipos says, “Didn’t your father try to shoot you?
Shouldn’t he be here with us?”
    “I suppose by Heaven’s standards, killing an
Abomination isn’t the same as killing a regular human,” says Merihim.
    “I don’t want to talk about it.”
    I look at the screen, not really watching it.
    I say, “I think we’re done here for now. Don’t
you?”
    As they head for the fake bookcase, Merihim says,
“Yesterday I said that I’d bring you a protective potion. That will have to wait
until I can check that they’re not bogus.”
    “Don’t worry about it. I’m not sitting around
waiting to get my brain cut open. I’m going to do something.”
    “What exactly?”
    “I have no idea. Something, you know, subtle.”
    Merihim says, “Like when you burned Eden? I only
ask because I’m still trying to gauge your definition of ‘subtle.’ ”
    I look at him and can’t help but smile.
    “That was a fun afternoon. Anyway, you’ll know it
when you see it.”
    “I have no doubt.”
    They go out and Ipos pulls the bookcase shut behind
them.
    I go over to the screen, put my eye back in, and
set the others back on their projection stands.
    I open the desk drawer and shove the Glock out of
the way. That needs to go in the bedroom drawer with the Smith & Wesson. The
Veritas is under some papers where I’d scrawled Hellion power charms. I found
the originals stuck in an old notebook Samael tossed in the trash. I copied out
all the charms and tossed off hoodoo for darkness and wind. I tried getting into
the heads of the salarymen downstairs. Nothing. Maybe instead of trying to be
Samael, acting like me again will make me better at this Lucifer thing.
    I take out the Veritas and toss it, catch it, and
slam it down on the table.
    Should I go out or stay here?
    There’s an image of an open window and billowing
curtains. In elegant Hellion script around the edges of the coin, it reads, DON’T WASTE MY TIME, ASSHOLE.
    As always, the Veritas is right. I already have my
coat on. If it said stay, I’d toss it in the trash and go out anyway.
    I go into the false bookcase and head
downstairs.
    I go
down below street level to the garage. The door is locked but I touch the brass
plate on the wall and it clicks open.
    The place is full of the Council’s limos, plus the
legion’s trucks, Unimogs, and Humvees. Why didn’t I ever take any of these out
for a late-night cruise? Do my own Dakar Rally through Hollywood. Play Vanishing
Point with Hellion street security. Let them chase me all the way to Santa
Monica. Hell’s five rivers crash into each other there, churning the water into
an endless storm of whitecaps, tidal waves, and whirlpools. At the edge of the
sea I’d get out and show them who I am. We could have a drag race all the way
back into town.
    Tonight, though, I’ll just have to settle for some
motocross. Tomorrow, who knows? I could steal a Unimog and drive down the Glory
Road to the gates of Heaven. Bring a bottle of Aqua Regia and toast Samael for
the tricky, scheming motherfucker he is. I wonder if he’d drive me home or make
me drive myself. Who’s the designated driver when you have two Devils in the
room?
    I head up the ramp to where they keep my bike. Get
on and kick it to life. The growling engine vibrates my body from my feet to my
head, shaking the stench of Mason’s chop shop out of my lungs. I whisper some
hoodoo, and when I pull the hoodie up over my head,