Free The Getaway God by Richard Kadrey Page A

going back to the old country for the holidays?”
    â€œYeah, I’m Hell’s Secret Santa, bringing all the good little imps coal and fruitcake.”
    â€œHow do you tell the difference?” says someone behind me.
    I turn and find Eugène Vidocq, besides Candy probably my best friend on this stupid planet. He doesn’t like talking about his age and swears he isn’t a day over a hundred and fifty, but I know he’s well over two hundred. He’s also immortal. And a thief. And after being in the States for more than a hundred years, he still has a French accent thick enough to slice Brie, a last remnant of his home that he won’t ever let go of.
    He claps me on the back and nods to Carlos. Orders a ­couple of drinks. He isn’t alone. Brigitte Bardo is with him. She gives me a quick peck on the cheek. Brigitte is Czech. She was a skilled zombie hunter back in the day and used to do porn to support her hunting habit. These days she’s working her way into regular Hollywood films. But it’s slow. She still has an accent and it’s, you know, the end of the world, so there’s fewer films in production. When she’s not auditioning, she helps out at Allegra’s Lurker clinic.
    Carlos brings Vidocq whiskey and Brigitte red wine.
    â€œWhere’s Candy?” she says.
    â€œShe wasn’t feeling well. Did you find anything wrong with her when she stopped by yesterday?”
    â€œNothing that I know of. She just took her Jade potion and left. She seemed fine.”
    â€œMaybe I should call her again.”
    â€œLeave her alone. This time of year can put ­people into odd moods.”
    â€œDon’t I know it,” says Carlos. “It was just about a year ago that you wandered in here the first time. You were looking a little bleary, Mr. Stark.”
    â€œAs I recall, I’d just crawled out of a cemetery and was wearing stolen clothes.”
    â€œYou always make an impressive entrance,” says Vidocq. “As I recall, after your return you were going to shoot me the first time we saw each other.”
    â€œTotal misunderstanding. And sorry.”
    He holds up his glass.
    â€œWhiskey under the bridge.”
    â€œYou kicked a bunch of skinheads’ asses for me, remember?” says Carlos. “I didn’t know about any of you Sub Rosas or Lurkers back then. If those fuckers came in here these days, I’d give them a faceful of this.”
    He holds up a potion from behind the bar.
    I look at Vidocq.
    â€œOne of yours?”
    â€œYou’re not the only one who barters for drinks,” he says.
    â€œRumor has it you’re doing some freelance work for the Vigil these days too. How does it feel to be back?”
    Vidocq shakes his head. Regards his drink.
    â€œStrange. As strange as I bet it is for you.”
    â€œI’m still not sure it’s the right thing to be doing, but if I wasn’t working for them I don’t know if I’d be doing anything at all.”
    â€œConfusion. Strange alliances. God’s new deluge. These are the things the world has been reduced to. Apocalypse. Le merdier . So let’s drink to the void.”
    Brigitte sighs and picks up her wine.
    â€œYou boys are too grim for me. I’m going to find more congenial company.”
    I say, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be a drag.”
    â€œYou’re never a drag, Jimmy, but I see a studio friend I met when I first came here. A girl must maintain her connections, mustn’t she? Maybe I can be in the last movie before the world ends.”
    â€œNow who’s the drag?”
    She shrugs extravagantly.
    â€œKnock ’em dead,” I tell her.
    I turn back to the bar and pick up my drink. I haven’t had a cigarette in hours. My lungs are aching for abuse.
    â€œTell me the truth. Are we good enough for this? Look at us. What a bunch of fuckups.”
    â€œWhat choice do we have?” says Vidocq.