Sandman Slim with Bonus Content (32 page)

“Yeah. He’s probably worried.”

“You look like you’re going somewhere.”

“I know where Parker has Vidocq and Allegra. I’m headed down there now.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No,” I say. “I could be wrong. If I am, I want someone here I can trust to look out for them.”

“Okay,” she says, sounding a little hurt.

“I should get going.”

She looks at the medics working on Aelita. The angel is sitting up now.

“I’m going to call doc in a minute and then I’m going home to him because that’s where I belong. I’m going to tell him most of what happened tonight, but not everything. But I want you to know that I’m not sorry for what we did.”

“Me neither,” I say. “The one good thing about an awkward moment like this is that, with the way we look, the longer we stand here torturing each other, the more likely we are get to get some of these Vigil nervous nellies to pee themselves.”

Candy smiles.

“Go,” she says. “I’ll keep an eye on things here.”

“Thanks.”

I take the sawed-off from her hands, nod at Wells, and step through a shadow behind the dead magicians. Still the best first date ever.

THE PHONE BOOTH
outside the Orange Grove Bungalows hasn’t changed much since I was here eleven years ago, except that now there’s a guy living in it.

The Orange Grove is a collection of about two dozen small cabins that were twenty years past their prime before I went Downtown. Now they look like a condo complex in Hiroshima the day after the bomb. The bulletproof glass in front of the check-in counter has had a good workout. In eleven years, no one’s painted anything or cleaned the pool. There are things wiggling down in the stagnant backwash that I don’t even remember seeing in Hell. This is where David Lynch groupies go to lose their virginity on prom night.

There’s one specific cabin where we used to party, but I can’t remember the number. I walk up and down the concrete walkway that snakes between the cabins. It’s New Year’s Eve, so the place is crawling with skinny hookers with black meth teeth and equally skinny johns who can’t walk straight. A lot of smells in the air. Pot. Stale cigarettes. There’s a lot more piss and the weird burning plastic stink of bad crack. Those are the least offensive.

I spot the badness near the back of the third row. It looks just like the others, but to my eyes, it pulses with chaotic energy. The energy fields around the window and front door are brighter and the colors are more intense than the rest of the cabin. When I put my hand out, the brighter energy morphs into teeth, like a giant cartoon version of the bear trap, and snaps at me. When the civilian hookers and their johns wander by, nothing happens. A tired looking hooker, in a miniskirt way too short for her veiny legs, wanders by alone.

I say, “Hey, darlin’, want to make some quick money?”

“I’m done for tonight, honey.”

“No hanky-panky. I’m pranking a friend. I just need you to go over there and bang on that door real loud.”

“How much?”

I pull out a wad of Muninn’s money. What the Hell. It’s New Year’s.

“Five hundred dollars.”

Suddenly Miss Done for Tonight is all smiles.

“Hell, I’d suck the shine off the doorknob for that.”

I give her the money and she stuffs it in an inside jacket pocket in case I change my mind.

“Don’t do anything until I tell you. Then bang on the door as hard as you can and take off.”

I leave her by the door and go around to the back of the cabin.

I hold up my hand, drop it, and say, “Now!”

The hooker takes a step forward and gives the door six or seven good raps. She looks at me and I motion to her to get the hell out of there. Then I step through a shadow into the room. I go through it fast and to the Door of Memory. I make sure the sawed-off is still there. I left it by the door when I came through from Avila. I had a feeling that Parker would have spells up that could detect weapons.

Through the door and into the cabin. Parker is up front, hands on the door, trying to feel who’s out there.

I’m in the bungalow’s bathroom. Allegra and Vidocq are on the floor, their mouths closed with duct tape and their hands tied in front of them. I put a finger to my lips for them to keep quiet.

There’s a wooden plunger behind the toilet. I grab it and sprint at Parker. Just before I reach him, I snap the plunger’s wooden handle and bury the sharp end of the bigger piece in his back.

Parker screams in pain and the sound of his voice knocks me back against the far wall.

Parker turns and smiles at me. Slams his back against the wall so that the sharp end of the wooden handle punches all the way through and comes out his chest. Then he reaches up, pulls it out, and drops it on the floor.

“How fun is that, huh? That’s the kind of thing you would do. Mason knew you’d find me, so he juiced me with a Kissi power enema. Is this how you feel, Sandman Slim? It’s like I could tear the world apart with my hands. Let me show you.”

I bark a Hellion phrase and Parker sinks halfway into the carpet, which is sucking him down like quicksand.

Parker isn’t shocked or scared. He presses his hands into the melting carpet, whispers a few words, and the quicksand reverses itself, pushing him up out of the floor. Before I can get out of the way, he throws one of the plasma balls he was using on Rodeo Drive. Hits me square in the chest. I hit the back wall hard enough that some of the studs snap, leaving the wall bowed out. The body armor keeps my ribs from cracking, but I feel like I got hit by the same meteor that killed the dinosaurs.

Parker comes over and takes a good long look at me on the floor.

“This is the best New Year’s ever. Yeah, you messed up our little Hell surprise on the hill, but that’s okay. Mason’s got lots more ideas, and let me tell you, hanging out with the Kissi is a blast. Those boys really like to party.”

With a superhuman effort I try to push myself to my feet, but only get as far as propping myself on my elbows like a white-trash Sphinx.

Parker smiles and shakes his head. I’ve never seen him so happy. He disappears into the bathroom and comes out holding Allegra by the arm. She holds her hands up in front of her face like she’s afraid he might hit her.

“Is that your new bitch here? Alice two-point-oh? She’s about as pretty as the first Alice.”

He pulls the tape off Allegra’s mouth. Grabs her by the hair and gives her a peck on the lips. Still holding her, he turns back to me.

“You’re the definition of a loser, Stark. You know what a loser is? Someone who can’t keep his women alive.” He winks at Allegra. “Know what I mean, sweetheart?”

When Parker leans in for another kiss, Allegra puffs out a stream of air across her fingers. Flames burst from her fingertips, right into Parker’s eyes. He screams and falls to the floor.

I yell “Get out!” to Allegra and she steps back into the bathroom.

Still blind, Parker screams hexes that shoot around the room, blasting holes in the walls and roof. He pulls a pistol from under his jacket and shoots wildly in all directions. I keep my head down until he’s about an arm’s length away. Then I reach into the shadow under the bed and pull out the sawed-off. Press it against his forehead and give him both barrels.

One minute Parker has a head and the next minute he doesn’t.

I hope Kasabian makes you into his ponyboy in Hell
.

Allegra helps me up, then goes into the bathroom and unties Vidocq. When he’s on his feet, he comes over and grabs me like only a two-hundred-year-old Frenchman can.

“It’s good to see you, boy,” he says. Allegra is saying, “Thank you.” I’m calculating the odds that the motel manager or a scared john has called the cops. No reason to wait and find out. I grab both of them and half walk, half fall into a shadow by the door, pulling them with me.

We come out in the hallway by Vidocq’s place. The door is closed and yellow-and-black crime-scene tape is tacked up over the entrance. Allegra tears it down and opens the door. Vidocq helps me to the sofa, where I collapse. He drops to his knees and rummages in the potions and elixirs scattered across the floor. Comes up with a cracked blue bottle, goes back out to the hall, and runs a line of liquid all the way around the door frame. There’s the faint aetheric glow of the glamour as it turns the door back into a blank wall.

Allegra comes back from the kitchen with a cold cloth. I lie back and she drapes it over my forehead. I run a body check, like I used to do after a night in the arena. Flex, move, feel, and evaluate each part of my body, starting with the feet and moving up. Feet and legs work. Knees bend (one is still a little stiff). Gut and ribs are about the same. Arms, neck, and skull intact. Hands and fingers flex. I’m all right. I’m just having a hard time getting my breath after Parker’s fireball love tap. I shrug off my coat, peel off the ruined body armor, and drop it on the floor.

Vidocq is on the floor again, clinking bottles together, looking for usable potions. He comes back to the sofa with a couple.

“These aren’t my first choices, but they will do. Drink this.”

“What is it?”

“Mustika Pearl. From Turkey. You’ll feel stronger and heal faster.”

“Christ. It tastes like boiled goddamn roadkill.”

“Have some of this—now. You’ll feel very good and it will help wash away the taste of the other.”

He’s right. The second one is warm and earthy, with a slightly bitter edge.

“That’s nice. What is it?”

“Vin Mariani. Red wine and cocaine.”

I don’t know if it’s the Vin or the Pearl, but within a few minutes, I feel sort of like myself again. A shaky, hot, glued-together version, but definitely me.

“Don’t tell anyone,” I say, “but every rotten thing that’s happened since I got back is my fault.”

“What does that mean?” asks Allegra.

“Wait. It gets better. I could have gone after Mason and the Kissi a long time ago. But I was flat-out chickenshit.”

Vidocq asks, “How is that possible? You didn’t even know about the Kissi until two days ago.”

“I knew about them. Not their name or what they were, but I knew there was something like them right in front of me. What did the Kissi want from me, the moment they knew I had it? The key. Mason would have told them about that. When I followed Kasabian into the Twilight, he told me that he’d been with Mason and Parker somewhere dark. Not empty, but filled with nothing. That’s why Mason and the Kissi want the key.”

“Because they’re in nothing?” asks Allegra.

“Because they want
me
in nothing. I’ve been through twelve doors in the Room of Thirteen Doors. I’ve never gone through the thirteenth. I’ve always been afraid of it. All the other doors are marked with a symbol. A sun. A crescent moon. A frozen lake. Only the thirteenth door is blank. There’s nothing on it. It’s the Door of Nothing. That’s where the Kissi and Mason will be. And I could have gone there anytime since Azazel gave me the key. Years ago. But I was too afraid of that blank door.”

“You’re going to go there now?” asks Vidocq.

“I should be there already.” I pull a wad of bills out of my pocket and hand them to Allegra. “There should be around a thousand dollars there. The rest of Muninn’s money is in an envelope under all the junk upstairs at Max Overdrive. If I don’t come back, it’s yours. If I do come back, I’ll need some of it back. The place needs a little fixing up.”

Their heart rates and breathing are all over the place. The stress is going to kill them quicker than Mason or the Kissi. They both want to say something. I make sure I have my knife and step through a shadow before either of them can get out a word.

THE THIRTEENTH DOOR
looks older and more battered than the others. If the other doors are portals to different planes and places in the universe, the thirteenth is the entrance to a prison. Strange sounds leak through it. Growls. Vibrations. A faint stink of vinegar. What could be the wind or voices whispering. A slow but relentless scratching, like something is trying to dig its way out.

I throw the bolt and open the Door of Nothing.

The name is pretty damned apt. Some of the other doors, I still can’t figure out. What does the Door of Abandoned Melancholy mean? Not much. But the Door of Nothing is right on the money.

There’s nothing beyond on the door. Not darkness. Not emptiness. Nothing. It’s the total and absolute absence of everything. Especially light. I step inside and pull the door closed. Immediately I hear sounds all around me. Scurrying, secret sounds. Bugs under dry leaves. Something wet pulling itself through mud. Hungry things, chewing their claws and grinding their teeth. Things touch me in the nothing. They crawl on me and try to work their way under my clothes. I can’t move. I don’t know where to go. Then I remember the thing Mason left for me because he knew that sooner or later, I’d be standing here. I take out the lighter.

Let there be light.

The Zippo flares, looking like an oil-well fire in all that lightless empty space. A billion soft, pale, half-formed anti-angels limp back into the dark. Their big blank eyes glitter like black chrome. The Kissi are crowded into every inch of their chaotic nonspace. They live piled on top of each other, like dead and dying angels. The piles of bodies look like pictures of Auschwitz. This is what Heaven must have looked like after Lucifer’s war.

When I start walking, the wall of Kissi bodies parts like the Red Sea, then closes in behind me.

I’m moving just to move. Standing still feels like asking for trouble. But every direction looks exactly the same to me. I can’t tell if I’m walking on something solid or just the idea of something. One minute, it feels like I’m on hard-packed dirt, then the next, I’m sinking into sponge cake. I don’t stop or slow down. I keep walking, like I know exactly where I’m going.

A Kissi puts its glowing hand on my arm. I look at it like I talk to zombie angels every day. Its face is half-baked dough. I can’t quite bring it into focus.

“I told you we’d meet again.”

The Kissi’s face rearranges itself for a second. Turns into Josef’s Aryan poster-boy mug. “He’s waiting for you. Straight ahead. We’ve all been so looking forward to this.”