Read Online SS 04: Devil Said Bang: A Sandman Slim Novel by Richard Kadrey - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Richard Kadrey
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mine. I put on my hoodie. It’s blood stiff too and one of the sleeves
is missing from when the red legger relieved me of my left arm. I sliced him in
half like a side of beef with my Gladius, my flaming angelic sword.
I keep the glove on, but leave my prosthetic arm
bare since no one is going to see it under the coat.
Back in the library I smack the gyroscope like
Merihim, making it spin backward. The monster-movie voice chitters like a
groundhog that’s burrowed into a meth lab. I check the peeper images on the
movie screen. Brimborion is prowling his office, smiling at his staff. Trying to
play it cool. He’s almost pulling it off, but if you look hard enough you can
see the wheels whirring in his head. Is one of these fuckers selling me out?
Maybe better to kill them all and let God or the Devil or Oprah sort them
out.
In other parts of the palace, people do funny
little square dances when they come around a corner and find a hellhound.
Maintenance guys on break in the basement check out my motorcycle. Staff witches
sort through piles of dried bugs and plants. Outside, a couple of officers are
kicking the shit out of a low-ranking Hellion while another officer uses his
long leather sap to poke the dead bikers in the gibbets. Guess the book club let
out early.
Ipos and Merihim show up a few minutes later. I
tell them about the secret room while taking out my eye. I drop the other
peepers into their saline storage jars so that mine is the only one showing on
the screen. They watch the show like a couple at a drive-in movie. Bored during
the dark part but starting a little when the lights flick on, giving them a full
frontal of Ed Gein’s rumpus room.
“Too bad you can only see the place and not smell
it. It’s memorable.”
“You think this is Mason Faim’s work?” says Merihim
when we come to the first close-up of a dissected brain.
“Unless this is what Hellions call ‘playing
doctor.’ ”
He shoots me a look. I distract him by holding out
the Magic 8 Ball.
“Ever seen one of these before?”
Merihim is too smart to grab things the Devil finds
weird but Ipos is more impulsive. He grabs the ball, turns it, and immediately
gets his hand skewered by a barb.
He curses in lower-class street Hellion, which
sounds even worse than regular Hellion. Like a shop vac sucking up sewer
sludge.
On the screen I’m moving the soldier’s body around
while the pile of body bags forms a pastoral slaughterhouse tableau in the
background.
Merihim bends to look at the ball in Ipos’s
bleeding hand but doesn’t move to take it.
“Whatever this is, it reeks of unnatural power. You
should let me take it and bury it deep in the Tabernacle vaults.”
Everyone is on a power trip here, the church
included.
“Thanks but no thanks. It stays with me.”
“This isn’t something to be left lying around.”
“Which is why it stays with me and not buried
somewhere I can’t see it.”
“And where will it end up if something happens to
you?”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. If whoever knows how to
work this gets ahold of it again, my guess is that we’ll all be dead by morning.
Another good reason to keep me on the unkilled team.”
On the screen I’m poking at the psychic amplifier.
I watch them closely. Neither has ever seen one before. Neither reacts to the
Vigil logo either. At least I don’t have to worry about them working with
whoever has the key.
“Either of you come up with any new
information?”
Ipos nods and his church tattoos move like a flag
promising salvation.
“I might have,” he says. “The soldiers who attacked
you were from Wormwood’s legion. There are an unusual number of suicides and
murders among his troops. Apparently it’s been going on for some time, but since
the dead no longer disappear into Tartarus he can’t hide it anymore. My spies in
other legions found that the same thing is starting to happen in other parts of
the legion.”
Merihim says, “Red leggers have been
is missing from when the red legger relieved me of my left arm. I sliced him in
half like a side of beef with my Gladius, my flaming angelic sword.
I keep the glove on, but leave my prosthetic arm
bare since no one is going to see it under the coat.
Back in the library I smack the gyroscope like
Merihim, making it spin backward. The monster-movie voice chitters like a
groundhog that’s burrowed into a meth lab. I check the peeper images on the
movie screen. Brimborion is prowling his office, smiling at his staff. Trying to
play it cool. He’s almost pulling it off, but if you look hard enough you can
see the wheels whirring in his head. Is one of these fuckers selling me out?
Maybe better to kill them all and let God or the Devil or Oprah sort them
out.
In other parts of the palace, people do funny
little square dances when they come around a corner and find a hellhound.
Maintenance guys on break in the basement check out my motorcycle. Staff witches
sort through piles of dried bugs and plants. Outside, a couple of officers are
kicking the shit out of a low-ranking Hellion while another officer uses his
long leather sap to poke the dead bikers in the gibbets. Guess the book club let
out early.
Ipos and Merihim show up a few minutes later. I
tell them about the secret room while taking out my eye. I drop the other
peepers into their saline storage jars so that mine is the only one showing on
the screen. They watch the show like a couple at a drive-in movie. Bored during
the dark part but starting a little when the lights flick on, giving them a full
frontal of Ed Gein’s rumpus room.
“Too bad you can only see the place and not smell
it. It’s memorable.”
“You think this is Mason Faim’s work?” says Merihim
when we come to the first close-up of a dissected brain.
“Unless this is what Hellions call ‘playing
doctor.’ ”
He shoots me a look. I distract him by holding out
the Magic 8 Ball.
“Ever seen one of these before?”
Merihim is too smart to grab things the Devil finds
weird but Ipos is more impulsive. He grabs the ball, turns it, and immediately
gets his hand skewered by a barb.
He curses in lower-class street Hellion, which
sounds even worse than regular Hellion. Like a shop vac sucking up sewer
sludge.
On the screen I’m moving the soldier’s body around
while the pile of body bags forms a pastoral slaughterhouse tableau in the
background.
Merihim bends to look at the ball in Ipos’s
bleeding hand but doesn’t move to take it.
“Whatever this is, it reeks of unnatural power. You
should let me take it and bury it deep in the Tabernacle vaults.”
Everyone is on a power trip here, the church
included.
“Thanks but no thanks. It stays with me.”
“This isn’t something to be left lying around.”
“Which is why it stays with me and not buried
somewhere I can’t see it.”
“And where will it end up if something happens to
you?”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. If whoever knows how to
work this gets ahold of it again, my guess is that we’ll all be dead by morning.
Another good reason to keep me on the unkilled team.”
On the screen I’m poking at the psychic amplifier.
I watch them closely. Neither has ever seen one before. Neither reacts to the
Vigil logo either. At least I don’t have to worry about them working with
whoever has the key.
“Either of you come up with any new
information?”
Ipos nods and his church tattoos move like a flag
promising salvation.
“I might have,” he says. “The soldiers who attacked
you were from Wormwood’s legion. There are an unusual number of suicides and
murders among his troops. Apparently it’s been going on for some time, but since
the dead no longer disappear into Tartarus he can’t hide it anymore. My spies in
other legions found that the same thing is starting to happen in other parts of
the legion.”
Merihim says, “Red leggers have been
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