Kill the Dead (Sandman Slim 2)

“What an interesting idea. I’m going to give it no thought whatsoever.”

Ritchie laughs and shoots me a glance, measuring me up, probably wondering if I’m really the monster he’s heard about. Ten to one he was LAPD before burrowing his way into the movie biz. He has those eyes that see everyone as guilty until proven otherwise. He wants to know if I’m for real or more Hollywood window dressing. Great. That ups the chances of something stupid happening while Lucifer is in town.

“Would you like something to eat? I can assure you that unlike the waiters, our chefs are very much alive and the best in town.”

“We’re fine, thanks,” says Lucifer. “I think we’re just going to stroll around and say hello to a few people. Care to join us?”

“I need to put out a small fire first. Our new imported starlet has gone rogue. You can’t let Czechs wander around without a minder. They’ll organize the workers and start a revolution.”

“Do you know where Jan and Koralin are?”

“In the big ballroom straight through there,” says Ritchie, pointing a couple of bridges away. “Why don’t you go in and I’ll catch up?”

“Excellent,” says Lucifer. “We’ll see you there.”

Ritchie puts his hand out to me.

“Nice meeting you, too. I’d love to pick your brain sometime about your experiences in the underworld. There might be a story in it.”

“Uh. Okay.”

After he’s gone I say, “If he calls, I don’t really have to talk to him, do I?”

Lucifer shrugs and starts walking.

“You might as well. If you don’t, someone else will and they’ll get it all wrong. Trust me. I know about these things.”

“Think they’d make me into a toy? I’d like to be a toy.”

“Only if it talks a lot and doesn’t have an off switch.”

As we go over one of the stone bridges, I see something funny.

“Damn, I’d forgotten about that.”

“What?”

“Elvis and Marilyn Monroe are talking to some drunk blonde over there. I hate that stuff.”

“Don’t be so judgmental just because it’s not your kind of fun.”

“People shouldn’t rent ghosts for their parties. Ghosts shouldn’t have better agents than live people.”

“I never pegged you for a Puritan, Jimmy.”

Errol Flynn is standing on the bridge railing, pissing into the canal. It’s just ghost piss, so it doesn’t make a sound, but he still gets a round of applause when he’s done.

“Man, these rich assholes really love dead people.”

“Do the math. Most celebrities are more valuable dead than they ever were when they were alive. Why shouldn’t they get a cut? Almost everyone important has a wild-blue-yonder contract these days. They get to keep working and it puts off the damnation that most know is waiting for them.”

I want a smoke, but I’m tired of bumming Maledictions off Lucifer. I check my pocket and find the electronic cigarette. I take a tentative puff. It isn’t nearly as horrible as I thought it would be.

“That’s the first time I ever heard you crack a joke about Hell.”

“Hell is hilarious if you’re the one in charge.”

The ballroom is like Rat Pack Las Vegas in a Hellraiser theme park. The Sub Rosas, civilians, and Lurkers are all sporting tuxes and evening gowns, but even here there are a few holdouts. Cabal Ash looks like he slept under a leaking Dumpster and he smells worse. Being repulsive is an Ash family tradition. A sign of their big-league status. And they’re not the worst clan. At least they wear clothes.