The Getaway God (Sandman Slim 6)
Page 45
“That reminds me. The kid said something about the ‘Hand.’ He said something like he’s many-handed. A hand for every soul on Earth.”
The Shonin nods and goes to a whiteboard. The names of the thirteen Angra are written there. He puts a check mark next to a name I’ve never seen before.
“His name is Akkadu. The Hand. Dumb as monkey shit. An enforcer.”
“It was just the kid talking. I didn’t see any Angra and the kid wasn’t any more or less powerful than other possessed people. He was just a vessel for whoever has the possession key in Hell.”
The Shonin writes Hellions on one corner of the whiteboard.
“What did the phone caller say?”
“Just what you think. Give us the 8 Ball. Resistance is futile. Help us destroy the universe because we’re bummed and daddy’s a drunk.”
“Your God really fucked things up when he came up with Hell.”
“My God? You don’t believe in him?”
“I’m Buddhist, stupid. I believe in the God in each man and woman. I respect that you believe in your God, but he isn’t my concern.”
“Yeah, but he exists. You just admitted that when you said he fucked things up.”
“Oh, he exists. I just don’t care,” he says. “But don’t tell Wells I said that. His metaphysics are as simple as your brain.”
The Shonin takes one of the potion vials from the box, pops the cork, and drinks, shuddering as it goes down. The shuddering sounds like someone shaking shrubbery in a paper bag. When he’s done he scribbles more notes on the pad. I start to say something, but he holds up a finger for silence. When he’s finished writing he looks up.
“You’re still here? Go out and do something useful. Get attacked again so you can bring me more useless junk.”
“Funny you should use the word ‘useless.’ I’m starting to think of it when I think of you. You talk big about magic and studying the 8 Ball, but what have you got to show for it? Can you use the thing yet?”
“You think I’d be standing here talking to you if I could?” he says.
The Shonin stumbles and sits on a wooden stool next to the table with his books.
“It’s not so simple, understanding the Qomrama. Remember, it’s two things.”
“It’s a weapon. The Godeater.”
“Yes, but it’s also a summoning object. The Angra can pound on the door to our universe. They can stick a finger or toe in, but they can’t enter without being summoned with it.”
“I guess that helps us a little. But even a little piece of an Angra is trouble. Have you ever fought a demon? They’re just tiny brainless fragments of the Angra. The dandruff of the old Gods that fell off when they were kicked out of here. But they can kill you as dead as a bullet.”
“Seen a few. Never fought one,” says the Shonin. “Of course, you have. You’d fight your own shadow if you got the chance.”
“So, what does knowing it’s a killer and a dinner bell get us?”
The Shonin shrugs.
“I don’t know yet. That’s why I have my books. And this new one your friend Blackburn gave us.”
I go over to his desk.
“He told me he sent something over. Which book is it?”
The Shonin puts his hand on the box of glass vials.
“This one. Great stuff. Fascinating old magic. One of the rarest grimoires in the world.”
“It looks like a medieval juice bar. How is that a book?”