The Getaway God (Sandman Slim 6)

“Maybe I need to shake their faith a little.”

Sola puts the spoon back into the yogurt.

“How?”

“A good, long nose pick might be a good start. Really dig for the mother lode.”

Vidocq laughs a little.

“Wait until I have gone home before you implement that strategy, please.”

I look at Sola.

“How come you’re not all dazzled by my Heavenly awesomeness?”

“The first time I met you, you had just abandoned the latest in your long line of stolen cars. Not too angelic, if you ask me.”

“Good. The last thing I need are a bunch of Bible thumpers expecting me to walk on water or tell them what card they’re thinking of.”

Sola, stirring her yogurt, and Vidocq start away.

“Just be your usual charming self,” she says. “The angel thing will wear off soon enough.”

“Before you go, call me an asshole loud enough for ­people to hear.”

She half shouts, “You always were an asshole, Stark.”

I nod a thanks and put my hand on the scanner to get into the Shonin’s room.

He’s inside with one of yesterday’s captured chop-­shop ­people strapped to a gurney. They’re both over by the 8 Ball. The Shonin glances up when I come in.

“How was hunting yesterday, fatty? There’s a rumor you got some new scars.”

He doesn’t have much in the way of lips left, so it’s hard to tell if he’s smiling.

“I heard one about someone using your skull as a bedpan.”

The Shonin turns away in disgust.

“You have a dirty mind.”

“Then stay out of it.”

“At least show me your new trick.”

“The Gladius? It’s not new and it’s not a trick and I’m not your dancing monkey.”

He turns back to examining the body on the gurney.

“Too bad. For a few second there, you sounded almost interesting.”

I watch the Shonin perform some kind of ritual over the chop-­shop guy. He has incense burning and there are a dozen potion bottles open on a nearby table. He moves his hands in a slow, twisting pattern over the dead man’s body, muttering spells. The guy on the table has a nice gash along his cheek, exposing his teeth. It reminds me of Ten Thousand Shadows, but I push her out of my head. He snarls and snaps at the Shonin’s hands. He looks like one of yesterday’s Eaters. Whatever the Shonin is trying to do, I don’t think it’s going well.

I settle down in a chair across the room and light a Malediction. Yeah, they smell like burning tires, but this place is so full of incense, I can barely breathe. One more layer of stench isn’t going to hurt.

The Shonin works for a few more minutes, waving his hands like he’s shooing away invisible flies and muttering old spells low in his throat, growling so much it’s almost like he’s speaking Hellion. Another five minutes go by and he drops his bony hands to his sides. Mr. Chop Shop snarls and spits. He’d like to make the Shonin into his personal chew toy.

The Shonin walks to the table with the potions and drops into a chair. He scribbles some notes on a piece of paper and sniffs the air. He looks at me and goes back to his notes, not bothering to tell me to put out my smoke. He’s not being polite or giving in to my baser instincts. He just knows that whatever it was he was trying, the moment has passed and anything that happens now isn’t going to make it worse.