The Getaway God (Sandman Slim 6)

“Well?” says Julie. “Can you get us through?”

“Give me a minute.”

I kneel and examine the first circle. Shit. I don’t recognize it. Probably some Angra bullshit. If only Father Traven was here. A good guy who deserved to live a lot longer, he’d read these signs like a cookie recipe and we’d scoot right through. But he’s dead, I can’t read these, and we’re stuck.

“Anything?” says Julie. I don’t want to tell her that we’ve come this far and can’t go on. There has to be something. There’s always something.

“Ever hear of a potion called Spiritus Dei?”

“Sure. It’s one of the most powerful potions around. Supposed to ward off any supernatural being. Do you have some?”

“No.”

She lets out a breath.

“But I always dip my bullets in it. We can jump the small circles and there are only two big ones between us and Saint Nick’s door.”

“You’re going to shoot them?”

“Unless you have a better idea.”

She looks up and down the room like she’s hoping a cab will pull up and take her away from the crazy man. Finally, she shrugs.

“Magic is your end. Do what you think is best.”

I pull out the Colt.

“This is going to be loud. Cover your ears,” I say.

She does. I aim with one hand and put the other over one ear. No point in going completely deaf.

I cock the hammer on the Colt and fire into the first circle.

The hoodoo light through the goggles flickers. The circle pulses like broken neon and goes out. I pull the trigger again and the second circle flickers off.

“Is it safe now?” says Julie.

“Only one way to find out.”

I jump the small circles and the place where the first big circle glowed just a few seconds earlier. Nothing happens.

“Don’t touch anything,” I say. “There might be hoodoo the goggles can’t see.”

“Thanks.”

“You know I’m stealing them, right? I mean, when this is over, these goggles are coming home with me.”

Julie shakes her head.

“Just come up with a good story for the report. I didn’t see anything.”

We make it to Saint Nick’s door. He’s sitting in a plastic kitchen chair staring at us. Not hostile, but not looking like he’s thrilled about being rescued. They might keep him drugged. Or he might be so crazy he doesn’t know what’s happening. That’s the Saint Nick I’m hoping we don’t have to deal with.

Julie flicks on a small flashlight, holds it between her teeth, and examines the cube’s lock. It looks like some combination of a keypad and a physical lock. She pulls a small silver box from her pack and fits it over the mechanism. It glows and something whirs inside. Julie looks at her watch.

“The building has shielded generators. The power will be back on in the next three minutes. We need to move.”

Through the goggles I can see a sigil burning on Saint Nick’s door. It’s a circle with designs I don’t know. Tentacles and tree trunks and human limbs. At the bottom of the outer circle in letters like something off a beer-­hall menu it says DER ZORN GÖTTER. Of course. Pickman Investments. Heavy money. Heavy power. We’ve just blown the Angra’s Vatican bank. Yes, we need to be out of here as fast as we can.