The Getaway God (Sandman Slim 6)

“Saint Nick sure did. And I know there’s not another Saint Nick because you have too big an ego for that.”

“The reason for killing Blackburn should be obvious. Without the Augur, the Sub Rosas will panic and split into factions, attacking each other. Of course, I’ve been busy. How do you know it wasn’t my friends who killed Blackburn?”

“Der Zorn Götter? Forget it. I’ve seen their hoodoo and it would take more than that to get to the Augur.”

“If anyone needed to get to him.”

“An inside job? Ishii is an asshole, but he’s better at his job than that.”

“Play,” he says.

“I take your sense of satisfaction and give you a queen of spades.”

“Now you’re talking,” says Mason. “Of course, what if Ishii was Saint Nick? For a few minutes, I mean.”

“Possession? I don’t buy it. One of his ­people would have noticed if he showed up for lunch with a chain saw and twenty feet of intestines.”

“I was just throwing out hypotheticals. No. Ishii isn’t a good candidate at all. No. You’d want someone who can come and go and get as close to Blackburn as they want.”

“Tuatha?”

Mason rests his hand on his cards for a minute before moving. His heart is beating faster.

“Poor dear. Having your soul ripped out the way Aelita did to her, well, you’re never quite right in the head again.”

“You made Tuatha kill her own husband?”

“I take your disbelief and give you a four of diamonds.”

He throws down the card.

“I didn’t say Tuatha was made to do anything. We were just speculating on the best subject for a possession. Besides, the key is in Hell.”

“But you know who has it. And you could get a message to them.”

“If you say so.”

“If Tuatha did it, where’s the body?”

“You’re not playing.”

“I take your lies and give you a ten of hearts.”

“The Blackburns have a lovely mansion,” he says. “You’d be surprised how well these modern garbage disposals deal with bones.”

I look at Mason, trying to read him. The light is shitty in here and I can’t get a good look at his eyes. But his heartbeat is up and he’s not sweating. It’s not fear that’s getting him excited.

I say, “What are the chances she’d ever remember doing something like that?”

He draws a breath. Moves his wrists in the cuffs where they’re rubbing the skin raw.

“Who knows? Besides, now that I think about it, it was probably me. I’ve killed so many they tend to blur together.”

“You’re really having fun, aren’t you?”

“The time of my life. You know, in Tartarus I was adrift. Truly going mad. All I wanted was some sense of control. And now I have it and it feels great.”

He draws a card.