The Perdition Score (Sandman Slim 8)

She’s gone.

We get on our knees, scrabble around there like fools, waiting for her to bob to the surface safe and sound, her sacrifice just another ritual, and when it’s over, we can pull her out and take her home.

But she doesn’t come up. There’s no sign of her. Not even bubbles.

Bill and I stay there on the lip of the tank for a long time, breathing in the stink, neither of us wanting to move in case we’re wrong.

Finally he gets up. Taps me on the shoulder.

“Come on, son. It’s been a long day. I need a drink. So do you.”

It takes me a while to get my legs working.

What did I do wrong? What did I miss? Why did Samael send Hesediel to us? Did he know Hadraniel would break her heart? Did he know this is how it would end?

Is he that big a bastard?

“Please don’t be,” I say out loud like an idiot. “Please be as surprised as us.”

“What are you talking about?” says Bill.

“Nothing.”

We climb back in the van and I jam the black blade in the ignition

. The engine coughs a couple of times, but won’t turn over. We get out.

It’s a long walk back to Bill’s bar.

IT DOESN’T TAKE long to finish the bottle.

I wonder if Candy is through the maze yet. If she isn’t, if the Grays didn’t keep their part of the bargain, I’ll find them wherever they are. Part of me wants them to cheat. I’ve never wanted to hurt someone—anyone—more than I do right now.

When Abbot puts the Wormwood member list together, I’m getting it, even if I have to take it from him. I wouldn’t mind facing off with Willem. Which probably isn’t fair. In the larger scheme of things, he’s nothing. Not a good guy or bad guy. Of course, he doesn’t see it that way, but Willem isn’t a big-picture guy. Just another dog in the pack. Sit. Fetch. Bark. Bury a body if his master needs it. He’s the kind of guy who thinks he has a grip on good and evil because he made some big busts and got a few commendations. In the end, I don’t really want to fight him. I want to show him the locked doors of Heaven. All those damned souls and pitiful fallen angels stranded between the pearly gates and Hell’s scenic vistas. I want him to hear the rebel and righteous angels fighting it out for his future. I want him to know that the difference between salvation and damnation is small and getting smaller. Maybe he’d understand and maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe people like him and assholes like me are built to butt heads. But if an Abomination and an angel can get along for even a little while, who knows? I don’t want to be his friend, but it would be nice if just once, someone like him understood that I’m not his enemy.

Wormwood, on the other hand, is done. No one is innocent. No one walks away. No more clueless spouses. No more deals, car rides, or stories. No more dead kids.

I’m done with words.

They’re dead, every one of them. And when they’re in Hell, I’ll make it my job to send them to Tartarus. But not before they go for a nice, long swim in Quay’s sewage tank. Those fuckers want black milk? I’ll give them all they can choke down.

But not right now. Right now I picture Arwan and his crew carrying Candy through the sushi bar that leads to the maze.

Please make it home, Candy. I can’t lose you too. Allegra will fix you. She can fix anything. She’ll even fix Vidocq with what you’re carrying. Everyone is going to be all right. They have to be.

I’ve been fighting Heaven’s battles for so long.

Seriously: listen. You bastards forgot about me when I was in Hell. Please remember me now. Give me just this one thing.

I take out a couple of Maledictions. Hand one to Bill. He lights them both with a candle. I puff mine until it’s red as a poker. Hold it to my wrist until it blisters.

“What the hell are you doing?” says Bill.

“It’s where she cut herself for Vidocq. I owe her this much.”

“Hurting yourself won’t bring her back. You’ve got to gather your strength for what’s coming next. In a funny way, we’re lucky.”

“How’s that?”