Hollywood Dead (Sandman Slim 10)

“Destroying my house is not helping!”

I ignore her as the gunmen open up on the window, knocking fistfuls of plaster down on me. I grab another chair and throw it at a window across the room. When that window shatters, the gunfire moves from me and over in that direction. It gives me just enough time to get to my window and shout hoodoo from back in my arena days.

A bright, swirling cloud forms over the gunmen’s van. A second later it explodes in a blinding flash of heat and light. When I look outside again, half the gunmen are on the ground. A few of them are on fire. The top of the van and at least one of the wheels is also burning. The gunmen roll their pals on the ground until the flames go out, then drag them toward the van. I shout the curse the magician pretended to use against me in the crypt. A second later, a swarm of glittering knives appears in the air, flying down at the attackers. The blades thunk into the side of the armored van and the losers outside. By the time it’s moving, pretty much everyone is a bloody pincushion. With flames still on the roof and a couple of tires engulfed, the van speeds away.

Before I know it, Sandoval is next to me in the window.

“What are you waiting for?” she shouts. “Go after them!”

“On foot?”

“Their wheels are on fire. They won’t get far.”

“They aren’t stupid. Those are going to be tactical tires. There are metal inserts inside the wheels. When a tire goes flat, they can still drive on the insert.”

Sandoval looks at me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m making it up. Finally, she throws up her hands and walks to Sinclair. He’s still on the floor. She has to pull him to his feet.

“Don’t help or anything,” she says.

I go over and haul Sinclair upright, walk him to one of the few chairs not shot to shit.

“Thank you,” he says.

With shaking hands, he takes a couple of pills out of his jacket pocket and dry-swallows them. If I didn’t know what monsters he and Sandoval were, I’d almost feel sorry for them.

Across the foyer, Sandoval kicks enough debris out of the way that she can force the front door closed. Her face is red with anger when she looks at me.

“This is all your fault.”

“How do you figure that? You didn’t see this coming? I stopped their tea party. Of course they were going to retaliate.”

She takes a long breath.

“You should have said something.”

“Calm down. Those gunmen? They’re good news.”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“They were a tantrum. If the faction was in a position to do worse they would have. But I took out some of their key magicians.”

“You mean that I should be grateful that they nearly destroyed my house and killed me and Barron?”

“That’s exactly what I mean. Now, where the hell is Howard? I’m tired of waiting.”

Sandoval looks me up and down, staring at my scars and bruises.

“Put a shirt on for god’s sake. You’re hideous.”

“I’d rather see Howard.”

She pulls Sinclair from his chair and walks away with him.

“Dress and meet us in my office.”

“Howard better be there.”

Sandoval doesn’t say anything.