Kill the Dead (Sandman Slim 2)

“I don’t talk to most of the people I know. The rest either aren’t human or they’re dead.”

“You can tell Carlos.”

“I kind of think he knows.”

“You didn’t come back there, did you?”

“No.”

She smiles.

“We’ll have to do something about that next time.”

We go into the bar. The chairs are up and the lights are off. The front door is open. Carlos is out front smoking.

I say, “I thought you gave those up.”

“I started again. Tonight. I knew this thing, riding your coattails and making money off you, was too good to be true. I just didn’t think it would end with me almost getting eaten in my own bar.”

Brigitte goes over and puts her arm around Carlos’s shoulders.

“The secret world behind the world is always strange at first, but seeing James’s friends must have been strange, too, yes?”

“That’s true.”

“Don’t be afraid for your business. Customers will be back. By the weekend, you’ll be making more money than ever. People love the exotic, but they love danger even more. And danger they escape is the best of all.”

“You think so?”

“I’ve seen it with my own eyes. You’ll have a line outside. You’ll need a doorman and pretty girl waitresses.”

He looks back at me over his shoulder.

“I never liked the velvet rope thing, but I guess there’s worse fates.”

“Definitely.”

Like ending up in a Dumpster. Seen that twice today. None of the sushi out back is missing any limbs, so someone else lost a hand near Max Overload in the last couple of days. Wonder if it belonged to the eater or the eatee?

“I have to go. Simon is waiting for me.” She turns to me. “I’ll call you. We have a lot to talk about.”

She pecks Carlos and me on the cheek and gets into a cab waiting at a stoplight at the corner.

“Interesting night,” says Carlos.

“That’s one word for it.”

“Don’t forget your burrito.”

He hands me a brown paper bag.

“Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

“Don’t get eaten on the way home.”

“That’s my mission statement.”

By the time I make the corner, my adrenaline is dropping and all the pain I felt when I woke up is coming back hard. The bullet wound throbs and I slip into an alcove half doubled up. Even with the pain, I’m thinking straighter than before. I lean against the wall and chant some healing hoodoo. Nothing too heavy. I just want to turn the pain down a few decibels, but not erase it. I don’t want to forget I’m hurt, but I don’t want to be stumbling around like a cripple. It’s stupid I didn’t think to use the spell when I woke up. What is it about me that it takes a massacre to clear my head?