Kill the Dead (Sandman Slim 2)
“Do you take taxes and Social Security out of that? How many biscuits does it cost her a month?”
Wells walks to the edge of the warehouse. I follow him. Gray plastic storage crates marked with diamond-shaped chemical warning stickers are stacked against the wall. He sits down on one and glances at his watch.
“You said you wanted to talk to me about something.”
“Yeah. High Plains Drifters and what you want me to do about them.”
“In Los Angeles? Not possible. I’d have heard about it.”
“You’d think so. It’s funny that you don’t. I thought you had some supercharged radar that tracked us magic types. Or was that another Vigil fairy tale?”
“It’s real all right. I know where you go, who you go with, and what you do.”
“Then why don’t you know about the dead men who wandered into Bamboo House of Dolls for human sushi?”
“Never. I’d have heard and we’d be on alert.”
“I guess omnipotence isn’t what it used to be. But I can fix that for you. I’ve already killed three Drifters. Give me a contract and I’ll get the rest. There’s probably a lot of them, so I ought to get time and a half on this one.”
Wells scowls. He looks around like he’s expecting someone.
“If you killed three, then where are the bodies?”
“A friend got rid of them for me.”
“And where did this friend put them?”
“I didn’t ask. She has people who know how to dispose of people eaters.”
“It was just one other person you worked with a minute ago and now it’s people. How many people exactly?”
“I couldn’t say.”
He takes a tired breath and rubs his eyes.
“So, you let someone I don’t know call people you don’t know to haul away the remains of some of the most dangerous creatures walking the earth. And you want me to hire you to kill a whole pod. How many do you think are left? One? A dozen? Fifty? What are you going to do with those bodies? Maybe your friend’s friends can take them down to the Farmers’ Market and sell the bones to tourists. You can start a co-op. Make friendship bracelets and wind chimes and share the profits.”
“Let me ask you something, Deputy Dawg. If the Vigil isn’t onto the Drifters, what’s keeping you up nights?”
His frown goes to a smile and back to a frown.
“Things are going to change. In this town and beyond. Far beyond.”
“What? You going to raid all the Valley hipsters having ghost swinger parties? Let me know if you need to use condoms with things made of ectoplasm. I’ve always wondered about that.”
“How’s the movie business treating you? Have you gotten to hobnob with the stars? Maybe your new best friend can get you an agent and a part in his movie, then you can leave all this behind.”
“What’s the matter? Getting jealous of Lucifer? Don’t be mad, baby. You knew this wasn’t an exclusive thing. We agreed we could see other people.”
“I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt. I thought your foul mouth and your shitty attitude were part of a post-traumatic stress reaction to being back on earth. Now I have to ask myself whose side are you truly on? The light or the dark?”
“Why is it you can say ‘shit’ when you’re mad, but I get yelled at for it?”
Two of Wells’s men in black wheel in a crystal ball the size of a Volkswagen Bug on a metal dolly. The blurry outline of a demon is just visible inside the ball as it beats itself against the walls.
“Why would you work for an animal like Lucifer?”
I shake my head.