Kill City Blues (Sandman Slim 5)

She wags a finger at me.

“No. We’re not going to do that.”

“A second ago you said you had a stake in this fight. Why won’t you step up when it really matters?”

“Who says we won’t help? The problem is this: the Dark Eternal can’t enter Kill City. There’s a long-standing but somewhat fragile détente with one of the federacies inside. A clan of gray fighters. Time has passed them by, but they’re still dangerous. To enter the mall would be a declaration of war, and a pointless war is something we don’t need right now.”

“I know the feeling.”

I order a whiskey for the road.

“So, how are you going to help me?”

“We’re sending a representative with you.”

“You just said the Dark Eternal can’t go inside.”

“He isn’t one of the Aeternus. He’s mortal.”

She looks past my shoulder to a flunky lurking somewhere in the dark.

She says, “Send over Paul.”

He comes from another table across the dance floor. He gives me a friendly smile and puts out his hand. I shake it. I’m not surprised by him one bit. Okay. Maybe a little, but it makes perfect sense when I get a good look.

“Stark, this is Paul Delon.”

It’s another Trevor. An exact copy of a young Norris Quay.

“It’s good to meet you, Mr. Stark. Tykho has told me a lot about you.”

“Paul, is it? How do you know Tykho?”

“We know some of the same people.”

I bet you do. But I don’t get the feeling that Paul knows me. Probably all of Quay’s automata are drones gathering information until their master calls them home. That’s good luck for me. It means he’s on his own until this is over.

“Have you ever been inside Kill City?” I say.

“No.”

“Ever been anywhere, you know, strange? Maybe incredibly dangerous?”

He sits down across the table from me.

“Is that what you expect?”

“From what I hear, Kill City is the last stop for the lowest of the low-life Sub Rosa families and Lurker clans that can’t make it out in the world. It’s a whole society of losers and they’re just looking to take it out on everybody else in the world.”

Paul nods. A waiter comes over.

“White wine, please,” he says. Then to me, “I’m up to speed on that. I’ve also memorized a map of the complex and their clan territories. I’ve never been anywhere like Kill City, but I’m not afraid.”

“You should be. If the thing the ghost is guarding is the 8 Ball, that makes Kill City the most dangerous place in L.A.”

Delon frowns. I can’t get a read on him. If he’s like the other windup clones at Rose’s studio, he’s a mix of meat and machine. He has a heartbeat that’s steady and mechanical. Same with his breathing. Rose’s Trevors bled, so I’m betting this Paul does too. Still, to fool a mob of blood freaks is a pretty neat trick. Atticus is worth whatever Quay is paying him.

I say, “Why don’t you just give me the map and you don’t have to go at all? The fewer people, the faster I can move.”