Killing Pretty (Sandman Slim 7)

“He talks? What does he say?”

“That he’s Death. The true Death comes to us at last. Hallelujah.”

I pick up a tube of lipstick off the makeup table and open it. There’s a knife inside. I put it back where it was.

“I can guarantee you that’s not Death. The real Death stubbed his toe and is staying with me right now.”

Cherry gives me a crooked grin.

“You scared Chihiro off already? That was fast.”

“She’s still there, don’t worry. By the way, thanks for helping outfit her. I owe you.”

“We Japanese girls have to stick together in this big cruel world,” she says. “Tell me, when did you turn into such a rice queen?”

“The Japanese look was her idea. She always wanted to be in Spirited Away.”

“Don’t lie to me. You love it,” she says.

I don’t say anything or change my expression. Just give her a minute to settle down. Then I say, “How are you doing? Do you feel any different? Is there anything else strange going on besides the twister?”

Cherry turns and watches the TV.

“I don’t want to talk about death and dying. You don’t know what it’s like.”

“In fact, I do. I’ve died. A ­couple of times.”

She laughs quietly.

“You’re a fucking angel. What do you know? I mean dying like a person, with no power, no say, no nothing. Just a cold hand on your arm and everything you ever were slipping away. It’s horrible. He’s horrible.”

She turns back to me. Gives me a big smile.

“But all that’s over with and everything’s peachy now.”

“Have you felt anything else? Any tugs or nudges from necromancers trying to wheedle secrets from you?”

“All the time. A lot of them, they sound desperate. Hysterical. I guess the half dead are sucking up all the bandwidth and it’s hard to get through. Who cares? I never bothered with them. Some of the duller spirits love to chat away with them. Not me. I have my girls and my store. And you, of course.”

“I’m flattered.”

“Except today you’re being boring,” says Cherry.

She goes and sits on the bed. Her feet don’t touch the floor. She swings them back and forth.

“Bad desserts and dumb questions,” she says. “You should work more on your patter before you come around. You used to be a real player before you went away. Remember? You were a looker back then. But you’ve got no game these days.”

“I didn’t come here to hit on you. Or get hit on.”

She shakes her head gravely.

“You should have fucked me when you had the chance.”

“You looked like you were twelve. That isn’t exactly my thing.”

She moves her legs apart.

“You really missed out.”