The Kill Society (Sandman Slim 9) - Page 20
“If the house is rocking, don’t bother knocking!”
I sit up and check my leg wound. It’s deep, but not too wide, like the knife went straight in. It’ll heal in no time.
“Stark, what is going on here?” says Traven, then corrects himself. “Pitts.”
“Don’t bother, Father,” I say. “Cherry knows me. She’s known it was me this whole time. What I don’t get is why she didn’t give me away.”
Cherry sits up, takes her time adjusting her miniskirt and coat. I pull the camper door closed.
“ZaSu Pitts. That’s the best you could come up with?” she says. “And why the funny name at all? Every asshole in Hell is afraid of Sandman Slim. Don’t you want that? Fuck, you could probably kick the Magistrate out and take over. We could ride the havoc all over Hell. One big party till the end of time.”
Traven looks at Cherry.
“You’re not a real oracle?” he says.
Cherry rolls her eyes and shoves one of her high heels into my leg. Like all my dealings with her, it hurts.
“You have any smokes left?”
I find my coat and give her a Malediction. She sparks it with a gold lighter in the shape of a Crucifix. Cherry looks at me, then turns her eyes to Traven.
“Did prickless here tell you that he killed me?”
Traven starts to say something and I cut him off.
“I didn’t kill her. I just didn’t get to her in time to save her. Mason’s attack dog—a guy named Parker—killed her.”
“Details, details,” says Cherry. “I’m still dead and it’s still your fault.”
“I’m sorry. If you were any less annoying, I’d be even more sorry.”
She looks at Traven.
“See? He admits it’s his fault. And I just saved his worthless ass. Doesn’t he owe me one quick fuck for that, Father?”
Traven takes a breath. This madness is way above his pay grade.
“So, you’re not a real oracle? Does the Magistrate know?”
She swats away the question.
“No. I’m a real oracle. I learned the whole seeing thing from a Hellion street swami. He did it for cash back in Pandemonium, but after everything went to shit because of this one.”
She digs her heel into me again.
“The swami took off and left me high and dry. Of course, I’d already learned the tricks by then . . . and helped myself to enough of his toys to set myself up when some bleeding hearts gave me a ride out of the city.”
“Where did you meet the havoc?” says Traven.
“We left Hell altogether and lit out for the Tenebrae. I’d spent some time here, so I knew my way around.”
“But you didn’t count on the Magistrate showing up,” I say.
She sighs and puffs the Malediction.
“Everyone who didn’t join up . . . well, the pope there can tell you all about it.”
I nod to the oxygen tank.
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