Devil Said Bang (12 page)

I don’t know whether to be madder at Samael or
Brimborion. It would have been really nice to know that someone out there was
thinking about me, even if it was the asshole that stuck me here. And it would
have been really goddamn helpful a few weeks back to get strategic advice from
someone who has more reasons to want me alive than dead.

Squatting in the middle of a hundred pounds of dead
bugs loses its charm fast. I put the knife in my waistband, shove the letters in
my pocket, and tuck the bottle under my arm. With my good hand I close the
bedroom door and head down the hall. Brimborion will know where to find me.

I’m sacked out on the library sofa when he knocks a
half hour later. I open the door, and when he sees my bare Kissi arm, he doesn’t
try to come inside. He hands me a widemouthed clay jar sealed with an old cork
stopper.

“I told the witches someone on my staff was hurt. I
think they believed me. They said this will help but it might stain your
sheets.”

It’s not really funny but I can’t help but laugh a
little.

“Keep it,” I tell him. I hold up my apparently
healed hand.

“We can’t pretend nothing happened if I’m
slathering that stuff all over me. I’m a pretty fast healer, and when the pain
gets too bad, well, I’ll probably be drunk a lot for the next few days, so you
don’t want to schedule me for any banquets or ballet lessons.”

Brimborion nods.

“I can tell them you’re working on the new sewage
project.”

“Good. That sounds so fucking boring no one is
going to bother me wanting to help with that.”

I get a piece of paper from the desk, write a note,
and hold it out to him.

“I need you to do one more thing. Give this to
Vetis.”

Brimborion plucks the note from my hand with his
fingertips, trying to keep his distance from the Kissi hand.

“Go ahead and read it. I know you’re going to.”

He unfolds the paper. I watch his eyes as he scans
it a couple of times before putting it away.

“You want to arrest Deumos.”

“And everyone who works with her.”

“Do you think she had something to do with
Lahash?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“It’s like what that famous Greek philosopher Bugs
Bunny once said: ‘I don’t ask questions. I just have fun.’ ”

He blinks at me like he’s waiting for a
translation. I nod good night and close the door.

Back on the sofa, I take a swig from Bill’s bottle
of Hellion moonshine. This stuff could grow on me. I’ll have to get him to send
more.

I look around for a Malediction and realize
Brimborion didn’t bring me any cigarettes.

See? One thing goes right and everything else falls
apart.

Should I tell Vetis about the crank call? What am I
going to say that isn’t going to make me sound weak? Maybe I’ll have him keep a
closer eye on Brimborion.

Hell really blows.

I
have
a pretty good idea of what’s coming the next day when Brimborion tells me
Semyazah is on his way up. The only good thing is that it will be direct and
contained. For now.

Semyazah bangs on the library door but he can’t get
in. After bug man’s visit, I’ve laid even heavier hoodoo on the place. Sulfur
and arsenic above the door. A line of iron filings across the entrance.

I get the door halfway open and Semyazah shoves his
way into the room. Merihim and Marchosias come in behind him. Merihim has red
patches on his face and arms where he’s added some tattoos. More protection
spells. Marchosias is dressed like Ilsa, She-Wolf of the SS’s stunt double.

They notice my bare Kissi arm. They try not to make
faces. None of them succeeds.

“Exactly what do you think you’re doing?” says
Semyazah.

I walk back to my desk, leaving them by the door.
Let them follow me into my territory.

“I’m being Lucifer. I was ambushed. Someone with
heavy magic possessed the idiots who attacked me. Last night I get a crank call
telling me to kill myself or get murdered. It must have come from inside the
palace, or are your people selling Satan’s private number on Craigslist? On top
of that, Deumos burns me in effigy. A trifecta of bullshit. So Lucifer is
retaliating.”

I pour myself a drink. Semyazah follows me back to
the desk. If looks could kill.

“Retaliating against those pathetic witches? They
couldn’t have attacked you. Or called you. They’re rabble with no resources.
Deumos’s followers are as lost as any damned mortal soul in Hell. By attacking
them, you’re making those fools more important than they have any right to
be.”

Merihim is just listening. He picks up random books
and objects from the shelves. The same above-it-all bullshit he always pulls
when he’s trying to figure out who has the upper hand in a discussion. Sometimes
he reminds me of Medea Bava, the head of Sub Rosa inquisition. Marchosias looks
at me like I’m barbecue ribs and she’s trying to decide between a Texas red
sauce and Carolina mustard.

Merihim says, “I’m not so sure. Our lord’s tone is
boorish but he might be right to stop this false prophet with one short swift
blow. Deumos wants to weaken our true church and divide the people.”

“I agree,” says Marchosias. “Are we going to stand
around like those sheep in Heaven as she transforms herself into a new Lucifer
and leads a rebellion against us?”

The general isn’t happy his two compadres disagree
with him. How far can I push him?

“Semyazah’s just mad he missed raiding Deumos’s
church with Vetis. Don’t worry. I’ll wake you the next time so you can join the
fun.”

He takes a couple of steps in my direction.

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that.”

I push myself up off the desk.

“Like what? Your boss?”

“Like a fraud and a coward who plans to desert us
the moment he finds a way out of Hell.”

“Damn right. Your war landed you here. Me, I just
slipped on a banana peel.”

Marchosias taps a fingernail on the bookcase to get
our attention.

“If it helps, we’ve identified the three soldiers
who attacked you. They’re from different companies within the legion. We’re
interrogating their comrades and senior officers. We’re also interrogating the
weapon masters and taking an inventory of the armory to see where they might
have found their guns.”

“Great. So you’re going to chat up what, four
hundred soldiers who are all going to lie and stick up for their buddies. And
how long is it going to take to count every pistol in the armory? How will you
even know if you can trust the count? You’d be better off wandering the streets
wearing a big sign that says ‘Did You Do It?’ ”

Semyazah lowers his head and half smiles.

“This is the great and terrifying Sandman Slim, the
monster who kills monsters? I never thought a feeble attack and a phone call
would have you behaving like this. It’s unbecoming for an assassin or the lord
of Hell.”

I sit down at the desk and sip my drink.

“Come on, boys and girls. We all know I’m a
terrible Lucifer. I only got the job because I killed Mason.”

“Don’t be so modest,” says Marchosias. “No one else
could stop him. I mean no slight, General, but if it wasn’t for Stark, Heaven
would have laid waste to all of Hell and we’d be dead.”

“So what? Killing Mason doesn’t qualify me to run a
muffin stand in a mall. You’re all more qualified to be Lucifer than I am but
none of you has the sand to step up and do it.”

Merihim shakes his head.

“This is absurd and insulting. Come. Let’s leave
our lord to think his deep thoughts.”

He starts for the door and Semyazah follows.
Marchosias rolls her eyes and starts after them.

“Don’t be so hasty,” she says.

I shout some hoodoo and the door seals itself
shut.

“We’re having this out right now. Everyone agrees
I’m no good. Let’s do something about it. No one leaves until there’s a new
Lucifer.”

They stare at me.

“You assholes love your rituals. Let’s try this one
on for size. Kill me and you get the job. Wound me and I’ll give up. Trust me.
I’m not going to fight hard to stay Lucifer.”

I pull the black blade from behind my back with the
Kissi arm. It feels awkward using my left hand, but the effect is worth it.

I hold out the knife to each of them.

“How about it? General? Merihim? Marchosias?”

I throw the blade so it sticks point first in the
floor between them.

“Why don’t you all do it together? I can’t possibly
take all three of you at once.”

No one moves. Merihim’s body language says he’s
somewhere between fainting and doing a Cowardly Lion dive out of the nearest
window. Marchosias backs away behind a bust of Lucifer on a short marble
pillar.

Semyazah’s eyes narrow. I gave his ego a hotfoot.
He looks like he might actually go for the blade.

The moment his shoulder twitches, I kick the desk
chair in front of him. He’s quick. The chair catches one of his legs but he
still manages to get the knife. Rolling to his feet, he throws it at me. It’s a
pretty good shot for someone off balance on a hurt leg. But I’ve had a lot of
knives heaved at me over the years. I know what good aim looks like and knife
throwing isn’t Semyazah’s specialty. All I have to do is lean back and the knife
sails past. Semyazah grabs a metal candle stand, holding it in front of him like
a spear.

It’s three fast steps to where he’s planted
himself. I drag the desk behind me as I go. Whip it around like a baseball bat,
crashing through a bookshelf and catching him on the side. There’s a loud crack
as I make contact and he half flies, half slides down the marble floor to the
library doors.

Blood flows into my left eye. The crack when I hit
Semyazah wasn’t from him or the desk. It was a derringer he’s pulled from his
sleeve. The shot grazed the side of my head.

Merihim and Marchosias are backed up against
shelves full of Hellion art books. Merihim has gone dead white. I throw each of
them over a shoulder in a kind of half-assed fireman’s carry, holding them low.
Keeping their bodies between me and Semyazah. The general is flat on his back
but he could be playing possum and he has at least one bullet left in the pocket
gun. Merihim starts thrashing when he figures out he’s a human shield. I pull my
arm a little tighter and squeeze the air out of him.

When I’m over Semyazah, I step onto the arm holding
the gun. The general’s eyes are open but he doesn’t move. I don’t think he’s
broken. Just a little dazed. I toss Merihim and Marchosias down on either side
of him, take the derringer, and drop the hammer so it won’t go off in my
pocket.

A minute later Semyazah sits up. I take the knife
from a scabbard on his belt and slap it into his hand.

“We aren’t done yet. It’s still three against one
and I’m not armed. You drew first blood, General. Take your shot. Kill me.”

He doesn’t move. I can’t tell if his gaze is
uncertain or unfocused.

“Afraid you’ll miss?”

I grab him with the Kissi hand and press the tip of
the blade into the base of my throat.

“Now you can’t. Kill me. Become Lucifer.”

When Semyazah doesn’t budge, Merihim grabs his hand
and pushes. The blade goes in far enough to draw blood. I feel it run down my
neck and under the armor. Semyazah twists and punches Merihim in the face. The
preacher lets go of the knife when Semyazah elbows him in the throat. He looks
at Marchosias like he’s about to deck her. She holds up her hands, shaking her
head.

Semyazah slides the knife back into its
scabbard.

“This doesn’t change anything. You’re still a
coward and a fraud.”

“And you won’t do anything about it ’cause you’d
rather have a coward and a fraud on the throne than sit there yourself.”

I find my knife where it’s embedded in the wall and
slip it into the waistband at my back. Walk back to where the last of Bill’s
bourbon fell. The bottle hit the floor but didn’t break. Lucky me. My desk is
cracked and splintered but still has four legs. I pull it upright and sit down,
taking a couple of pulls from the bottle. The wound on my head throbs but is
already scabbing over; my burned hand, though, got bounced around enough that it
throbs and aches.

“You Hellions think you’re so fucking special.
What’s that stuff on the ceiling? The Thought. The Act. The New World? You think
God threw you out because you bravely stood up to Him? Bullshit. You started a
fight and you lost and you’ve been whining about it ever since. Hell isn’t
righteous exile. With all your secret handshakes and horseshit rituals, you’ve
made the place into one more members-only gated community. All you people need
are Mercedes SUVs and illegals to clean your pools and you couldn’t tell Hell
from Brentwood. That’s why you hate Deumos and her heretic ducklings. It’s not
because they’re crackpots, which they definitely are. What gets under your skin
is that they want to move into the house down the street. Old money hates the
nouveau riche. It’s a sad, stupid story even down here in the stupidest place in
the universe.”

Merihim and Marchosias get to their feet. When
Marchosias starts to help Semyazah, the general shakes her off.

“Are you going to open the door or are we your
prisoners?” he asks.

I bark some Hellion and the library doors
unlock.

“May I have my gun?”

I get the derringer, pop out the remaining bullet,
and toss the pistol to him. He heads for the door without waiting for the other
two. Merihim pulls a book from his robes and throws it on the floor.

“Here’s the book you asked about, you ungrateful
lout. Read it before you do anything else stupid. Pay particular attention to
the final passage. It’s more apt now than ever before.”

When they’re gone I go over and get the book I
never asked Merihim about.

It’s an old copy of Hellion psalms. Battered and
annotated in the margins. Complete bargain-bin shit. The book doesn’t matter.
It’s the note inside. I recognize Merihim’s neat writing.