Текст книги "Devil Said Bang"

Автор книги: Richard Kadrey

Соавторы: Richard Kadrey,Richard Kadrey
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Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

I get in one of the ornate wrought-iron elevators and press the buttons for the first and third floors simultaneously. The elevator rises to the thirteenth floor in a building that only has five.

I get out and walk to Mr. Muninn’s antiques shop. The door is unlocked. Go through the store, out the back exit, and down hundreds of feet of bare stone steps into a cavern below the city.

“Mr. Muninn!” I yell. “Olly olly oxen free.”

Mr. Muninn comes out from behind a Russian icon-style portrait of a king from a country that hasn’t existed for two ice ages.

“I didn’t expect you to come in that way. I’m so used to you appearing out of the shadows.”

“That’s Saint James’s trick these days. I just break into buildings and ride the Wonkavator to places that aren’t there.”

“It sounds like more fun when you say it.”

Muninn’s cavern is maybe the biggest antiques shop, curiosity cabinet, and junkyard in the universe. Shelves and tables sag under his crazy trinkets. Helmets and ancient weapons enough to take on Hannibal. Acres of old coins and endless galleries of paintings, jewelry, potions, karakuri, and old books. Piles of what look like dinosaur bones beside a moored zeppelin. Like a raven, he’s been plucking shiny pieces of this and that and hiding them in his lair for aeons. Maybe that’s why he goes by a raven’s name.

“I thought you might come to see me before this.”

“That was the plan but there was this ancient god and a whole Apocalypse thing happening. Maybe you heard about it.”

“I wouldn’t worry. You saved the dreamers. In a few days, they’ll take control of reality from the safety of their slumber and the sky will be blue and the world will be made beautiful again.”

“Make that brown skies, panhandlers, and things getting back to passable and I’ll believe you.”

“Always the optimist.”

I lean on a table and knock over piles of Confederate money.

“Sorry.” Then, “You lied to me, Mr. Muninn. This whole time. And I trusted you.”

“I know. And I have no excuses, just an explanation. I was afraid. To break down from one mind to five is troubling enough but then my own brother, Ruach, let Aelita kill brother Neshamah to save himself. It was too much to take. I don’t even know where my other two brothers are.”

He picks up a pile of gold Minoan coins and tosses them through the eye socket of a pterodactyl skull. A nervous tic.

“I’ve been down here and away from family squabbles since the world was young and I had hoped to stay here for eternity. But that’s not going to happen, is it?”

I shrug.

“That all depends on you. You asked me to take the singularity to one of your brothers in Hell. You said you’d owe me a favor. I made the delivery and now I’m calling in the favor. That’s if you’re willing to keep your part of the bargain.”

“Do you have the singularity with you?”

“No. It’s somewhere safe. I’ll keep it for now. If I get bored, maybe I’ll start a new universe, just like the Angra Om Ya.”

“I know Father Traven told you the story. Would you like to hear my side of it?”

“Yes. But not right this minute. I took some bullets today, and don’t tell anyone, but they still hurt.”

“Would you like me to take them out for you?”

“Sure. Later. Right now I want to get the other thing settled. Are you willing to do me the favor you promised?”

“Yes.”

“I think you know what it is.”

“I suspect so.”

I walk over to him, passing a table piled with old Hollywood head shots and shattered pieces of the Druj Ammun seal.

“I don’t care if you didn’t really create the universe. You still made the souls. There are a lot of them Downtown that could use someone to keep an eye on them better than Hellions can. The Hellions aren’t doing all that well themselves. They’re killing each other when they aren’t killing themselves. Hellions are your children too, right? They can both use the kind of help a half-assed Lucifer like me can’t give them.”

“And you think I have the right experience to be Lucifer? I’m not sure if I should be flattered or hurt.”

“You’re a deity. At least you have something to work from. I was just playing free jazz. You really need to take the job. If I go back to Hell, I’ll never leave and Hell will burn without a Lucifer.”

He looks away and throws the last of the coins in the air. They hang there before falling on the table in a neat stack.

“Of course I’ll go. A bargain is a bargain. But you must do something for me first.”

“What?”

“Forgive the part of you you call Saint James.”

“Forget it. He’s a useless Pat Boone twerp with a bad case of poor poor pitiful me. I’m always the bad guy and he’s always the victim. Forget it. He left. He can stay left.”

“Are you sure that’s how you want it?”

“I have the armor. I don’t need him.”

“But you just appointed me Lucifer. The armor is mine.”

I hadn’t thought of that.

“He left. I don’t beg favors.”

“You don’t have to. Just tell me, would you like to be whole and complete again?”

“Are you God or Dear Abby?”

“You’re avoiding the question because the answer is yes and you’re too proud and hurt to say it.”

“Bullshit.”

“You can’t lie to me, James. I’m God.”

“Fine. Sure. I’d like to be one big slice of apple pie but I’m not kissing Saint James’s ass.”

“You don’t have to. While you were talking I reintegrated you.”

I look at my hands.

“Bullshit. If he was back in my head, he’d be screaming. I don’t feel any different.”

“Which is exactly as it should be. When you’re whole, it’s not necessary to think about yourself as whole. You simply are.”

“Cool it with the koans. Wild Bill is my Buddhism adviser.”

I look at myself in an old mirrored shield.

“I don’t know how I feel about this.”

“Of course you do. You’re angry. You’re always angry with me. God tricked you again. But let me remind you of something. I still am God and there are certain things I can and will do for the good of my children, including you. You’re whole because it’s necessary for you to be whole and there’s nothing you or Lucifer or Sandman Slim can do about it.”

“See? You do have the right attitude to be a good Lucifer.”

Mr. Muninn walks to an old L.A. Red Car and steps inside.

“I’ll miss my collection.”

“It’s not going anywhere.”

“I’ll miss my solitude.”

“I got very big on delegating Lucifer’s duties at the end. Keep the same policy and have all the solitude you want. Trust me. You don’t want to sit around working out budget projections for the next thousand years.”

He steps out of the Red Car and perches on a Persian hoodoo carpet hovering three feet off the ground.

“One last thing before I go. Do you forgive me for deceiving you all this time?”

“Sure. Do you forgive me for being a loudmouth asshole Abomination?”

He holds up a hand. Shakes his head.

“You’re only an Abomination to Aelita and her ilk. You’re simply James Stark to me. Not nephilim or monster. Just Stark.”

“Your brother Neshamah told me his name. What’s yours?”

“Can’t we stick with Muninn? It’s the name I prefer.”

“Muninn it is.”

“I suppose it’s time for me to be going.”

I touch my chest. Lucifer’s armor is gone. I look at Mr. Muninn and he’s wearing it. It looks funny strapped to his round body.

“That’s a good look for you,” I lie.

He raps his knuckles on the metal.

“I haven’t worn armor since the war with Lucifer. Now here I am wearing his, preparing to become him. Even I couldn’t have predicted that.”

“It’ll get the groundlings’ attention when you walk in like that.”

He looks strange. Like he’s made of dense smoke.

“Will you come and visit?”

I feel a familiar weight inside my chest. The Key is back inside me.

“I’ll come down. Take care of yourself and Wild Bill for me. One last thing. If you were going to hide a stolen soul, where would you put it?”

He thinks for a few seconds.

“The Guff. The hall of souls. Where new souls wait to be born into bodies.”

“Someone stole Tuatha Fortune’s. Normally I wouldn’t care about the Augur’s family troubles but that seems kind of harsh even for rich bastards. If you happen to find Tuatha’s soul under the sofa cushions, maybe you could send it home.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Take care, James.”

“You too, Mr. Muninn.”

The smoke drifts apart like parting fog and Mr. Muninn is gone. There’s something in my hand. Three deformed bullets. I open my shirt. No holes. No pain.

I step through a shadow and into the Room of Thirteen Doors. It’s as cool and silent and perfect as I remember. I go through the Door of Ice, the portal to neutral places, and out into the street. I push the Hellion hog into Muninn’s cavern for safekeeping. I don’t know if I can ride it once reality gets back to normal. If I can’t, I think Mr. Muninn would like it in his collection.

I step back into a shadow, feeling at home again. I can’t hear Saint James in my head, but with luck, he feels it too.

I come out of a shadow in the hallway in the Chateau with the grandfather clock. I step through. Kasabian is watching Major Dundee on the big screen. He glances over his shoulder when I come in then turns back to the screen.

“I think we’ll have to clear out of here soon.”

“When?”

“Not until they figure out I’m not Macheath anymore. A few days. Maybe a week. I don’t know.”

He nods, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“I had a feeling this was too good to be true. Okay. They haven’t sent up any food for a while. Tell them to bring a few carts. Start stockpiling so we can take it with us when we get the bum’s rush.”

I sit on the arm of the leather sofa, suddenly very tired.

“I can’t keep doing this. Saving the world and ending up broke and homeless.”

Kasabian crushes a beer can in one of his hellhound hands and opens another one-handed. Neat trick.

“Speak for yourself,” he says. “I’ve got my future locked. Between the Codex, your magic eyeball, and the Hellion translator you said you’re getting, I’m going to become the biggest medium on the Web. I can actually see into Hell, which is where most people’s asshole relatives are going to be. Isn’t that something? I’ll be the only honest online psychic in the world. I’ll make a fortune.”

“Yeah. Telling people their loved ones are burning in eternal hellfire will have the money rolling in.”

He nods his head from side to side.

“Well, I might have to leave out a few details. Shave the truth a bit. I already know how to do that.”

“Good. Then I’ll move back in; we’ll use the rest of the money to fix up the store and reopen.”

“Slow down, Seabiscuit. I don’t even have a site yet.”

“We’ll fix the store or you can give me my money back.”

“It’s my money.”

“We’ll see.”

I get a bottle of Aqua Regia. Light a Malediction and dial the clinic to check on Candy. No one answers. I dial again.

Bamboo House of Dolls is crowded. Packed in like cavity-search close. Just like the old days. I don’t know why I’m surprised. It always works this way. A little mayhem. A touch of homicide without too many casualties. Just enough to give you a good story. And the Bamboo House is on the map again. Home sweet home.

“Here’s to two weeks under the radar,” says Candy, holding up a glass of Jack Daniel’s.

I clink my glass against hers.

“They haven’t tossed your asses out of the Marmont yet?” says Carlos.

His arm is still in a sling but it’s not his pouring arm, so who cares?

“Not yet,” Candy says.

“I have a feeling Mr. Muninn has something to do with it. I don’t know how long the ride will last but I’m ready to go till the wheels come off.”

Candy brightens.

“You ought to take a night off and come over,” she says to Carlos. “I’ll make dinner. And by ‘make dinner,’ I mean I’ll call down for enough food to sink the Titanic.”

“It’s a date,” says Carlos, and he pours us another round of Jack.

Father Traven pushes his way inside. He looks a little overwhelmed. I wonder if he thinks every bar is like Bamboo House. Will he be disappointed the first time he goes to a civilian one?

“Hey, Father. Damned anyone today?”

He smiles.

“Not a single soul.”

“The night is young. How are you holding up?”

He shrugs. Takes a sip of red wine.

“Fine. Still processing it all. The newspapers are saying that the Osterberg family had investments in the defense industry and that his death is being investigated as a possible instance of domestic terrorism. Apparently Homeland Security is involved.”

I put my Kissi arm around his shoulders. I have long sleeves and a glove on so he doesn’t have to look.

“Don’t sweat it. I used to do jobs for them. They’re looking for guys in ski masks, not a priest and some monsters. We’re not even on their radar.”

“I hope you’re right.”

He turns and looks over the crowd.

Blue-skinned Luderes are gambling at a table near the jukebox. Manimal Mike and his vucari cousins sit with a bunch of Nahuals trading shots of expensive tequila and cheap vodka. Shape-shifters, gloomy necromancers, and club kids dressed like electric peacocks slow-dance to Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys doing “Blues for Dixie.”

“What if someone got my license-plate number coming down the hill?”

“When would they do that? When they were being knocked stupid by rocks or buried under flying sharks? Relax and have a drink.”

He takes another sip of wine.

“So your angel, Aelita, seems to be behind everything that’s happened. How tragic that she chose that particular vengeful ghost.”

“I don’t see it that way.”

Carlos looks as happy as I’ve seen him in a long time. His brother-in-law is helping out while he’s healing. He seems to like having a partner.

“There’s nothing tragic or bad luck about it. Aelita doesn’t make mistakes like that. She knew who the Imp was.”

“She deliberately let loose a piece of the Angra Om Ya in this world? Why?”

“To help her kill God. I figure that she can’t do it on her own. Why else would she leave the Qomrama in Hell? She got lucky when she killed Neshamah, but she doesn’t really know how to use it. The Angra do.”

Traven picks up a single peanut from the coconut bowls full of them.

“Why would she invite entities that can destroy the universe? Presumably, she’d be destroyed too.”

“You said it yourself. God made an offering that tricked the Angra into another dimension. Maybe she has that or knows how to do it. She brings the Angra in, uses them, and sends them on their merry way. It’s exactly how she likes to work.”

“How do you know all this?”

I shrug. I don’t want to tell him that Saint James and I are dating again and that he’s probably the one who figured it out and I’m just taking credit.

“It’s the only logical thing.”

“So this isn’t over.”

“This is just getting started.”

Brigitte wobbles by. She’s more than a little drunk. She opens her mouth in exaggerated silent-movie surprise when she sees me. “I couldn’t find you in this madhouse. I heard that you took care of Teddy once and for all.”

I nod.

“He’s dead, burned, and gone. Hallelujah.”

“Thank you,” she says.

She looks at Traven.

“Who is your friend? You haven’t introduced us.”

“This is Father Traven. He saved my ass when we were at Teddy’s. Father Traven, this is Brigitte Bardo.”

He puts out his hand. She smiles at his politeness and how he obviously has no idea who she is.

“Very nice to meet you. Please call me Liam.”

“A father, eh, Liam? I’ve played nuns in many of my movies.”

“Really? You’re an actress. Can I find your movies in stores? I’ve just started watching movies.”

I shake my head at him.

“Stick to musicals and John Wayne for a while. You’re not ready for Brigitte.”

I whisper in Brigitte’s ear.

“Be nice. He was for real. Not one of your Hollywood hoodoo Holy Rollers.”

She touches his arm.

“A past-tense priest? What happened? Did you fall in love with a beautiful woman? A handsome boy?”

“He fell for giant-tentacle bastards from another dimension who want to eat us.”

“They sound charming. You must tell me all about them.”

The father’s eyes shift back and forth between us. I’ve revealed his darkest secret and he’s still standing.

“It’s okay, Father. She’s one of us. She’s probably taken out more monsters than you and me put together.”

I nod at Brigitte.

“Ask him about the Via Dolorosa.”

She smiles brightly.

“The Stations of the Cross? I did a movie about that too.”

“Please tell me about it.”

She loops her arm in his and leads him away.

Vidocq is coming my way. Allegra isn’t with him. When he reaches me, he clamps me in a big bear hug.

“I hear that I have you to thank for this sore jaw.”

“You came at me with a knife and I had to defend my new shirt.”

“I don’t remember any of it.”

At a table, a couple of civilian card sharks are going broke trying to hustle psychics at poker.

“And you won’t. That’s how it’s set up. Bastards get in your head. Play around and pop out and you never have a clue. They tried doing it to me.”

“Did it work?”

I shake my head.

“The tinfoil hat I had installed saved me.”

He raises a glass of whiskey.

“To the madness we choose. Not the madness others choose for us.”

“Is Allegra with you?”

He pats me on the shoulder.

“Give her some time.”

“I’m drunk enough to apologize sincerely.”

“I’m sure she’d appreciate that. But give her some time.”

A succubus slaps a vampire when he bites her throat and makes a face at the taste of her blood. The Bewlay twins are loaded enough that they’re transforming other pretty boys into clones of themselves. There’s going to be a very confusing orgy somewhere tonight.

“I’m not Lucifer anymore. I did to some poor slob what Samael did to me. Backed him into a corner so he had to take the job.”

“And who was this innocent youth?”

“God.”

He nods.

“May He learn well how the rest of us feel.”

“I need to go out and grab a smoke.”

Candy is talking to Brigitte and Traven. I kiss her as I go by and head out the door.

The street is crowded with civilians and Lurkers. I go around the side of the building far enough that there’s no streetlight and fire up a Malediction. I feel a little earthquake under my feet. A hole opens in the concrete a few feet away.

“Hi, Cherry,” I say. “Thanks for helping out with Teddy.”

I go to the edge of the hole and look down. Cherry is a mess. She’s lost an arm and a lot of teeth. There are a couple of bullet holes in her skull.

“Thanks for whatever you did to the Imp. She’s gone.”

“I didn’t do anything to her. I set her free and let her make her own choice. My guess is she went home.”

“As long as she’s gone.”

“Agreed.”

“Are you fishing for compliments?”

“No. Just thinking about things. Back in Hell, Great-Great-Great-Granddad told me to pick and choose my fights. I agree with him but sometimes it’s hard to pick which fights because you don’t know what they are until you start. I thought I was Elvis on Ice when I stopped Mason’s war with Heaven. But I left all those Hellions worse off because they thought they were going to get free from Hell. Then I come back to L.A. to find Candy off with someone else, Aelita is back, there’s a murdering ghost on the loose, and a scar-faced skinhead’s looking to kill me all because I cut off a Kissi’s head a year ago. He deserved it but that doesn’t matter in the big picture. What matters is everything down the line that killing him triggered. But how do you know what bad juju you’re shaking loose before you start shaking things up?”

Cherry turns her hollow eye sockets up at me.

“And the point of your eloquent speech?”

“I don’t exactly know. Maybe we need to be more careful about the messes we leave behind. Try to tidy things up a bit when the bullets stop flying.”

“Maybe you could cut off fewer heads.”

“That too. Muninn told me to forgive part of myself, and as much as I hate that healing-your-inner-child yammer, I’m trying. You need to let go and move on. Look at you. You were a sad sight when you were in one piece. Now you’re not even a skeleton. Just a sack of random bones. Come out of there. Even if you don’t want to pass on entirely, have a little dignity. Be a ghost and not a burrowing bug.”

“I am a ghost.”

“I mean a real ghost. Ditch the skeleton and do a regular haunting. How about the Lollipop Dolls store? Think of it. A high-end J-pop place with its own ghost. It’ll be like Kwaidan with pigtails.”

She’s quiet for a minute. If she had a face, she’d look lost in thought.

“I couldn’t just move in. I’d have to ask the girls.”

“I hardly know anything about that anime stuff but Candy has a Ph.D. I bet she’d talk to them for you.”

“Why are you going out of your way to help me?”

“Because you and me have a past too. You thought I could save you when you were alive and I didn’t. I figure getting you out of that hole might make up for that a little.”

“Maybe it will,” she says. “Have your friend talk to the girls.”

“I will. See you around, Cherry.”

But she’s already gone.

I throw the rest of the cigarette into the hole and start back inside when my phone rings. It’s a blocked number. Sure, why not?

It’s a man voice this time.

“I haven’t seen it myself but I hear you ruined Lucifer’s armor.”

“God dinged it with a thunderbolt. I put a few bullet holes in it. It gives it character. Like scars.”

“From what I hear, you must have some new ones. Did striking yourself with the Gladius leave a mark? Did King Cairo shoot you in the face? Are you terribly disfigured?”

“I’m not Lucifer anymore. I thought that would get me off the hook with your bullshit.”

“You hurt me. You’re not on the hook. These are fireside chats while I bring you news from far away.”

“Thanks, but you can shove your news. I’m done with Hell. I don’t care anymore.”

“I hear you broke the priest. Poor thing. They’re so delicate, aren’t they? So confident in your world but they come apart so quickly down here. Still, it’s nothing for you to worry about. A mad priest. It’s like a gothic romance. Add his to the list of lives you’ve ruined. But the priest is still walking the Earth, isn’t he? So he’s only half a demerit. God must be very proud of you. You keep filling our houses with new playmates.”

“Here’s my final thought to you. Kill yourself. All of you Hellions should kill yourselves. Or murder each other. You’re Muninn’s problem now.”

“How long will it take you to break your new girlfriend? What’s her name? Something sweet and simpleminded. Does she know how gruesome you can be?”

“I told her all about what happened in Hell.”

“And she’s still with you? She must be an exceptional woman.”

“She is.”

“So was Alice, I suppose. You do seem to go through a lot of them. Exceptional women. Murder isn’t your greatest sin. It’s being as careless with others’ lives as you are with your own. You need to watch that or sooner or later all that will be left are women who’ll run from the very sight of a monster like you.”

“If you’re calling to threaten me, hurry up. I’m going inside and I won’t be able to hear you being scary.”

“I’m getting better with bodies in your world. I can do more than talk now. Soon I’ll walk and drive and look just like anyone else and I can pay you a visit.”

“You better get to it, Merihim. When the Angra come back, you’re as fucked as the rest of us.”

“Clever guess.”

“That’s exactly what it was. Don’t make me tattle on you to Muninn.”

I hang up and head back inside.

Candy is dancing to Les Baxter’s “Balloon Waltz” with Vidocq. I cut in and he graciously takes a powder just like a real Frenchman. I have no idea how to waltz but I can count to three and I can rock back and forth, and with the bar so packed, that’s pretty much what everyone else is doing too.

It’s been raining on and off for the last couple of weeks. Not fish rain. The regular stuff. Between the storms, the sky is even blue sometimes. Catalina is back and no one has reported any floating streets or volcanoes in days.

Sometimes I step back and look over everything and wonder how the hell I got here. According to Uriel, my real father, I was always destined for this land of bloody laughs. I’m not human or angel or Lurker or demon. I’m just a natural-born killer. What I don’t know is if I’m attracted to places where the worst things are happening or if I bring the shitstorm with me. Until I know, all that matters is that I’m still breathing and I’m dancing with a pretty girl.

The world is going to end when the Angra Om Ya come back. They’ll eat the planets and stars. When they hit L.A., they’ll get a movie deal with points and a percentage of the merchandising. They’ll learn to surf and practice Transcendental Meditation. One of them will OD in the bathroom at the Whisky a Go Go and another will be on the cover of People, caught having an affair with the new mayor. The others will develop depression and go home to their gloomy universe. One more set of suckers. One more one-hit wonder. It’s a nice little universe you built but what have you done lately? Leave your head shots and our people will call your people. This is L.A. There are so many Apocalypses around here that most don’t even make the paper, so be happy yours got any press at all. By the way, Strawberry Alarm Clock is a cool name. Angra Om Ya sounds like a brand of Chinese dog food.

With luck, the Angra won’t pass through these parts for another million years. I don’t usually get that lucky but I’ve got Candy, a place to crash, food, and the Key. L.A. might be a tourist-trap province on the outskirts of Hell, but that’s okay. At least in this Hell, I’m not alone.