Aloha from Hell (Sandman Slim #3)

Aloha from Hell (Sandman Slim #3) Page 50

Josef shuffles away, leaving bloody footprints behind.

I say, “If it makes you feel any better, you didn’t disappoint me. I never trusted you.”

“Then why call us back from the void?”

“Hey, I was improvising most of the time. But you were my ace in the hole. I knew you couldn’t beat Hell or Heaven on your own. But if I couldn’t stop the war, I figured I could put you together with whatever side I decided should win.”

“But instead you murdered us.”

“The only reason you haven’t killed off humanity is that we’re your food, and then where would you be?”

His swollen eyes widen. Kissi are so ugly that it’s usually hard to tell if one’s been hurt or not. But not tonight.

“So genocide is the first order of business for the new Lucifer. What a fine start to your reign.”

“It’s not genocide. You’re left.”

Josef climbs onto the balcony railing.

“This isn’t over. If I have to come for you alone, I will.”

“No you won’t.”

I throw my knife. It goes into Josef’s throat and out through his spine. He falls backward off the balcony.

And I was this close to letting him go because I did kind of fuck him over and he was so beat up and pathetic I felt sorry for him. But I let my guard down with Jack and he stole my face. I trusted Mason and he dragged me to Hell. Even Lucifer used me so he could go home. As of today, this is an official zero slack zone for the true monsters.

I wander back to a window and look out over my weird Convergence kingdom. It isn’t Hell and it isn’t L.A., but I’ve been to Fresno, so I’ve seen worse. I take the Singularity from my pocket and watch the black and white pinheads spin around each other.

I survived the arena and Mason down here, and I survived Wells, Aelita, and the Golden Vigil up there. I still have two legs, two eyes, an arm, and something pretty close to an arm. I’m back in Pandemonium, so I bet Kasabian can see me. Maybe I’ll learn semaphore Morse code so I can send messages to Candy. And I wouldn’t mind killing Aelita. She goes right at the top of my Infernal to-do list. Yeah. This might not be so bad.

You think I can’t cut it down here anymore? I grew up in L.A. and lived to tell the tale. Hell is just L.A. with lousy head shots. We’re balls-deep in the shit Downtown, but we know it and admit it. Someday I’ll get back home, and when I do I’m going to find an ahe to findngel with my face and kick his bony ass from Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles to the Pearly Gates and back. They might call me Lucifer these days, but I’m just a part-time devil, so don’t count me out. And don’t use up all the whiskey and cigarettes. I’ll be back.