The Sandman Slim Series Books 1-4. Richard Kadrey

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СКАЧАТЬ an area about six by six on the floor. Aside from the furniture, most of the junk is pretty light. It’s easy to sift through until I find something that’s heavy. The lead Kinski gave me.

      Start by drawing thirteen circles, six on the outside, and six on the inside, and one in the center. Take the lead and, at the outer top circle, draw a line across to the farthest. Then draw lines to the other circles on the outer rim so that they’re all connected. Now do the same thing with the other five outer circles. Wash, rinse, repeat on the inner circles until you have seventy-eight lines that connect all thirteen circles. Ladies and gentlemen, meet Metatron’s Cube. One of the holiest of holy glyphs. The soul of the angel Metatron, the voice of God. Good for keeping away imps, flesh-eating zombies, and ants at a picnic. It slices. It dices. It has a thousand and one uses. A thousand and two if you draw it on a brick and throw it through the windshield of your ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend’s car.

      Kasabian’s head is still under the bed. I pull it out and set it on his chest, then grab his body by the ankles and drag him into the Cube. I straighten the arms and legs, set Kas’s head back on its shoulders, and generally try to make him look more like a respectable human being and less like a big pile of loser jerky.

      Under one of the windows are the remains of the warning bundle Medea, the Inquisitor, left for me at Vidocq’s place. I leave the wolf teeth. All I need are the crow feathers. Pretty much any part of a crow is useful. Especially when you’re dealing with the dead. Crows are psychopomps. They guide the dead from this world to the next. There are quicker, more direct ways to get through to dead souls, but crow’s feathers are the smart way to go if you don’t want some clever boots to come along and pluck your soul out of your body while you’re distracted, waiting on line one for dead Aunt Lily to pick up.

      I rip open Kasabian’s shirt, dip the feathers in his blood, and paint a smaller version of Metatron’s Cube on his chest. Then I open his mouth and put one of the feathers inside. I dip a finger into his blood and, with it, paint a circle over my third eye.

      The one remaining unopened, unbroken bottle of Jack is under the mattress with the guns. I crack it open and have a couple of long drinks. Whatever I thought of Kasabian, whatever I thought that I might do to him when I tracked him down, painting him with his own blood and wearing some of it myself was never on my original agenda. One more drink and I’m ready to hit the road.

      I lie down in the Cube next to Kasabian so that our shoulders and feet are touching. I use the black blade to cut one of my wrists, deep enough to really get the blood flowing, but not so deep that I lose control of my hands. I upend the bottle for one more shot of liquid courage, and then slice the other wrist.

      Nice and relaxed now. Warm and drifting. The Jack and the flowing blood are doing their job. I’ll be unconscious soon. Just before I lose consciousness, I put the second crow feather between my teeth and hold it there.

      I’m standing on the floor of an empty desert. The alkali plain is cracked and glistening. There’s a shaft of light at the horizon, but it never moves. It’s always just before sunrise or just after sunset. Take your pick. The air is thick and hard to breathe. The light is a watery blue green.

      Kasabian is standing a few yards away wearing the same Max Overdrive T-shirt and chinos that he was wearing the night he shot me.

      “So, this is it?” he asks. “This is death?”

      I walk across the packed earth to where he’s standing.

      “Not really. You’re kind of in between worlds right now. There really isn’t a desert and there really isn’t a sunrise or sunset. This is just something to look at while you wait. You’re sort of on hold and this is the Muzak.”

      “While I’m waiting to see if I’m going to Heaven or damned to Hell, this is the best the all-knowing occult powers that run the universe could come up with? Talk about being underachievers.”

      “Be fair, man. Everyone knows where you’re headed. Maybe they just didn’t break out the A material for you.”

      Kasabian nods.

      “You’re right. Why bother? I fucked up my life and I even fucked up dying.”

      “So we’re clear, you know that wasn’t me who killed you just now, right? It was Parker.”

      “I should never have trusted those guys. Why would Mason help me after all these years? I thought it was different now. I thought that with you back, he’d need me again.”

      “Where is he?”

      “Listen, you were straight with me before. You know, saying you were sorry for locking me up in that closet and everything. I want to be straight with you.”

      “Don’t worry about it. There isn’t a lot of time. Where’s Mason hiding?”

      Kasabian looks over his shoulder to the mountains in the distance. There’s a low rumble of thunder. It won’t be long now. He turns back to me.

      “I knew something was up that night. I knew Mason had something waiting for you. I thought he was just going to hit you with a leech charm or something. Suck out all your power and keep it for himself. But when those Lurkers showed up …”

      “Kissi. They’re called Kissi.”

      “I didn’t know he was going to do that.”

      “What did you know about Alice?”

      “Nothing. I’m not into doing stuff like that to women. And a civilian? That’s messed up.”

      “Would you have told me if you’d known?”

      He shrugs. Looks down. Shakes his head.

      “Come on, man. That’s not even a real question. Going against Mason feels like you’re going against the devil.”

      I can’t read a dead man like a living one. No heartbeat. No breath. Fixed pupils. But I don’t need any of that now.

      “I believe you,” I tell him. “And Mason isn’t the devil. He just likes to play dress-up. Tell me where he is and I’ll get him for both of us.”

      “I don’t know where he is exactly. It was sort of like here. Spooky and wrong, but a lot weirder. Somewhere far away and dark. Not regular dark, either. Dark like it had no idea what light even was. Like light was Kryptonite to the place. There was no one there, but it wasn’t empty. In fact, it was crowded. But it was full of nothing.” He holds up his hands in frustration. “If any of that makes sense.”

      Thunder rolls down the mountains again. A dot of light appears at the base of one a couple of miles away. A door has opened. I take Kasabian by the arm and start walking him that way.

      “Listen, when you get to Hell, look up a guy named Belial. He’s one of Lucifer’s generals. Tell him I sent you and ask him for a job. Tell him I said not to send you to the pits.”

      “The pits?” asks Kasabian. “What pits?”

      “When you tell him who sent you, make sure you tell him it was Sandman Slim. And remind him that the Sandman knows where he lives.”

      Kasabian gives me a look.

      “What the fuck is Sandman Slim? It sounds like a Japanese СКАЧАТЬ