Killing Pretty. Richard Kadrey

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СКАЧАТЬ do you figure you can get away with the Father Christmas thing?”

      Carlos adjusts a piece of holly on a coconut carved like a monkey’s head.

      “As long as I want. My bar. My rules. Maybe I’ll do it all year-­round. Crank up the a/c. Rent customers scarves and gloves. It’ll be the holidays twenty-­four/seven.”

      “I think you shouldn’t put so much acid in your eggnog.”

      He raises his eyebrows and points at me.

      “That could be the house drink. ‘El Santo Loco.’ ”

      “You and Kasabian, always looking for new business plans.”

      “That reminds me. You get anything good over the holidays?”

      “Maria is supposed to be coming by today with something. A western.”

      “Cool. I’ll stop by.”

      I’m not sure I want visitors. Not with the strange guy asleep in the storage room.

      “Don’t worry about it. If it’s any good, I’ll burn you a copy and bring it by.”

      “De nada,” says Carlos and clears away some empty glasses. He slides a shot of Aqua Regia across the bar to me.

      “Can I have some black coffee instead?”

      He looks at me, surprised.

      “A New Year’s resolution?”

      He goes to the pot and pours me some coffee. Brings it back to the bar.

      I say, “I don’t know. Just after all the shit that went down at Christmas, I thought I’d start off the new year with a clear head.”

      “So, you’re a teetotaler now?”

      I reach in my pocket and pull out the flask. Carlos nods approvingly.

      “Thank you, Papa Noel. For a minute I thought we’d lost you to the angels.”

      “Not much chance of that.”

      Carlos leans over and looks past me.

      “I believe you’re being summoned.”

      I turn and spot Julie Sola at a table in the back corner of the place. I guess she’s sort of my boss now at the PI firm she started when she quit the Golden Vigil. I nod to her and look back at Carlos.

      “You don’t mind us using your place for an office?”

      “It’s fine with me, but when I turn the place into Christmas all year-round, you’ll have to pay for your mittens just like anybody else.”

      “Always a new business plan. Talk to you later.”

      “Adios.”

      I take my coffee and head over to where Julie is sitting. There are papers scattered on the table. Photocopies of newspaper articles and printouts of what look like police reports and hospital records. How the hell did she get those? She used to be a U.S. marshal and it looks like she’s still got some of those connections.

      She smiles and moves some of the papers out of my way so I can set down my cup.

      “Afternoon,” she says. “How are you today?”

      “I just went three rounds with an angel Ebenezer Scrooge. Do you know any cheap ways to get spray paint off glass?”

      “Turpentine? Acetone?”

      “No. Those cost money.”

      She glances at the coffee in front of me like she’s wondering how much of it is whiskey.

      “I thought you could do magic,” she says. “Can’t you just wave a wand and make it disappear?”

      “First off, only hillbillies and Harry Potter use wands anymore. Second, I mostly know Hellion magic. Melting faces and killing things. If I try hoodoo at home I’m afraid I’ll just blow out the windows.”

      “You really can’t afford paint remover?”

      I sip my coffee.

      “We have a little money, just not enough to blow on luxuries like cleaning products and food.”

      “You know, you could have asked me for an advance on your salary.”

      ­“People do that?”

      “Normal ­people, all the time. I’ll write you a check right now. Will five hundred dollars do?”

      “It would do great, but you know I’m legally dead, right? I don’t have a bank account, a passport, or a library card.”

      Julie puts down her pen. I can tell she’s rethinking the wisdom of offering me a job.

      “Fine, man of mystery. I’ll bring you some cash tomorrow.”

      “Appreciate it. I was one day from hanging around with one of those signs. You know, ‘Will Save the World for Food.’ ”

      “Panhandling is illegal. I saved you from a life of crime.”

      “Yeah. I wouldn’t want to get a bad reputation or anything.”

      Here I am again, scrambling for pocket change. Getting screwed out of half a million dollars by the Golden Vigil has left me a little touchy about money. I’m lucky Julie offered me a job. I owe her a lot, more than Candy—­Chihiro—­and I can ever repay.

      “So, how’s our guest?” says Julie.

      “Our guest? You mean the bum in my storage room? He’s still asleep.”

      She frowns.

      “Is that good? Maybe we should take him to a doctor.”

      “And tell him what when he sees the guy’s heart is gone, but he’s still alive?”

      “Touché. So what do you think we should do?”

      “I had Allegra and Vidocq patch him up, but he is Death. Give him a ­couple of more days. If he doesn’t come around, we’ll figure out a plan B.”

      “I thought Death would be better at, well . . .”

      She shrugs. I pick up my coffee.

      “Being dead? Look, we don’t even know if he is who he says he is. He could be a lunatic angel gone off his meds, or some mad scientist’s Christmas present gone wrong. The real point is, I don’t like him and I want him out of my place as soon as possible.”

      Julie ignores the remark and picks through some of the printouts on the table.

      “You’re the magic man, so you’re in charge of him for the time being. But there’s something СКАЧАТЬ