Authors: Richard Kadrey
Killing Pretty (40 page)
“Tell us what?” says Brigitte.
“Stark is respectable too, whether he likes it or not,” says Candy. “He's going to work for Thomas Abbot.”
“It's not like I'm going to be shining his shoes. I'll just be on the Sub Rosa advisory council.”
“Congratulations,” says Vidocq.
He and Allegra hug me. Brigitte does too, but laughs while she does it.
“Oh, Jimmy, don't become too housebroken.”
“I don't think that's going to be a problem,” Candy says. “He used my computer to find Audsley Isshii's license plate and drove his car off a pier.”
“He's insured, so fuck him.”
A few of our regular customers come by. Courtney, the Lyph, and her boyfriend. Cindil and Fairuza arrive together. Turns out that Cindil is apprenticing to Allegra at the clinic. Manimal Mike, the Tick Tock Man, pulls me aside and slips me something. I thank him and put it in my pocket.
I watch Candy talking excitedly with Fairuza about getting their band back together. Technically it will be a new band. Candy is gone, so it will be Chihiro on guitar. She pulls Cindil over.
“Can you play bass?” she says.
“No. I used to play clarinet in the school band.”
“Perfect. We only know three chords. You're our new bass player.”
“Cool,” says Cindil.
I go outside with a cigarette and an Aqua Regia.
Guess this is how things are going to be for a while. Me stuck in the dirt not shadow walking and Candy pretending to be someone else. We can handle it. Other Âpeople deal with worse, right? And as long as Wormwood doesn't get directly in my face, I can handle that too. Besides, maybe me and the Augur together can do something about them. I know I'm lying to myself, of course. Things like Wormwood don't go away. With their wealth and power they're dug too deep into L.A.'s hide. Maybe going respectable is my one way of beating them. If you can't murder them your only option might be to bore them to death. Maybe I'll get a car after all. A used brown Volvo. Let them try to figure that one out.
Samael comes in around seven. He has a flunky with him, carrying a chilled bottle of champagne in a silver ice bucket. The flunky leaves it on the front counter and excuses himself. I don't bother looking at the bottle's label. I won't recognize the name and Samael will probably tell me how he snatched it from the pope's private reserve.
He pours us each a glass and we head outside, where it's quieter.
“You look a lot better than the last time we saw each other.”
“Yeah. I'm about back together.”
“The tailor was able to save my suit, so all you owe me is the cleaning bill.”
“Good. Send it to me.”
“It might be a bit more than you're expecting.”
“I'd be disappointed if it wasn't.”
I try the champagne. It's not my favorite poison, but this stuff is better than most I've had.
“You heard?” I say. “People are dying again.”
“Of course.”
“You know who's responsible?”
“Sadly, yes.”
“It's you, isn't it?”
He nods, stares into his drink.
“Father appointed me a few days ago. He says I should consider it a great honor to be the Angel of Death. I don't know. I'm not used to being in the same guise, doing the same thing day after day.”
“Wait. If you're Death, how can you be here? Shouldn't you be off collecting souls?”
“I am. Death, like Santa Claus, can be many places at once. Me, I'm here with you. I'm also in Detroit, Nairobi, Vienna, Buenos Aires. Everywhere.”
“Doesn't that get a little confusing?”
“It takes some getting used to, yes. I was constantly dizzy for the first Âcouple of days. But it's getting better.”
“Well, I'm sure you'll do a bang-Âup job.”
“What about you? You're almost as acquainted with Death as I am. Would you like the job? It's a great honor. You're loved and feared around the world.”
“Thanks. I'll pass. Besides, I already have a new job.”
“How about one of your friends? The Frenchman seems like a smart fellow. How do you think he would do?”
“No. No one I know wants the job. We're all irresponsible and we all drink too much.”
“I wish I could still drink too much.”
“Since you've got the inside story, let me ask you something. One of my friends was stupid enough to get a wild-Âblue-Âyonder contract. What's going to happen to her now?”
“May I have one of your cigarettes?” he says.
I hand him a Malediction and light it for him. He blows out a long, satisfied stream of smoke.
“What about Brigitte?” I say.
“Don't worry about lovely Ms. Bardo. When the two previous Deaths died, all blue-Âyonder contracts became null and void. She's like the rest of you now. Someday she'll see me again and we'll take a final walk together.”
“What about Tykho? Is she on the menu?”
“Tykho. Yes. She is a special case, isn't she? Maybe I should pay her a visit while I'm here. Let her know there's a new sheriff in town.”
“Take me along if you do.”
He takes another puff of the cigarette.
“No. I won't be seeing her on this trip. But she's on my naughty list.”
He looks over my shoulder into the store.
“What's that music? It's lovely.”
“It's Martin Denny. Carlos can tell you more than you ever wanted to know about him. I'll introduce you.”
“Please do.”
“But don't tell him you're an angel, especially not the Angel of Death. I don't have that many friends. I need to keep them all.”
“Of course.”
I go inside. Candy has her red Danelectro guitar out and is showing it to Cindil. They're plotting how to get her a bass cheap.
Candy spots me across the room and I signal for her to come over. She hands the guitar to Fairuza and heads over my way.
“Cool party, huh?” she says.
“The coolest. I have something for you.”
“Yeah? Gimme. I'm drunk and going to get drunker, so show me now while I can see straight.”
I take out a dirty handkerchief and hand it to her.
She gives me a funny, what-Âthe-Âfuck look.
“This is a heavy hanky.”
“Open it.”
She smiles the moment she sees the brass knuckles with hearts on the tip of each finger loop. Slips them on and play-Âpunches me in the jaw. Then kisses me on the spot where she clocked me.
“Thank you! Where did you get them?”
“Manimal Mike did them. He melted down the Nazi knuckles and made these. I figured it was good revenge on the fuckers.”
“What every fashionable lady needs,” she says. “I love them.”
“Good. That's what they're for.”
“Come on. Let's show them around.”
She pulls me with her and starts pretend cold-Âcocking everybody in the room. I really should have given them to her when we were alone. She's going to be doing this all night.
When she tries it on Samael, he catches her fist. They smile at each other. A Âcouple of killers on the prowl. He lets her loose and looks over the new knuckles. Gives her an approving nod.
“They suit you.”
“Damn right they do,” she says, glancing around for more Âpeople to punch.
Samael looks at me.
“You once told me about a place called the Museum of Death.”
“Yeah. It's a little ways down on Hollywood Boulevard.”
“You fancy a wander through? I thought with my new job, I might as well do some homework while I'm in town.”
“Yes!” says Candy. “They're still open. Let's go right now.”
Samael cocks an eyebrow.
“My car is right outside.”
“Can I ask a few more Âpeople?”
“Whomever you like. It's my treat.”
I grab Vidocq, Allegra, and Brigitte. Take them to the waiting limo and we head out, riding with Death to one of the few places he's never been. A museum dedicated to him. It's not how I expected to spend our first night back in the store, but that's okay. What's life without a few surprises along the way? It's death, and we're not having any of that tonight.
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New York Times
bestselling author Richard Kadrey has published ten novels, including
Sandman Slim, Kill the Dead, Aloha from Hell, Devil Said Bang, Kill City Blues, The Getaway God, Butcher Bird,
and
Metrophage,
and more than fifty stories. He has been immortalized as an action figure and his novel
Butcher Bird
was nominated for the Prix Elbakin in France. The bestselling and acclaimed writer and photographer lives in San Francisco, California.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
KILLING PRETTY.
Copyright © 2015 by Richard Kadrey. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST EDITION
ISBN 978-Â0-Â06-Â237310-Â6
EPub Edition JULY 2015 ISBN: 9780062373243
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