The Kill Society (Sandman Slim)(69)

I start on the donuts first and use the Moxie to wash down the rock-hard nuggets. Even stale they’re good, though nothing like the ones at Donut Universe back home.

Donut Universe. I hadn’t thought of it until this moment. One more thing maybe lost forever. If I remember right, there was a donut shop a mile or two from Lucifer’s old palace in Pandemonium. It’s where I found Cindil, my Donut Universe angel who was murdered by some piece-of-shit demons just to piss me off. I got her out of Hell, but never went back to check on the Hellion donut emporium. All right. That’s the first place on my bucket list when I get back. It’s good to have priorities.

Thinking about Cindil, Donut Universe, and L.A., I almost fall into the trap of thinking about home. I try to force the thoughts from my head, and when they won’t go, I take out Doris’s butcher knife and cut my arm lengthwise from the elbow to the wrist. Let the blood flow and the pain sink in. Then I have another donut.

I finish the Moxie and toss the rest of the donuts back into the store. That was a good and useful way to spend my time. How long have I been waiting for Death? How long does it take to eat six stale donuts? Probably not that long. Maybe I should have paced myself. Not only am I sitting alone in the most monotonous place in the entire universe, but I’m full of sugar. Didn’t think that one through.

I get out a Malediction to calm my nerves only to find that I used my last match back in the tunnel. I could use some hoodoo to burn something, but there’s nothing in the circle I can burn except me. I shouldn’t have thrown the donut box away. I could have used that. I can still go get it. I mean, I can see it from where I’m sitting, but I’m new to this saint-meditating-in-the-desert bit and I’m afraid that if I leave the circle it will reset whatever magic clock determines how long I have to wait and I’ll have to start all over again.

In an act of desperation, I put a Malediction on the ground and whisper some hoodoo to see if I can light it.

It explodes like a firecracker.

Yeah. I need to work on those little spells. God knows I have time for it now.

I try shouting at the mountain to see if I get an echo back, but what little voice I had left I used up talking to Alice.

I might have lost everything else, but at least I got to see her again. That’s pretty good. One check mark in the Not Entirely Dismal column. I’m going to have to come up with a lot more of those to even out that column with the Are You Fucking Kidding Me one.

Now how long has it been? Another five minutes? Ten? I shouldn’t have had all that sugar.

After all the time I spent in Hell, I should probably have looked up my parents. I know my father is here. He tried to kill me and Upstairs they’re not big on trying to kill your son. That said, I’m not even sure my mom is down here. Her only sin was being sad and lonely. Okay, she fucked an archangel and gave birth to me. And I’m guessing giving birth to an Abomination might not get you in good with the Heavenly membership committee. Right. Second thing to do when I get back. Look up Mom. She hated being alone, so she’s probably with the refugees at Heaven’s gates. I think about my father some more. Consider letting bygones be bygones and all that crap they tell you in magazines. Hell, I’m knee-deep in angels ready to murder the universe over daddy issues. Maybe it’s time to let mine go.

Still, it might be fun to sneak up behind him and yell “Bang!” just once.

Is Death here yet?

I take a long drink of Aqua Regia. It burns my throat, but not as much as before. Still, it makes me dizzy. Or am I dizzy because I cut myself? I think I lost a lot more blood than I meant to. Oh, man. If I die here and someone finds me, my headstone is going to read here lies sandman slim, he died of donuts and self-pity.

Happy eternity, everybody. Good night and be sure to tip your waitresses.

I jerk my head to the side and come up with a mouthful of dust. I’m not sure, but I think I might have passed out for a while. At least I’m not bleeding anymore.

Man, I want a cigarette.

I try shouting at the mountain again and sound comes out of my mouth. And it didn’t even hurt.

Wait. If my throat’s healed it probably means I really was unconscious for a while. I wonder for how long.

Maybe I should just go back and lie. Tell them that Death said hi and that they should say their prayers and remember to floss. I mean, how would they know I wasn’t telling the truth?

A calm, smooth voice says, “Lies make the baby Jesus cry. Didn’t your mother tell you that? You don’t want to make the baby Jesus cry, do you?”

I look up at Death. He’s every bit as sharp and perfect as when he was Samael.

“Nice suit.”

“I like your coat,” he says, coming around in front of me. “What is that? Basilisk? The cut’s a little dated, but you make it work.”

“Don’t worry. GQ called. The shoot’s off. They don’t use dead models.”

“It depresses the readers.”

“Exactly.”

“I see you cut yourself. Be careful about that kind of thing in the Tenebrae. You don’t want to get an infection out here. They don’t go away.”

“It seemed medically necessary at the time.”

“Like so many of your bad decisions.”

I try standing, but my legs are cramped and stiff. I must have been out for a while.

“Here’s something fun. I’m on a crusade with a psychotic angel and a mob of lost boys and slaves. We’re following the Yellow Brick Road to where God dropped a sword that knocked you and your pals out of Heaven. But why am I even saying it? You knew all of that, didn’t you?”