The Kill Society (Sandman Slim)(92)

“Just tell me one thing. If I fuck this up, can you get the amber knife and kill these pricks?”

“With great pleasure.”

I shake his hand and go to Alice.

“You brought up a lot of old feelings in me.”

“You did that to me, too.”

“Heaven with you is very tempting.”

“But L.A. with Candy is more,” she says.

“Yeah.”

“But you can’t go back.”

“If I stayed here, she’s all I’d think about. I’d be useless to you and everyone else. That’s not Heaven for anyone.”

“You choose now to stop being an asshole? You have terrible timing.”

“Whatever happens with these guys, it was worth it to see you again. I hope you know that.”

“I do.”

I kiss her on the cheek and get up wondering if I’m the dumbest guy to ever reach the pearly gates. But when I close my eyes, it’s Candy’s face I see.

“I’m sorry I let you down,” I whisper. “I told you I’d never leave you alone or go back to Hell without you and I blew it. Whatever you’re doing, I hope you’re happy and keeping Kasabian in line. I’d come back to you if I could, but I can’t and that’s okay. I’m not pushing your memory away again. If you’re the last thing I see before I go to Tartarus or whatever happens to the dead up here, I’ll go out happy thinking about you playing your guitar worse than anybody in California. It was fun being monsters together. I just wish it could have lasted longer.”

Michael says, “As I drove the serpent from Eden, so shall I kill you today, Abomination.”

I rub my hands on my coat to make sure they’re dry.

“Was that you with Adam and Eve? That was a dick move shoving a couple of naked morons into the wilderness. I bet you come to Earth just to trip blind people.”

He manifests his Gladius. I take out the amber knife.

He frowns.

“Are you going to fight me with a stick?”

“It’s very pointy. It’ll really leave a mark.”

“No tricks,” he says.

“No tricks. Just me and my stick.”

He doesn’t say anything because a second later he’s in the air, coming down like a falling star.

I need to time this just right. No more fuck-ups or half-assing it. I’m going to get one, maybe two shots at this, tops.

I really don’t want to lose to this guy. I’d rather work the reggae bar with ganja-head white-boy nitwits than let Mr. Universe get his smug way.

Michael closes in fast.

I bend my knees, dropping my weight back.

See you around, Candy. Stay sweet.

When he’s just a few feet away, I let my legs go and roll, so I drop down on my back.

Damn, but archangels are fast.

I get the amber knife up exactly where I want it, but he rakes his Gladius across my chest. My vision goes black for a moment from the pain. When I can see again, I’m very pissed off.

Even though I got Michael square in the chest with the amber knife, he’s standing nearby fresh as a fucking daisy. There isn’t even a mark on his armor.

When he sees me staring, he checks himself. Nope. Not even a skinned knee. He points at my hand.

“What exactly is that?”

He looks over at Samael.

“Did you give this buffoon your blade?”

Samael shrugs.

“Father isn’t going to be very happy with you.”

“He seldom is. But at least I’m not boring.”

“And I am?”

“No. Of course not. You’re terribly interesting. Read any good books lately?”

“I’ll deal with you later.”

He turns back to me.

“Didn’t we just agree to no tricks?”

“It’s not a trick. It’s a knife.”

“And no technicalities either.”

“What technicalities? You have a fucking sword. And you can fly. I have a knife. What’s your problem?”

“My problem is that that isn’t an ordinary knife. You’re part of a conspiracy with Death. That’s my problem, trickster.”

“I’m supposed to fight you with a sharpened Popsicle stick? You have the best sword you can, I have the best knife I can. Calm down and let’s fight.”

“Have it your way. But when you’re dead, I’m killing all your friends myself.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For this whole thing we’re doing right now. Between Hesediel, Alice, and Vehuel, I’d forgotten for a minute how much I hate angels. You’re a billboard for everything wrong with your kind.”

“Aren’t you wondering why I’m not dead?” Michael says.

“Yeah. I am actually.”

He slaps his fist against his chest.

“This isn’t angelic armor. If you had any brains at all, you would have recognized it. It’s Father’s armor from the first war. And it’s immune to Death’s touch.”

Samael says, “To be fair, I didn’t recognize it either. It isn’t filled out. You simply don’t have the physique for it.”

“Now I’m going to kill you, too.”