The Kill Society (Sandman Slim)(93)

“I said you were boring.”

While the two brothers bicker I rummage around in my foggy brain trying to come up with any way I can get the knife close enough to Michael to slip around his armor. The problem is that he’s right. Aside from being deathproof, the armor covers every square inch of his body except his face. What are the chances of him letting me get close enough to poke my chopstick up his nose?

That’s it, then. I have nothing. All I can do is play for time and try to give everybody a few more minutes of life. Even if I can return the knife to Samael, he can’t get through the armor any more than I can. Sorry, everybody. I blew it again.

Sorry, Candy. At least this is the last time I’ll ever disappoint you.

I lower my center of gravity and move into a fighting stance. I look ridiculous with my useless knife sticking out like the antenna on a thirty-year-old cell phone.

Michael manifests his Gladius and runs at me. I stand my ground hoping to get in a shot at his face. When he’s a few feet away, he lets the Gladius go out. I thrust the knife at his eye, but miss by a mile. Instead of finishing me, Michael pulls back a big armored fist and punches me over my chest wound.

I think I must have blacked out for a second from the force of the blow because when I look around, I realize I’m floating in limbo.

This is going to be a humiliating way to die. There’s no gravity and nothing to grab on to. I pump my arms and legs trying to get some traction, but nothing happens. I know that everybody by Heaven’s gates can see me. That’s going to be their last memory of Sandman Slim: him flailing away like a bloated tick trying to roll himself off his back.

I don’t know what the hell Michael does next, but a moment later I’m rocketing back to the golden gates. The Colt slips out of my waistband and tumbles into empty space. Big deal. A lot that would have helped against an archangel. I feel around my boots and coat. The na’at is long gone and now the gun. All I have is Doris’s butcher knife and the amber blade. The only other thing I find is the pinkie-size piece of the Light Killer in my pocket. I don’t think he’s going to let me shove that through his face either, so I do the only thing I can think of. I eat it.

A second later I’m back at the gates and Michael is holding me off the ground by the front of my shirt.

“We can’t keep meeting like this,” I say. “People will talk.”

Michael looks back at his troops.

“Am I done here? Should I just kill him and finally rid creation of the Abomination?”

Lots of cheers and hoots from the cheap seats. I blow them a kiss.

Michael manifests his Gladius.

“Wait. I should do this so Alice can see.”

He turns and I wave to her.

“Hi. Can you see me all right?”

She nods.

“Good.”

I purse my lips and spit in Michael’s face.

He wipes it off.

“You filth,” he says. “You spawn of corruption. You living defilement of all that is holy.”

I spit again. It’s a nice solid quantity, too, and it hits him right in the eye.

This time he drops me. He screams. His hands go to his face, tearing at his eye. It’s turning red and starting to bleed.

“What have you done to me?”

“I gave you the sword, just like you wanted. Well, a bunch of little pieces of it. It tasted bad. Looks like it feels bad, too.”

He’s down on his hands and knees now. I lean over so I can see his face. He’s pale and sweating. I kick him upright. Then jam the amber knife into his bleeding eye and pull it out again.

It’s messy and bloody, but honestly, I’m feeling pretty good about myself. I think about how I’m going to buy myself a drink and maybe not work in the reggae bar after all.

But this is an archangel and I’m a moron.

Even as Michael starts to fade and die, he manifests his Gladius. And shoves it right through my heart.

The fire is so intense that I don’t even feel it. I just get very cold because for the second time in not all that long, I am no-shit dying. I have just enough time and strength to throw the amber knife to Samael. He drops the bundle and he and Alice run straight at Michael’s troops. I wish I could stick around and see how it comes out, but Michael is going and so am I and that’s how the song ends.

So long, dog pack. See you around, Traven.

I’m sorry I disappointed you again, Alice. Some days it seems like the thing I’m best at.

Thanks for the laughs, Samael. Now do what you do best with angels. If they move, kill ’em.

I don’t say good-bye to Candy this time. I already did that. I just hold her face in my mind as I fade away. And it’s okay.



I’m in the dark for a million years. Or maybe just a second. I don’t wear a watch, so I’m just guessing.

Then there’s light. It’s so bright it’s like a knife through my brain. Then my chest spasms and I cough. It’s not pretty. Garbage comes up from my lungs. The more I cough, the more my eyes water. The more my eyes water, the more my nose runs. I’m blind and in pain and probably a disgusting mess—nothing new there. But I can’t stop. Wherever I am, whatever is happening, it goes on for a long time.

When I can finally catch my breath and my eyes stop watering, someone hands me a towel.

I must look like a wino who just won the Most Bodily Fluids Leaked in One Sitting prize.