The Kill Society (Sandman Slim)(96)

“And you’ve kept me on ice ever since. For how long?”

“We told you: eleven months, two days, and three hours.”

“It’s getting closer to four hours now,” says Sinclair.

Almost a year. I was in the Tenebrae with Raziel and his sick crusade for almost a year. It’s not as bad as eleven years the last time I was Downtown, but it’s bad. It’s long enough that people begin to forget about you and move on with their lives.

Bad enough that coming back could be another kind of Hell. But, if there’s a chance . . .

“I want to see the Room.”

Eva says, “Of course. You’ll notice that we’ve arranged the lights so that there is a nice shadow in the corner near the lilies.”

When I get up this time, I can stand on my own. Eva gets behind me and unties my filthy hospital gown. I’m naked as a baby bird. Sinclair hands me black pants and a shirt. They’re silk. It takes me a while to get them on. My motor skills aren’t quite there yet. When I look down, there’s a pair of black loafers by my feet. If I have to wear loafers forever, then I really am back in Hell.

I put on the shoes and head for the shadow.

“Don’t forget to come back, Mr. Stark. Without our help, your body won’t last more than an hour.”

I don’t look back. I just step into the shadow.

And there I am. The Room. It’s real. It’s cool and clean and I can feel the old sensations of being here. That I’m in the still, silent center of the universe where nothing, not even Mr. Muninn, can get me.

I walk around, trailing my hand over the walls and each door. The thirteenth door is still nailed shut. The others don’t look like they’ve changed at all. I take a few deep breaths, just getting used to the feeling of real air, not Tenebrae or Hellion stink, in my lungs. My heart is racing a hundred miles an hour. I’m actually afraid these Wormwood geniuses brought me back just so I can have a heart attack and die all over again. I lean against the cool stone. Breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. After a few minutes, my heart begins to slow and I can relax. I want to try all of the doors at once, but the one that interests me the most, I’m afraid to open.

I walk to it and grip the ring sealing it shut. One turn of my wrist and it opens. I step through.

It’s night and I’m in Hollywood. On Las Palmas Avenue, just north of Hollywood Boulevard. Across the street is Maximum Overdrive, the video store where I live with Candy and Kasabian. There’s a music practice area in the storage room. Kasabian has a little apartment on the first floor. Candy and I live upstairs.

I want to go across the street and bang on the door, but my feet won’t move. I could go in through a shadow and surprise them, but then I remember something.

Eleven months, two days, and four hours. Dead almost a year, maybe strolling in while they’re having burritos isn’t the best strategy. And Eva said I only have an hour. An hour won’t be enough inside, whether they’re happy to see me or not, but I hope to hell they’d be happy.

Instead of rushing over, I just take it all in. I’m home and it’s real and I don’t have to rush. I can think about it and figure out my best move.

But is that the right thing to do? It’s been almost a year. For the first time in a long time, I’m genuinely, to-the-bone scared. It’s too much. I can’t take it all in.

My heart starts racing again. I rub my chest. It hurts in more ways than one.

What am I fucking doing here? Wormwood is blackmailing me with the one thing they know I want. If I ever said yes to them about anything, I’d never be able to get out. I’d be just like them and deserve Hell more than I ever have before.

That’s it, then. I can stand here and rot or I can go back and tell them no to their faces.

I’m about to step into a shadow by a scraggly palm tree when the front door to Max Overdrive opens and Candy walks out. She’s with Allegra and Brigitte. They talk for a minute. Laugh. It’s simple and normal. A dumb little snapshot of friends going out, probably heading to Bamboo House of Dolls for a drink. I’m jealous and afraid and I want to run over to her and let her know I’m alive. But only for one more hour.

A cloud that was blocking the moon moves and the street lights up. Candy turns in my direction and for a second I think she sees me, but she’s just watching a moth dive-bombing a streetlamp.

I can see her face, but there’s not a goddamn thing I can do about it.

I walk into the palm tree’s shadow and out again into Eva Sandoval’s house. All six of Wormwood’s finest gasp when they see me.

Eva says, “That’s quite a startling trick, Mr. Stark.”

She’s holding a drink in her hand. I take it and gulp it down. It’s bourbon. Very good stuff. It burns just right.

“My name isn’t Mister Stark. It’s just Stark.

“And you’ve got yourself a deal.”





Acknowledgments




Thanks to my agent, Ginger Clark, and my editor, David Pomerico. Thanks also to Pamela Spengler-Jaffe, Jennifer Brehl, Caroline

Perny, Shawn Nicholls, Angela Craft, Priyanka Krishnan, Owen Corrigan, and the rest of the team at Harper Voyager. Thanks

also to Jonathan Lyons, Sarah Perillo, Holly Frederick, Nicholas J.L. Beudert, and Tess Callero. Thanks also to Genie Casillas