Richard Kadrey - Hollywood Dead

I stop.

“No one is going to bother you.”

“You’re so sure I’ll make it through the night?”

“You’ll be fine. But don’t try to leave. I’m putting some wards on the door. The idiots upstairs will be able to bring you food and things, but if you try to go …”

“Then I’ll die.”

I carve some runes in the door frame with her punch dagger.

“No. But you’ll get knocked out by a jolt like a cattle prod up your ass.”

“No fair. I didn’t get anywhere near your ass.”

“I never play fair. That’s how I got out of Hell.”

“Good night, Sandman Slim.”

“Good night, Marcella.”

I finish carving the wards and go upstairs. I tell the roaches what to bring her. None of them will get near me in my bloody butcher suit, so I’m reasonably sure they’re listening to my orders.

When I’m in my room, I lock the door and strip off every piece of clothing. Some of the blood has dried. Bits of it flake off and land in the carpet. Somehow, I don’t think anyone is going to be using this room for a while after I leave.

I toss the clothes on the floor and get in the shower. I stay in there a long time, letting the steam burn the stink of Hell and that van off me.

WHEN I GET out of the shower, I check my side and right wrist. There’s still a deep red slash where the bullet grazed me. My wrist aches and blood still trickles from the edges of the cuts where the plastic cuffs bit into me. My arms and back are covered in bruises. This isn’t right. I should be more healed by now. This half-alive skin suit is second-rate stuff. Until Howard puts me back together again, I’m going to have to be more careful in fights. Though with any luck, tomorrow night is the last time I’ll have to worry about that.

It’s only a little after five, but I’m suddenly very tired. I decide to lie down for an hour and then go check on Marcella.

When I wake up, it’s after dark. I’ve slept three hours. There are streaks of blood on the sheets where my wrist rested. Now when I check it, it’s healed. It’s the same with my side. The red has gone out of the bullet wound and the skin has almost closed. This is good to know. My body takes longer to pull itself together and it uses more energy, so I’ll get tired faster. I need to remember that in case things get hot at the chapel tomorrow.

I get dressed and go down to the bowling alley. I can hear Marcella in the bathroom when I stick my head in. There’s a rollaway bed near the wall and a tray of uneaten food on the seats by the ball return. No problems here. I leave and go back upstairs before she sees me.

When I go into Sandoval’s office it’s just her, Sinclair, and Howard inside. They’re deep in discussion when I come in but quiet right down when they see me.

“Am I interrupting anything?”

Sandoval goes to the bar and pours herself a drink.

“Did you have a nice nap? I hope no one disturbed your beauty sleep.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I didn’t think I was going to sleep that long. It’s this body. It runs down fast.”

She looks at Howard.

“Is he telling the truth, Jonathan? Is there something wrong with his body?”

“There’s nothing wrong,” says Howard. “He’s simply in a liminal state between life and death. Consequently, his system runs a bit slower than normal. But aside from occasional bouts of fatigue, there should be no other impairments.”

“You’re sure? Our lives and holdings are riding on this man,” says Sinclair.

Howard looks at me like I’m a bug under a microscope.

“I understand that you were tortured and overpowered several people today. How did you feel while doing it? Any mental or physical problems?”

I hold up my wrist so that the others can get a good look. It’s healed but scarred and bruised, covered in patches of livid reds and purples. Sandoval and Sinclair frown at the sight.

“No problems at all. It wasn’t until I got back that I turned to jelly.”

He waves a hand at me.

“You see? No problems. He was able to perform his job, return, and is now awake, refreshed, and completely coherent.” He looks at Sandoval. “I know you’re not used to dealing with creatures such as this but trust me, Eva. He is functioning perfectly normally.”

Speaking of normal, I pour myself a drink at Eva’s bar.

“Thanks, Howard. And if you ever call me ‘creature’ again, I’m going to cut off your tongue with bolt cutters.”

Sandoval pats me on the arm.

“Careful, Stark. You want Howard to be your friend on your trip back to the world of the living.”

“Just tell Dr. Frankenstein to watch his language.”

“Of course. I’m sure he understands what a sensitive snowflake you are,” she says.

“What were you and Sinclair gossiping about when I came in?”

She looks over at him.

Sinclair says, “There were two more assassinations. Jared Glanton and Tetsuya Shin.”

“Here in L.A.?”

“No,” says Sandoval. “Jared was in our New York office, Tetsuya in Buenos Aires.”

“And they were the heads of their branches?”

“Yes.”

“Good. At least the pattern is confirmed. Which one of you runs L.A.?”

“That would be me,” says Sandoval.

“Then you’re not going to get a bullet in the head.”

“What makes you say that?” say Sinclair.

“Because they’re going to blow us up, Barron,” Sandoval says.

“Ah. Right.”

She looks at me. “That’s enough of you questioning us. What did you learn from that horrid woman in the basement?”

I glance at Howard, but he’s staring at a painting on the wall and won’t look at me.

“I’ve got good news. The ritual is tomorrow. And I know where and when.”

Eva goes over to Sinclair. They whisper to each other for a minute.

“Are you sure?” he says. “We were told it was the weekend.”

“She might be lying,” Sandoval says.

“She wasn’t. I made sure she knew it wasn’t in her best interest.”

Sandoval holds up a hand.

“Don’t tell me what you did. I don’t want to know.”

“Don’t worry. There were no bolt cutters involved.”

“Not another word.”

Sinclair says, “Where will the ritual take place?”

“At the Chapel of St. Alexis. Exactly at sunset.”

He looks at Sandoval.

“That’s right downtown. We could have a hundred armed associates there by then.”

“That’s a great idea,” I say. “Scare them off so they disappear and reschedule the ritual without us knowing when or where.”

“How do you want to handle it, then?” says Sandoval.

“I’ll take care of it myself. I don’t think there will be many faction people there because the ones who show up are committing suicide.”

“How will you do it?” says Sinclair.

“I’ll know when I see the setup, but I imagine I’ll basically just kill them all and take their stuff. Is that okay with everyone?”

Sandoval says, “It’s fine with me.”

“Me too,” says Sinclair.

Howard just grunts.

“Will you need anything from us?” says Sandoval.

“Body armor would be nice. Until I’m a hundred percent back, I’d like to keep bullets at a pleasant distance. I also need a couple of boxes of nine-millimeter ammo, plus three extended round clips. And bullets for the rifle I took from Marcella’s boys. A hundred rounds of 5.56 × 45 millimeter.”

“I don’t understand,” says Sandoval. “Can’t you simply use magic to kill them all?”

I shake my head.

“I won’t know that until I get there. There could be wards, charms, enchantments. A million little tricks that could slow down my hoodoo. I want to keep my body in one piece and that means being prepared for anything. Besides, sometimes a gun is just quicker.”