Читать книгу Kill City Blues - Richard Kadrey - Страница 15

WE COME OUT on the front gates of Hollywood Forever Cemetery. The Hellion version is a train wreck. Open graves. Smashed headstones. Statues and tombs swallowed by flames. It looks like it was looted by the Golden Horde and shit on by King Ghidorah.

I lead her out the front gate, where a block-long street market has set up. It wasn’t here the last time I was Downtown, but a lot of things are probably different now that Mr. Muninn is ringmaster.

We’re noticed immediately. A couple of living beings, one of whom used to be Lucifer, tend to stand out down here.

Candy digs her nails into my hand, but she doesn’t show any actual fear. Hellions are fallen angels. Some of them look almost human. Others are walking, talking nightmares. Like mutant versions of fish, reptiles, or insects, or all three. The crowd in the market is a nice assortment pack of all the different Hellion types.

The chatter and the hawkers’ calls trail off as the crowd turns its rheumy eyes on us. The only sound is the thin Hellion breeze, the sizzle of cooked meat, and grating Hellion music from a windup player. No one moves toward us. What are they seeing? Some version of Lucifer or Sandman Slim with a dangerous Lurker on his arm?

I’m not waiting around to find out. I’ve seen Hellions riot and I don’t need to see it again. Not with Candy here.

I head to a stall where a merchant has mugwump meat turning on a spit. The smell is somewhere between filet mignon and coffin liquor. The fire throws up some nice fat shadows. I pull Candy into one and we go back out through the Room.

My aim is better the second time and we come out in the lobby of Lucifer’s palace. Back inside the Beverly Wilshire for the second time today. This time I’m not accepting any mystery packages from the front desk.

I can see a dozen guards in the lobby. I don’t wait to see if Muninn has posted more. I pull Candy over to Lucifer’s private elevator. Like the crowd in the market, the guards look more confused than anything else.

Candy tugs on my arm.

“Are we going somewhere soon? ’Cause there’s like a hundred guys watching us through the windows.”

She’s right. A mob of the legions guarding the palace is clustered around the lobby windows. This isn’t any time to find out if they’re happy to see their old boss or if they want to flay me alive. I pull Candy to the elevator.

One of the guards all of a sudden grows a pair and yells, “Halt!”

When I look he already has his rifle leveled at us.

I let go of Candy’s hand and turn and face him. Put out my arm and manifest a Gladius, an angelic flaming sword. It’s impressive anywhere, but inside the lobby it’s like the sun reflecting off the skin of a cruise missile.

“Make your move, shit heel. I took Mason Faim’s head and I can take yours.”

He stands there for a minute pointing his gun at me. I know he’s not going to shoot. There’s a window on these things. Someone points a gun at you and doesn’t shoot in the first few seconds, they get thinking about the consequences. And the more they think, the less likely they are to pull the trigger. This clown’s been thinking long enough to whistle the long version of “Layla.”

He looks around at his Hellion buddies. None of them have their guns up. Why should they? That’s Lucifer upstairs, king high prick himself. If he can’t handle Sandman Slim with a chick civilian in tow, then what the hell good is he?

I touch a brass plate on the wall and the elevator doors slide open. The guards stand and stare. Touch the plate inside the elevator and the doors close and we start up.

“So far Hell is a barrel of monkeys,” says Candy.

“You ought to come on Halloween. Everyone dresses up like The Brady Bunch. Seriously. The show is huge down here.”

Her heart isn’t just beating fast, it’s trying to pound its way out of her chest and hop a plane to Bora Bora.

“You couldn’t have walked us into Lucifer’s living room or something?” she says.

“That would be rude. I stuck the guy here, I have to show him a little respect.”

She takes a couple of deep breaths.

“Sorry. I thought I was more ready for this. I’ve seen some crazy Lurker stuff, but …”

“But not a whole world of it? Don’t feel bad. No one’s prepared for this dump.”

“So this is where Sandman Slim comes from.”

“Yep.”

“You killed a lot of those guys down here.”

“Don’t be sexist. There are women Hellions too. And I killed pretty much everything down here at one time or other. And when I wasn’t doing it in the arena, Azazel, my old slave master, was sending me out to kill anyone on his shit list. Until I killed him.”

“The monster who kills monsters.”

“That’s my name. Don’t wear it out.” Then, “Nothing’s going to happen to you. I promise.”

“I believe you.”

She lets go of my hand and loops her arm in mine. We must look funny and weirdly formal when the doors open, like kids dressing up in their parents’ clothes.

“James, so good to see you,” says Mr. Muninn.

I’m not sure he means it, but he gives me a quick hug, something he’s never done before. He must really be smarting to see someone besides neurotic Hellions. Now I feel bad I didn’t come down sooner.

Mr. Muninn is entirely black. Like squid-ink black. He’s also as round as a beach ball. He’s dressed in a long brocade robe woven with a subtle fire pattern. Under it glitters Lucifer’s battle armor, the ultimate symbol of power down here. It lets everyone know who’s in charge. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to call him Lucifer or what, so I just take a shot.

“Nice to see you too, Mr. Muninn.”

He smiles. He’s already tired of being called Lucifer and all the thousand toadying variations you get with the penthouse. I know how he feels.

“You’ve brought a friend,” he says.

Muninn looks a little bemused, like I’m a neighbor kid who brought a stray cougar cub into the living room. Is that how Muninn sees Candy? I hadn’t thought about how he might react to a Jade. Maybe I’m overthinking it. I’ve dragged a civilian down with me into the worst place in existence and he probably doesn’t approve.

“Mr. Muninn, this is my friend Candy.”

“Very nice to meet you. I see you’re like our friend James here, with his penchant for a single name.”

“Yeah,” she says. “For the longest time all I knew was Stark. It must have taken him six months to tell me the James part.”

“Well, I still don’t know your last name,” I say.

She shrugs.

“As far as I know, I don’t have one. When I have to use one I usually just go with Jade.”

“Candy Jade. It sounds like one of your cartoon characters.”

“Sandman Slim sounds like grout cleaner.”

Muninn puts out his hand.

“Welcome to my humble home, Candy.”

She shakes, but her arm tightens around mine. She’s scared, like she’s afraid she’ll burst into flames if she touches him. But she’s brave and does it anyway. No flames. No explosions. Not even smoke.

“Was it smart to bring someone more innocent than you or I to this place?”

“I introduced her to Samael and she survived. She knows about me, so she was twisting my arm to meet the new Lucifer.”

Muninn says, “I wish I could meet a new Lucifer too. I don’t suppose you want the job back.”

“I’m afraid not.”

Muninn sighs and waves us to a sitting area.

The place isn’t anything like the penthouse when I lived here. I never bothered fixing it up. I left all of the anonymously expensive hotel furniture right where it was. Now the place looks like a museum. Back in L.A., Muninn lived in an underground cavern full of art, machines, toys, food, and geegaws from every civilization since the last ice age. It looks like he’s moved half of it down here.

Candy and I sit on a solid-gold love seat with tentacles for armrests and shaggy horsehide cushions. From the look of the thing it’s probably nestled the rear end of at least a couple of emperors. Muninn drops into a vintage La-Z-Boy recliner, but he keeps it upright for his guests.

“That’s not quite the look I was expecting for the new Devil,” I say.

Muninn glances across the room.

“I have a throne around here somewhere. A piece that’s even grander than the seat you’re on now. I wish I could greet all my guests in this chair. The throne plays hell with my back, no pun intended.”

“Sorry again about sticking you down here, but I had stuff I needed to get back to in the world.”

Out of the corner of my eye I catch Candy’s lips flicker into a brief smile.

“I understand. I should never have let Samael play his little trick and force you into taking his place. I created Hell, which makes me responsible for its well-being.”

Candy looks puzzled, and then lets it go.

I say, “So how’s it going down here?”

Muninn leans back into the chair.

“Better than it was,” he says.

“Better than when I ran it.”

“Oh my, yes. I’m rebuilding much faster than you were and it seems to have raised everyone’s spirits.”

“You know I had to drag my feet, right? I had to keep these Hellion bastards running around making plans so they were too busy to get together and kill me.”

“I understand completely. But it didn’t help the psyches of those who had to live here.”

“That’s why I wanted you to take over. I knew you could make things right and hold off the wolves too.”

Muninn looks at Candy.

“And what do you think, young lady? Did James’s hundred days as Lucifer improve his disposition?”

“Sure. He’s a pussycat now. Of course, I kicked his ass when he got home, so maybe it was that. Why don’t you ask him?”

“Why don’t you not?” I say. “Have you heard anything about Aelita or the 8 Ball?”

He shifts in his chair, trying to ease his back.

“Aelita still has confederates in Hell and she tried to use them to hide the Qomrama here. General Semyazah and I persuaded her that that was a bad idea.”

“I wonder if she took it to Heaven?”

“I doubt it. Aelita has as many enemies as allies there. Heaven isn’t a safe place for her.”

“If she can’t hide the 8 Ball in Heaven or Hell …”

“Then it’s still on earth,” says Candy.

“That’s a relief. I got stuck with the fake Qomrama earlier today and was starting to think I’d wasted the last month chasing my tail.”

“No. You are right to keep looking there,” says Muninn.

“How do you know she didn’t hide it in Antarctica or the bottom of the ocean?” says Candy.

Muninn says, “It’s my understanding that soon after getting the Qomrama, Aelita was pursued by a contingent of loyal angels from Heaven, so she had to hide it quickly. I suspect it’s still somewhere in Los Angeles.”

Candy shakes her head.

“Why doesn’t God just kill the bitch?” she says.

Muninn settles back in the chair and looks at me.

“Candy, remember how Mr. Muninn said that he was responsible for Hell because he made it?”

“Yes.”

“Lucifer didn’t make Hell. God did.”

“Yeah. I thought that sounded funny.”

“It makes more sense when you know that before he was Lucifer, Mr. Muninn was God.”

Candy looks at me to see if I’m joking. Then she looks at Muninn.

“I’m afraid he’s telling the truth,” Muninn says. “And the reason I don’t, as you said, kill the bitch is I can’t.”

“Why not?”

I say, “He’s not as strong as he used to be. See, God isn’t exactly God anymore. He had sort of a nervous breakdown. Instead of one big God, there’s five little ones.”

“Four,” says Muninn. “Aelita has already killed Neshamah.”

“Word is your brother Ruach is tearing it up in Heaven.”

Muninn unconsciously squeezes the easy chair’s arms.

“Yes. You see, Ruach is the oldest brother. The oldest fragment. He covets the power the rest of us have. He’s a little mad, I think.”

“Was he always that way?”

“He was always a bit fragile. Then my brother Nefesh did what he did.”

“What does he do?” says Candy.

“Our quarrels became more and more violent. Finally Ruach flew into a rage. He demanded that the rest of us relinquish our powers or he would kill us all. When we wouldn’t he attacked us. Nefesh was the one who finally stopped him, in much the way I cast the first Lucifer out of Heaven.”

“With a thunderbolt.”

“Yes. It left Ruach blind and partially deaf. His anger and fear of us grew to the point where the rest of us knew we couldn’t stay.”

Candy says, “So there’s a God in Heaven, only he’s just a little piece. And there’s other pieces of God running around. And you’re a piece of God and Lucifer at the same time.”

“In a nutshell,” says Mr. Muninn.

Candy pats my arm in mock sympathy.

“Now I understand why you are the way you are. The universe is a lot more fucked up than I ever imagined.”

“Can your brothers help?” I say. “Where are they?”

Muninn waves a hand at the window.

“Here. There. Anywhere. I haven’t talked to them in a long time.”

“Okay. So, anything new with Merihim and Deumos? Are they at war yet?”

Merihim is a big wheel in the old official Hellion church. Hell’s Vatican. Strictly an old-boys club. No girls allowed. Deumos and her sister Hellions had a little problem with that. They started their own church, worshipping a kind of goddess that’s supposed to be the new post-God deity. A fairy godmother to kiss all the scraped knees and make everything all right again. One of the last things I did when I was Lucifer was give the women their own church. After I left, Merihim and his crew burned it down. What are little boys made of? Snips and snails and rotten little assholes that don’t want to share their toys.

“Not quite at war but far from peace. Deumos and many of the other sisters have gone into hiding,” says Muninn. “You might be amused to know that Medea Bava went into hiding with them.”

Medea Bava was the Sub Rosa’s Inquisition. Their ultimate enforcer. The lone-wolf cop who handed out life sentences in a little place called Tartarus, the Hell below Hell, where souls were burned to stoke the celestial furnaces. It was a place no one ever escaped from. Only I escaped and I took all the other lunatics in the asylum out with me. After that, Medea disappeared. I hate her almost as much as Aelita.

Muninn sighs.

“She lost faith in me—the God part, at least—when you destroyed Tartarus, so she joined Deumos and the sisters. Another voice lost in the wilderness.”

“Fuck Medea. She’s not a voice anyone needs in their head, especially you. She’s as crazy as Aelita. Deumos is the only one of the bunch who’s sane, and she’s completely deluded. And Merihim is just a power-hungry prick. He’s long overdue for a hard fall down a long flight of stairs, if you get my drift.”

“I’m afraid I do.”

“I don’t know how he did it, but Merihim used to crank-call me in L.A. after I left here.”

“He was upset with how you left things.”

“Cry me a river, pal,” I say. “Isn’t there something you can do to get Merihim and the church under control and off Deumos’s back?”

“That would be taking sides.”

“Fine. Then stop them both and make them play nice.”

He looks around, uncomfortable. Slams his fist down on the arm of the chair.

“It’s not that simple,” Muninn shouts.

It’s the first time I’ve heard him raise his voice about anything.

“You never understood how being a ruler works, James. And you have no idea what a deity is. You want me to make myself known and manifest to humankind. Do you really think that would solve anything? Or would it make things worse? You, like Samael, want total free will for the angels.”

Muninn sweeps his arms out to the broken landscape of Hell.

“Behold. That is what angelic free will looks like.”

“That’s not fair. You took the worst of the worst, the losers and the rat-fuck crazies, and locked them at the shit-pit bottom of the universe. There was no way they were ever going to build anything but this.”

“That’s also Samael’s argument. You two are so much alike.”

“I’m not anything like Samael.”

Muninn leans forward in his chair.

“Really? Does that wound in your side hurt?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Of course it is.”

He looks at Candy.

“Samael walked around for millennia bleeding from a wound I gave him during the first Heavenly war. All he ever had to do was ask and I would have healed him.”

Candy gives me a look.

“That does sound familiar.”

“Samael and I aren’t anything alike.”

Muninn looks at Candy.

“He’ll bleed with that bullet in him until the end of time before he’ll ask for help.”

“What if I ask?” Candy says.

Muninn raises his eyebrows.

“Ah. Here’s someone unburdened by the sin of pride.”

“Don’t you dare,” I say to Candy.

“Too late,” says Muninn. “Here.”

He puts something in my hand. The bullet.

Candy leans over to look at it.

“And what do we say when someone magically heals us?”

“I didn’t ask him to.”

She smiles at Muninn.

“He says, ‘Thank you very much, Mr. Muninn.’”

“I hope you’ll forgive me for snatching away your martyrdom, James,” Muninn says.

“That’s okay. You I can forgive but the idiot who put it in there and whoever he works for I don’t. Or his bastard brother.”

“Will you be seeing Wild Bill while you’re here?”

“Next visit. When I’m not on the clock.”

Candy holds out her hand.

“Can I have the bullet?”

“What, are you a crow all of a sudden? You want all the shiny things.”

“I wanted the money clip because it was pretty. I want the bullet because you’re going to conveniently lose it somewhere and I want to keep it.”

“What for?”

“Who knows? Maybe when you get shot again I’ll make you cuff links.”

“For all the times I wear dress shirts.”

Dress shirts. Clothes. The bullet in my gut. I almost forgot the whole reason I came down here in the first place.

“Mr. Muninn, I’m looking for a new damned soul. His name is Trevor Moseley. Is there any way I can find him?”

“You say he’s new down here?”

Muninn shakes his head.

“I’m afraid our intake procedures aren’t what they should be. Why do you want to speak to him?”

“I want to know why he was so happy to walk in front of a bus.”

“That is unusual. I can put out a notice for him and let you know when he pops up on my radar.”

“Thanks. I’d appreciate it. We should go. We’ve taken up enough of your time.”

Muninn gets up.

“I’m sorry I raised my voice.”

“Don’t apologize. I probably deserved it.”

“You did,” says Candy.

“Feel free to come or go through any of the shadows in here,” says Muninn. “I don’t think you’ll be wanting to take the long way next time.”

“Not even a little. See you around, Mr. Muninn.”

“It was nice meeting you,” says Candy.

“Good-bye, my dear. I hope we meet again.”

“Me too.”

I pull Candy through a shadow and a wave of nausea and we come out in the living room in the Chateau.

Kasabian looks up from his computer.

“Where have you two been? You smell like something a dead raccoon horked up.”

I look at Candy.

“Told you so.”