Read SS 04: Devil Said Bang: A Sandman Slim Novel for Free Online

meet. I’ve never seen the guy sit down. Ipos nods
for a drink and picks up a glass with his big bratwurst fingers. When I start to
pour, he flinches.
    “I’m sorry,” he says, and nods in my direction.
    “The arm, my lord. Would you mind? It’s
. . . distracting.”
    I flex my prosthetic Kissi hand. The Kissi were a
race of deformed, half-finished angels that lived in the chaos on the edge of
Creation. One of God’s first great fuckups while creating the universe. Kissis
give Hellions the shakes. I think they see themselves in those other failed
angels. It reminds them that even in Hell you can always fall lower.
    I dig around in the desk and find a glove. This
time he takes a drink. He carries it to the sofa and sits down. I sit on the
desk. Merihim prowls.
    “Thank you, my lord,” says Ipos.
    “Stop with the ‘my lord’ stuff. It bugs me.”
    “Sorry.”
    Merihim smiles, leaning over the peepers. Projected
images from around the palace flicker on the screen like a silent movie.
    “What’s up with you?” I ask.
    “Nothing. It’s always amusing watching you pretend
you’re not who you really are.”
    “I’m only interning in Hell for college credit.
When I find the right replacement, I’m gone, Daddy, gone.”
    “Of course you are. Why would you want any
influence over the creation of a new Hell? Or care about the welfare of the
millions of mortal souls you’ll be leaving behind? I wonder if Mr. Hickok will
be allowed to keep his tavern or will he be thrown back into Butcher Valley? But
what do you care? ‘All are equal in the grave.’ Isn’t that what you living
mortals say?”
    “Keep talking, smart guy. I’ll fake a heart attack
and make you Lucifer. Let’s see how you like whitewashing this outhouse with a
target painted on the back of your bald head.”
    Ipos glances at the priest.
    “It would probably look better than all the
scribbling.”
    Merihim gives him a sharp look, flips through the
pages of an ancient Hellion medical book, and sets it down.
    “Someone has found out about your habit of riding
alone and what routes you take. You can’t ever ride like that again.”
    “I know. There’s something else.”
    I take out the Glock and set it on the desk.
    “Where did these pricks get guns? Only officers get
to carry weapons these days.”
    Merihim frowns and crosses his arms.
    “We need to find out—very discreetly—if there are
any officers who can’t account for their weapons.”
    “There are merchants who sell stolen weapons in the
street markets. I can get people on the road repair crews. They might see or
hear something,” Ipos says.
    Merihim nods.
    “Good.”
    “Wait. It gets even better. I checked the attacker
who lived. He’d been hexed. He might not have even known what he was doing.”
    “An enthrallment?” says Merihim. That gets his
attention. He comes back to the desk. “That’s not a power many in Pandemonium
would possess. I doubt that any of the officers could do it.”
    “Maybe the bastard bribed one of the palace
witches,” says Ipos.
    “I think whoever set up the attack tried to hex me
too. After I dumped the bike, I couldn’t think or fight or defend myself. I’ve
been in plenty of wrecks and it didn’t feel like a concussion. It felt like
someone was trying to get inside my head.”
    Merihim starts wandering again.
    “It makes sense. One, Mason Faim created a key that
allows him to possess bodies. Two, the key is missing. Three, according to you,
it works on mortals. Four, there’s no reason to think it wouldn’t work on
Hellions too. That means whoever arranged your attack either has the key or is
in league with whoever does.”
    Ipos says, “I suppose if any of us would be hard to
possess, it would be Lucifer. They probably won’t try it on you again.”
    “This might not be an assassination attempt at
all,” says Merihim. “An isolated ambush would be a good way to cover up a
psychic experiment. If your attackers killed you, all