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

the better. If you killed
your attackers, the only evidence would be the corpses of a few rogue
soldiers.”
    “That makes sense. It’s one thing to kill Lucifer
but another to spellbind him,” says Ipos. “You could make him do anything.
Something unforgivable.”
    “Which means I get to live this little drama all
over again.”
    Ipos nods. Merihim picks up the gyroscope from the
desk and spins it the wrong way. The ominous voice comes out high and weird. A
demonic Alvin and the Chipmunks.
    “Definitely,” says Ipos.
    “And it will be both subtler and more serious. We
have access to potion makings in the tabernacle. I’ll personally prepare some
draughts to protect you from psychic attack.”
    “What I want to know is why now?” say Ipos. “After
all this time, why would someone attack you?”
    I shrug.
    “Maybe someone caught me counting cards.”
    Merihim says, “Something has changed. They’ve
discovered something or they’re afraid you will, and they need to kill you
before you discover it too.”
    I say, “It’s the possession key. Mason wasn’t
exactly generous with information. He created the key and wouldn’t want anyone
else using it, so it’s not like there’s going to be a user manual lying around.
Maybe it’s taken this long for whoever has it to figure out how it works.”
    Merihim waves off the comment.
    “Perhaps. Speculation is pointless. We need to
contact our operatives among the legions and the palace thaumaturgy staff to see
what they can find.”
    “Did anything interesting happen at the Council
meeting?” says Ipos.
    “Not really. Marchosias wanted to fuck me in her
limo to annoy the others. I called Buer a Nazi and sent them all home to watch a
silent movie about good architecture and a mad scientist.”
    “It sounds charming,” says Merihim.
    “There’s even a robot.”
    “A masterpiece, then.”
    Ipos says, “We should get to work.”
    He sets his glass on the desk, holds it there, and
pushes on it. The desk rocks a fraction of an inch up and down.
    “I thought so. You wore down one of the legs
dragging it over. I’ll fix that the next time we meet.”
    “I can just stick a matchbook under it.”
    He looks at me.
    “No, you can’t. You might run the kingdom but I
maintain the palace. This is my domain.”
    “Whatever you say, Mr. Wizard.”
    After they’re gone, I sit down at the desk and
light a Malediction. Toss the Glock into the bottom drawer of the desk. I don’t
like Glocks. They’re the gun equivalent of a middle-aged guy buying a
Porsche.
    From the top drawer I take out a shiny silver
Veritas. The coin is a useful little pocket oracle. Another Veritas helped me
survive my first few days when I first escaped back to L.A. The Veritas sees the
present and the near future and never lies, though sometimes it’s a little shit
about it.
    I flip it and think, What now?
    It comes down showing the image of a man pouring
money into a woman’s hands. I’ve seen the symbol before. A hooker and her
customer. Around the coin’s edge, in perfect Hellion script, it reads, Don’t make any long-term investments. Have a good time
now. That’s what I mean. The little prick could have just said, You’re doomed, but it likes showing off.
    I toss the Veritas back in the desk, pick up a
book, and lie down on the sofa. I’m reading a chapter about a Greek philosopher
named Epicurus. The guy was a kind of depressed swinger. Imagine the Playboy
Mansion run by Mr. Rogers. Epicurus was all about pleasure but in a stingy
eat-your-vegetables-or-you-won’t-get-any-dessert kind of way.
    A lot of this philosophy stuff puts me right to
sleep, but Epicurus must have been able to see into the future when people like
me can’t read more than a paragraph without checking our e-mail because he spit
out the important stuff short and sweet. It’s called the Tetrapharmakos and it’s
a kind of a PowerPoint list to fix whatever ails you. It goes:
    Don’t fear
God
    Don’t worry