Ballistic Kiss

by Richard Kadrey

I shake my head.

  “The place is yours. Yours and Allegra’s.”

  He blinks.

  “I never had a son, you know.”

  “And I never had much of a father.”

  He squeezes my hand.

  “You’re a good boy, James.”

  He looks at Allegra and I step back.

  “I’ll never forgive myself for hurting you.”

  “That’s over and forgotten,” she says.

  “I am forgiven then?”

  “Of course.”

  He takes a breath. Closes his eyes.

  “Thank you. You don’t know what that means to me.”

  “You can tell me later. You should stop talking and rest.”

  “I love you all, my friends. And you, my darling Allegra, so much.”

  “I love you too.”

  “What I will miss are you and the stars. I would like to see them with you one more time.”

  “You’re not missing anything. We’ll see them together soon.”

  “Do you promise?”

  “Yes.”

  He pulls her hand to his lips and kisses her fingers.

  Allegra says, “Rest now.”

  “Just you and the stars.”

  He holds her hand.

  Allegra waits for a moment.

  “Vidocq?”

  He doesn’t move.

  She shakes him.

  “Vidocq?”

  Nothing.

  She gently begins to cry. Puts a hand on his head and rests her head on his back.

  I touch her shoulder. She turns and we put our arms around each other. She cries and I just stare at the old man.

  I never had a son, you know.

  My eyes burn and I just stand there with Allegra. My head swims and I stumble back a step.

  Allegra looks at me.

  “You okay?”

  “Stark is bleeding,” says Janet.

  “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

  Allegra pushes my coat open.

  “Goddammit, Stark. No one else dies tonight.”

  The others take my coat off as Allegra shoots me up with a painkiller before stapling the wound closed. Then she wraps my ribs in bandages.

  “I look like the fucking mummy.”

  “Shut up and sit down. You need to rest.”

  “I will soon. But not yet.”

  I pull Janet over and tell them, “Stay with her. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  I head for a shadow as Janet says, “Be careful.”

  I’m pretty much numb, but the animal part of my brain has kicked in. Allegra was right about one thing. I do need to rest. But she was wrong about something else. More people are going to die tonight.

  I come out in the Jackal’s Backbone, near where the cavern meets the tunnel to the doom twins’ rumpus room. There’s no one down here. All the Lodge creeps must have run back to the mansion. That simplifies things for me.

  At the tunnel entrance in the rumpus room, I lay down a little more hoodoo, sealing the Backbone from the house. Then I go back out to the road that runs in front of the place. Lodge members pound on the doors and windows, trying to get out. But the hoodoo I put down will keep them in there for a hundred years if I want. But I don’t. Tonight is for settling scores. For Janet and especially Vidocq.

  I stand in the driveway where everyone can get a good look at me. They scream and pound even louder. So, I bark some Hellion at them. Not the most powerful stuff I’ve ever conjured, but enough for the job.

  The fire starts on the roof and works its way down through the attic. It takes a few minutes for smoke to drift down into the living room, but eventually a thick grayness coils down from the top of the room, reaching down into the hysterical mob like the squid Kenny conjured.

  As the fire expands and the sides of the house catch, I sit on a tree stump across the road and watch the place go up.

  Welcome to the Land of the Dead, motherfuckers. Enjoy Hell.

  I take out some of the pills Allegra gave me and pop a lorazepam. Then I sit back and watch the show. The mansion is fully engulfed now. A neighbor has probably already called the fire department, but it will take them a few minutes to get here.

  I sit and watch and think of the old man as sparks shoot up like fireflies in the black L.A. sky.

  Soon, the distant sound of a siren is my cue to leave. But before I can walk into a shadow, my phone rings. It’s Abbot.

  “Stark, I’m here with the Council. You’ve let us down. I can’t wait any longer. We’re going in tonight.”

  I check my pocket. The photo is still there.

  “Give me one hour,” I say. “If what I want to try doesn’t work, I’ll kill the Stay Belows myself.”

  There’s a brief silence on the line and Abbot comes back.

  “One hour. Then we take over.”

  I hang up and walk into a shadow.

  Come out in the parking lot of Donut Universe. Inside, I slap a hundred on the counter.

  “Give me a dozen of anything.”

  I make one more stop before heading to Little Cairo.

  When I get there, the place is jumping. The Thurl is open as usual, but the spooks aren’t tearing the ruined pyramids and Sphinxes apart anymore. Every single one is slammed against the edges of the neighborhood, clawing and pounding at the wards. The barrier is failing in a few places and Stay Belows can get their hands through. Spectral fingers grab at the warm L.A. air as freaked-out Sub Rosa muscle prowls around just outside the quarantine barrier, ready to pull the trigger and burn the spooks and everybody else to the ground.

  None of the Stay Belows notice me as I use the black blade to dig a hole in one lawn. When it’s deep enough, I dump in the donuts—an assortment of jellies and crullers. With that, I drop in a bottle of Angel’s Envy rye. I hate letting go of the stuff. I hope the King Below appreciates the offering, because it’s killing me.

  “If you’re down there, I can use all the help I can get.”

  Done digging, I go roaming. I don’t care about the mob of spooks at the edges of the place. I only care about one, and I have a feeling he won’t be with the others.

  But I can’t find the bastard anywhere. It looks like the power is off all over Little Cairo. I could hoodoo some light, but it would bring the other spooks right to me. No fucking thanks. Still, after wandering blind through the ruins for a few minutes I’m tempted to take the chance.

  All around me, the street begins to shake. It only lasts a few seconds, but when it stops a streetlight lying on its side in the gutter flickers a few times, outlining one forlorn figure.

  “Thanks, King. I’ll buy you a six-pack sometime.”

  Stein’s back is to me, so I come up to him as quietly as I can. He’s swaying back and forth in time with the spooks’ high, strange song. I hope Flicker is right and it comforts them, because it makes my skin crawl.

  When I’m a few yards from Stein I say the magic words.

  “Forever yours. Forever mine.”

  Slowly, he shuffles around to face me. He looks miserable. A lost dog in the rain. But he still has Samantha’s last love note balled up in his dead hand. When he comes at me, it’s not a charge or even a threat. It’s just some sad, final impulse. He’s mad at the world and Samantha for what happened to him. He’s still willing to take it out on everyone alive, but he’s also the most miserable dead man I’ve ever seen.

  I say the words again.

  “Forever yours. Forever mine.”

  This time though I take the old Polaroid out of my pocket and hold it out to him.

  His dead eyes drift from me to the photo. He stares for a few seconds, then shudders. Makes a high, keening sound and gently takes the Polaroid from my hand.

  I say, “Merry Christmas, 1977.”

  Stein looks at me.

  “I saw Samantha.”

  He holds the letter and photo to his chest.

  “She says she loves you and she’s very sorry about what happened. She
never meant to kill you.”

  His lips move, but he doesn’t make a sound. Still, I know what’s he’s saying. It’s her name.

  I’m running out of time, so I talk fast.

  “She wants you to go home, Chris. She wants you to rest. Someday she’ll come back to you. She wants you to know forever yours, forever—”

  “Mine,” he says.

  Fuck me. He can talk.

  He half-turns from me and says, “Heaven?”

  I’m not sure if he’s asking if he’ll go to Heaven or saying it’s Heaven having Samantha back in his arms.

  I say, “Sure, Chris. It’s Heaven.”

  He walks away, the photo and note clutched in his hands the way a kid holds a stuffed bear to keep the monsters away.

  I follow him as he wanders to the Thurl. There’s no hesitation when he reaches it. He’s done. He’s as satisfied as he’ll ever be. He has Samantha back. At least her acknowledgment and apology. I wasn’t lying when I said she was sorry. I saw it in her eyes and heard it in her voice when she saw Chris’s photo in the Backbone. Whatever she is—vampire, witch, or Drifter—I have a feeling she’s still somewhere in L.A. nursing her wounds and mourning Chris. If things were different, I might leave her to her misery. But she’s the one who put the knife in Vidocq’s back. That’s something I can’t forgive.

  I’ll see you someday, Samantha, and we’re going to have a talk. And then I’m going to kill you.

  With Stein gone—the lovelorn magnet who drew the other Stay Belows back to the world—the spooks begin drifting away from the barriers around Little Cairo and back to the Thurl. They go one by one or in groups. Not rushing. They’re no longer fueled by Stein’s fury. They just amble back to the Land of the Dead—where every asshole in L.A. seems to want to go to. At least for the Stay Belows it’s home. I hope they can find some peace there.

  As the last one enters the Thurl, the stars seem to move a little again, like a reflection in water. I dial Abbot.

  “Call off your dogs.”

  “You killed them?”

  “I didn’t need to. All they wanted was a Valentine. So, I gave them one.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means they’re gone and you can send your goons in here to help the civilians instead of murdering them. I’m a little fed up with murder tonight, so tell your people to be nice or I’ll be mad.”

  “Calm down,” says Abbot. “I’ll send in some scouts to check the area. If it’s clear, we’ll send in medical assistance.”

  “Trust me. It’s clear.”

  “Thank you, Stark.”

  “Hey, Abbot. Were you ever in love?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Were you ever in love with anybody?”

  “Yes. My wife.”

  “Good for you. I’m glad to hear it.”

  I hang up and go back to Allegra’s clinic. There’s nothing I can do to change things, but at least I can be there for a friend.

  Hours later, when I get Allegra to try to sleep, I go back to the flying saucer house. I’m almost annoyed that it’s back to normal again. The perfection of the place is starting to drive me crazy. I appreciate that there’s always good food and liquor, but I punched those holes in the wall for a reason and now they’re gone. I don’t know how much more of this Mr. Rogers Hell I can take.

  I sleep a lot of the next day, but I don’t dream at all. The slash in my ribs came from the phurba, so the healing is a lot slower than if it had been a regular knife. Plus, I have about fifty other wounds all over to deal with. Candy comes by to check on me in the afternoon and Janet comes by in the evening.

  I’m in bed, covered in bandages and half-healed scars. Janet sits next to me with their hand resting on my leg.

  They say, “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I got gored by a water buffalo shot out of one of those circus cannons they use for clowns. You know the ones?”

  They smile.

  “Yeah. I’ve seen them.”

  “How is that even a job? What do you put on your taxes? ‘Clown gunner’?”

  Janet laughs a little.

  “It’s good to see you your own ridiculous self again.”

  “Look. About last night—”

  “No. I want to apologize. You were right and I didn’t listen. You saved me.”

  “Yeah, but I still feel weird about the whole thing. You told me to leave a couple of times and I didn’t.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Is it? Look, I’m trying to understand people better, and that means not kidnapping them and not making them listen to me when they don’t want to.”

  Janet gives me a look.

  “You’ve kidnapped people?”

  “Lots, but that’s not the point. The point is that I should have listened to you and left, but I didn’t, so I’m sorry.”

  “Stark, if you hadn’t come by, you wouldn’t have known I was going to the Lodge. They would probably have killed me.”

  I have to think about that for a minute.

  “Then it’s a good thing I didn’t listen?”

  “Partly.”

  “Goddamn. This understanding-people thing is harder than it looks.”

  They pat my leg.

  “It is, isn’t it? But I’ll give you points for one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You haven’t forgotten my pronouns in days.”

  “I have in my head a few times.”

  Janet shrugs. “We all do that. I mess up other people’s sometimes.”

  “You too?”

  “Of course. People are complicated. That makes the world complicated. You’re not going to figure it out in a few days.”

  “Punching monsters was a lot easier than this.”

  “You promised to tell me more about that, you know.”

  “I know. And I will.”

  They stare off into space.

  “I still feel weird about what I did to Dan.”

  “Putting him where he belonged?”

  “On the one hand, yes, but on the other, who am I to judge who deserves to go to Hell?”

  “The human sacrificee gets to judge the human sacrificer. Them’s the rules.”

  Janet cocks their head.

  “Is it that simple?”

  I sit up in bed.

  “Sometimes. Listen, you’re like most people. You think salvation and damnation are these grand, perfect systems run by flawless celestial beings with all the knowledge of the universe.”

  “Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?”

  “Maybe. But let me tell you how things really work: Hell is a carny show. Heaven is a wreck. God is recovering from a nervous breakdown, and Lucifer, well, he’s the most complicated thing of all.”

  “How so?”

  “There isn’t technically a Lucifer, unless you count God because he’s trying to run Heaven and Hell at the same time.”

  Janet frowns.

  “What? I don’t understand.”

  “Wait,” I say. “It gets better. The angel who used to be Lucifer? He’s a friend of mine. I’ll introduce you sometime.”

  “I’m not sure I want that.”

  “He’s fun in his own fucked-up way. And he always knows the best places to eat.”

  They pick a bit of lint off the blanket. Seeing it relaxes me. The cleaning elves or whatever aren’t perfect after all.

  Janet says, “You really do seem to know a lot about it. But I’m not sure if you’re telling the truth or if this is one of your funny stories.”

  I put a hand on theirs.

  “Stick around and I’ll tell you the biggest joke of all—about when I was Lucifer.”

  “Now you really are just telling stories.”

  “Maybe. But think about sticking around anyway?”

  They rub my hand and nod.

  “I will. I am. Do you want me to get you something?”

  “How about a drink?”

  “All
egra said that you don’t get to drink today.”

  “Now you’re just cruel.”

  They pull their lips into a single tense line.

  “I’m sorry about Vidocq.”

  I find another piece of lint. I wonder if the elves leave them for me to find?

  “He was one of a kind.”

  “When’s the funeral?”

  “Tomorrow night.”

  “Can I come?”

  “Are you sure? You barely knew the guy.”

  “He saved me and died for it. I owe him. Instead of telling me about the Devil, why don’t you tell me about him?”

  “That I can do.”

  “But you should rest now.”

  “I will, but I want to tell you something.”

  They look at me.

  “It’s not good, is it?”

  “That’s for you to judge. After Vidocq died, I went back to Dan and Juliette’s house.”

  “What happened?”

  “I killed everyone there. Every single person who’d been at the ritual in the Backbone.”

  Janet says, “How many people?”

  “I don’t know. I told you I was a killer.”

  They put their arms around themself.

  “I guess I understand. You were a little crazy right then.”

  “It was probably my sanest moment of the night. Can you deal with that?”

  “I don’t know. Let me think about it.”

  “Okay. I think I’m going to sleep a little.”

  They get up from the bed.

  “I’m going to get some coffee.”

  “Maybe we can watch a movie later.”

  “That would be nice.”

  Around eleven in the evening the next day, I steal a big, flashy party bus parked down the block from the Cinerama Dome. After loading everyone inside, I drive down Highway 27 to Topanga State Park. We roll into the parking lot with the lights off because the damn place closes at eight. I hate nature, but it seems weird that people who like it only want you to see it on their timetable. I put a hex on the bus so that if someone tries to tow it they’re going to be puking spiders all night.

  Alessa, who grew up in the area, takes us up a hiking trail that leads to one of the tall peaks. It’s not an easy walk, pushing a dead Frenchman up a mountain in a wheelbarrow—in the dark—but we make it with a minimal amount of cursing and only one scary moment when Vidocq tried to slide out of the wheelbarrow into a cavern where his stupid carcass would have fallen a hundred feet into who fucking knows where. We finally make it to the top in a little over a sweaty hour, with me and Allegra doing most of the grunt work. The others try to help, but the tripping and the muscle pulls are what we two signed up for and we see it through.