The Getaway God by Richard Kadrey Read Free Book Online

these?”
    â€œRequests from potential clients.”
    Kasabian started a little side business a few weeks back and it’s taken off like a bottle rocket out of a carny’s ass. He can’t go to Hell like I can, but he can see into the place. He set himself up as an online seer. For a fee, he’ll tell you how the dearly departed are getting on in the Abyss. Seeing as how most ­people seem to end up down there, he doesn’t lack for clients.
    Kasabian riffles the pages with his pointy hellhound claws.
    â€œAll these ­people have family or friends Downtown. And all want more than I can give them. Paying clients don’t want to hear about sweet Aunt Suzy up to her eyeballs in a river of shit.”
    â€œAnd this concerns me how?”
    â€œMost of these ­people want to, you know, talk to the departed. Hear a story about redemption, maybe. Mostly, they want to know where they hid the good silver or did they really love them. You know. Normal family bullshit.”
    â€œAnd you want me to go Downtown and play twenty questions with damned souls because they don’t have enough problems.”
    â€œYes. That’s what I always want. Come on, man. Look at the streets. This city is going to be empty soon. Empty and underwater. It’s no-­shit Ragnarök. ­People want to know what to expect on the other side.”
    I shake my head. Push the papers back across the counter.
    â€œNot my problem. And I told you. Mr. Muninn is still pissed at me for stealing Father Traven’s soul. He doesn’t want me back in his petting zoo playing with the animals.”
    â€œIt doesn’t have to be all of them,” says Kasabian. “Just for a few of the high rollers. We need the money.”
    That much is right. We are severely on the rocks. Kasabian squirreled away a few grand from a payoff I got from the Dark Eternal when I put down some pain-­in-­the-­ass zombies. But we blew the last of that fixing up Max Overdrive so we could live here and reopen the store. The special video section is bringing in cash, but barely enough to pay for beer and utilities.
    â€œOkay. Cash is a good incentive, but seriously, Hell is kind of off-­limits for me right now.”
    â€œWhat about Samael? Would he do it if you asked nice?”
    â€œYou think you’re going to bribe Samael with money? He’s a fucking angel. He doesn’t carry a lot of pocket change.”
    Kasabian picks up the paper. Taps it on the counter to straighten the edges.
    â€œMaybe Muninn would be happier to see you than you think. Hell isn’t looking too pretty right now.”
    â€œWhat’s going on?”
    â€œNothing, that’s the problem. All the public-­works projects, fixing the place up after you broke it . . .”
    â€œThat wasn’t my fault. Samael fucked it up when he was still Lucifer. I just let it get a little worse when I was running the place.”
    â€œWhatever you say, man. Well, it’s all stopped. They’re not even pretending to put the place back together again.”
    â€œThat doesn’t sound like Muninn.”
    â€œYou so sure he’s still in charge?”
    â€œI’d know if anything changed.”
    â€œHow?”
    â€œI just would.”
    â€œOkay, Cassandra, there’s something else. Did it rain much when you were down there?”
    â€œNo. I don’t remember it raining at all.”
    â€œWell, it is now. Raining cats and dogs and little imps with pitchforks. I mean, there’s doomed. There’s screwed. And there’s monsoons-­in-­Hell fucked. And we’re at fucked o’clock.”
    Suddenly I want a cigarette. I take out the Maledictions. I go to the back door and open it, blowing the smoke outside. Candy doesn’t like me stinking the place up with cigarettes that smell like a tire fire.
    â€œI don’t get it. Could the Angra be doing it?”
    â€œWho cares?