Richard Kadrey

Killing Pretty


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      “Okay,” says Kasabian. “How about a big salad with croutons and edible flowers?”

      Dash nods.

      I look at Kasabian.

      “Edible flowers?”

      “Yeah. Fairuza uses them when she cooks. They’re not bad.”

      “If you say so.”

      I lean over to the mirror.

      “Keep the movies coming and I’ll get you a whole damned wedding cake next time.”

      Dash mouths “thanks.”

      “Thanks, Dash,” says Maria. “Now everybody knows everybody. Isn’t that nice? I’ll talk to you tonight.”

      Dash gives a little wave and drifts out past the edge of the mirror. Maria snaps the compact shut.

      “That’s Dash,” she says.

      I pick up the shot glass.

      “Seems like a nice kid. Thanks for hooking us up.”

      Maria puts out a hand as I raise the glass to my lips.

      “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

      “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

      “Nothing. It’s just that when we present food to Dash, any looking-­glass ghost, he eats the essence of the offering. Don’t worry. The food isn’t poison or anything like that. It’s just a bit empty.”

      I look at the glass. Ghost leftovers. Why not? I open up and toss the Aqua Regia back.

      Maria was right. It isn’t awful, but it’s not booze anymore. The taste is thin and slightly sour, like the memory of a drink. I take a bite of the éclair. It’s worse. Like Play-­Doh and chalk. I go behind the counter and spit it into the wastebasket.

      “Classy,” says Kasabian. “You really know how to impress the ladies.”

      “I don’t need etiquette tips from you, Tin Man.”

      Maria is tugging on the loose threads of her jacket sleeves again. She’s used to nicer ­people than us.

      “What do we owe you for the movie, Maria? We aren’t exactly rolling in cash, you know.”

      “Oh, no. It’s not like that,” she says. “I was just hoping you could show me some magic.”

      “You’re a witch. What do you think you can learn from me?”

      “That’s it. Kasabian said you know different kinds of magic. And that you’re good at improvising spells and hexes.”

      “Yeah, I can improvise things. But that’s not what you’re after, are you?”

      She looks up from her sleeves.

      “No. I want to see Hellion magic.”

      “Why?”

      “It’s different. I’m curious.”

      Her pupils contract almost imperceptibly. She’s lying.

      “Maria? What’s this really about?”

      She takes a breath and lets it out.

      “Some ghosts are angrier than others. They want to get out of where they are. Some are scared. Some are vicious. I’ll want to talk to one like Dash and one of the others will appear. It’s getting worse.”

      “Did you ever think about not talking to ghosts? You’re not a Dead Head necromancer. Why bother?”

      Her brow furrows.

      “They’re my friends. I can’t abandon them. Would you refuse to see a friend because she lived in a bad neighborhood?”

      “No. I guess not. But I’m not a ghost expert. Mostly I deal with things I can punch. For ghosts, I’d have to think about it.”

      “That’s okay,” she says. “I’d rather have the right answer than a quick wrong one.”

      “Okay. But I just started a new job and I kind of have my hands full right now. Let’s maybe talk the next time you come by.”

      “Great. Thanks.”

      “No. Thank you,” says Kasabian. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t forget.”

      Maria puts her handbag under one arm.

      “I appreciate it. I’ll come by when Dash gives me your movie.”

      “Thanks. You’re always welcome to come by,” says Kasabian, suddenly a fucking diplomat. He and Fairuza broke up a few days ago. Is he already on the prowl? Does Maria know he’s 90 percent machine?

      “See you around, Maria,” I say.

      She smiles and starts out. Stops.

      “Did you know there’s something sprayed on the front of your store?”

      “Yeah. I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

      “Okay. Bye.”

      Kasabian and I watch the big-­screen monitor bolted to the ceiling for a few more minutes. He was right, of course. The movie has a completely different feel with McQueen playing the Sundance Kid. We could make a mint if we can get more never-­mades like this.

      Candy comes in during the closing credits.

      “Chihiro?” Kasabian says. “Holy shit.”

      She smiles and does a turn.

      “You like the new me?”

      “You look great. I mean you always looked great, but I think you nailed it this time.”

      I take out a Malediction.

      “She doesn’t look like Candy. That’s the important thing.”

      “Don’t light that cigarette,” she says.

      “Why?”

      She comes over to me.

      “Why this?”

      She leans in and kisses me. I kiss her back. It’s been long enough that we’ve been even somewhere safe together that it feels strange and new to hold her. And I’m not used to her being Chihiro yet. It feels a little like I’m cheating on Candy. But she is Candy. This whole thing is going to take a while longer to get used to.

      When she lets go of me she steps back and laughs.

      “What?” I say.

      “You have lipstick all over yourself. Hold it.”

      She gets a napkin from the Donut Universe bag and wipes my lips. Which, with perfectly lousy timing, is when Fairuza decides to walk in. She’s a Lurker. A Ludere. Blue-­skinned, blond, and sporting a small pair of Devil horns. She knew Candy for a long time. She played drums in Candy’s band back before she “died.”

      Fairuza takes a DVD from her bag and slams it down on the counter. Walks over and slaps me hard enough it feels like hornets are having a hoedown on my cheek.

      “Candy’s barely gone you’re already with this little bitch? Fuck you.”

      She starts to hit me again, but I get my arm up and her hand glances off.

      “Fairuza,” says Kasabian.

      She turns and stabs a finger at him.

      “And fuck you too for hanging around with this asshole. Is this the bitch he gave Candy’s guitar to? Yeah, I heard about that. Fuck all of you.”

      She heads for the door and slams it hard enough I half expect the glass to crack.

      Candy takes a step back and hands me the napkin. I wipe the last of the lipstick off my face myself.

      “I’ve