Devil in the Dollhouse: A Sandman Slim Story by Richard Kadrey Page A

care.”
    Ipos held up one of his big hands.
    “We’re here to help you become what destiny has led you to.”
    “To become the Lord of the Underworld.”
    “Don’t call me ‘Lord.’ I don’t like it. So how are you going to do it?”
    Ipos said, “There’s something Samael was going to do before he left us. A kind of quest.”
    Perfect. Not only does Samael stick me with Hell, he leaves me to clean up his last job. And I know him well enough to know that this is one he didn’t want to do.
    “Fuck you both. I never wanted this gig. One of you can play Lucifer. How about you, preacher?”
    “I’m a simple priest, unsuited for a life in politics.”
    “What do you say, Mighty Joe Young?”
    “I’m head of maintenance. Your palace would fall apart without me.”
    “Well, I’m not Sir fucking Galahad out looking for adventure. I’m a schmuck who wants to go home.”
    “You have to be alive to do that,” Ipos said.
    “Not all of Hell is willing to accept a mortal as Lucifer. Considering that you are going to be with us for quite some time . . .”
    “Forever maybe.”
    “You might want to consider ways to minimize your chances of being murdered.”
    “Not being killed is pretty high on my agenda. What kind of quest are we talking about?”
    Merihim idly picked up a book from a nearby table.
    “It’s really more of an exorcism. Not much more than clearing out a haunted house.”
    “Maybe a bit more like a fortress,” Ipos said.
    “With a coterie of unpleasant residents doing mischief with travelers.”
    “What’s a coterie?”
    “A somewhat large group.”
    “How large?”
    “Some say an army,” said Ipos. “But a minor one.”
    “Why didn’t you say so? It sounds completely reasonable.”
    “Good.”
    “No, it doesn’t. I was being sarcastic.”
    Merihim frowned.
    “You don’t do it as well as Samael.”
    “My wise balls are telling me to pass on the offer.”
    “But they know you can’t.”
    He was right. If I’m going to survive I need some juice, and the fastest way to get that down here is to kill something.
    So now here I am, bouncing along in a truck with concrete shocks surrounded by a Hellion legion that smells like a fish-market Dumpster. I’m not usually the dragged-along-for-the-ride type. Usually, I’m the one doing the dragging, but I’m a little out of my depth here. Like Marianas Trench out of my depth. I fought in the arena long enough to know that sometimes the best strategy is to shut up, go along with the game, and make sure that someone is standing in front of me when the tentacles hit the fan. So far though, all my Cool Hand Luke plan has gotten me is a numb ass from sitting and a ringing in my ears from the engine noise. Worst of all, the unicorn is starting to smell good.
    U p ahead, the whole world is on fire. Our three-truck convoy is off the freeway and in open desert plains following a narrow winding road to fuck all.
    “Ah. The first ring of suffering,” says Geryon, the scholar. “Henoch created three before we reach the Breach. They’re designed to break the spirit of anyone approaching.”
    “I thought we made the suffering. We don’t do the suffering.”
    “If you think Hell isn’t Hell for every creature in it then you’re blind, False Lucifer.”
    “That’s getting annoying.”
    “No more so than being ruled by a usurper.”
    “A usurper has to want the job. I want to be home, drunk and breaking hotel beds with a girl named Candy.”
    “Of course, False One. You merely fell into the lordship of Hell. It’s happened to all of us.”
    “Then you admit I’m head of the pit crew down here.”
    He looks away. Geryon loves me. The conversation has been like this all the way out from Pandemonium.
    “If you’re unhappy you can walk back to Pandemonium. It shouldn’t take more than a week.
    “Merihim should be doing this,” says Geryon.
    “Merihim and Ipos are too chicken to leave the capital, so they gave me you, sweetheart. Start