Chapters (42)
- DEDICATION
- EPIGRAPH
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- ALSO BY RICHARD KADREY
- CREDITS
- ABOUT THE PUBLISHER
Racer X ran the words over in his head a couple of times to make sure he’d heard them right. Then he turned and looked at the girls. There were a lot of them. Drinkers, too. If he bolted for the door right now, he could get lost in the crowd. But what would happen then? Stupid question. Then I’ll be a loose end. On the same list as Coop. He didn’t know what kind of demise Fast Eddie had in mind for the other thief, but he’d seen the contents of Eddie’s tool bag. Now he wished he hadn’t. Now he wished he’d worked a little harder at his online trade school classes. By now, he could be repairing air conditioners in Miami, sipping mai tais with pretty girls, and not sitting next to a psychotic car crusher waiting for a tray of drinks he knew would have more spit in them than booze. He closed his eyes and pictured clean white beaches and blue water, and knew that he absolutely, 100 percent wasn’t going to cry.
TWENTY
THE DARK HIGH MAGISTER OF THE CLADIS ABADDONIS Lodge sat on his golden throne, though if you were being picky, it wasn’t really gold. Also, for those still insisting on pickiness, it wasn’t really a throne. It was a gilt Barcalounger, because of the Dark High Magister of the Cladis Abaddonis Lodge’s back, which today hurt like “two bitches fighting on the bitch float in a bitch parade.” (The Dark High Magister had been married once and it hadn’t worked out.)
“Come forward, Adept Six, and tell me, have you collected this month’s tithes from the other Lodge members?”
Adept Six stepped up to the Dark High Magister’s throne and placed a purple velvet bag on the silver TV tray next to the holy Barcalounger. “Yes, Dark High One. It’s in here.”
The Magister reached out a hand and winced as a shooting pain went up his spine. He picked up the bag and bounced it in his hand a couple of times. “It feels light.”
Adept Six hung his head and said, “It is, Dark High One. We’ve lost a few members recently.”
“Why is that?”
Acolyte Three, the only other member of the Lodge who’d bothered to stop by that day, said, “The head of Cladis Abaddonis in San Diego has a Volvo dealership. He’s offering very good financing terms to any members of the other Lodges who leave theirs and join his.”
The Magister thought for a minute and nodded gravely. “What kind of terms?”
“A forty-eight-month lease. Full warranty for three years. No money down.”
The Magister settled back deeper into his throne. “Those are nice cars. And good terms.”
“Yes, Dark High One,” said Adept Six. “Plus, he’s throwing in a Bluetooth radio for free.”