Killing Pretty

“Yeah? Gimme. I’m drunk and going to get drunker, so show me now while I can see straight.”

I take out a dirty handkerchief and hand it to her.

She gives me a funny, what-­the-­fuck look.

“This is a heavy hanky.”

“Open it.”

She smiles the moment she sees the brass knuckles with hearts on the tip of each finger loop. Slips them on and play-­punches me in the jaw. Then kisses me on the spot where she clocked me.

“Thank you! Where did you get them?”

“Manimal Mike did them. He melted down the Nazi knuckles and made these. I figured it was good revenge on the fuckers.”

“What every fashionable lady needs,” she says. “I love them.”

“Good. That’s what they’re for.”

“Come on. Let’s show them around.”

She pulls me with her and starts pretend cold-­cocking everybody in the room. I really should have given them to her when we were alone. She’s going to be doing this all night.

When she tries it on Samael, he catches her fist. They smile at each other. A ­couple of killers on the prowl. He lets her loose and looks over the new knuckles. Gives her an approving nod.

“They suit you.”

“Damn right they do,” she says, glancing around for more ­people to punch.

Samael looks at me.

“You once told me about a place called the Museum of Death.”

“Yeah. It’s a little ways down on Hollywood Boulevard.”

“You fancy a wander through? I thought with my new job, I might as well do some homework while I’m in town.”

“Yes!” says Candy. “They’re still open. Let’s go right now.”

Samael cocks an eyebrow.

“My car is right outside.”

“Can I ask a few more ­people?”

“Whomever you like. It’s my treat.”

I grab Vidocq, Allegra, and Brigitte. Take them to the waiting limo and we head out, riding with Death to one of the few places he’s never been. A museum dedicated to him. It’s not how I expected to spend our first night back in the store, but that’s okay. What’s life without a few surprises along the way? It’s death, and we’re not having any of that tonight.