The Book of Death (Bourbon Kid 4)

book.’
    Sanchez nodded in agreement.
‘That’s true.’
    ‘And you’ve just killed the
Santa who we think was the child killer.’
    ‘Yeah.’ He had to congratulate himself.
He had done rather well. ‘What have you done though?’ he asked.
    ‘I just saved you from getting
your ass kicked by a Sunflower Girl.’
    ‘Take a left up ahead.’
    ‘Why? Shouldn’t we head to the
station? We should report all this to Captain Harker. He’ll be really pleased
to hear about this. Plus we’re late for work.’
    ‘I want to stop off at the
Tapioca to try and repair this book that you ruined.’
    ‘Oh, okay.’ Flake turned the
steering wheel and the car skidded around the left turn that Sanchez had
pointed out. ‘You need any help fixing the book?’
    ‘No thanks,’ said Sanchez
staring down at the book again. ‘You’ve done enough damage to it already.’
    ‘I said I was sorry.’
    ‘I know,’ he sighed. ‘Just drop
me off. I’ll make my own way to the station later when I’ve repaired the book.
    ‘Okay.’
    ‘Don’t tell anyone I’ve got it
though, okay?’
    Flake frowned. ‘Why not?’
    ‘Because I’ll have Santa’s angry
fucking reindeer on my tail, most likely.’
    ‘Huh?’
    ‘People are obviously willing to
kill to get their hands on this book.’
    ‘I’m not surprised,’ said Flake.
‘After all, that book is very dangerous. Don’t go writing any names in it!’
    ‘I don’t think I’d be able to
even if I wanted to. The pages are soaking wet. This is going on the radiator
when I get home. I can’t return it to Jessica like this.’
    Flake took an unusually long
breath. ‘How well do you know Jessica?’ she asked.
    ‘Pretty well,’ said Sanchez. ‘I
nursed her back to health after the Bourbon Kid tried to kill her. Twice!’
    ‘Yes, but what do you know about
her?’
    ‘Why do you care?’
    ‘Well, have you considered the
possibility that she might be one of the people who’re willing to kill to get
their hands on that book? I didn’t really take to her when she showed up at the
station. There’s something about her I don’t like.’
    Sanchez couldn’t believe what he
was hearing. ‘How can you not like Jessica?’
    ‘She just seemed like a bit of a
bitch, that’s all.’
    ‘Hey, watch who you’re calling a
bitch! You hardly know her.’
    ‘Sorry, Sanchez. I just don’t
trust her. You should be careful. I mean, she lives in a place called the Casa
De Ville. It sounds like an evil place, doesn’t it?’
    Sanchez shook his head. ‘So you
don’t like her because she lives in a place with an evil name? That’s
ridiculous.’ He turned away and stared out of the window for the rest of the
journey, to ensure that Flake could see how annoyed he was.
    When they reached the Tapioca,
Sanchez climbed out of the car and begrudgingly thanked Flake for the ride. His
top priority now was fixing up The Book of Death and delivering it to Jessica
at the evil sounding Casa De Ville.
    “Evil sounding,” he laughed to
himself. Flake was so stupid. The Casa De Ville would no doubt be a very
welcoming place when he turned up there with the book.

 
    Thirty-Two

 
    The floor of the barroom in
Purgatory was strewn with the smoking corpses of more than a hundred people.
After one sip of bourbon, JD had vanished, replaced by his alter ego, the
Bourbon Kid. Slaying everyone in the barroom had been exhilarating and easy. He
was back, and ready to return to Santa Mondega to finish off the undead for
good. No more loose ends. This time no one would be left alive.
    Berkley the bartender was the
only person left standing. He poured the Kid another glass of bourbon, filling
the glass to the top without waiting to be told. The Kid sat back down on his
barstool and dusted himself off, reflecting on how good it felt to be back to
his old self. As the corpses on the floor began to smoulder and vanish into
puffs of smoke, he heard the saloon doors behind him being pushed open. The
doors rattled as they flapped to a close. What followed was the sound of a pair
of boots crunching on the barroom floor, making their way up to the bar.
    A deep male voice boomed out.
‘Bartender, get me a bottle of Shitting Monkey.’
    The Kid recognised the voice.
This wasn’t a man who was likely to be pleased to see him. They had only met
once before and it hadn’t gone well.
    Berkley flipped the lid off a
bottle of Shitting Monkey and placed it down on the bartop. The man who had
entered the bar sat