“Evening. Could I get a gin and tonic, please?”
“He’ll have coffee. Just like me.”
I pick up my cup and take a drink.
Traven raises his eyebrows.
“You’ve been talking to Brigitte.”
“She’s been talking to us. She’s worried about you.”
He looks at her across the room.
“I suppose with reason. The last few weeks have been both wonderful and very difficult. I’ve never known anyone like Brigitte before. I joined the Church young. I’d never even had a serious girlfriend. I suppose I was running away from the world. Then I met Brigitte and heard about her adventures. She’s opened my eyes to a lot of things.”
“If everything is so Ozzie and Harriet, why are you turning into a lush?”
Carlos sets down the coffee. Father Traven practically drowns it in cream and sugar. I should have ordered him a milk shake.
“The certainty of Hell. The coming of the Angra Om Ya. Of having nothing, then having something and knowing it will all be taken away when I disappear into the Abyss.”
“Speaking as someone who’s been to Hell and had everything taken away from him, I can say that, yeah, it sucks. But it’s not going to happen to you. “
Traven sips his coffee. Leans back a little and looks at me.
“You’re not Lucifer anymore. You can’t guarantee me anything. In fact, from what you’ve told me, the very God I offended by writing about the Angra is now Lucifer. If anything, that might merit me special punishment.”
“No wonder they kept you in the back with the books. You’re even depressing me.”
“That wasn’t my intention. But you asked why I was drinking and that’s the best I can tell you. I’m scared.”
I put my hand around the cup of coffee, feeling the hot ceramic against my skin. How do you explain to someone that you understand their fear, then convince them that it’s going to be all right? In my experience, the more you talk about what scares them, the worse it gets. There’s not much to do but ride out the fear with them and try to keep them away from liquor and razor blades.
What I wouldn’t do for a Malediction and a shot of just about anything right now.
“You need to get out more. You’ve been with your books too much. Brigitte was like a kid again when we busted up the Tick-Tock Man’s place yesterday. The next time I’m going someplace interesting, you should come along.”
Brigitte laughs at something Vidocq says. Traven smiles.
“She’s been floating on air since she came home. Yes, it would be good to do something other than poring over the same books again and again.”
“What are you looking for?”
“A way out. A way that I’ve read the signs wrong and the Angra aren’t coming.”
“Did you find it?”
“I’ve been translating older and older texts and they all say the same thing. That the universe was not created by the deity we call God. It was created by something older and far less forgiving.”
“That sounds like the Angra.”
“Yes. The thin membrane of reality that separates the Angra’s prison domain from ours is breaking down.”
“Or they’re punching their way through.”
“You know, it’s no coincidence that Lamia was the one to break through. There are twelve Angra in all. Six male and six female, but they’re the polar opposite of the Greek and Roman myths we grew up with. The females are dominant among the Angra, and Lamia is one of the strongest.”
“If they have a lot more like Lamia, we might just be fucked.”