The Getaway God (Sandman Slim 6)
Page 124
“I’d rather go to Hell than ride the bus.”
“I don’t suppose you saw him?” Brigitte says.
She means Father Traven, ex-priest, part-time sin eater, and a surprisingly brave guy. He and Brigitte had a brief thing together. Brief because Traven died killing Medea Bava and basically saving a lot of people’s lives, including mine and Brigitte’s.
“No, I didn’t.”
Traven was handed a first-class ticket Downtown when the Church excommunicated him for translating a forbidden book about the Angra. As far as most people know, Hell is where he went and Hell is where he stayed. I never wanted to tell Brigitte anything different because even though I stole Traven’s soul out of Hell, he’s still dead and I thought it was best for her to let him go. But with everything hanging by a thread, I’m not so sure anymore.
“I didn’t see Traven because he’s not in Hell.”
Brigitte gives me a look. It’s not quite surprise. More like confusion with just a little bit of hope.
“What does that mean? Where is he?”
&nbs
p; “He was in Hell and it wasn’t fair, so I did something about it.”
“What?”
“I can’t tell you everything, but I can tell you this much. He isn’t stuck in Hell.”
Her hand closes on my arm.
“Where is he?”
I don’t want to tell her about taking him to Blue Heaven, a strange place outside of normal time. She might want to go there. I’m not willing to take her to a dead man she can’t be with anymore.
“Listen. I dealt with it. He’s in a better place. That’s all I can tell you.”
Getting Traven out of Hell cost me. I don’t think Muninn has ever quite forgiven me for stealing a damned soul from right under his nose. Now I owe him a favor. Anything he wants. I don’t want to think about what a piece of God might ask for.
“You’re telling me the truth, yes?” she says.
She’s upset. Her accent is coming back and it would be hard to understand her if I didn’t already know what she was going to ask.
“Yeah. It’s the truth.” As much of it as she needs to know.
“Dìkuji,” she says. “Thank you so much.”
She puts her arms around me.
“Glad to. Next time you can get the drinks.”
She lets go, wiping a few tears from her eyes. It’s strange to see a stone killer like Brigitte cry. I wonder what I would do if something happened to Candy. I drink my Aqua Regia and put that thought out of my head real quick.
“You’ve both known me for a while. You’ve seen me fucked up and not entirely fucked up.”
“Emphasis on the first,” says Carlos. “You’ve been various degrees of fucked up ever since you walked into my bar last Christmas. That’s why it’s always nice to see you in those brief moments when you’ve got your head on straight.”
“That’s what I’m getting at.”
I already feel stupid for starting the conversation, but I can’t really stop it now.
“I’m a bastard. I know that. But am I a bastard bastard?”
“Does that sentence come in English?” says Carlos.