I go to her and take what she’s holding. It’s two packs of Maledictions.
“For these, I’ll definitely say thanks.”
Daja leans back to the woman behind her.
“What did I tell you? Ugly, but at least a cheap date.”
The other woman laughs as they start away. She blows me a kiss and spits at my boots, but misses by a mile. No sharpshooter there. As they peel out, I go back inside the camper.
Traven looks up from a book. He’s been reading it all night. It looks holy. Probably trying to figure out a loophole in salvation.
“What was that about?” he says.
“Blood money.”
He makes a face and I put the Maledictions on a table well away from me. He goes back to reading and I curl up on the floor. For about five minutes. Then, without getting up, I grab one of the packs and rip it open.
Fuck it. I was headed for Hell the day I was born. A nephilim Abomination and natural-born killer. Where else was I going?
I take one of Traven’s matches and light a cigarette. Hold it out to him. He hesitates, doing calculations in his head. Sins versus cigarettes. How many wheezing angels can smoke on the head of a pin?
Finally he takes it and I light one for myself.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he says.
“Yep.”
“It’s a sin.”
“Smoking is part of God’s great plan, Father.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“I inferred it.”
“I’m not sure that’s how it works,” he says.
“He forgave Cain for cracking open Abel’s head.”
“No. He didn’t.”
“No? I thought he did.”
“No.”
“Funny. He said he did.”
Traven coughs.
“You knew Cain?”
“Yeah. He was the doorman at Second Death. Nice guy.”
Traven taps some ash into an overturned jar lid.
He says, “Lying is a sin, my son.”
“I’m an angel. Sin washes right off.”