Ballistic Kiss (Sandman Slim 11)
Page 164
“That you were trying to save the poor spirit from wandering the earth, smashing everything to pieces forever.”
“I think I see it now. You prodded me to the Lodge to solve your problem knowing it would also solve my problem.”
He rips open the bag and grabs a handful of broken chips.
“The Lord moves in mysterious ways.”
“Why can’t you ever just tell me these things? I don’t like bastard angels and I do like steering poor, murdered, lovelorn slobs back to their eternal reward.”
Samael peers at the coffeemaker.
“Done?”
“Done.”
I top off the coffee in his cup but can’t find an intact cup for myself, so I dump most of the sugar out of the sugar bowl and drink it from there.
Samael says, “You know why I can’t always be straightforward with you?”
“Because it’s more fun for you to watch me bounce off the walls?”
“There is that. But there’s the other reason too.”
“Mr. Muninn.”
He makes a small embarrassed face.
“Father and his non-interference policies.”
“Hasn’t he figured out that his whole hands-off-no-matter-what policy is one of the things that screwed up the universe to begin with? At least the Earth.”
“He doesn’t look at it this way. Father has always been adamant about free will for humans.”
I didn’t dump out enough sugar. The coffee is awful. I set it down.
“How are we supposed to have free will and make our way in the universe when you people won’t leave us alone?”
Samael looks aghast.
“Are you blaming me for all this?”
“Not just you. All angels.”
He smiles and takes another sip of coffee.
“I hope you’re including yourself in that company.”
“No. I’m not. I’m just another clown trying to get by.”
He frowns.
“Don’t put on the innocent act for me. All this ‘half an angel’ business you’re so obsessed with. ‘I’m not a real angel, so none of this is my fault.’ Admit it. You’re right there in the muck with the rest of us. Just because you don’t have wings doesn’t make you any less of an angel than Michael or any of the big names.”
I remember fighting the archangel at the gates of heaven a year or so ago.
I say, “Whatever happened to Michael?”
“Oh, I killed him.”