“I never heard of it.”
“Most people haven’t. It was condemned about twenty years ago and hasn’t been used since. After it closed there was a split in the congregation, so they were never able to raise enough money to repair it.”
“Then the faction stepped in and promised to foot the bill.”
She draws a smiley face in the dust, then wipes it out too.
“Yes. The ritual will take place in the crypt under the church.”
“When?”
“Vespers.”
“Sunset.”
She cocks her head.
“Are you sure you weren’t an altar boy?”
This is it. I know the what. I know the where and I know the when. I even know the why, but who gives a damn about that?
“Is anyone there now, setting up, maybe?”
“No one will arrive until just before the ritual begins.”
“How are they getting away? Car? Truck?”
“They’re not.”
I look at her.
“What does that mean?”
She draws aimless lines in the dust.
“They’re not leaving,” she says eventually. “The officiants are all volunteers.”
“Martyrs.”
She looks down the alley.
“Yes. And unlike me, they’ll go straight to Heaven.”
“That’s what the preachers told you, but it’s not going to happen. Even if they pulled it off.”
She stops doodling.
“What do you mean?”
“Whoever’s been running your crew is a liar or woefully uninformed. No one gets into Heaven anymore.”
She narrows her eyes.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does to the angels determined to keep human souls out.”
“That’s not possible.”