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“From what I recall, it’s a long way from Pandemonium. Halfway across Hell in fact.”

“Does going across Hell get me frequent-flier miles?”

I take my coat off the bed and load in the na’at, the knife, and the other gear.

It’s still two hours until sundown.

“We can sit here and stare at each other or we can have a drink and send for some food.”

“Food,” says Vidocq, and the others agree.

Kasabian turns around. Suddenly we have his attention.

“What kind of food?”

“Chicken and waffles,” says Candy.

“From Roscoe’s?” says Allegra. “I don’t think they deliver.”

“Everyone delivers if you pay them enough,” says Kasabian. He types something into the computer and a phone app opens on the screen. “Watch. I’m the king of overtipping.”

I say, “As long as you’re wasting my money, get Donut Universe to send over a wheelbarrow-ful of whatever’s fresh.”

Traven is staring at the paper with the angelic cipher.

“What’s up, Father? Not a waffle fan?”

He says, “I’m horrified by what you’re about to do, but I’m also a little envious. Hell is waiting for me when I die, but I don’t know what it is, and that scares me. But you can walk its streets without being afraid. I’d give anything for that.”

“If anyone ever makes you that offer, don’t take it. It’s a sucker’s bet. And I told you. I’ll show you around if you end up Downtown.”

Traven taps the pen against the paper nervously. He doesn’t even know he’s doing it. He’s picturing flames and oceans of boiling blood. If I tell him it’s not like that, he won’t believe me. No one ever really believes what you tell them about Hell.

“You and your friends have shown me more of the universe in the last couple of days than the Church did in years. I wish I could do more to show my gratitude,” he says.

“Do you have a car?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Is it insured? Like, well insured?”

“It was my late mother’s car. She was a careful driver and had every kind of insurance there is.”

“f y00">Ên I borrow it?”

Traven takes out his keys and hands them to me.

“How long will you need it?”

“Just tonight.”

TWO HOURS GOES a lot faster with whiskey and food than it does without either.

By the time the sun’s gone down, everyone is pretty much acting like a person again and not a mourner in training. Candy catches me looking out the window.

“You probably need to get going soon.”

“Yeah, I do.”

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