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“I’m not a priest anymore, so there’s no need to call me ‘Father.’ Liam works just fine.”
“Thank you, Liam,” says Candy.
“I’ll stick with ‘Father,’ ” I say. “I heard every time you call an excommunicated priest ‘Father,’ an angel gets hemorrhoids.
“What is it you do exactly?” I ask.
He clasps his hands in thought.
“To put it simply, I translate old texts. Some known. Some unknown. Depending on who you ask, I’m a paleographer, a historical linguist, or paleolinguist. Not all of those are nice terms.”
“You read old books.”
“Not ordinary books. Some of these texts haven’t been read in more than a thousand years. They’re written in languages that no longer exist. Sometimes in languages that no one even recognizes. Those are my specialty.”
He looks at me happily. Is that the sin of pride showing?
“How the hell do you work on something like that?”
“I have a gift for languages.”
Traven catches me looking at the book on his desk, pretends to put a pen back into its holder, and closes the book, trying to make the move look casual. There’s a symbol carved into its front cover and rust-red stains like blood splattered across it. Traven takes another book and covers the splattered one.
I sit down in a straight-back wooden chair against the wall. It’s the most uncomfortable thing I ever sat in. Now I know what Jesus felt like. I’m suffering mortification of my ass right now. Traven sits in his desk chair and clasps his big hands together.
He tries not to stare as the three of us invade his inner sanctum. His heartbeat jumps. He’s wondering what he’s gotten himself into. But we’re here now and he doesn’t have the Church or anywhere else to run to anymore. He lets the feeling pass and his heart slows.
“Before, you said, ‘When I got back to this world.’ You really are him, then? The man who went to Hell and came back? The one who could have saved Satan’s life when he came here?”
“God paid your salary. Lucifer paid mine. Call it brand loyalty.”
“You’re a nephilim. I didn’t know there were any of you left.”
“That’s number one on God’s top-forty Abomination list. And as far as I know, I’m the only one there is.”
“That must be very lonely.”
“It’s not like it’s Roy Orbison lonely. More like people didn’t come to my birthday party and now I’m stuck with all this chips and dip.”
Traven looks at Vidocq.
“If he’s the nephilim, you must be the alchemist.”
“C’est moi.”
“Is it true you’re two hundred years old?”
“You make me sound so old. I’m only a bit over one hundred and fifty.”
“I don’t think I’d want to live that long.”
“That means you’re a sane man.”
Traven nods at Candy.
“I haven’t heard about you, young lady.”
She looks at him and smiles brightly.
