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“What about me?” says Samael.
“You both exasperate me.”
I say, “It’s a gift. Well?”
“What can I say? You weren’t the worst imaginable Lucifer, but you were very close. No, you won’t come back as Hell’s caretaker. But I’m impressed by your offer, though I’m not rewarding you for it. I’m protecting Hell from your whims. Keep Father Traven. Put him in Blue Heaven. And this time, you’ll owe me a favor.”
“Cool.”
I put out my hand. Mr. Muninn shakes it. It’s not a happy shake. It’s not even angry. It’s weary. Being Lucifer will do that to you. He gives me a wicked smile worthy of Samael.>Mr. Muninn dismisses the comment with a wave.
“Please. That’s no excuse.”
“You don’t care that I’m an Abomination, do you? You’ve never cared.”
Samael smiles. Mr. Muninn nods.
“I see where you’re going with this. You’ve trapped me into saying that I reject the technicality that you, a nephilim, are Abomination. And if I can do that, why can’t I reject the technicality that your friend the father wrote an offensive book?”
“Well? Why can’t you?”
“Because it’s not that simple, is it? You made it complicated by stealing him right from under my, Lucifer’s, nose. Do you know how that makes me look?”
“Of course. The three of us know all about how shitty it is to be Lucifer.”
“And yet you did it anyway.”
“I got a little rash maybe. Okay. Sorry. Smite me with a lightning bolt.”
Samael says, “It’s God that does lightning bolts. There’s just us little Devils here.”
“Then stick me with a pitchfork. Look, if I’d come to you and asked for Traven’s soul, would you have given it to me?”
“Of course not.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because there are rules that shape the universe. We might not like all of them, but without them there would be anarchy and nothing would work.”
“Nothing works now.”
“Now you’re being melodramatic.”
“Are you happy? Am I happy? Is he happy?” I say, pointing to Samael. He takes a swig of beer.
“Name me one happy creature in this universe. You can’t, can you?”
“ ‘Call no man happy until he is dead,’ ” says Samael.
“That’s Marcus Aurelius, right?”
He makes a tsk noise.
“Aeschylus. A Greek playwright. Didn’t you read any of the books I left for you?”
“I remember the one where Curious George got to be a fireman.”
“Getting back to the topic at hand,” says Mr. Muninn. “We’ve had this discussion before, Stark. You want me to take sides in the religious dispute between Hell’s old Church and the new. You want me to make mankind happy and cheerful and free from strife. You want me to be all things to all creatures.”
