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“To what?”
“Your misery. And your kids’ misery.”
“Please, enlighten us all with the revelation of Saint Stark.”
“Close down Hell.”
Samael crushes his beer can and belches.
“Excuse me.”
The prick knew where I was going all along. He wanted me to say it first.
“I’m telling you as an ex-Lucifer, as someone who’s seen how miserable not just the damned are but the angels guarding them. Turn off the lights. Roll up the carpets and lock the doors. Whatever point you were making by tossing the rebels there has been made. Hell hasn’t redeemed the fallen angels. It’s created the biggest suicide cult in history. That’s why the generals agreed to Mason Faim’s idiot plan to storm Heaven. They knew it would fail and that Heaven’s armies would destroy them. Suicide by cop.”
Mr. Muninn picks up his coffee. Sips it and makes a face. It’s gone cold. He moves his hand over it and it’s hot again. He takes another sip.
“Nice trick,” I say.
“Are you going to point out how weak I am now that I’ve split into pieces? Don’t bother. I feel it every day.”
“I met Nefesh yesterday.”
Mr. Muninn nods.
“Yes, he told me all about it. My brother has come to stay with me.”
“And me,” says Samael. “Two fathers in the same house. Can you imagine my joy?”
“What about it, Mr. Muninn? Shut down Hell.”
He shakes his head.
“I’ll admit I’ve thought about it. I don’t know how I’d go about doing it. What to do with the angels that still want to rebel. What to do with the lost souls. Broken as I am, I don’t even know if I have the strength to do it anymore.”
“Now you have Nefesh to help. Maybe the two of you could do it together.”
“It’s a mad idea to consider as reality. Destroying Hell is an abstract notion. A philosophical argument. Nothing more.”
“Not if you don’t want it to be. You can make it real.”
“This is foolishness.”
“You can do it and let the angels have some free will. Don’t drag any of them back to Heaven. Leave Hell’s gates open and let the ones that want to go back with you go and let the angels who want to stay in Hell stay. And find something better to do with all those damned souls. How many of them are like Father Traven, there on technicalities?”
“This is all very romantic and heartfelt, Stark, but I’d like to point out a flaw in your argument,” says Samael. “You’ll notice that I’m not in Heaven anymore. Neither are a lot of angels. Hell is becoming a very crowded place and not just with rebels and lost souls.”
“Angels are fleeing Heaven in droves,” says Mr. Muninn. “Ruach grows less rational by the hour.”
“So you see, while your throw-the-gates-open argument might have some merit, it’s impossible to implement until Ruach is made sane or removed as Heaven’s guardian. And in the end, all of these arguments might be moot.”
“The Angra,” I say.
Samael nods.
“The Angra.”
“The Angra,” says Mr. Muninn.
