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“You broke some rules when you took the universe from them. You can break one little rule for Father Traven.”
“No,” says Mr. Muninn.
“I guess it’s a Mexican standoff. Unless you’re going to toss me into a lake of fire or something.”
Mr. Muninn makes a face.
“You’d love that. It would fit right into your martyr complex.”
“Then where are we?”
“I have a counteroffer. A compromise.”
“Okay.”
“Eleusis. The place of virtuous pagans. It’s the most civilized place in Hell. Full of intellectuals and philosophers. The best of the old world. I think your Father Traven would fit right in.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I always hated Eleusis too. It seems to me like another bullshit technicality. Why is it their fault that they hadn’t heard about your religion when it was something like nine people believed in back then?”
“The Word was there on earth. All they had to do was follow it.”
“Let’s not start a whole other argument,” Samael says.
“Thank you.”
“My answer to Eleusis is thanks but no. Traven isn’t staying anywhere in Hell.”
“You don’t respect rules at all, do you?”
“Sure I do. When they make sense. But some don’t and some are out-of-date. You keep saying you can’t change the rules. Shit, man. You wrote the rules. You can break them or rewrite them any way you want.”
“It’s a matter of both strength and inclination, and I’m not sure I possess either at the moment. And nobody but that one,” he says, looking at Samael, “has ever pressed me or spoken to me like this before.”
“I’m not trying to bust your balls, Mr. Muninn. You know I like you. You’re a nice guy and you took care of the dead under L.A. for all those years. But you’re wrong on this and you know it. None of us here ever wanted to be Lucifer. You can make sure there are no more Lucifers ever again.”
“This isn’t the time for that discussion,” he says.
“I might have an idea,” Samael says. “A compromise for you both.”
Mr. Muninn says, “I’m listening.”
“Stark, as we’ve both pointed out, Heaven isn’t the place to send anyone anymore, so your rescue of Father Traven, while brave, was ill-timed. And Father won’t permit him going to paradise. So, what do you do with a soul one party won’t let into Hell and the other won’t permit into Heaven?”
“What?” I say.
“Blue Heaven.”
“Limbo, you mean?”
“The pleasantest limbo you’ve ever seen,” says Samael.
Blue Heaven is a place out of time, literally. Its real name translates as “the Dayward.” It’s a part of the universe that broke away from normal time and space in 1582 when Pope Gregory switched from the old Julian calendar to the Christian. Fifteen days were suddenly wiped out of existence. But they never really went away. They exist on their own as the Dayward. Blue Heaven.
“Have you ever been there?” says Samael.
“You know I haven’t. The angel part of me has, but the rest of me can’t remember what it was like. I guess I have a general sense that it was a decent enough place. I don’t even know how to get there.”
“Through the Room, you idiot,” says Samael. “The Door of Drunken Eternity, I believe.”
