wants me to clean up their mess by Sunday, but I’ll have it done tomorrow. Then Howard does his spook show and I’m home free. I could be talking to Candy by sometime Saturday.
“Where does it happen?”
“The Chapel of St. Alexis.”
“I never heard of it.”
“Most people haven’t. It was condemned about twenty years ago and hasn’t been used since. After it closed there was a split in the congregation, so they were never able to raise enough money to repair it.”
“Then the faction stepped in and promised to foot the bill.”
She draws a smiley face in the dust, then wipes it out too.
“Yes. The ritual will take place in the crypt under the church.”
“When?”
“Vespers.”
“Sunset.”
She cocks her head.
“Are you sure you weren’t an altar boy?”
This is it. I know the what. I know the where and I know the when. I even know the why, but who gives a damn about that?
“Is anyone there now, setting up, maybe?”
“No one will arrive until just before the ritual begins.”
“How are they getting away? Car? Truck?”
“They’re not.”
I look at her.
“What does that mean?”
She draws aimless lines in the dust.
“They’re not leaving,” she says eventually. “The officiants are all volunteers.”
“Martyrs.”
She looks down the alley.
“Yes. And unlike me, they’ll go straight to Heaven.”
“That’s what the preachers told you, but it’s not going to happen. Even if they pulled it off.”
She stops doodling.
“What do you mean?”
“Whoever’s been running your crew is a liar or woefully uninformed. No one gets into Heaven anymore.”
She narrows her eyes.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does to the angels determined to keep human souls out.”
“That’s not possible.”
“And you think we should fire whoever’s giving us information? Where have you guys been? There’s a new war in Heaven, Marcella. God tried to open Heaven to all souls, saved or damned. A handful of winged pricks disagreed and Heaven has been sealed shut ever since.”
She crosses her arms.
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care, but think about this: Why would I lie to you now? What would it get me? You’ve already told me everything I want to know.”
She shakes her head. Keeps shaking it.
“That can’t be right. It’s not true.”
“Believe what you want. I have things to do, like changing out of this suit.” Shifting my weight, I can feel the blood squelch in my shoes.
She looks at me.
“What happens to me now? Are you going to kill me?”
“No. I might have more questions for you later.”
I leave her and go to the door.
“I’ll have them bring a mattress and some food down for you. There’s a bathroom through that door over there.”
She looks around.
“It’s a funny place for a slumber party.”
“Be good and we’ll play Twister later.”
When I start out she says, “You know that if you don’t kill me, the others will.”
I stop.
“No one is going to bother you.”
“You’re so sure I’ll make it through the night?”
“You’ll be fine. But don’t try to leave. I’m putting some wards on the door. The idiots upstairs will be able to bring you food and things, but if you try to go …”
“Then I’ll die.”
I carve some runes in the door frame with her punch dagger.
“No. But you’ll get knocked out by a jolt like a cattle prod up your ass.”
“No fair. I didn’t get anywhere near your ass.”
“I never play fair. That’s how I got out of Hell.”
“Good night, Sandman Slim.”
“Good night, Marcella.”
I finish carving the wards and go upstairs. I tell the roaches what to bring her. None of them will get near me in my bloody butcher suit, so I’m reasonably sure they’re listening to my orders.
When I’m in my room, I lock the door and strip off every piece of clothing. Some of the blood has dried. Bits of it flake off and land in the carpet. Somehow, I don’t think anyone is going to be using this room for a while after I leave.
I toss the clothes on the floor and get in the shower. I stay in there a long time, letting the steam burn the stink of Hell and that van off me.
WHEN I GET out of the shower, I check my side and right wrist. There’s still a deep red slash where the bullet grazed me. My wrist aches and blood still trickles from the edges of the cuts where the plastic cuffs bit into me. My arms and back are covered in bruises. This isn’t right. I should be more healed by now. This half-alive skin suit is second-rate stuff. Until Howard puts me back together again, I’m going to have to be more careful in fights. Though with any luck, tomorrow night is the last time I’ll have to worry about that.
It’s only a little after five, but I’m suddenly very tired. I decide to lie down for an hour and then go check on Marcella.
When I wake up, it’s after dark. I’ve slept three hours. There are streaks of blood on the sheets where my wrist rested. Now when I check it, it’s healed. It’s the same with my side. The red has gone out of the bullet wound and the skin has almost closed. This is good to know.
