“So this is him,” says Chaya. “The monster who kills monsters.”
“Be nice, Chaya,” says Muninn. “James is a guest.”
“I don’t remember inviting him. And I know it wasn’t you. Was it you, Samael?”
“No, Father,” he says.
Chaya looks at me.
“That’s not a guest. That’s an interloper.”
“James knew Nefesh,” Samael says. “Perhaps he’s here to pay his respects.”
“Yes. That,” I say. But no one is buying it. “Okay. Truth is, I didn’t know which one of you it was that got hurt—”
“Killed,” says Chaya.
“Right. Killed. I wanted to check in and see what the situation is.”
Chaya says, “He wanted to know if we’re all right. What a sweet murderer you are.”
“Truth is, I was really checking on these other two. You I don’t know from a hellhound’s asshole.”
Chaya’s face turns kind of a dark fucked-up purple, which I guess is him turning red.
“Listen to him, Muninn. You let a mortal speak to you like that?”
“In case you haven’t noticed,” I say, “I’m not exactly a mortal.”
“No. You’re Abomination. Why didn’t we kill you as an infant?”
“Maybe because you spent a billion years trying to find your ass with two hands and a sextant? I mean, you can’t even keep your own angels in line. What chance did you have of finding one little kid?”
Chaya doesn’t say a word and I’m pretty sure he’s working up to a good smiting when Samael tugs on my arm.
“Why don’t you take James to the kitchen,” says Muninn. “I’ll be along in a few minutes.”
Samael heads out of the library, dragging me by the arm like a dog that just shit on the Pietà.
I half expect him to chew me out, when he lets go of my arm and says, “Thank you. I couldn’t take one more minute of that old maid’s squawking. He hasn’t shut up since he got here.”
“Sure. It was all part of my plan.”
“Of course it was.”
In the kitchen, Samael finds an open bottle of wine and pours us both a drink. He raises his glass in a brief toast and downs it. I sniff mine. Hellion wine. If Aqua Regia is battery acid, the local Cabernet tastes like the runoff at a Hellion slaughterhouse. I take a polite sip, but that’s as far as I’m willing to go.
“Having three fathers here was bad enough,” Samael says. “Then one gets killed and it’s the wrong one.”
“Sorry.”
Samael pours himself another drink.
“At least you’re here to be Chaya’s punching bag for a while. Ever since he got here he’s been going at me the way he went after you tonight. He’ll never forgive me for rebelling.”
“Fathers can be like that.”
“I seem to remember you having some kind of father drama.”
“Yeah. He tried to kill me. Good thing he was a lousy shot.”
Samael sits down at the kitchen counter.
“I remember. And he still got into Heaven. That’s got to sting. Now imagine having to sit next to him while he lists off all your faults for everyone to hear over and over and over for eternity. That’s my life.”
“I guess we both got lucky escaping to Hell.”
“As you can see, even Hell isn’t an escape anymore.”
Samael shakes his head, gets up, and prowls the kitchen looking for more wine. I swirl mine in my glass like I’m contemplating its enticing bouquet. The reek just about makes my eyes water.
“So, what happened to Nefesh?”
“Exactly what it looks like. He was approached by what he thought were loyal soldiers. But they were part of Merihim and Deumos’s suicide cabal. They were all over him. He didn’t stand a chance.”
“I don’t understand. Aelita needed the 8 Ball when she killed the first brother, Neshamah. How could a bunch of grunts kill Nefesh with a few knives?”
“Ah,” says Samael, taking down a bottle from the top shelf of a cupboard. He brings it to the table and takes a corkscrew from a drawer. When he gets the cork out of the bottle and pours himself a glass, he looks at me.
“The longer my fathers are separate entities, the weaker they get. No one can know, but Nefesh’s death proves that you don’t need—what’s the Angra name for the Qomrama?”
“Godeater.”
“Yes. You don’t need the Godeater to kill a God anymore.”
“All the blood and body parts in the lobby. Was that you?”
He takes a sip of wine and shakes his head.
“That was all Muninn. The only other time I’ve seen him like that was when he knocked me out of Heaven with a thunderbolt. He blew those traitors to bits with a wave of his hand. Good for you, Father.”
He clinks his glass against mine and I have to sip more of the Hellion swill.
“Good for which one of us and for what?” says Muninn, coming into the room. He sees the open bottle of wine and gets himself a glass. Samael fills it for him.
“Your righteous wrath,” says Samael.
“Oh. You mean the lobby. It was certainly wrathful, and I don’t apologize for it. But I’m not so sure about righteous.”
“Righteous enough,” says Samael. “Those pissants got exactly what they deserved.”
“Perhaps. I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“I’m sorry about your brother,” I say.
“Which one?” says Muninn. “The one who died or the one who lived? They’re each a different problem.”
“Both?”
“Good boy,” says Samael.
“My secret shame is that I would have preferred that Nefesh be the one who lived. Sometimes I think I’m no better than Ruach.”
“You didn’t look to kill either of your brothers,” I say. “I’d say that puts you ahead of Ruach in the asshole department.”
“Thank you,” says Muninn.
“Samael told me that the longer you’re in pieces, the weaker you become. What happens when parts of you start dying?”
“Exactly what happens to any organism when it loses limb after limb. I get weaker faster.”
“That means Ruach is getting weaker too.”
“Yes, but not so much that Chaya and I can take Heaven from him, if that’s what you mean.”
“I’m surprised Chaya can feed himself,” says Samael.
“Enough of that,” says Muninn.
He looks at me.
“Now you know the sorry situation down here. And as much as I appreciate you stopping by to check on us, I think Chaya and I need to be alone for a while to mourn our brother.”
“I understand. But I need to ask you something before I go.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t ask me how, but Mason Faim is back on Earth. He has information I need to operate the 8 Ball, but to get it I have to play something he calls the Infinite Game.”
Muninn puts his hands flat on the counter.
“Mason Faim,” he says. “I hoped I’d never hear that name again.”
He takes a long breath.
“I’ll tell you right now that you have no chance of winning that game against someone like Mason Faim.”
“Can’t you teach me?”
“The Infinite Game is like its name. Infinite. It has no boundaries. The rules are impossible to explain and harder to learn. It’s life, with all its complexities and contradictions. It takes longer than a human life-span to become proficient at it. If Mason has become adept at it in the few months he was in Tartarus, he had help.”
“Deumos or Merihim or one of their Angra toadies,” says Samael.
“Where did they learn it?”
“If they’re in contact with the Angra they could have learned from them.”
“If I killed both of them, would this thing be over?”
Muninn shakes his head.
“I wish it were that simple. But I can’t say I’d object to seeing them gone.”
Chaya stops by the kitchen door and looks us over.
“What’s this thing still doing here? I thought you were sending him back to wherever it is he wallows.”
“I wallow in L.A. And yeah, it can smell funny on a hot day, but at least it’s not raining fucking blood.”