Undead and Unforgiven(54)
“Oh no, you don’t! I’m walking out on you! You can just stay here and think about what you’ve done.” Think about what you’ve done? Did I just get the king of the vampires mixed up with a third grader sent to the corner? “And it’ll be a cold day in Hell before I let you back into Hell, mister! The minute I turn my back you’ll be running the show—”
“Which, if your continual bitching is accurate, is what you desired from the beginning.”
“Quit pretending you’re a power-hungry megalomaniac for my own good!”
“But I am a power-hungry megalomaniac for your own good,” he replied, having the complete balls to sound genuinely puzzled.
Which, of course, was the problem, and always had been.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
“So the new and improved Ten Commandments are up and out,” the Ant was saying, “and we’re pairing newbies with, ahem, ‘buddies’ to show them the ropes.”
Silence. It occurred to me that I should probably say something, what with it being my committee and all. “Okay, sounds good,” I managed while in my head I was kicking Sinclair’s shins with the relentless fury of—of—something that kicked a lot. A rabid kangaroo, I dunno, something.
“And may I add what a pleasant surprise it is to see you show up early for a meeting,” Father Markus added, small eyes twinkling.
I shrugged and Marc hid a smirk. He knew I’d grabbed him and popped into Hell to get away from Sinclair, and had no clue there was a meeting scheduled. Luckily he’d never rat me out, he’d just needle me about it nonstop until I begged him to cut the shit already.
“This may fall under the heading of new business. There are other priests here,” Father Markus said, “and we’re all holding mass. There are ministers and preachers and reverends, patriarchs and bishops and popes, lamas and imams and rabbis, too; and those who want to have been holding services for—”
“I thought Jews didn’t believe in Hell,” Cathie interrupted.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Marc said. “Atheists don’t believe in Hell, either, but there are plenty of them here.”
“Jews do believe in Hell,” Father Markus said, “but not as Christians understand it. It’s more a spiritual holding cell than an eternal prison.”
“Geheinie,” I said, then pretended not to be weirded out when they all gaped at me again.
“Gehenna,” Father Markus said carefully. “Yes. That’s what— How did you—”
“I research,” I said, and I definitely didn’t sound defensive. (Maybe a little defensive.) “I read. I had to in order to redo the Ten Commandments. I didn’t just pull that stuff out of my ass. Well, not all of it.” Actually, learning about Gehenna had given me my big “change the face of Hell” idea a month ago and I’d been polishing it ever since. And since I was in no rush to go home anytime soon
(fuck you very much, Sinclair)
perhaps the time had come to bring it to the table, literally and figuratively. It wouldn’t be easy—and not just because the table in question was made of Lego pieces— which was why I’d been putting it off. I hadn’t run it by Sinclair, either (and had no plans to run anything Hellish by the Fred Flintstone of vampires ever again). And not a single one of them would be on board; they’d have to be won over one at a time. Yes, my word was law, but if they didn’t agree with me, I wasn’t going to force them. This was something we’d all have to be determined to make happen and, if that didn’t happen, then I’d have to do it alone.
“Gehenna is where people go to sort of mull over their sins. You’re not judged there, but you do become fully aware of how shitty you were in life. It’s kind of like Purgatory that way. It’s—it’s like a waiting room for souls. And when you’ve been there long enough and are repentant enough, then your soul can move on to something better. In other words—”
“Gehenna is a holding cell,” Cathie said, “and Hell is the long-term maximum-security prison from which there is no parole.”
“Yup.”
Father Markus was having a terrible time wiping the astonished expression off his face. Cathie was nodding and paying me the compliment of not looking astonished. The Ant was busy taking notes, and also nodding.
“Well. Thank you, Betsy, that was very—uh—”
“Weird? Startling? Unexpected? Out of character?”
“I’ll take ‘unexpected,’ wiseass,” I told Marc.
“As I was saying, several of us are holding religious services here. Anyone can come and, I have to say, attendance has been excellent. A few people misunderstood and thought having to attend mass was their eternal punishment—”