Hammered

before we proceed. Will you, sirs, leave this man alone henceforth? He has done us all great service. «
    The rabbis all looked at Yosef. He was the one who had called them here. He glared down at me with hatred in his eyes. He didn’t want to let me go. Or perhaps he didn’t want to admit he’d been wrong. He was having trouble coming up with a reason to pursue me, however. What was he going to do, call Jesus a liar to his face?
    » There will be a vampire war for this territory, « I said by way of a peace offering. » Pick up today’s newspaper and you’ll see it’s already begun. If you’re all about killing the evil minions of the dark lord, there will be plenty coming here in the next couple of weeks. «
    All the other rabbis looked a bit excited about that. They were nodding their heads, and fires lit in their eyes. They probably already had wooden stakes hidden in their jackets.
    Yosef saw that he could do no more. » Very well, « he groused. » I suppose this man is free of hell. We will pursue other prey for now. «
    » Excellent! « Jesus beamed at him. » Now go and stake some vamps. Especially the sparkly emo ones. «
    Yosef and the other rabbis just looked at him with dumb incomprehension.
    » Never mind, « Jesus said, waving them off. » Go in peace. « A couple of them bent to get their knives, but Jesus requested that they leave them behind as a gesture of goodwill.
    The Hammers of God turned and walked away as sirens began to wail and police drove into the parking lot. They didn’t say good-bye and they didn’t say they were sorry for ruining everyone’s lunch. They didn’t even tell Jesus it was nice to meet him.
    Jesus watched them go and then clapped his hands together once, keeping them clasped together in front of his chest. » Right. Well, they’re certainly filed in the right folder, aren’t they? Skilled magicians, but sour dispositions. Let’s get you out of sight of the police so we can talk. « He bent down to pick up all the silver knives, including the one with my blood on it, but left the last knife lodged in my back. I felt this was an egregious oversight at first. Then I realized what he had in mind as he picked up my left wrist and began hauling me prone along the cobblestones toward the Mission Palms Hotel. New pain exploded inside me, and I felt something tear loose in my shoulder where the knife blade had given the muscle a head start on a trial separation. I lost a few minutes there.
    I woke up sitting hunched over in the courtyard of the Mission Palms. It can be accessed from the outside without ever crossing the lobby, but still, I wondered why we were unmolested. No one had noticed one man dragging another man across the courtyard? Even supposing I might have been drunk, didn’t the knife handle sticking out of my back raise a red flag? Jesus noticed my look of bewilderment.
    » I work in mysterious ways. Let’s leave it at that. «
    I grimaced as my ouchies strongly reminded me that they were still there—nerves slapping my brain and saying, » Hey! You paying attention? This shit hurts. « I was completely drained now; I couldn’t shut anything off or heal myself at all. » Thought we were buddies, « I managed to say through clenched teeth.
    » We still are. But pain is often instructive, where whiskey and beer are not. Call it tough love. «
    » Okay, okay. What’s the lesson? I’m listening. «
    » I want you to think about how you got here, Atticus. What was the decision that led you to this moment—a moment where you were almost killed by witch hunters? Follow the causes and effects backward. «
    It didn’t take me long. I had already been thinking of this back in Mag Mell. » It was when I decided to stop running and kill Aenghus Óg if I could. «
    Jesus nodded. » That’s right. When you decided to kill a god, you set in motion a series of events that led you extremely close to your death. Had you remained meek, you would have inherited the earth— «
    » What? «
    » No, let me finish. And now that you’ve killed the Norns—yes, I know about that—you have no idea what possible futures lie ahead of you. The aftershocks of that act have yet to be felt, and you’re going to be paying for it like you’re paying now for Aenghus Óg. Killing Thor would only make it worse, Atticus. Much worse. In all seriousness, there are few ways ahead in which you survive, your deal with the Morrigan notwithstanding. And there are few ways ahead in which