Read Online Hellboy: On Earth as It Is in Hell by Brian Hodge - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brian Hodge
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committed, always competent. Yet she always seemed to come back not because she really wanted to, but because the world wasn't as welcoming as she'd hoped, or she didn't fit, or normality was either an illusion or just plain not all it was cracked up to be.
But one day it might be. It might be. After so many false starts, the restlessness inside could finally drive her in the right direction so that the pieces of her life's puzzle might one day click, and that would be it--no coming back.
Hellboy supposed he could conquer any fear but that one.
How could he presume to tell her she belonged in only one place?
"She'll be here," Abe said. "She wouldn't let either of us down."
Hellboy shrugged. "For all she knows, she's just delivering a souped-up briefcase. She could've changed her mind and sent somebody else."
"Ah," said Abe. "You didn't tell her about the rest?"
"That she'd be our secret weapon in case we need to fight fire with fire? I thought I'd cover that once she was here." He looked sideways at Abe. "Mistake?"
Abe thrust out his chin. " 'Oh, by the way--I may need you to flambe some angels, if they don't fry you first'? I think she might've appreciated an earlier heads-up than she'll be getting."
Hellboy scowled. "Been meaning to tell you. Of all you guys who do imitations of me? Yours is the worst."
Abe looked unfazed. With his features, it took a lot for him to look any other way. "Bad as it was, what about the rest?"
"I'll make it up to her, all right?"
And he couldn't have the opportunity to do so any too soon. Most times, a job was a job, and that was about it. Some bit of percolating weirdness needed a looking into by someone who understood the terrain better than most? He did it. And if, in the course of events, something rude needed squashing? He did that too. It kept life interesting, and left him feeling that he was earning his keep in a world that would otherwise have no place for him.
Most times, whatever came up, he rolled with it. A job took as long as it took, and he spared little thought for how long that might be. He had time, and reserves of energy--plenty of both.
But this one...this one was an affront on so many levels.
He had no illusions about where he was. Not even the most fawning apologist could deny that the Church's history had its share of dark, dark episodes. They were a small minority, to be sure, but there had lived popes who'd been among history's most wicked men. They'd raised armies, they'd waged wars, they'd robbed and cheated, they'd condemned the innocent for the sake of expediency and made allies of tyrants for the sake of power.
But not lately.
And through it all, faith had endured. Somewhere, out in those streets, there were people who in the name of the Church and its Christ were at this moment bringing food and clothing and comfort, hoping for no more than that they be accepted in the same loving spirit in which they were delivered.
Because the faith had endured. Look at them all down there, walking upon the stones of St. Peter's Square. Even on the most secular day, they couldn't all be tourists. Embraced by the great curving arms of Bernini's colonnade, the piazza was big enough to hold the population of a good-sized city, and even though there was nowhere near that this afternoon, it would fill again soon enough.
For the faith had endured. He respected that about this place above all, more than its longevity, and in spite of the terrible plots that had sometimes been hatched under its gilded ceilings. It gave strength, that faith, and if it wasn't the whole picture--which he knew from experiences both bitter and sweet--it was plenty big enough for those who needed it to make their way in a world that seemed to do everything it could to crush them. It kindled warmth here on the fragile side of the void.
How dare someone hide inside its walls, summoning down a fire that burned as deadly as any that Hell had to offer.
As they'd been scanning the sky, they'd
But one day it might be. It might be. After so many false starts, the restlessness inside could finally drive her in the right direction so that the pieces of her life's puzzle might one day click, and that would be it--no coming back.
Hellboy supposed he could conquer any fear but that one.
How could he presume to tell her she belonged in only one place?
"She'll be here," Abe said. "She wouldn't let either of us down."
Hellboy shrugged. "For all she knows, she's just delivering a souped-up briefcase. She could've changed her mind and sent somebody else."
"Ah," said Abe. "You didn't tell her about the rest?"
"That she'd be our secret weapon in case we need to fight fire with fire? I thought I'd cover that once she was here." He looked sideways at Abe. "Mistake?"
Abe thrust out his chin. " 'Oh, by the way--I may need you to flambe some angels, if they don't fry you first'? I think she might've appreciated an earlier heads-up than she'll be getting."
Hellboy scowled. "Been meaning to tell you. Of all you guys who do imitations of me? Yours is the worst."
Abe looked unfazed. With his features, it took a lot for him to look any other way. "Bad as it was, what about the rest?"
"I'll make it up to her, all right?"
And he couldn't have the opportunity to do so any too soon. Most times, a job was a job, and that was about it. Some bit of percolating weirdness needed a looking into by someone who understood the terrain better than most? He did it. And if, in the course of events, something rude needed squashing? He did that too. It kept life interesting, and left him feeling that he was earning his keep in a world that would otherwise have no place for him.
Most times, whatever came up, he rolled with it. A job took as long as it took, and he spared little thought for how long that might be. He had time, and reserves of energy--plenty of both.
But this one...this one was an affront on so many levels.
He had no illusions about where he was. Not even the most fawning apologist could deny that the Church's history had its share of dark, dark episodes. They were a small minority, to be sure, but there had lived popes who'd been among history's most wicked men. They'd raised armies, they'd waged wars, they'd robbed and cheated, they'd condemned the innocent for the sake of expediency and made allies of tyrants for the sake of power.
But not lately.
And through it all, faith had endured. Somewhere, out in those streets, there were people who in the name of the Church and its Christ were at this moment bringing food and clothing and comfort, hoping for no more than that they be accepted in the same loving spirit in which they were delivered.
Because the faith had endured. Look at them all down there, walking upon the stones of St. Peter's Square. Even on the most secular day, they couldn't all be tourists. Embraced by the great curving arms of Bernini's colonnade, the piazza was big enough to hold the population of a good-sized city, and even though there was nowhere near that this afternoon, it would fill again soon enough.
For the faith had endured. He respected that about this place above all, more than its longevity, and in spite of the terrible plots that had sometimes been hatched under its gilded ceilings. It gave strength, that faith, and if it wasn't the whole picture--which he knew from experiences both bitter and sweet--it was plenty big enough for those who needed it to make their way in a world that seemed to do everything it could to crush them. It kindled warmth here on the fragile side of the void.
How dare someone hide inside its walls, summoning down a fire that burned as deadly as any that Hell had to offer.
As they'd been scanning the sky, they'd
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