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    Summary

    Oh, she’s had it. “You’re fucking with me,” Nile says. “I did die, and this is Hell, riding around Afghanistan being grilled about my past sins by some shitty Virgil.”

    “You can call me Joe.”

    “What do you and the others do, Joe?”

    “Depends on the century,” he shrugs.

    “Professional kidnappers?”

    Joe shows his teeth. “It’s very cute that you think this is professional.”

    “No, but maybe the others know what they’re doing.” A flash of irritation cracks his chummy facade. She wonders if he has any shame she can jab. Fighters and soldiers, he said. “Are you mercenaries?”

    “It’s a little more complex than that.”

    “Sure,” she says. “Whatever you need to tell yourself. How many people have you killed? Just averaged, across the centuries.”

    His mouth twists. “Maybe Hell is riding around Afghanistan being judged by a US Marine. How many people have you killed, Freeman?”

    She closes her mouth, hard. Joe doesn’t smile, but his satisfaction is palpable. 

    - - -

    In which Joe is the one who goes to retrieve Nile.

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