Because of the unknown severity of her mental state, I wasn’t convinced that we’d be able to trust her information, whether she verified what Azraal had said or not.
“Well, the reason we came to talk to you,” I began, feeling extremely awkward, “Is that—”
“You need to make sure that the intel you got from Azraal about killing Lucifer’s Firstborn is accurate?” she finished. She seemed to sense my uneasiness. “No, I get it. It would really suck for you if he turned out to be lying.”
“So you can tell me for sure how to kill Lucifer’s Firstborn?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said with a shrug. “You take any sharp object, a sword or a stake or whatever, and you soak it in the blood of a murderer and the blood of a healer. Then you burn it in the fires of Hell. Then you wash it in the waters of Earth. Then that’s it. Don’t make it harder. That’s it. Don’t make it tough.”
I was starting to realize that it could become difficult to communicate with her if I didn’t know every song ever written. I was assuming that last bit was from a song that I didn’t know, and I was hoping that everything important she said actually came from her and wasn’t one of her apparently compulsive references.
“Okay,” I said, “So let’s break this down—the blood of a murderer and the blood of a healer. So if I get myself a knife and stab Jeffrey Dahmer a few times and then stab Florence Nightingale a few times, that would work?”
“Sure it would,” Tithenai replied.
“Then what if I dip that knife in the lake of fire by the Department of Torture and then dip it into Lake Superior?” I asked.
“Then you will have crafted yourself one fine piece of Lucifer’s-Firstborn-killing weaponry and you can go to war,” she said.
I thought she was done, but when I opened my mouth to express gratitude, she grunted abruptly and said, “What is it good for? Absolutely nothin’.”
I really hoped that was simply an irrelevant song lyric and not a commentary on our chances of defeating Halkkor’s army.