Infernal Devices (The Hungry City Chronicles, #3)

by Philip Reeve

He said, “I am delighted to meet you, my dear,” but he didn’t sound delighted. Didn’t look it, either. Didn’t look as if he’d know what delight was.

All she knew of Christians was that they worshipped a god nailed to a cross, and what on earth was the use of a god who went around letting himself get nailed to things?

The noisy, popular gods of the neighboring temples seemed to dish out comfort and advice like agony aunts, but the god of this place was less scrutable; maybe He was asleep, or dead. Maybe he was busy with some better world, off at the far end of the universe.

Brighton was not a religious city; most of its people thought that religion was at best a fairy tale, at worst a con trick.

“But that’s what bravery is, my dear. The overcoming of fear. If you’re not afraid, it doesn’t count.”