Poem: "Blood Will Tell"
This poem is spillover from the May 1, 2012 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired by a prompt from minor_architect. It has been sponsored by Anthony & Shirley Barrette. This poem belongs to the series One God's Story of Mid-Life Crisis, and you can find the other poems through the Serial Poetry page.
Blood Will Tell
Hevarre returned to the seedy little room
that Shaeth and Trobby were renting.
"We finally found Zargon," said Hevarre.
"He set fire to a city in the south."
"Fine, then you can leave me alone,"
said Shaeth. "Let him take over being Evil."
"He's still not a god," Hevarre said.
"Also ... did you know that he likes pink?"
Shaeth nodded. "Of course," he said.
"It reminds him of people's insides."
Hevarre shuddered.
Trobby snickered.
"Besides, there's been a prophecy,"
Hevarre said. "Rishi, Goddess of What Will Be,
says that the next patron of Evil
will be told in blood."
"Well, my former followers
all like blood quite a lot," Shaeth said.
"Maybe if you watch them long enough,
a sign will appear."
Trobby came over with an armload of empty bottles.
"Is this old coot bothering you again?" he asked.
"No, Hevarre was just leaving," Shaeth said.
"We can work on spellcasting some more."
Weeks went by with no sign of Hevarre
and no further word about the minions of Evil.
Then a woman appeared at the door
carrying a handbasket, black braids tipped with knives.
"Agleca," Shaeth said, recognizing his old high priestess.
"It's been quite a while since we parted ways."
"Do you remember the last temple we sacked?"
Agleca said as she poked Shaeth in the chest.
"The one for Beleal, God of Chastity," said Shaeth.
"Guess who forgot the contraception charm
while we were desecrating the altar," Agleca said sourly.
She pulled the cover off the handbasket to reveal a baby.
"Zargon went south," Shaeth said.
"Well, Zargon never forgets that spell,"
Agleca said. "Guess again."
This time she pulled off the knitted cap.
The baby's hair was not black like Agleca's,
nor the coppery blond that humans called "red."
It was the same outrageous blood-scarlet
sported by Shaeth himself.
"Meet your daughter, Desdemona,"
Agleca said to Shaeth.
"I know your temple offerings have dried up,
but I expect you to contribute something for her support."
"How do you know she's really mine?" Shaeth tried again.
Desdemona fussed, baleful energy crackling in her fists.
"Blood will tell," Agleca said as hail started to fall indoors.
Shaeth began to get a bad feeling about this.