Hindoo Hevin (Mythklok, Chapter 64)
Title: Hindoo Hevin (Mythklok, Chapter 64)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A demon hunt.
Warnings: Sporks!
Notes: Notes after the jump.
Last time: Gone demon hunting! Well, except for Raziel, who's wargaming the Crimean war with Murderface and her toddler (guess who's winning). And Toki, who's now knitting with the Three Witches' Yarn of Fate (that's bound to end well). And Charles was being annoyed by his not!daughter, and there was also some kind of annoyingly vague threat against Wotan, delivered by his dead son. As we left off, Ganesh was having a pleasant conversation with Raziel's Siberian tiger.
Many years ago....
“Have you picked up more Soma my sweet?”
“Not yet, Shiva. I am sorry.”
“Be sure to get it at the big box store, where you may buy it by the case! Shiva esteems volume discounts!”
“Yes, my sweet.”
“I must ride now. I leave you under the protection of Yama,” he said, indicating the broad-shouldered man standing guard at the door.
“Yes, my sweet. Thank you.” Parvati and Yama exchanged a glance. A bodyguard! Such an insult. Especially a human bodyguard.
Parvati sighed and watched Shiva mount Nandi and ride off with a coterie of men. There was some kind of war brewing. There was always some kind of war brewing these days.
Parvati had liked the afterlife. Dying had sucked, true. It was so undignified! But the Heavens were pleasant, full of enticing smells and cool breezes. A fine place to stay in meditation. Far away from Shiva's temper. And his demands. “Where's my Soma? Open me another Soma, woman!”
She had told Great Brahma that her soul was ready to pass on to the Great Beyond.
“What nonsense, woman,” he had fussed, scattering bits of newspaper everywhere. “You are his female aspect! You must return to him, before he mopes himself into a stew!”
“Let him pout! Perhaps it will be good for him! Maybe he will figure out how to fetch his own damned Soma!”
“Parvat! No more of your fussing! You are his female aspect, it is your duty. You will return to him, and you will pull him out of his great funk before the universe is destroyed.”
Parvati glowered prettily.
“And while you're down there, see about making an heir!” Brahma lectured. “It's about fucking time!”
“Why does Shiva need an heir? We're all immortal. Sentenced forever to the mortal plane. You've seen to that.”
“There are things you do not know, young lady!”
Yes, there were a lot of things Parvati didn't know, such as why one of the most powerful beings on earth - herself - was forced to suffer her existence as Shiva's sidekick.
She informed her servants that she would bathe. She always found bathing refreshing. She could get Shiva's Soma later.
She let them undress her, and then stepped into the hot shower. The spray was wonderful, refreshing.
She felt the rough hands slide down her body. And the whisper in her ear. “Do you need protecting, my lady.”
“Yes,” she told Yama. “I feel I shall need a lot of protection.”
The present day....
Ganesh froze. He tore his eyes from his son, and looked up into the trees.
"What did you say?" he asked the white tiger sitting there staring amiably at him.
Bagheera regarded a long claw. "Ah! So you do recall a bit of your gifts from the Wise Ones?"
"Kitty talk da Lelefun!" babbled Elias.
"You know the language of the elephants?" Ganesh asked, suddenly wondering if he had been standing too near to Pickles when the drummer was smoking.
"I was many years in honorable service to your father," Bagheera told him, switching his tiger tail. "I picked up many valuable abilities."
"Well, it's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance," Ganesh told him, albeit a bit uncertainly.
"Your chick thinks we might profit from conversation."
"My chick? Oh, Boon?" Ganesh frowned down at his son, who blinked up sweetly at him. Yes, a baby angel. To Bagheera, he probably appeared a small bird. "So, what do we need to speak about, Honorable Tiger?" Ganesh struggled to recall the appropriate honorifics.
"You may call me Bagheera. The Bird Queen has granted me an honorable Name. But not all birds are honorable."
Ganesh let it sink in. "You have news of the angels?" he asked.
"I have spoken of this matter, with your chick. He has power, but he is yet small."
"Yes," agreed Ganesh, stroking the boy's tangled hair.
"The Wise Ones have been concerned of late with the birds. They have violated the Dream. It is a very ancient law they have transgressed."
"We experienced that, a few weeks back."
"They fear the chicks. But there is a matter of urgency of which we must speak. They would move against the huntsman.
"The....? Uncle Wotan?"
"The same."
"Whatever you know, Bagheera! Please, tell me at once!"
Charles tried to calm himself amid the still chaotic surroundings. It was tricky as hell to try to do this at a distance, but he needed to know. He found Ganesh's mind, and pushed in.
Elias was there, safely hugged by many arms.
And Bagheera, Raziel's white tiger, was staring at him curiously.
And chatting politely.
Charles came back to his own mind, and looked around, a bit dazed.
"We need to send out a search party for your boy?" Wotan asked.
"No. He's OK. Ganesh is ... talking to your tiger?"
"Well, good for him," laughed Wotan.
"But we still need the search party. I have no idea where the fuck Pickles has wandered off to!"
"I wouldn't worry. He can't have gone far. His horse is tethered right here with ours,” the god told him, patting Pickles' erstwhile mount.
"Can you track him?"
"Shouldn't be too hard. He leaves only slightly less of a trail than a damned bull elephant stomping through my forests. Geri! Freki! Come on, you worthless canines." The wolves bounded over and started to sniff.
"He probably just wandered off for a smoke," Charles told Wotan, although he felt somehow uneasy.
"Hmpf! Hope he doesn't set my damned woods on fire!" Wotan studied the trail, and strode into the woods a few paces. "See? You could probably trail him yourself,” he said, holding up some torn underbrush. He paused and frowned. The wolves had stopped up ahead, and were barking and braying.
"What is it?"
Wotan stared. "Something's not right. The trail stops dead here. He's gone Walking, but...." He turned to Charles. "Go get Skwisgaar. Go get my son. Now."
Pickles had felt better the instant he had dismounted and started walking. And he felt even better when he started Walking. This was a pretty cool bit of the forest, that was for sure. No murderous toddlers and insulting demon's out here, nosir! Just a great, smoke-filled strip club. Now, who would've guessed that? "Hindoo Hevin." A great, skeezy titty bar right in the middle of Asgard!
He hoped they had watery drinks and skanky girls, because that would just be the best. He paid the cover and entered. It was true about the drinks, but even better were the girls: some of them had six, seven, even eight or more arms! And they were not only black and white, but blue and red and green!
He only regretted the other guys hadn't come with. But hey! There was Skwisgaar, right over there, propping up the bar, offering crumpled dollars to a six-armed horned beauty. Only two tits apiece, but still!
"Hey, Skwis dood!"
The blond looked at him curiously. "You are Pickles, are you not?"
"Well, o' course I'm Pickles! What have yoo bin smokin', dood?"
"I would speak with my father."
"Wotan? Yeh, he's out dere, killin' demon's an' all dat shit. He should be in here wit' us, huh? Don't know wut he's missin'! Dese girls are hot!"
"I find them tiresome."
"Yoo do? Dood, yer nawt still freaked out from dose scary kids in dat dream are yoo?"
"I am awaiting one woman. A goddess."
"Whoa! Yer nawt still goin' wit her? I t'ought dat wuz over?"
Baggheera pushed his tiger claws into the tree branch and stretched. Ganesh could not recall before conversing with someone he so longed to scratch behind the ears.
"This regards your brother. Who is not a brother."
Ganesh frowned. He was getting a bit weary of cat riddles. For this is how cats would speak. "Baldr?" he guessed.
"Baldr would be avenged."
"Baldr has been avenged! Loki is serving time as.... Well..." He frowned down at Ashva, not wishing to cause offense. "He is no longer a god."
"The wrong judge has punished the wrong criminal for the wrong crime."
"Bagheera! I'm terribly sorry, but I am lost!"
Bagheera sighed and leapt to the ground.
“Your brother who is not a brother demands vengeance from the father who is not your father.”
“All right. Baldr is warning Wotan about his own murder? I still don't understand. Loki has been punished.”
“Your brother. Who is not a brother.” The tail switched.
Someone else? “Skanda? What the hell would he have to do with....” Ganesh trailed off. He felt a chill. A horrible chill. Of course. An arrow from a blind man. A blind man who was not blind? Now he was thinking like Bagheera!
Ganesh found he could barely manage the words. “Did my brother have something to do with Baldr's murder?”
“Yes.”
He felt the arrow piercing his heart. “My brother is now a mortal,” Ganesh told the tiger.
“Yes.”
“Wotan can't carry our vengeance against a mortal. It would be an even greater crime! Skanda is human! My father took his immortality!”
“Shri Ganesha,” said Bagheera, not taking his tiger eyes from the god. “You must go. Now.”
“Take care of him!” Ganesh ordered, suddenly ducking down, Elias in one hand. Bagheera very gently took the toddler in his mouth.
“ASHVA!” Ganesh ordered.
The horse leapt.
“Huh. So, there's like a downtown Newark in Valhalla? And, Wotan hasn't taken us before?”
“It's not supposed to be here Nathan,” Charles told him. “Something isn't right,” he continued, casting a worried glance towards Wotan and Skwisgaar, up in the lead. There wasn't a lot of sidewalk here, and cars were whipping up and down the interstate. He wondered if it would be worth going back for Murderface and a car. He thought about cigarettes. He thought about getting his wings out, just in case. Yeah, that wouldn't attract any attention: three guys in camo walking down the interstate with a fucking silver angel in tow. He sighed and thought again about Marlboros.
“I t'ink it ams here!” Skwisgaar was saying.
“Hindoo Hevin? That's a weird ass name for a strip club,” grumbled Nathan.
“Nathan,” Charles told him quietly. “Just, stay close, OK?”
“I can handle myself!” Nathan told him, extracting a plastic spork from his pocket and flashing it … well, not precisely dangerously. But, he looked awfully serious. Charles shrugged, and they followed the other two inside.
“Doooooods! It's about time yoo guys showed up! I was jest sayin' t' Skwisgaar.... Hey, yer Skwisgaar? Den who is-?” Pickles whirled around, but there was no one at all seated beside him.
And Skwisgaar was on his hands and knees, choking.
“Son?” Wotan was there, broad hand on his back.
“You do some bad shit, dood?” Pickles asked, hunkering down in front of his band mate as he retched.
Skwisgaar looked at Wotan, dazed. “Father,” he whispered, his voice harsh.
“Yes I-” But Wotan stopped dead. He pulled Skwisgaar upright. He put a hand to his face. “Son?” he asked.
“You must help me,” Skwisgaar pleaded.
“My son. My son. What do you want of me?” Wotan asked.
“You must avenge me!”
“Skwisgaar?” asked Nathan. “Seriously, what the fuck?”
“That's not Skwisgaar,” said Charles.
“Of course it is. He's standing right there! He's....” But Nathan paused. As kooky as it sounded, no, it wasn't Skwisgaar.
“What must I do? My dear son. What would you have me do?” Wotan asked. His face was streaked with tears.
“Baldr!” said Charles. Skwisgaar looked reluctantly towards Charles. “Loki has been punished. What do you want.”
“NOT LOKI! MY MURDERER!”
“Not Loki?” asked Wotan.
“The one who let the arrow fly!” Skwisgaar told him.
“My son. My dear. Poor old Hoor is dead, O these many years.”
“Not Hoor,” Skwisgaar told him.
“No, because Hoor was blind,” said Charles. “You got the wrong guy, Wotan.”
“All these years,” said Wotan.
“Yeah, exactly, why after all these years? That's a real good question, Baldr,” said Charles, now pushing forward.
Skwisgaar glowered at Charles.
“Look, Wotan, there's something wrong here,” Charles told the god softly. “Why now? And why this place? This isn't a good place. You know that."
"Yeah, the girls are kinda skanky," Nathan agreed.
“My son needs me, else he wouldn't have come,” Wotan told Charles.
“Wotan-”
“Who loosed the arrow, son? Who took you from me?”
Charles spun around at the sound of the door bursting open. There was a fine horse now galloping into the bar, snorting smoke, sparks dancing from it's hooves.
Skwisgaar suddenly seized Wotan by the shoulders. He whispered something into his ear.
“No, Skwisgaar!” It was the rider. And then Skwisgaar was on the floor, the rider on top of him.
Charles was down on his knees, helping up Ganesh.
“It's the angels!” Ganesh told him. “I don't understand. The tiger warned me.”
“What da fucks ams happened!” said Skwisgaar, rubbing his head.
“My brother! My brother killed Baldr,” said Ganesh. “But Wotan can't-”
But Wotan wasn't there any longer.
Charles grabbed Ganesh by the collar. “Skanda? Skanda killed Baldr?”
“He's not immortal any more! Wotan can't- Wotan is going to- We've got to stop- Oh gods I came too late!”
“Skwisgaar!” said Charles, yanking up the lead guitarist. “Come with me. Find your father. NOW!”
Skwisgaar still looked disoriented, but nodded, and then suddenly he and Charles were not at the bar any longer.
“Well. That was weird,” said Nathan.
Suddenly, the stripper who had been dancing nearby evidently had also grown tired of the antics, and morphed into her demon Form, which included a lot of sharp pointy teeth.
“Feck!” said Pickles as she hissed at him, snapping with her jaws.
“Oh, FUCK OFF,” grumbled Nathan, stabbing her in the foot with his spork. She squealed, Bar Formed again, and went hopping off.
“Would you gentlemen care to get out of here now?” Ganesh asked.
"Yeah," said Nathan. "Let's get back to Valhalla and see if they have some BEER."
Skanda sighed and flicked his cigarette butt into the fireplace. When oh when would he learn not to trust those feathered freaks.
There was a figure in his doorway. A big one.
"About fucking time!" he grumbled. "Oh! Oh, shit."
"You killed my boy."
"Oh for fuck's sake, Uncle Wotan. That was a long time ago."
"A long time ago? You're a murderer!"
"Haven't you gotten over that one by now?" Skanda sighed, flopping back into his threadbare Barcalounger.
"Why don't I get you over it?"
"Go ahead. You'd be doing me a favor. You see what my fucking father left me? Nothing."
"You conspired to kill your brother."
"He's not my brother," Skanda muttered, pulling on the musty doily on the chair arm.
"You're not worthy of him. I treated you like a son! Like my own flesh and blood!"
Skanda suddenly looked shrewd. "You know what happens if you harm me?"
"I don't care," Wotan told him.
"Good. Then we'll both go down together."
Wotan took a step forward.
There was an angel in his path.
"Get out of my way. This is none of your affair!" Wotan told Charles.
"This is every bit my affair. Back off."
"I swore vengeance. For my son."
"You do not have that right."
"I seize that right!" thundered Wotan, looming over Charles. The room trembled. "Step aside, angel! Before I grow angry."
Charles leaned forward. "Back off. Before I get mad."
"Dada?"
Wotan jerked to the small voice and the cool feel of a tiny hand holding his. "Liam! What the blazes are you doing here?" he demanded the curly-haired toddler.
"Dada! No!" Wotan reeled. There was another angel now in his path. A tiny one. She stood, arms crossed. Her blue eyes blazed.
"Abby? How the hell did you-?" Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, there was a flash of silver.
Skanda's chair was empty.
"Father?" It was Skwisgaar's voice. Not Baldr. Skwisgaar.
"Yes?"
"Let's go back?"
Wotan picked up Liam. "Yes. I think that's a good idea," he said. He started to Walk.
"Lady Abigail?" asked Skwisgaar, extending a hand. The small girl took it. "Remind me never to argue with you," he whispered to her. She grinned.
Skanda sighed and looked at the angel. Even for an angel, he was pretty fucking weird looking.
"You're his boyfriend?" he sighed.
"Husband. Actually."
"You realize you can't harm me either!"
Creepy silver smile. "Have you met my newest employees?"
"We prefer to think of ourselves as independent contractors, darling," Verdandi told him.
"One of ours?" asked Urd, snapping her scissors open and closed.
"Oh god's no!" said Skanda.
"Yes, this is definitely one of yours," Charles told them.
"Skuld!" called Verdandi. The youngest witch came into the room along with Toki, bearing a rather large object between them, which they unrolled on the floor.
"Behold! The Afghan of Fate!"
"Oh, love, that is very nice detailing," commented Verdandi, pulling out her scissors.
"You can't let them do this!" Skanda told Charles.
"You know witches," Charles sighed. "They have minds of their own!"
"With a snip snip here and a snip snip there..." Verdandi sang.
"Ow! Gods damn it! Stop them!" Skanda pleaded.
Charles held up a hand.
"Awwww!" said Verdandi.
"Would you be inclined to answer some questions?" Charles asked.
"I don't trust angel scum," Skanda told him.
"That's probably wise," said Charles. "So, they must have offered you a lot of money, huh? To get over your reluctance?"
"Money. And some other things."
"Which angels?"
"I have no idea. You're all big and weird and feathery. Except you. You're small and weird and feathery. OWWWW!"
"Oopsie, slipped," grinned Urd, patting her blond beehive.
"What color were the wings?"
"White."
"You're sure?"
"White hair, white wings, white outfit. Pretty fucking white."
"OK. Big white angel. And what did the big white angel want?"
Skanda was quiet for a long moment.
"You don't have to answer," Charles assured him.
"I don't?"
"Nope. Carry on, ladies!"
"Snip snip!" sang Verdandi.
"Wait! Wait! They wanted to know about Wotan. Anything about Wotan."
"Huh. Well, I bet they paid you well for that tidbit."
"They never paid me! Why do you think I'm still living in that pit?"
"Oooo, poor dear," sniffed Urd.
"Really, darling, they should throw you a charity dinner," Verdandi snarked.
Skanda glared at them.
"You're probably lucky they never came with your payment," Charles told him. "I don't think you woulda liked it."
Skanda blinked stupidly. And then the realization came to him.
"For now, you'll stay here, as our guest. I don't think you'd last very long back at your place. And you may still be useful". He looked up at the burly securitybKlokateers who had just appeared out of nowhere. "Dungeons, medium style," he told them.
"Can't be worse than my apartment," Skanda muttered. "Is this place rent controlled?"
Charles nodded to the witches and left the room. He needed to Court Form, grab a change of clothes and get back to Valhalla.
“Charles?”
“Hey, Toki,” he looked back at the guitarist and forced a smile. “Thanks for, you know, hanging around with the Norns.”
“Da whites angel?”
Charles felt something close around his heart. Involuntarily, his wings gave a small flap. “Yeah.”
“Hims dat bad guy what hurt you?”
Charles halted. He really didn't want to think about Uriah right now, but he suspected Toki needed some reassurance. “He's not a good guy. No. But, now we know he's out there, so we'll take care of him. OK?”
“Ams you needs our protection?”
“Toki? What? No no no! That's not how it works.”
“We ams gots lots of magics and friends now, so we ams helps you dis time!”
“That's.... OK, look.” He hooked a thumb back towards his wings. “Guardian angel. I protect you guys. That's how it works.”
“But who ams guardses da guardians angelses? Hm?” asked Toki.
“Well, uh.... OK, look, I'm goin' back up for the barbecue. You wanna come along? Maybe we'll talk about it.”
“I ams castings off wit' Skulds now. We ams knittsing da Fuzzy Socks of Fate!”
“Uh. Well. Winter is coming, I guess? She could come too, ya know. Raziel likes that knitting crap.”
Toki seemed to snap to attention. “Oh! I ams asks hers!” he grinned, and he was off.
Charles frowned. He had just suggested bringing the Yarn of Fate … to Raziel. Ah, well.
"A spork?" asked Wotan.
"A spork!" said Nathan.
"You see, Uncle," Ganesh explained, spooning up his three bean salad, "It has elements of a spoon and a fork!"
"Then why don't ye just utilize a spoon? Or a fork?" inquired the god.
"BECAUSE YOU HAVE A SPORK!" Nathan helpfully explained.
Charles appeared at the barbecue, still pulling on his jacket. Suddenly, he felt himself being smothered.
"No! Wotan! OK! That's enough," laughed Raziel, wrestling the god off Charles as one might a big friendly dog.
Wotan was still gripping Charles by his shoulders. "I can't thank you enough for what you've done. If you hadn't stopped me..."
Charles was beet red. "I didn't stop you. I only delayed you,” Charles told him, glancing over at Liam, who was looking particularly innocent.
“Yes, I have no bloody idea how they knew,” Wotan told him, going over to wipe some barbecue sauce from a number of fingers.
“They were quite possibly tipped off by your tiger,” said Ganesh, draping an arm around Charles and waving a three bean salad-laden spork with another arm while he dabbed his olive in his martini with a few other arms.
“You been hitting the martinis?” Charles asked him, who had noticed that his partner's intoxication level often correlated with his number of visible limbs.
“Many, many, many martinis, dear,” Ganesh confessed, sadly shaking his empty glass.
“Uh-huh.” Charles grabbed Ganesh's paper plate of salad and put it under his nose. “Either put away more salad, or we're gonna make you eat barbecue.”
Ganesh frowned, and obediently spooned up some of Surtr's salad.
Charles now felt himself being dragged from behind. Raziel held up a finger to her lips, and tugged him into the kitchen. He looked at the kitchen table and gasped in wonder.
“I don't wanna offend Surtr, but I had Sarasvati fly in a sacred cow steak for you,” she told him.
Charles sat down before the plate. He smelled the heavenly aroma. “This cow obviously died of happiness,” he sighed.
“Ah, well. Have fun you two. I gotta get back to my guests.”
Charles cut a bit of the sacred steak. It nearly cut with a fork. He placed a morsel in his mouth. Was it worth it, for this crappy day? He chewed. Oh, gods yes.....
“Oh there you are MURDERFACE! You missed a great hunt!” Nathan told the bassist.
“How do yoo tell a great hunt from a lousy one?” muttered Pickles.
“Ams you guys still war gamsing?” asked Skwisgaar.
Little Abby was clutching Murderface's large hand. “Jooce jooce!” she said, waving a little cardboard box.
“We've had to schuspend operationsch temporarily. The Ottoman Empire needsch more juische,” he said, holding up the box.
“Oh, is she outta juice again?” asked Raziel. “Come on, we'll get some,” she told Abby, leading her off.
“So? Who's WINNING?” Nathan chuckled.
“It's not who winsch or loschesch!” Murderface lectured, “but rather the pleaschure of the hischtorical recreation!”
“Yer getting' yer ass handed t' yoo, aren't yoo?”
Murderface merely glowered.
“TOOOKIIIII!” said Nathan. “Why did you miss the hunt?”
“Oh, I ams helpsing da Norns get maladjusted!”
“Pfft,” grumbled Skwisgaar.
“Da bad angel ams back. Da bads whites ones,” Toki told them.
“Dat dood who wuz showin' up at da Haus?” asked Pickles.
“Ja. Dat hims.”
“I t'ought Raz chopped off his head or some shit?” Pickles asked.
“Yeah, they kept hisch head in a boxsch up here,” Murderface supplied. “Razsch schowed me.”
“EWWWWW! Dood! A dead head?”
“It ams magicks,” Skwisgaar explained. “Likes dat Mimir dudes?”
Nathan was standing, radiating anger, his eyes ablaze. In a surprisingly soft voice he said, “We gotta kill that guy.”
Everyone was staring at Nathan.
“Dood, c'n we even doo somethin' like dat?”
Nathan's eyes were upon him. Pickles gulped. “We're gonna kill him,” Nathan repeated. “And this time, so he'll never come back.”
Charles sat at the kitchen table tucking into the (literally) heavenly steak.
A pair of blue eyes were upon him.
“It's steak,” he said, holding up a mouthwatering forkful.
“Take?” inquired Liam.
“Yeah, come up here. You should learn to appreciate real food!” Liam obediently clambered up into a chair, clutching a plastic spork in his little fist. Charles cut some tiny pieces of the steak and put them on his bread plate, which he passed over to the child. Liam speared a piece on his spork, and then pulled the piece off with his other hand and put it in his mouth. He chewed elaborately.
There was now a topknot wagging above the edge of the table. “Come on. You too,” Charles told Abby. He put more pieces of meat on a napkin for the girl, and quite soon afterwards, Elias had materialized in his lap, apparently hankering for Daddy food.
“Oh, what are you rugrats doing eating your uncle's dinner!” Raziel scolded when she came in. “He's going to waste away!”
“The damned steak is bigger than the plate, Raziel.” Charles said, picking some sacred cow from between his teeth. “I'm not gonna waste away.”
“Take!” Liam told his mother, once more spearing a piece and then picking it off the fork to eat it.
“And Boon isn't really eating anyway,” Charles noted. It was true: his child was instead using his spork to create an elaborate bas-relief out of the rosemary mashed potatoes.
“C'mere,” Raziel said, sliding into the chair underneath Abby. “You're coming undone.” She pulled the pink Pretty Pretty Princess band off the top of the girl's head, and started to regather all her dark hair in a topknot.
“She doesn't wear it in pony tails?” Charles asked.
“Not after we saw Yojimbo!” Raziel told him.
“Tamoorai!” Abby told him.
“Yup, Abby has ambitions to be a samurai. Don't you?”
“Sheero Fooney!” Abby added, batting her little blue eyes.
“Uh-huh. That Toshiro Mifune is one sexy dude.”
Elias suddenly looked up from his starchy artwork and blinked at his cousin, his face a tiny mask of betrayal.
“Sheero Foonee!” Liam giggled, taking gleeful note of his cousin's dismay.
“OK, you Seraphim. Get going and stop bothering your uncle while he eats. Scat!” The twins wiggled to the floor and ran to the door.
Elias was clutching his spork, now stabbing it into the potatoes. “Sheero Fooney!” he muttered darkly.
“Elias,” said Charles quietly. The boy abruptly ceased committing mashed potato-hem and cast his dark eyes up at his father.
“BOODIE!” It was Liam, bellowing from the doorway. The twins looked at Elias expectantly. Elias clambered out of Charles' lap and made for the door.
“Hrm, a romantic rival?” Raziel giggled as the three clattered off.
“Raziel, they're babies.”
“Ah, here ye are,” said Wotan, noisily thumping down at the table.
“I wanted him to get something to eat before we talked,” Raziel said.
“Baldr! I still can't believe it,” Wotan sighed.
“They know we'll do anything for our kids,” Charles told him. “It's our weakness.”
“Why don't those motherfuckers come out and fight us!” Raziel groused. “I know some people who are gonna get a flaming sword up-”
“That's not how it's gonna be, Raziel. You know your mom by now. She's crafty and underhanded.”
“Traits you don't seem to have inherited in a goodly amount, my dear,” Wotan smiled.
“I can be underhanded!” Raziel thundered.
“Ah. Not really,” laughed Charles. “But I think I know someone who's up for that job.”
“Horrid people!” said Parvati.
“What did you say, mother?” asked Ganesh, as he sat beside her on the couch.
“You did not tell me when I agreed to take over part of the duties at the Eastern Kingdom that one has to deal with so many horrid people!”
“Did you really expect it to be any different?” Ganesh smiled.
“And you! Do you even use that overblown office of yours for anything but assignations with that … ANGEL!”
Ganesh leaned back, two of his hands behind his head. “Can you think of a better use? We are, after all, gods of love.” He sipped a martini. “If you need a bigger office, dear, then just ask!”
“Well,” allowed Parvati. “And you know, I never appreciated you speaking in that highflown manner.”
“Highflown manner?”
“Shiva didn't either! As if you think you are better than us!”
“I went and obtained an education,” said Ganesh, savoring every consonant. “I am better than you!”
Elias had found his way into Ganesh's lap, babbling something that sounded oddly like “Toshiro Mifune.” “And,” Ganesh continued, “while we are speaking frankly, Mum, could you kindly stop referring to the father of your grandchild as 'that angel?'” Ganesh put a hand through Elias' tangled hair.
“I don't trust them,” Parvati muttered. “They were our oppressors!” she noted, waving many fingers.
“Perhaps it's time to start appreciating angels,” said Ganesh, plonking down Elias on Parvati's lap. “This is a very little one you may use for practice.”
“Sheero fooney!” Elias told her.
“Whatever are you talking about, Brahma?” Parvati asked him, using her family's preferred name for him.
“Abby has a crush on Toshiro Mifune, and your grandson isn't taking it well,” Raziel, who had just walked up with Charles and Wotan, told her.
“An tamoorai an douche,” muttered Elias. He too now had two sets of arms out, waving fingers.
“Hmpf!” said Parvati. “Samurai have nothing on Shivaji! Do you know the story of Shivaji?” she asked him.
Elias shook his head. “Cheebagee?”
“Oh, yes, I studied his campaigns during a war,” said Ganesh. “A master strategist. Invented guerilla warfare.”
“With our help, he banished the Mughals from our land, and reunited the empire!” Parvati told Elias. Suddenly, she had pulled something out of the air.
“This is a blade Shivaji used when he was just a boy,” she told Elias, displaying a beautiful little jeweled saber. “His mother asked me to take it for safekeeping, after he was grown.” Elias blinked. He had truly never seen anything finer in his entire life. He carefully gripped the handle as Parvati handed it over to him, staring in wonder.
“Will you promise to take good care of it?”
Elias nodded dumbly.
“All right then,” she said. She produced a little jeweled scabbard, and watched while he carefully put the blade away.
“An show an Yabbanyeem?” he asked.
“Be VERY careful with it, Boon,” said Charles. Elias nodded solemnly as he slid off his grandmother's lap and scampered off to find some toddler chicks to impress.
“Mother, that can't really be Shivaji's sword, can it?” Ganesh asked.
“'Cause whatever it is, it's gonna end up covered in peanut butter,” Charles added.
“He is a grandson of Shiva,” Parvati declared. “And also, there is a woman's heart at stake.”
“Abby will like it. It's pointy,” grinned Raziel.
“We would talk to you, lady,” said Wotan. “Regarding angels.”
“HEY!”
“Nathan?” asked Charles. The entire band had just walked up en masse.
“You gonna talk angels, we're gonna talk too,” Nathan declared.
“Well, I've always felt differently than other people. Like I was somehow special!”
“We're talking with Ashleigh Ofdensen,” said the TV interviewer, sitting opposite of her in a set designed to look like someone's living room, “author of the new biography, Raised by Angels. So, you felt you were somehow set apart?”
“Yes, like I have a special mission! And then I discovered it! Being exposed to angelic magic at such a young age put me in touch with the enchanted crystal angel virtue power!”
Sitting in a living room at Valhalla, Charles hit the pause button and cast a curious glance at Raziel. “Keep going,” she smiled, tucking her legs underneath her on the couch. “It gets better.”
“Enchanted crystal angel virtue power?” repeated the credulous interviewer.
“May I show you my enchanted angel crystal!” Ashleigh told her, pulling out what looked like a small rock.
“Oh, can you show us?” pleaded the interviewer
"Magical Virtue Angel Power!” said Ashleigh, waving her hand over the crystal. To the utter amazement of the interviewer, the crystal suddenly lit up in rainbow colors. It floated upwards, an Inch or two from Ashleigh's palm, and began to play a cheery pop tune.
Charles clicked off the remote. "I'm doubling your salary," he told Raziel.
"TWO dollars a month? Cool," she said.
"So. Tell me what Parvati said about Skanda."
"She got super pissed at Shiva, so she fucked his human lieutenant."
"Not Yama?"
"Yep!"
"Oh. Christ no!"
"You know this dude? I had to Google it."
"I'm married to Ganesh! They're all my fucking in-laws!"
"He's one of the blue god group?"
"He's green, actually."
"Well, anyway, he's a human, so Skanda turns out mostly human...."
"Almost no magic."
"Immortal but lame! Yeah, that must suck. Anyway, then Yama marches off to war and dies gloriously, so they make him god of the underworld."
"So. We're now in trouble with a Hindu demon god of death."
"That summarizes it crisply. You should tell the boys. They'll think it's awesome."
"They think everything is awesome. By the way, Raziel, is that the Sweater of Fate or whatever that you're wearing."
"It's a cropped cardigan! Just like Kate Middleton wore at her wedding after-party!"
"But, it's knitted with the Thread of Fate?"
"Well. Yeah."
"Raziel! What if you snag it! Or one of the twins smears you with peanut butter?"
"Aw! But it's so cute!"
Charles sighed.
"Anyway. Are you ready?" Raziel asked, getting up.
"Yeah. I guess so. You didn't make the batch too strong, did you?"
"What do I look like? Ganesh?"
"No. Especially not in that sweater."
“You may go in now, Mrs Jeffers.”
She scowled up at the odd hooded receptionist. She had never approved of the silly costumes. Another thing she would need to fix. She sighed and entered the office. She remembered this place so well. It was a bit off-putting in the best of times, but it was rather darkened tonight. She hoped they weren't bowing to environmental whackjob pressure and going green or some nonsense like that.
She frowned. Even in the dim light, she could tell that this was not Thomas. Or, Charles, or whatever he was calling himself these days.
“Mrs. Jeffers. How delightful!”
And Indian boy. Charles had put her off to another layer of functionary?
He had politely risen and offered a hand, so she clasped it. “I was hoping to see Charles,” she told him crisply.
“Ah, yes. I suppose you were, weren't you?”
He indicated she should sit, so she did. A bit snotty, she thought. “Are you, um, his assistant?”
“Hrm. In a way, I suppose,” he said, settling back into Charles' chair. “I am his husband. At least according to the authority of my Uncle in Heaven. And the commonwealth of Massachusetts.”
“Ashleigh might have mentioned something about this … situation,” Mrs. Jeffers allowed. Ridiculous. Another thing to fix.
The Indian guy raised an eyebrow. “I understand from Charles that you have a certain affinity for creatures such as myself,” he told her.
She leaned forward slightly, now interested. “You are … another angel?”
He chuckled politely. “No, as a matter of fact, I am a Hindu god. A genuine Hindu love god, in fact. Perhaps you will find it amusing that I exist?”
Mrs. Jeffers stared at him. He seemed pretty damned human. A dryly amused human, but still. “Is this some kind of joke?” she demanded.
“No, I assure you, it is not.” He studied his fingernails. “And I know you have been of late attempting to make an appointment with Charles. As it happens, and I hope you will forgive me, my good friend, Lady Raziel, has made an acquaintanceship with the current receptionist, and she passed on the news to me. Now, usually, I haven't any dealings with figures from my husband's past. What's past is past. Especially the humans. Being mortals.” He smiled apologetically. His eyes were really quite lovely. She shook her head.
“Then what is your business with me? If I am, like you say, a mere mortal?” Does he want a fight? she thought.
“You are a bit unusual for a human. You persist on, as they say, returning to the well.”
“So,” she said, drawing herself up to her full height in the chair. “A god fears me!”
The Indian man stifled what sounded suspiciously like a small giggle. She glowered.
“Er, well, no, that is not exactly the issue,” he said, patting his chest. “Er, sorry, indigestion. Ahem. You, and your daughter tend to cause a certain amount of, shall we say, disruption with these visits. I would like to avoid any unpleasantness. For Charles' sake, shall we say. As it happens, I am independently wealthy, and would be prepared to make it worth your while to end these engagements.”
“You intend to pay me to go away?”
“Mmm. Yes, that is the intent.”
“I demand to see Charles.”
“Well, I do apologize, but I am afraid you haven't heard the rest of my bargain. I have been a bit modest, as I am a most modest creature. I have also, of late, assumed certain new duties....”
She looked around. Was the room getting darker?
“My late father, as it happened, was Lord of Destruction.”
“Your late father? He died? I thought you said you were a god?”
“Yes. Thank you for your kind wishes. We all still mourn his passing.”
She gripped the arms of her chair. The room trembled. Like a very small earthquake. But the Indian guy seemed to ignore it.
“As it happens, being a dutiful son, I have inherited a certain portion of his powers and duties. I thought you might find this interesting information to have during your decision making process.”
“My decision...?” she started. His eyes. They weren't lovely at all. They were quite dark. There was a black ocean in there. She shuddered.
“I wasn't there, obviously, the last time you two parted. But I can promise you one thing this time.” He leaned forward.
The room gave another dark tremble.
“They mightn't find a body. As, this time, there won't be one to find.”
And she was up. And out. And through the outer office and down some corridor or other, she never remembered, to the end of her days, exactly how she found herself outside.
Ganesh popped his head out the office door and glanced at Klokateer 31415, who was still sitting in the reception area.
The receptionist held a little gift bag. “She didn't want her Hot Topic gift certificate?” he asked.
“Evidently not,” smiled Ganesh.
Charles slipped on the pants.
“You mentioned this last time,” said Baldr, holding the reigns and trying not to smile.
“Yeah, thanks! I don't mind riding bareback, but not that kinda barebacked.”
“If you would prefer,” said Baldr, patting his mount, “you could accompany me in winged Form instead of riding?”
“Naw, I'd rather ride. I've never been that keen on flying.”
“Then might I ask,” Baldr ventured, holding out a set of reigns, “the utility of your winged Form?”
Baldr gasped and stepped back. An angel stood before him, staring, silver wings unfurled, flashing in the eternal sunlight of the Heavens.
“Scares the shit outta people,” Charles laughed, grabbing the reigns and jumping up on his mount.
Shaken, Baldr mounted his horse as well. The rode for a while in silence, down a pathway in Brahma's lush garden.
“You wished to speak to me?” Baldr asked after a time.
“Yeah. I think there's a couple things we need to get straight, Blondie.”
Baldr looked over in annoyance.
“What do you want, angel?”
“This is more about what you want. And I think it might help for me to explain it to you. Don't worry, I'll use small words. Even someone pretty as you oughta be able to follow.”
Baldr glowered “I am a son of Odin. I am present here as Brahma's honored guest,” he said. “I don't think insulting-”
“Now, I think that's part of the misunderstanding, which I hope to correct. You're not here as some extra bonus in your already overprivileged life. You're here so Brahma can keep an eye on you. You heard the old saw about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer?”
“In what way may I be considered an enemy?”
Charles smiled, but didn't answer. “It sucks, being dead. Believe me, I know. You expected the Ragnarok to happen a whole lot quicker, didn't you? And you'd be back in your body. You and your wife.”
“It is not for me to determine the future,” Baldr said sadly.
“It's not actually your motivations I object to,” Charles told him. “It's your methods. You've been walking in Ganesh's dreams. My Ganesh. And I mean that literally. I am the jealous type. In a former career I was, in fact, vengeance personified. But, I don't need to resort to that. Here's the deal: Brahma and Shiva are family. My family. I am the father of Shiva's heir. And they take family very seriously over here.”
“So what is the point, angel?”
“I don't know what you're up to. And frankly, it's tough for me to give a shit, with so much else going on. But hear this: back the fuck off on Ganesh. Or I'll have my Uncle, Great Brahma reincarnate you. As a newt.”
Baldr gawped, but then brought up his horse short. There were two figures standing in their pathway, a small blue god, and a very large red god.
They were frowning at Baldr.
He looked over to Charles, who smiled and gave his wings an amused little flap.
“You're in late?”
“Yeah, I hadda go over a couple things with Raziel,” Charles told Ganesh, who was already sitting on the bed. “Did you get in late too?”
“Oh, yes,” said Ganesh. “You know. Tying up some loose ends.”
“Is Boon in bed already?”
“Yes. Kam is watching him tonight.”
Charles smiled. “I thought I saw 31415.”
“Lady Raziel is quite the little matchmaker,” Ganesh grinned.
“Ganesh?”
“Mmmm?”
“You really never told anyone about Baldr?”
Ganesh nodded. He twisted his legs up on the bed, looking thoughtful.
“So, what was...? What was it like?” asked Charles, sitting down next to him.
Ganesh closed his eyes. That was a puzzlement. No one had ever cared to ask what he felt. He hadn't even asked himself, before.
Ganesh had a beautiful smile. And this one - it was heartbreaking. He finally opened his eyes, though they seemed focused elsewhere. “Like a summer rain, I'd say. So short, and sweet.”
He finally glanced over to Charles. He never really tired of looking at the man's aura. It was fascinating. Usually when he was in his human guise it was milder, somewhat like background static. But sometimes, when he was agitated, it would boil forth. Ganesh saw it trailing out now, roiling like the penumbra of a sunspot. Jealousy, perhaps? Over him? He tugged at Charles' shirtfront, pulling him close, suddenly greedy. He wanted this, wanted to drink it all in.
“And what,” said Charles, looking into his eyes. “What is this like?”
Ganesh stared. “Like an electrical storm. That uproots everything. And leaves nothing ever the same.”
Kam glanced up from his book to the chessboard. The Cherub smiled and tipped over his king.
“You're retiring?” asked Klokateer 31415, some regret in his voice. He flexed his biceps uncertainly. He had never felt entirely comfortable in civilian clothes.
“You'd do better to play Lady Raziel!” Kam told him. “I think she would be a better match for you. And be sure to ask her for the non-cheating version!”
“Would you like to read some more Angelic poetry?” 31415 asked him hopefully.
“I would be utterly delighted!” Kam told him. “I was just looking over some stanzas here-”
Both beings paused as the ground trembled.
“You get earthquakes up hereabouts?” 31415 asked the tutor.
Kam's grin looked like it might break his face. “We do when Lord Ganesh and Honored Brother Sariel are about. Hey, I didn't hear you get up, Boonie. Did you need a drink of water?”
Elias had already obtained Kam's lap. He pulled out a small scabbard.
“Is that your new toy?” Kam asked.
“I think it's not a toy,” commented 31415 as the child drew the saber.
“An Cheebagee!” Elias told them.
“Might I see?” asked 31415. Elias reverently handed it over.
“Well, that is a very nice blade, young Lord Elias,” 31415 told him.
“Is that peanut butter?” said Kam, examining the scabbard. “All right. Well, you need to put your deadly weapon away, because Lelefun and Wunge are waiting for you to come to bed.”
Elias obediently sheathed the saber and stood with Kam. “Night night!” he said, toddling over to 31415, his arms out.
“Goodnight kiss,” Kam whispered. The big Klokateer shrugged and shyly leaned over, and received a sticky smack from the little love god. “I'll be right back,” Kam told him, retaking Elias' little hand. “And by the way,” he added. “You're cute when you blush.” Which only made 31415 turn redder.
Kam led Elias to his room, where the child squirmed into bed. “We'll put this right here on the nightstand,” Kam told him, taking the sword. Thankfully, there was no argument. “Hrm. How do these plush toys always get over to the other side of the room. Anyway. Now, why don't you tell your friends all about what you did today?”
Elias gathered his plush toys and took a mighty breath. “An da hunt an Bowhowwa an Wunky Wotan an doggies an hosie an wide an dada faw off an da deemuns an laugh an Unky Nate-Nate … an Yeem stabby … an dat kitty talk an dada … an dada wide....” But Lelefun and Wunge would have to wait for another day to hear the end of that story. But that was all right. Because it was a good one.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A demon hunt.
Warnings: Sporks!
Notes: Notes after the jump.
Last time: Gone demon hunting! Well, except for Raziel, who's wargaming the Crimean war with Murderface and her toddler (guess who's winning). And Toki, who's now knitting with the Three Witches' Yarn of Fate (that's bound to end well). And Charles was being annoyed by his not!daughter, and there was also some kind of annoyingly vague threat against Wotan, delivered by his dead son. As we left off, Ganesh was having a pleasant conversation with Raziel's Siberian tiger.
Many years ago....
“Have you picked up more Soma my sweet?”
“Not yet, Shiva. I am sorry.”
“Be sure to get it at the big box store, where you may buy it by the case! Shiva esteems volume discounts!”
“Yes, my sweet.”
“I must ride now. I leave you under the protection of Yama,” he said, indicating the broad-shouldered man standing guard at the door.
“Yes, my sweet. Thank you.” Parvati and Yama exchanged a glance. A bodyguard! Such an insult. Especially a human bodyguard.
Parvati sighed and watched Shiva mount Nandi and ride off with a coterie of men. There was some kind of war brewing. There was always some kind of war brewing these days.
Parvati had liked the afterlife. Dying had sucked, true. It was so undignified! But the Heavens were pleasant, full of enticing smells and cool breezes. A fine place to stay in meditation. Far away from Shiva's temper. And his demands. “Where's my Soma? Open me another Soma, woman!”
She had told Great Brahma that her soul was ready to pass on to the Great Beyond.
“What nonsense, woman,” he had fussed, scattering bits of newspaper everywhere. “You are his female aspect! You must return to him, before he mopes himself into a stew!”
“Let him pout! Perhaps it will be good for him! Maybe he will figure out how to fetch his own damned Soma!”
“Parvat! No more of your fussing! You are his female aspect, it is your duty. You will return to him, and you will pull him out of his great funk before the universe is destroyed.”
Parvati glowered prettily.
“And while you're down there, see about making an heir!” Brahma lectured. “It's about fucking time!”
“Why does Shiva need an heir? We're all immortal. Sentenced forever to the mortal plane. You've seen to that.”
“There are things you do not know, young lady!”
Yes, there were a lot of things Parvati didn't know, such as why one of the most powerful beings on earth - herself - was forced to suffer her existence as Shiva's sidekick.
She informed her servants that she would bathe. She always found bathing refreshing. She could get Shiva's Soma later.
She let them undress her, and then stepped into the hot shower. The spray was wonderful, refreshing.
She felt the rough hands slide down her body. And the whisper in her ear. “Do you need protecting, my lady.”
“Yes,” she told Yama. “I feel I shall need a lot of protection.”
The present day....
Ganesh froze. He tore his eyes from his son, and looked up into the trees.
"What did you say?" he asked the white tiger sitting there staring amiably at him.
Bagheera regarded a long claw. "Ah! So you do recall a bit of your gifts from the Wise Ones?"
"Kitty talk da Lelefun!" babbled Elias.
"You know the language of the elephants?" Ganesh asked, suddenly wondering if he had been standing too near to Pickles when the drummer was smoking.
"I was many years in honorable service to your father," Bagheera told him, switching his tiger tail. "I picked up many valuable abilities."
"Well, it's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance," Ganesh told him, albeit a bit uncertainly.
"Your chick thinks we might profit from conversation."
"My chick? Oh, Boon?" Ganesh frowned down at his son, who blinked up sweetly at him. Yes, a baby angel. To Bagheera, he probably appeared a small bird. "So, what do we need to speak about, Honorable Tiger?" Ganesh struggled to recall the appropriate honorifics.
"You may call me Bagheera. The Bird Queen has granted me an honorable Name. But not all birds are honorable."
Ganesh let it sink in. "You have news of the angels?" he asked.
"I have spoken of this matter, with your chick. He has power, but he is yet small."
"Yes," agreed Ganesh, stroking the boy's tangled hair.
"The Wise Ones have been concerned of late with the birds. They have violated the Dream. It is a very ancient law they have transgressed."
"We experienced that, a few weeks back."
"They fear the chicks. But there is a matter of urgency of which we must speak. They would move against the huntsman.
"The....? Uncle Wotan?"
"The same."
"Whatever you know, Bagheera! Please, tell me at once!"
Charles tried to calm himself amid the still chaotic surroundings. It was tricky as hell to try to do this at a distance, but he needed to know. He found Ganesh's mind, and pushed in.
Elias was there, safely hugged by many arms.
And Bagheera, Raziel's white tiger, was staring at him curiously.
And chatting politely.
Charles came back to his own mind, and looked around, a bit dazed.
"We need to send out a search party for your boy?" Wotan asked.
"No. He's OK. Ganesh is ... talking to your tiger?"
"Well, good for him," laughed Wotan.
"But we still need the search party. I have no idea where the fuck Pickles has wandered off to!"
"I wouldn't worry. He can't have gone far. His horse is tethered right here with ours,” the god told him, patting Pickles' erstwhile mount.
"Can you track him?"
"Shouldn't be too hard. He leaves only slightly less of a trail than a damned bull elephant stomping through my forests. Geri! Freki! Come on, you worthless canines." The wolves bounded over and started to sniff.
"He probably just wandered off for a smoke," Charles told Wotan, although he felt somehow uneasy.
"Hmpf! Hope he doesn't set my damned woods on fire!" Wotan studied the trail, and strode into the woods a few paces. "See? You could probably trail him yourself,” he said, holding up some torn underbrush. He paused and frowned. The wolves had stopped up ahead, and were barking and braying.
"What is it?"
Wotan stared. "Something's not right. The trail stops dead here. He's gone Walking, but...." He turned to Charles. "Go get Skwisgaar. Go get my son. Now."
Pickles had felt better the instant he had dismounted and started walking. And he felt even better when he started Walking. This was a pretty cool bit of the forest, that was for sure. No murderous toddlers and insulting demon's out here, nosir! Just a great, smoke-filled strip club. Now, who would've guessed that? "Hindoo Hevin." A great, skeezy titty bar right in the middle of Asgard!
He hoped they had watery drinks and skanky girls, because that would just be the best. He paid the cover and entered. It was true about the drinks, but even better were the girls: some of them had six, seven, even eight or more arms! And they were not only black and white, but blue and red and green!
He only regretted the other guys hadn't come with. But hey! There was Skwisgaar, right over there, propping up the bar, offering crumpled dollars to a six-armed horned beauty. Only two tits apiece, but still!
"Hey, Skwis dood!"
The blond looked at him curiously. "You are Pickles, are you not?"
"Well, o' course I'm Pickles! What have yoo bin smokin', dood?"
"I would speak with my father."
"Wotan? Yeh, he's out dere, killin' demon's an' all dat shit. He should be in here wit' us, huh? Don't know wut he's missin'! Dese girls are hot!"
"I find them tiresome."
"Yoo do? Dood, yer nawt still freaked out from dose scary kids in dat dream are yoo?"
"I am awaiting one woman. A goddess."
"Whoa! Yer nawt still goin' wit her? I t'ought dat wuz over?"
Baggheera pushed his tiger claws into the tree branch and stretched. Ganesh could not recall before conversing with someone he so longed to scratch behind the ears.
"This regards your brother. Who is not a brother."
Ganesh frowned. He was getting a bit weary of cat riddles. For this is how cats would speak. "Baldr?" he guessed.
"Baldr would be avenged."
"Baldr has been avenged! Loki is serving time as.... Well..." He frowned down at Ashva, not wishing to cause offense. "He is no longer a god."
"The wrong judge has punished the wrong criminal for the wrong crime."
"Bagheera! I'm terribly sorry, but I am lost!"
Bagheera sighed and leapt to the ground.
“Your brother who is not a brother demands vengeance from the father who is not your father.”
“All right. Baldr is warning Wotan about his own murder? I still don't understand. Loki has been punished.”
“Your brother. Who is not a brother.” The tail switched.
Someone else? “Skanda? What the hell would he have to do with....” Ganesh trailed off. He felt a chill. A horrible chill. Of course. An arrow from a blind man. A blind man who was not blind? Now he was thinking like Bagheera!
Ganesh found he could barely manage the words. “Did my brother have something to do with Baldr's murder?”
“Yes.”
He felt the arrow piercing his heart. “My brother is now a mortal,” Ganesh told the tiger.
“Yes.”
“Wotan can't carry our vengeance against a mortal. It would be an even greater crime! Skanda is human! My father took his immortality!”
“Shri Ganesha,” said Bagheera, not taking his tiger eyes from the god. “You must go. Now.”
“Take care of him!” Ganesh ordered, suddenly ducking down, Elias in one hand. Bagheera very gently took the toddler in his mouth.
“ASHVA!” Ganesh ordered.
The horse leapt.
“Huh. So, there's like a downtown Newark in Valhalla? And, Wotan hasn't taken us before?”
“It's not supposed to be here Nathan,” Charles told him. “Something isn't right,” he continued, casting a worried glance towards Wotan and Skwisgaar, up in the lead. There wasn't a lot of sidewalk here, and cars were whipping up and down the interstate. He wondered if it would be worth going back for Murderface and a car. He thought about cigarettes. He thought about getting his wings out, just in case. Yeah, that wouldn't attract any attention: three guys in camo walking down the interstate with a fucking silver angel in tow. He sighed and thought again about Marlboros.
“I t'ink it ams here!” Skwisgaar was saying.
“Hindoo Hevin? That's a weird ass name for a strip club,” grumbled Nathan.
“Nathan,” Charles told him quietly. “Just, stay close, OK?”
“I can handle myself!” Nathan told him, extracting a plastic spork from his pocket and flashing it … well, not precisely dangerously. But, he looked awfully serious. Charles shrugged, and they followed the other two inside.
“Doooooods! It's about time yoo guys showed up! I was jest sayin' t' Skwisgaar.... Hey, yer Skwisgaar? Den who is-?” Pickles whirled around, but there was no one at all seated beside him.
And Skwisgaar was on his hands and knees, choking.
“Son?” Wotan was there, broad hand on his back.
“You do some bad shit, dood?” Pickles asked, hunkering down in front of his band mate as he retched.
Skwisgaar looked at Wotan, dazed. “Father,” he whispered, his voice harsh.
“Yes I-” But Wotan stopped dead. He pulled Skwisgaar upright. He put a hand to his face. “Son?” he asked.
“You must help me,” Skwisgaar pleaded.
“My son. My son. What do you want of me?” Wotan asked.
“You must avenge me!”
“Skwisgaar?” asked Nathan. “Seriously, what the fuck?”
“That's not Skwisgaar,” said Charles.
“Of course it is. He's standing right there! He's....” But Nathan paused. As kooky as it sounded, no, it wasn't Skwisgaar.
“What must I do? My dear son. What would you have me do?” Wotan asked. His face was streaked with tears.
“Baldr!” said Charles. Skwisgaar looked reluctantly towards Charles. “Loki has been punished. What do you want.”
“NOT LOKI! MY MURDERER!”
“Not Loki?” asked Wotan.
“The one who let the arrow fly!” Skwisgaar told him.
“My son. My dear. Poor old Hoor is dead, O these many years.”
“Not Hoor,” Skwisgaar told him.
“No, because Hoor was blind,” said Charles. “You got the wrong guy, Wotan.”
“All these years,” said Wotan.
“Yeah, exactly, why after all these years? That's a real good question, Baldr,” said Charles, now pushing forward.
Skwisgaar glowered at Charles.
“Look, Wotan, there's something wrong here,” Charles told the god softly. “Why now? And why this place? This isn't a good place. You know that."
"Yeah, the girls are kinda skanky," Nathan agreed.
“My son needs me, else he wouldn't have come,” Wotan told Charles.
“Wotan-”
“Who loosed the arrow, son? Who took you from me?”
Charles spun around at the sound of the door bursting open. There was a fine horse now galloping into the bar, snorting smoke, sparks dancing from it's hooves.
Skwisgaar suddenly seized Wotan by the shoulders. He whispered something into his ear.
“No, Skwisgaar!” It was the rider. And then Skwisgaar was on the floor, the rider on top of him.
Charles was down on his knees, helping up Ganesh.
“It's the angels!” Ganesh told him. “I don't understand. The tiger warned me.”
“What da fucks ams happened!” said Skwisgaar, rubbing his head.
“My brother! My brother killed Baldr,” said Ganesh. “But Wotan can't-”
But Wotan wasn't there any longer.
Charles grabbed Ganesh by the collar. “Skanda? Skanda killed Baldr?”
“He's not immortal any more! Wotan can't- Wotan is going to- We've got to stop- Oh gods I came too late!”
“Skwisgaar!” said Charles, yanking up the lead guitarist. “Come with me. Find your father. NOW!”
Skwisgaar still looked disoriented, but nodded, and then suddenly he and Charles were not at the bar any longer.
“Well. That was weird,” said Nathan.
Suddenly, the stripper who had been dancing nearby evidently had also grown tired of the antics, and morphed into her demon Form, which included a lot of sharp pointy teeth.
“Feck!” said Pickles as she hissed at him, snapping with her jaws.
“Oh, FUCK OFF,” grumbled Nathan, stabbing her in the foot with his spork. She squealed, Bar Formed again, and went hopping off.
“Would you gentlemen care to get out of here now?” Ganesh asked.
"Yeah," said Nathan. "Let's get back to Valhalla and see if they have some BEER."
Skanda sighed and flicked his cigarette butt into the fireplace. When oh when would he learn not to trust those feathered freaks.
There was a figure in his doorway. A big one.
"About fucking time!" he grumbled. "Oh! Oh, shit."
"You killed my boy."
"Oh for fuck's sake, Uncle Wotan. That was a long time ago."
"A long time ago? You're a murderer!"
"Haven't you gotten over that one by now?" Skanda sighed, flopping back into his threadbare Barcalounger.
"Why don't I get you over it?"
"Go ahead. You'd be doing me a favor. You see what my fucking father left me? Nothing."
"You conspired to kill your brother."
"He's not my brother," Skanda muttered, pulling on the musty doily on the chair arm.
"You're not worthy of him. I treated you like a son! Like my own flesh and blood!"
Skanda suddenly looked shrewd. "You know what happens if you harm me?"
"I don't care," Wotan told him.
"Good. Then we'll both go down together."
Wotan took a step forward.
There was an angel in his path.
"Get out of my way. This is none of your affair!" Wotan told Charles.
"This is every bit my affair. Back off."
"I swore vengeance. For my son."
"You do not have that right."
"I seize that right!" thundered Wotan, looming over Charles. The room trembled. "Step aside, angel! Before I grow angry."
Charles leaned forward. "Back off. Before I get mad."
"Dada?"
Wotan jerked to the small voice and the cool feel of a tiny hand holding his. "Liam! What the blazes are you doing here?" he demanded the curly-haired toddler.
"Dada! No!" Wotan reeled. There was another angel now in his path. A tiny one. She stood, arms crossed. Her blue eyes blazed.
"Abby? How the hell did you-?" Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, there was a flash of silver.
Skanda's chair was empty.
"Father?" It was Skwisgaar's voice. Not Baldr. Skwisgaar.
"Yes?"
"Let's go back?"
Wotan picked up Liam. "Yes. I think that's a good idea," he said. He started to Walk.
"Lady Abigail?" asked Skwisgaar, extending a hand. The small girl took it. "Remind me never to argue with you," he whispered to her. She grinned.
Skanda sighed and looked at the angel. Even for an angel, he was pretty fucking weird looking.
"You're his boyfriend?" he sighed.
"Husband. Actually."
"You realize you can't harm me either!"
Creepy silver smile. "Have you met my newest employees?"
"We prefer to think of ourselves as independent contractors, darling," Verdandi told him.
"One of ours?" asked Urd, snapping her scissors open and closed.
"Oh god's no!" said Skanda.
"Yes, this is definitely one of yours," Charles told them.
"Skuld!" called Verdandi. The youngest witch came into the room along with Toki, bearing a rather large object between them, which they unrolled on the floor.
"Behold! The Afghan of Fate!"
"Oh, love, that is very nice detailing," commented Verdandi, pulling out her scissors.
"You can't let them do this!" Skanda told Charles.
"You know witches," Charles sighed. "They have minds of their own!"
"With a snip snip here and a snip snip there..." Verdandi sang.
"Ow! Gods damn it! Stop them!" Skanda pleaded.
Charles held up a hand.
"Awwww!" said Verdandi.
"Would you be inclined to answer some questions?" Charles asked.
"I don't trust angel scum," Skanda told him.
"That's probably wise," said Charles. "So, they must have offered you a lot of money, huh? To get over your reluctance?"
"Money. And some other things."
"Which angels?"
"I have no idea. You're all big and weird and feathery. Except you. You're small and weird and feathery. OWWWW!"
"Oopsie, slipped," grinned Urd, patting her blond beehive.
"What color were the wings?"
"White."
"You're sure?"
"White hair, white wings, white outfit. Pretty fucking white."
"OK. Big white angel. And what did the big white angel want?"
Skanda was quiet for a long moment.
"You don't have to answer," Charles assured him.
"I don't?"
"Nope. Carry on, ladies!"
"Snip snip!" sang Verdandi.
"Wait! Wait! They wanted to know about Wotan. Anything about Wotan."
"Huh. Well, I bet they paid you well for that tidbit."
"They never paid me! Why do you think I'm still living in that pit?"
"Oooo, poor dear," sniffed Urd.
"Really, darling, they should throw you a charity dinner," Verdandi snarked.
Skanda glared at them.
"You're probably lucky they never came with your payment," Charles told him. "I don't think you woulda liked it."
Skanda blinked stupidly. And then the realization came to him.
"For now, you'll stay here, as our guest. I don't think you'd last very long back at your place. And you may still be useful". He looked up at the burly securitybKlokateers who had just appeared out of nowhere. "Dungeons, medium style," he told them.
"Can't be worse than my apartment," Skanda muttered. "Is this place rent controlled?"
Charles nodded to the witches and left the room. He needed to Court Form, grab a change of clothes and get back to Valhalla.
“Charles?”
“Hey, Toki,” he looked back at the guitarist and forced a smile. “Thanks for, you know, hanging around with the Norns.”
“Da whites angel?”
Charles felt something close around his heart. Involuntarily, his wings gave a small flap. “Yeah.”
“Hims dat bad guy what hurt you?”
Charles halted. He really didn't want to think about Uriah right now, but he suspected Toki needed some reassurance. “He's not a good guy. No. But, now we know he's out there, so we'll take care of him. OK?”
“Ams you needs our protection?”
“Toki? What? No no no! That's not how it works.”
“We ams gots lots of magics and friends now, so we ams helps you dis time!”
“That's.... OK, look.” He hooked a thumb back towards his wings. “Guardian angel. I protect you guys. That's how it works.”
“But who ams guardses da guardians angelses? Hm?” asked Toki.
“Well, uh.... OK, look, I'm goin' back up for the barbecue. You wanna come along? Maybe we'll talk about it.”
“I ams castings off wit' Skulds now. We ams knittsing da Fuzzy Socks of Fate!”
“Uh. Well. Winter is coming, I guess? She could come too, ya know. Raziel likes that knitting crap.”
Toki seemed to snap to attention. “Oh! I ams asks hers!” he grinned, and he was off.
Charles frowned. He had just suggested bringing the Yarn of Fate … to Raziel. Ah, well.
"A spork?" asked Wotan.
"A spork!" said Nathan.
"You see, Uncle," Ganesh explained, spooning up his three bean salad, "It has elements of a spoon and a fork!"
"Then why don't ye just utilize a spoon? Or a fork?" inquired the god.
"BECAUSE YOU HAVE A SPORK!" Nathan helpfully explained.
Charles appeared at the barbecue, still pulling on his jacket. Suddenly, he felt himself being smothered.
"No! Wotan! OK! That's enough," laughed Raziel, wrestling the god off Charles as one might a big friendly dog.
Wotan was still gripping Charles by his shoulders. "I can't thank you enough for what you've done. If you hadn't stopped me..."
Charles was beet red. "I didn't stop you. I only delayed you,” Charles told him, glancing over at Liam, who was looking particularly innocent.
“Yes, I have no bloody idea how they knew,” Wotan told him, going over to wipe some barbecue sauce from a number of fingers.
“They were quite possibly tipped off by your tiger,” said Ganesh, draping an arm around Charles and waving a three bean salad-laden spork with another arm while he dabbed his olive in his martini with a few other arms.
“You been hitting the martinis?” Charles asked him, who had noticed that his partner's intoxication level often correlated with his number of visible limbs.
“Many, many, many martinis, dear,” Ganesh confessed, sadly shaking his empty glass.
“Uh-huh.” Charles grabbed Ganesh's paper plate of salad and put it under his nose. “Either put away more salad, or we're gonna make you eat barbecue.”
Ganesh frowned, and obediently spooned up some of Surtr's salad.
Charles now felt himself being dragged from behind. Raziel held up a finger to her lips, and tugged him into the kitchen. He looked at the kitchen table and gasped in wonder.
“I don't wanna offend Surtr, but I had Sarasvati fly in a sacred cow steak for you,” she told him.
Charles sat down before the plate. He smelled the heavenly aroma. “This cow obviously died of happiness,” he sighed.
“Ah, well. Have fun you two. I gotta get back to my guests.”
Charles cut a bit of the sacred steak. It nearly cut with a fork. He placed a morsel in his mouth. Was it worth it, for this crappy day? He chewed. Oh, gods yes.....
“Oh there you are MURDERFACE! You missed a great hunt!” Nathan told the bassist.
“How do yoo tell a great hunt from a lousy one?” muttered Pickles.
“Ams you guys still war gamsing?” asked Skwisgaar.
Little Abby was clutching Murderface's large hand. “Jooce jooce!” she said, waving a little cardboard box.
“We've had to schuspend operationsch temporarily. The Ottoman Empire needsch more juische,” he said, holding up the box.
“Oh, is she outta juice again?” asked Raziel. “Come on, we'll get some,” she told Abby, leading her off.
“So? Who's WINNING?” Nathan chuckled.
“It's not who winsch or loschesch!” Murderface lectured, “but rather the pleaschure of the hischtorical recreation!”
“Yer getting' yer ass handed t' yoo, aren't yoo?”
Murderface merely glowered.
“TOOOKIIIII!” said Nathan. “Why did you miss the hunt?”
“Oh, I ams helpsing da Norns get maladjusted!”
“Pfft,” grumbled Skwisgaar.
“Da bad angel ams back. Da bads whites ones,” Toki told them.
“Dat dood who wuz showin' up at da Haus?” asked Pickles.
“Ja. Dat hims.”
“I t'ought Raz chopped off his head or some shit?” Pickles asked.
“Yeah, they kept hisch head in a boxsch up here,” Murderface supplied. “Razsch schowed me.”
“EWWWWW! Dood! A dead head?”
“It ams magicks,” Skwisgaar explained. “Likes dat Mimir dudes?”
Nathan was standing, radiating anger, his eyes ablaze. In a surprisingly soft voice he said, “We gotta kill that guy.”
Everyone was staring at Nathan.
“Dood, c'n we even doo somethin' like dat?”
Nathan's eyes were upon him. Pickles gulped. “We're gonna kill him,” Nathan repeated. “And this time, so he'll never come back.”
Charles sat at the kitchen table tucking into the (literally) heavenly steak.
A pair of blue eyes were upon him.
“It's steak,” he said, holding up a mouthwatering forkful.
“Take?” inquired Liam.
“Yeah, come up here. You should learn to appreciate real food!” Liam obediently clambered up into a chair, clutching a plastic spork in his little fist. Charles cut some tiny pieces of the steak and put them on his bread plate, which he passed over to the child. Liam speared a piece on his spork, and then pulled the piece off with his other hand and put it in his mouth. He chewed elaborately.
There was now a topknot wagging above the edge of the table. “Come on. You too,” Charles told Abby. He put more pieces of meat on a napkin for the girl, and quite soon afterwards, Elias had materialized in his lap, apparently hankering for Daddy food.
“Oh, what are you rugrats doing eating your uncle's dinner!” Raziel scolded when she came in. “He's going to waste away!”
“The damned steak is bigger than the plate, Raziel.” Charles said, picking some sacred cow from between his teeth. “I'm not gonna waste away.”
“Take!” Liam told his mother, once more spearing a piece and then picking it off the fork to eat it.
“And Boon isn't really eating anyway,” Charles noted. It was true: his child was instead using his spork to create an elaborate bas-relief out of the rosemary mashed potatoes.
“C'mere,” Raziel said, sliding into the chair underneath Abby. “You're coming undone.” She pulled the pink Pretty Pretty Princess band off the top of the girl's head, and started to regather all her dark hair in a topknot.
“She doesn't wear it in pony tails?” Charles asked.
“Not after we saw Yojimbo!” Raziel told him.
“Tamoorai!” Abby told him.
“Yup, Abby has ambitions to be a samurai. Don't you?”
“Sheero Fooney!” Abby added, batting her little blue eyes.
“Uh-huh. That Toshiro Mifune is one sexy dude.”
Elias suddenly looked up from his starchy artwork and blinked at his cousin, his face a tiny mask of betrayal.
“Sheero Foonee!” Liam giggled, taking gleeful note of his cousin's dismay.
“OK, you Seraphim. Get going and stop bothering your uncle while he eats. Scat!” The twins wiggled to the floor and ran to the door.
Elias was clutching his spork, now stabbing it into the potatoes. “Sheero Fooney!” he muttered darkly.
“Elias,” said Charles quietly. The boy abruptly ceased committing mashed potato-hem and cast his dark eyes up at his father.
“BOODIE!” It was Liam, bellowing from the doorway. The twins looked at Elias expectantly. Elias clambered out of Charles' lap and made for the door.
“Hrm, a romantic rival?” Raziel giggled as the three clattered off.
“Raziel, they're babies.”
“Ah, here ye are,” said Wotan, noisily thumping down at the table.
“I wanted him to get something to eat before we talked,” Raziel said.
“Baldr! I still can't believe it,” Wotan sighed.
“They know we'll do anything for our kids,” Charles told him. “It's our weakness.”
“Why don't those motherfuckers come out and fight us!” Raziel groused. “I know some people who are gonna get a flaming sword up-”
“That's not how it's gonna be, Raziel. You know your mom by now. She's crafty and underhanded.”
“Traits you don't seem to have inherited in a goodly amount, my dear,” Wotan smiled.
“I can be underhanded!” Raziel thundered.
“Ah. Not really,” laughed Charles. “But I think I know someone who's up for that job.”
“Horrid people!” said Parvati.
“What did you say, mother?” asked Ganesh, as he sat beside her on the couch.
“You did not tell me when I agreed to take over part of the duties at the Eastern Kingdom that one has to deal with so many horrid people!”
“Did you really expect it to be any different?” Ganesh smiled.
“And you! Do you even use that overblown office of yours for anything but assignations with that … ANGEL!”
Ganesh leaned back, two of his hands behind his head. “Can you think of a better use? We are, after all, gods of love.” He sipped a martini. “If you need a bigger office, dear, then just ask!”
“Well,” allowed Parvati. “And you know, I never appreciated you speaking in that highflown manner.”
“Highflown manner?”
“Shiva didn't either! As if you think you are better than us!”
“I went and obtained an education,” said Ganesh, savoring every consonant. “I am better than you!”
Elias had found his way into Ganesh's lap, babbling something that sounded oddly like “Toshiro Mifune.” “And,” Ganesh continued, “while we are speaking frankly, Mum, could you kindly stop referring to the father of your grandchild as 'that angel?'” Ganesh put a hand through Elias' tangled hair.
“I don't trust them,” Parvati muttered. “They were our oppressors!” she noted, waving many fingers.
“Perhaps it's time to start appreciating angels,” said Ganesh, plonking down Elias on Parvati's lap. “This is a very little one you may use for practice.”
“Sheero fooney!” Elias told her.
“Whatever are you talking about, Brahma?” Parvati asked him, using her family's preferred name for him.
“Abby has a crush on Toshiro Mifune, and your grandson isn't taking it well,” Raziel, who had just walked up with Charles and Wotan, told her.
“An tamoorai an douche,” muttered Elias. He too now had two sets of arms out, waving fingers.
“Hmpf!” said Parvati. “Samurai have nothing on Shivaji! Do you know the story of Shivaji?” she asked him.
Elias shook his head. “Cheebagee?”
“Oh, yes, I studied his campaigns during a war,” said Ganesh. “A master strategist. Invented guerilla warfare.”
“With our help, he banished the Mughals from our land, and reunited the empire!” Parvati told Elias. Suddenly, she had pulled something out of the air.
“This is a blade Shivaji used when he was just a boy,” she told Elias, displaying a beautiful little jeweled saber. “His mother asked me to take it for safekeeping, after he was grown.” Elias blinked. He had truly never seen anything finer in his entire life. He carefully gripped the handle as Parvati handed it over to him, staring in wonder.
“Will you promise to take good care of it?”
Elias nodded dumbly.
“All right then,” she said. She produced a little jeweled scabbard, and watched while he carefully put the blade away.
“An show an Yabbanyeem?” he asked.
“Be VERY careful with it, Boon,” said Charles. Elias nodded solemnly as he slid off his grandmother's lap and scampered off to find some toddler chicks to impress.
“Mother, that can't really be Shivaji's sword, can it?” Ganesh asked.
“'Cause whatever it is, it's gonna end up covered in peanut butter,” Charles added.
“He is a grandson of Shiva,” Parvati declared. “And also, there is a woman's heart at stake.”
“Abby will like it. It's pointy,” grinned Raziel.
“We would talk to you, lady,” said Wotan. “Regarding angels.”
“HEY!”
“Nathan?” asked Charles. The entire band had just walked up en masse.
“You gonna talk angels, we're gonna talk too,” Nathan declared.
“Well, I've always felt differently than other people. Like I was somehow special!”
“We're talking with Ashleigh Ofdensen,” said the TV interviewer, sitting opposite of her in a set designed to look like someone's living room, “author of the new biography, Raised by Angels. So, you felt you were somehow set apart?”
“Yes, like I have a special mission! And then I discovered it! Being exposed to angelic magic at such a young age put me in touch with the enchanted crystal angel virtue power!”
Sitting in a living room at Valhalla, Charles hit the pause button and cast a curious glance at Raziel. “Keep going,” she smiled, tucking her legs underneath her on the couch. “It gets better.”
“Enchanted crystal angel virtue power?” repeated the credulous interviewer.
“May I show you my enchanted angel crystal!” Ashleigh told her, pulling out what looked like a small rock.
“Oh, can you show us?” pleaded the interviewer
"Magical Virtue Angel Power!” said Ashleigh, waving her hand over the crystal. To the utter amazement of the interviewer, the crystal suddenly lit up in rainbow colors. It floated upwards, an Inch or two from Ashleigh's palm, and began to play a cheery pop tune.
Charles clicked off the remote. "I'm doubling your salary," he told Raziel.
"TWO dollars a month? Cool," she said.
"So. Tell me what Parvati said about Skanda."
"She got super pissed at Shiva, so she fucked his human lieutenant."
"Not Yama?"
"Yep!"
"Oh. Christ no!"
"You know this dude? I had to Google it."
"I'm married to Ganesh! They're all my fucking in-laws!"
"He's one of the blue god group?"
"He's green, actually."
"Well, anyway, he's a human, so Skanda turns out mostly human...."
"Almost no magic."
"Immortal but lame! Yeah, that must suck. Anyway, then Yama marches off to war and dies gloriously, so they make him god of the underworld."
"So. We're now in trouble with a Hindu demon god of death."
"That summarizes it crisply. You should tell the boys. They'll think it's awesome."
"They think everything is awesome. By the way, Raziel, is that the Sweater of Fate or whatever that you're wearing."
"It's a cropped cardigan! Just like Kate Middleton wore at her wedding after-party!"
"But, it's knitted with the Thread of Fate?"
"Well. Yeah."
"Raziel! What if you snag it! Or one of the twins smears you with peanut butter?"
"Aw! But it's so cute!"
Charles sighed.
"Anyway. Are you ready?" Raziel asked, getting up.
"Yeah. I guess so. You didn't make the batch too strong, did you?"
"What do I look like? Ganesh?"
"No. Especially not in that sweater."
“You may go in now, Mrs Jeffers.”
She scowled up at the odd hooded receptionist. She had never approved of the silly costumes. Another thing she would need to fix. She sighed and entered the office. She remembered this place so well. It was a bit off-putting in the best of times, but it was rather darkened tonight. She hoped they weren't bowing to environmental whackjob pressure and going green or some nonsense like that.
She frowned. Even in the dim light, she could tell that this was not Thomas. Or, Charles, or whatever he was calling himself these days.
“Mrs. Jeffers. How delightful!”
And Indian boy. Charles had put her off to another layer of functionary?
He had politely risen and offered a hand, so she clasped it. “I was hoping to see Charles,” she told him crisply.
“Ah, yes. I suppose you were, weren't you?”
He indicated she should sit, so she did. A bit snotty, she thought. “Are you, um, his assistant?”
“Hrm. In a way, I suppose,” he said, settling back into Charles' chair. “I am his husband. At least according to the authority of my Uncle in Heaven. And the commonwealth of Massachusetts.”
“Ashleigh might have mentioned something about this … situation,” Mrs. Jeffers allowed. Ridiculous. Another thing to fix.
The Indian guy raised an eyebrow. “I understand from Charles that you have a certain affinity for creatures such as myself,” he told her.
She leaned forward slightly, now interested. “You are … another angel?”
He chuckled politely. “No, as a matter of fact, I am a Hindu god. A genuine Hindu love god, in fact. Perhaps you will find it amusing that I exist?”
Mrs. Jeffers stared at him. He seemed pretty damned human. A dryly amused human, but still. “Is this some kind of joke?” she demanded.
“No, I assure you, it is not.” He studied his fingernails. “And I know you have been of late attempting to make an appointment with Charles. As it happens, and I hope you will forgive me, my good friend, Lady Raziel, has made an acquaintanceship with the current receptionist, and she passed on the news to me. Now, usually, I haven't any dealings with figures from my husband's past. What's past is past. Especially the humans. Being mortals.” He smiled apologetically. His eyes were really quite lovely. She shook her head.
“Then what is your business with me? If I am, like you say, a mere mortal?” Does he want a fight? she thought.
“You are a bit unusual for a human. You persist on, as they say, returning to the well.”
“So,” she said, drawing herself up to her full height in the chair. “A god fears me!”
The Indian man stifled what sounded suspiciously like a small giggle. She glowered.
“Er, well, no, that is not exactly the issue,” he said, patting his chest. “Er, sorry, indigestion. Ahem. You, and your daughter tend to cause a certain amount of, shall we say, disruption with these visits. I would like to avoid any unpleasantness. For Charles' sake, shall we say. As it happens, I am independently wealthy, and would be prepared to make it worth your while to end these engagements.”
“You intend to pay me to go away?”
“Mmm. Yes, that is the intent.”
“I demand to see Charles.”
“Well, I do apologize, but I am afraid you haven't heard the rest of my bargain. I have been a bit modest, as I am a most modest creature. I have also, of late, assumed certain new duties....”
She looked around. Was the room getting darker?
“My late father, as it happened, was Lord of Destruction.”
“Your late father? He died? I thought you said you were a god?”
“Yes. Thank you for your kind wishes. We all still mourn his passing.”
She gripped the arms of her chair. The room trembled. Like a very small earthquake. But the Indian guy seemed to ignore it.
“As it happens, being a dutiful son, I have inherited a certain portion of his powers and duties. I thought you might find this interesting information to have during your decision making process.”
“My decision...?” she started. His eyes. They weren't lovely at all. They were quite dark. There was a black ocean in there. She shuddered.
“I wasn't there, obviously, the last time you two parted. But I can promise you one thing this time.” He leaned forward.
The room gave another dark tremble.
“They mightn't find a body. As, this time, there won't be one to find.”
And she was up. And out. And through the outer office and down some corridor or other, she never remembered, to the end of her days, exactly how she found herself outside.
Ganesh popped his head out the office door and glanced at Klokateer 31415, who was still sitting in the reception area.
The receptionist held a little gift bag. “She didn't want her Hot Topic gift certificate?” he asked.
“Evidently not,” smiled Ganesh.
Charles slipped on the pants.
“You mentioned this last time,” said Baldr, holding the reigns and trying not to smile.
“Yeah, thanks! I don't mind riding bareback, but not that kinda barebacked.”
“If you would prefer,” said Baldr, patting his mount, “you could accompany me in winged Form instead of riding?”
“Naw, I'd rather ride. I've never been that keen on flying.”
“Then might I ask,” Baldr ventured, holding out a set of reigns, “the utility of your winged Form?”
Baldr gasped and stepped back. An angel stood before him, staring, silver wings unfurled, flashing in the eternal sunlight of the Heavens.
“Scares the shit outta people,” Charles laughed, grabbing the reigns and jumping up on his mount.
Shaken, Baldr mounted his horse as well. The rode for a while in silence, down a pathway in Brahma's lush garden.
“You wished to speak to me?” Baldr asked after a time.
“Yeah. I think there's a couple things we need to get straight, Blondie.”
Baldr looked over in annoyance.
“What do you want, angel?”
“This is more about what you want. And I think it might help for me to explain it to you. Don't worry, I'll use small words. Even someone pretty as you oughta be able to follow.”
Baldr glowered “I am a son of Odin. I am present here as Brahma's honored guest,” he said. “I don't think insulting-”
“Now, I think that's part of the misunderstanding, which I hope to correct. You're not here as some extra bonus in your already overprivileged life. You're here so Brahma can keep an eye on you. You heard the old saw about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer?”
“In what way may I be considered an enemy?”
Charles smiled, but didn't answer. “It sucks, being dead. Believe me, I know. You expected the Ragnarok to happen a whole lot quicker, didn't you? And you'd be back in your body. You and your wife.”
“It is not for me to determine the future,” Baldr said sadly.
“It's not actually your motivations I object to,” Charles told him. “It's your methods. You've been walking in Ganesh's dreams. My Ganesh. And I mean that literally. I am the jealous type. In a former career I was, in fact, vengeance personified. But, I don't need to resort to that. Here's the deal: Brahma and Shiva are family. My family. I am the father of Shiva's heir. And they take family very seriously over here.”
“So what is the point, angel?”
“I don't know what you're up to. And frankly, it's tough for me to give a shit, with so much else going on. But hear this: back the fuck off on Ganesh. Or I'll have my Uncle, Great Brahma reincarnate you. As a newt.”
Baldr gawped, but then brought up his horse short. There were two figures standing in their pathway, a small blue god, and a very large red god.
They were frowning at Baldr.
He looked over to Charles, who smiled and gave his wings an amused little flap.
“You're in late?”
“Yeah, I hadda go over a couple things with Raziel,” Charles told Ganesh, who was already sitting on the bed. “Did you get in late too?”
“Oh, yes,” said Ganesh. “You know. Tying up some loose ends.”
“Is Boon in bed already?”
“Yes. Kam is watching him tonight.”
Charles smiled. “I thought I saw 31415.”
“Lady Raziel is quite the little matchmaker,” Ganesh grinned.
“Ganesh?”
“Mmmm?”
“You really never told anyone about Baldr?”
Ganesh nodded. He twisted his legs up on the bed, looking thoughtful.
“So, what was...? What was it like?” asked Charles, sitting down next to him.
Ganesh closed his eyes. That was a puzzlement. No one had ever cared to ask what he felt. He hadn't even asked himself, before.
Ganesh had a beautiful smile. And this one - it was heartbreaking. He finally opened his eyes, though they seemed focused elsewhere. “Like a summer rain, I'd say. So short, and sweet.”
He finally glanced over to Charles. He never really tired of looking at the man's aura. It was fascinating. Usually when he was in his human guise it was milder, somewhat like background static. But sometimes, when he was agitated, it would boil forth. Ganesh saw it trailing out now, roiling like the penumbra of a sunspot. Jealousy, perhaps? Over him? He tugged at Charles' shirtfront, pulling him close, suddenly greedy. He wanted this, wanted to drink it all in.
“And what,” said Charles, looking into his eyes. “What is this like?”
Ganesh stared. “Like an electrical storm. That uproots everything. And leaves nothing ever the same.”
Kam glanced up from his book to the chessboard. The Cherub smiled and tipped over his king.
“You're retiring?” asked Klokateer 31415, some regret in his voice. He flexed his biceps uncertainly. He had never felt entirely comfortable in civilian clothes.
“You'd do better to play Lady Raziel!” Kam told him. “I think she would be a better match for you. And be sure to ask her for the non-cheating version!”
“Would you like to read some more Angelic poetry?” 31415 asked him hopefully.
“I would be utterly delighted!” Kam told him. “I was just looking over some stanzas here-”
Both beings paused as the ground trembled.
“You get earthquakes up hereabouts?” 31415 asked the tutor.
Kam's grin looked like it might break his face. “We do when Lord Ganesh and Honored Brother Sariel are about. Hey, I didn't hear you get up, Boonie. Did you need a drink of water?”
Elias had already obtained Kam's lap. He pulled out a small scabbard.
“Is that your new toy?” Kam asked.
“I think it's not a toy,” commented 31415 as the child drew the saber.
“An Cheebagee!” Elias told them.
“Might I see?” asked 31415. Elias reverently handed it over.
“Well, that is a very nice blade, young Lord Elias,” 31415 told him.
“Is that peanut butter?” said Kam, examining the scabbard. “All right. Well, you need to put your deadly weapon away, because Lelefun and Wunge are waiting for you to come to bed.”
Elias obediently sheathed the saber and stood with Kam. “Night night!” he said, toddling over to 31415, his arms out.
“Goodnight kiss,” Kam whispered. The big Klokateer shrugged and shyly leaned over, and received a sticky smack from the little love god. “I'll be right back,” Kam told him, retaking Elias' little hand. “And by the way,” he added. “You're cute when you blush.” Which only made 31415 turn redder.
Kam led Elias to his room, where the child squirmed into bed. “We'll put this right here on the nightstand,” Kam told him, taking the sword. Thankfully, there was no argument. “Hrm. How do these plush toys always get over to the other side of the room. Anyway. Now, why don't you tell your friends all about what you did today?”
Elias gathered his plush toys and took a mighty breath. “An da hunt an Bowhowwa an Wunky Wotan an doggies an hosie an wide an dada faw off an da deemuns an laugh an Unky Nate-Nate … an Yeem stabby … an dat kitty talk an dada … an dada wide....” But Lelefun and Wunge would have to wait for another day to hear the end of that story. But that was all right. Because it was a good one.