The Sons of Odin (Mythklok, Chapter 18)
Title: The Sons of Odin (Mythklok, Chapter 18)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A dinner party in the Dreamtime
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing, smoking.
Notes: Notes after the jump
Cross-posted to capslokdethklok.
This is probably the last bit I'll post before our vacation. Have a very metal new year, everybody!
This is a Metalocalypse AU which tiktaalikroseae has dubbed “Mythklok.” Here are the other bits, about an angelic visit (Chapter 1), a hunt (Chapter 2), a barbecue (Chapter 3), a ski trip (Chapter 4), a sword fight (Chapter 5), Bette Davis Movies (Chapter 6), a concert (Chapter 7), tall tales (Chapter WTF), a trial (Chapter8), an argument (Chapter 9), a stray cat (Chapter 10), Satan’s shinkansen system (Chapter 11), the highway to Hell (Chapter 12), a meeting with Satan (Chapter 13), a tiger hunt (Chapter 14), Hamms beer signs (Chapter 15), kidnapping and Monty Python (Chapter 16) and a chase (Chapter 17).
And it all everything eventually ends up rolling to my fic journal, tikific, where you are welcome to come poke it with a pointed stick. There’s also now an overall summary and introduction to this madness, here, if you want a list of all the reasons why reading this fic will annoy you.
A lot has happened in the last few chapters! First, Lucifer kidnapped Nathan Explosion, which caused everybody else to march down to Hell and rescue him, after Charles had relieved Satan of one foot, one eye, and both his wings, thanks to a flaming chainsaw. Our Heroes next learned that the Legion, the badass angel army, has been trying to find and evidently destroy some legendary magical monsters that dwell in North America. Hopi Kachinas had kept their secrets locked away for centuries. The angels’ plan was foiled thanks to Raziel’s vengeance and a volcano that erupts to the tune of Dethklok music. A traitorous Kachina, Eototo, was captured by Charles and Wotan and imprisoned in the Dreamtime. Unfortunately, the Hopi’s young shaman, Aaron, didn’t survive the adventure, but his spirit is now happily hanging in Dreamtime with Pickles, who turns out to be a pretty awesome shaman himself. Meanwhile, Raziel and Wotan announced their engagement, and Raziel has now launched into full metal bridezilla mode.
Lady Raziel’s engagement dinner ensemble:
The Sons of Odin
There was silence in the board room.
And then the sound of footsteps came from somewhere down the hallway. A thud. Followed by what sounded like a mechanical clank. In a weird, shambolic rhythm. Thud. Clank. Thud. Clank. Thud. Clank.
Several people at the table cringed visibly when the double doors burst open. A pair of aides followed, each one holding aside one door.
Then he was there, standing in the doorway, his figure so large he almost filled the space. One of his feet, the one making the clanking noise, was made of pure gold. One ear, too, flashed pure gold. And one eye, or where one eye should have been, was obscured with an eye patch, inlaid with pure gold thread marking 666.
He stepped - clank, thud - into the boardroom. Dozens of tiny golden gears spun, and tiny golden cogs meshed with golden cogs, and golden levers extended, pushing out dozens of pure golden sheets: his pair of golden wings unfurled, extending damn near across the entire room.
He slammed one hand down on the table, causing several board members to jump in their seats.
“Gentlemen," said Lucifer, "we have a wedding to stop.”
“Can you fixsch it?” Murderface asked.
Lady Raziel looked up cheerfully from the engine of Murderface’s pink Cadillac. She was sitting on the fender, the hood propped open. She had a bit of grease smeared on her face. But, being Raziel, she managed to look rather more adorable than grubby.
“It’ll cost ya!” she replied.
“What doesch that mean exschactly?” Murderface inquired.
“Oh, I dunno. That’s just always what they seem to say on your television programs. Anyway. Your clutch will have to be replaced.”
“I told you to go easchy on the clutch!” Murderface scolded.
“I was trying to escape from Hell!” Raziel protested.
“How the fuck did you get this thing out of Hell?”
Raziel and Murderface turned to the sound of the unexpected visitor.
“Hey Ofdenschen,” grumbled Murderface.
“Sariel!” sang Raziel. “Hi Pickles! I would give you a hug, but I’m all greasy!” she said, showing her blackened hands.
“But you wouldn’t offer me a hug?” Ofdensen sniffed.
“You don’t like hugs!”
“No! I don’t! And I’ll thank you to keep an appropriate distance!”
Pickles grinned and skillfully leaned in to wrap Raziel in a headlock that avoided most transfer of grease.
“And I repeat….” Ofdensen ventured. The car obviously needed some body work, but it looked rather surprisingly intact.
“Knubbler helped usch,” Murderface explained. “He knowsch schome guys in Purgatory.”
“Hell has changed since your boys were down there!” Raziel supplied.
“Really?” Ofdensen asked.
“Yesch, they schay Schatan doeschn’t much venschture beyond the schixschth schircle.”
“Uh…what?” Ofdensen did not often find himself at a loss with Murderface’s odd speech defect, but in this case, he could not believe he had correctly understood.
“Dood, he don’t go up too far any more” Pickles explained. “Da musicians keep him back.”
“And we exschploded his schinkanschen!”
“Has Lucifer really gotten that allergic to music?” Ofdensen asked.
“Not scho much Schaten, asch hisch demonsch.”
“From what I’ve heard,” Raziel said, “since you clipped his wings, nobody has much seen nor heard from him.”
“Meaning he’s fucking up to something,” Ofdensen grumbled.
“You know our Honored Brother,” she laughed.
“Yeah. I do. That wasn’t the only back door to Hell we used when we went down. I just wish I knew what he was up to. Maybe I should talk to Dick.” He cringed internally. Knubbler was a veritably font of gossip - and, all things being equal, angels venerated gossip more than gold - but it would mean having to endure being called “Sarry baby” for the length of any conversation.
“He’sch in Brazschil at preschent, but will be back schortly,” Murderface informed them.
“So. Raziel,” Ofdensen asked. “The engagement dinner tonight? You want me to meet you guys at Asgard?”
Raziel sighed and nodded.
“Oh, yeah, congratulaschions!” Murderface added.
“You guys are coming to the wedding, right?” Raziel asked.
“Sure, dood,” Pickles replied. “Did yoo guys want us t’ play?”
“Of couse not!” Raziel said, perhaps a bit too quickly. “You’re, um, our honored guests! That would be tacky! You’ll just come up and drink beer.”
“Well, t’ank god fer dat,” Pickles sighed.
“Are you regischtered?”
“We made lists at Tiffany’s, Sax, Cartier, Nieman Marcus, and amazon.com," Raziel counted off on her small, greasy fingers, "but I feel like I’m really falling behind. We’re already getting wedding presents coming in!”
“What kinda stuff do god doods get fer weddin’ presents?” Pickles asked.
“Well,” nattered Raziel, wiping her hands with a rag, “We got a dirigible.”
“You got a zeppelin?” said Ofdensen. “As a wedding gift?”
“That was pretty cool. I’ve always wanted an airship! Oh, and one of Wotan’s cousins got us Iceland. I just really don’t know what we’re gonna do with it though. It doesn’t GO with anything, you know?”
“I think that is often true of islands,” Ofdensen said.
“Speaking of which, I probably need to get back now. We’ll need to order some parts, William,” she told Murderface, indicating the Caddy.
“Will you have time to do the maintenansch, Lady Raschiel?” Murderface asked.
“Are you sure you don’t wanna give it to your little hoodie guys?” Raziel asked.
“I don’t truscht those dudesch with my preschiousch Caddy!”
“Wait,” Ofdensen protested. “Little hoodie guys? And, William, is there no one in the motor pool you could bring this to?”
“Thosch ashholes? You know why my Preschidential Caddy is up on blocksch?”
“This has nothing to do with your getting drunk, crashing it into a wall, and then shooting the engine block?” Ofdensen scowled.
“It’s fine,” Raziel said. “It’s fine. I find it relaxing. And it’s so much easier to get to all the little engine part thingies than it is on the Ferrari! Anyway, I’ll see you guys later!” And she was gone.
“William,” Ofdensen protested, “Raziel calls them ‘engine part thingies!’”
“I can tell you are not a devotee of classchic car, Ofdenschen.”
“If you’re having trouble with the motor pool, then come to me!”
“Yeah. They’re dickheadsch. But you’re not around musch.”
“I’m here now!”
“Oh, hey, Charles dood,” Pickles interjected, “we got an idea about a totally brutal weddin’ present!”
Ofdensen broke off scowling at Murderface to pay attention. “Yeah? Not a dirigible. I hear they’ve already got one.”
They were in the arcade room at Mordhaus.
“You wanna get the head of the Norse pantheon and his queen Zombie Slayer 3: The Undead Hoard as a wedding gift?” Ofdensen asked.
“In tree dee, dood!” Pickles stood in front of the giant arcade game, which featured not only a rather large monitor, but a stand featuring what looked like two sawed off shotguns. The drummer was holding a pair of VR glasses, which he slid over Ofdensen’s glasses. “Check it, dood! Totally noo technology!”
“Wow!” It was true: the 3D effects were absolutely stunning. You could practically smell the undead. Ofdensen absolutely couldn’t resist. He hefted one of the guns and fired at an attacking corpse. He cringed as he tried to dodge the flying bits of exploded brain.
“Yeh! It’s supposed t’ be top secret military.”
“Uh. The military, and Zombie Slayer?”
“Totally! An’ when we were at Lord Shiva’s fer da tiger hunt, Shiva dood had Zombie Slayer 2: Da Awakenin’, and he an’ Wotan dood were up all night, killin’ da undead.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah! Nobody has dis version yet! But, Dick Knubbler has dis buddy….”
“Dick hasch a lot of buddiesch!” Murderface grinned.
“An’ we got dis six months before it’s out.”
Ofdensen took off the VR glasses and frowned. “So, there’s absolutely no way Lord Shiva could have one yet?”
“Nope,” said Pickles.
“No way!” agreed Murderface.
“OK. Put me down for a share.”
“They’re outside, the both of ‘em,” Wotan said, looking up from his Wall Street Journal. “You want a cigar while we wait?”
“Shouldn’t we go get ‘em?” Ofdensen asked.
“You can try your luck. Me, I think you’ll be better off in here with the cigars,” Wotan laughed.
“What are they doing, building a snow fort?”
Wotan howled with laughter. “Ye’ll just have to go see,” he said.
It was difficult to miss them. Raziel had somehow located the world’s largest beach umbrella. She and Ganesh, both clad in terribly stylish beachwear and unneeded sunglasses, reclined in beach chairs, she underneath the unneeded shade; the Hindu god, out in the weak sun.
“You guys are out sunbathing, in mid-winter, in Asgard?” Ofdensen asked.
Ganesh and Raziel exchanged a glance, and then nodded.
“I believe that correctly summarizes the situation,” Ganesh confirmed, going back to his magazine.
“I need to get some sun before we hit the beaches in the Pleiades!” said Raziel, tipping down her oversized sunglasses with a well-manicured finger to squint at him in the admittedly rather low winter sun.
“Then why are you under a beach umbrella?”
“I don’t want wrinkles!” Raziel protested.
“They why don’t you just stay inside?”
“What about my honeymoon? You don’t have to be so negative about my wedding!”
“And Ganesh, you are already perfectly tanned!”
“Do you think so?” the Hindu god grinned. “Why don’t you come out and join us, Sariel?”
“Well, for some reason, I didn’t bring my swimsuit up to Valhalla!”
“We won’t tell,” Raziel grinned.
“And that is an excellent way to avoid tan lines,” Ganesh added.
“Are you guys gonna get ready for the engagement dinner? Raziel, it takes you a day to figure out your fucking ensemble for these things.”
“Oh, I’m not certain I’m going to be able to squeeze in the dinner,” Raziel sighed.
“Too busy, My Lady?” asked Ganesh.
“Well, I have tanning, and then I need to read a novel.”
“And I badly need to finish this GQ,” Ganesh grinned, holding up the magazine.
“You really read GQ, Ganesh?” Raziel asked.
“Well, yes.”
“Shouldn’t GQ actually come to you?” she giggled.
“You know, they really ought! I could give them many tips!”
“Raziel!” Ofdensen tried. “It’s your fucking engagement! And your fucking parents hosting it, Ganesh!”
“What’s gotten into them?” Ofdensen cried, letting the door bang behind him. “They’re worse than my fucking band!”
“Sariel. Sit.” Wotan emphasized the command with the motion of a whiskey bottle. The angel sat bad-naturedly on the couch opposite and accepted a glass.
“I thought Raziel was into this wedding shit! I thought they both were!”
Wotan poured two glasses. “Ain’t the wedding. It’s the company. Lord Ganesh has always had a bit of a rivalry with that brother of his.”
“Skanda? I haven’t been terribly impressed by the guy,” Ofdensen admitted.
“Now, I told Skanda, long ago, you’re not going to be able to lord over your little brother your whole life, gotta start using the old noggin,” he tapped his head. The King sat back and sighed. “And then, have you had the opportunity to meet my boys? All of ‘em?”
“Uh, no, haven’t had the pleasure.”
“Well, they’re good boys, but they can be a bit intimidating, if ye don’t know them too well. They can be a bit short with My Lady Raziel, and as you know, she does not suffer snubs too well.”
“I have seen dismemberments for less, in her case.”
“And our Ganesh, well, as ye might know, we brought them up together, my boys and Ganesh and Skanda. And, Ganesh,” Wotan grinned affectionately, “he was a bit of runt as a lad. Took him a while to find his height, if ye know what I mean.”
“Some of us never do,” muttered Ofdensen.
Wotan laughed. “Well, in your case, I suppose it help to know ye can knock a god across the room,” he said, rubbing his jaw.
“Uh, Wotan, I’m really sorry about….”
“Now, I won’t have it! I’m the one who owes the apology for acting like such an ass. Just remind me not to ever get on your bad side, angel.”
“I think that one is mutual,” Ofdensen laughed. They smiled and clinked glasses.
“Anyway, as for our Ganesh, I think the other boys may’ve treated him a bit harshly, as boys will.”
“So what you’re telling me is,” said Ofdensen, taking a cigar from the box Wotan was offering, “our two party monsters are likely to spend this entire evening in misery?”
“Aye, I’d say that’s a fair statement,” said Wotan, leaning over with a lighter.
“Hm,” Ofdensen puffed.
“Are you quite ready, my little Raven?”
Raziel stood, small hands on hips, in front of Sariel, who grinned up at her.
“So?” she asked.
“So what?”
She indicated her outfit. “No cracks about, was this a dress before the wolves chewed it?”
“Hey, that’s pretty funny.”
Wotan clapped a stylish but disgruntled looking Ganesh on the back, and they started walking.
“Is Skwisgaar showing up for this?” Ofdensen asked Raziel.
“Naw. I told him he could skip it as long as he gets his skinny ass to my wedding.”
“So, you guys are speaking again?”
“More or less. Better your Swede than Thor.”
“I’ve gotta meet this guy,” Ofdensen grinned.
“Just don’t get him talking about that fucking hammer.”
Despite having passed innumerable nights now in Ganesh’s residence, being a frequent guest at the castle of Valhalla, and in fact living in his own personal castle, Ofdensen found he was quite unprepared for Shiva’s palace. Or rather, his palace complex, as it was not so much a single structure as a small city, located, it seemed, somewhere between the Mahabharata and Silicon Valley.
The residence was built along a meandering river. On one side stood the traditional palaces, which may have been undisturbed for a thousand years. On the other side sprouted the most outrageous modern office buildings, architectural marvels that more resembled Christmas tree ornaments than actual structures. “As is probably obvious, the structures on the northern side are all new. We must stroll these banks after the sun has set,” Ganesh, who seemed to have cheered up somewhat from the sights, told them. “These sights look very beautiful when lit up after dark.”
"Are any of those held up by trickery, Ganesh?" Wotan asked, waving at the skyscrapers.
"Good question! It is all simple architecture! It is wasteful to expend magic on structures, we have found."
"I want to go up in that one!" Raziel said, pointing out a building that appeared to be a flying saucer spinning on a column.
"Perhaps, if it is not too late, we can arrange a river cruise following dinner?" Ganesh proposed. There were dozens of boats visible upon the waters, ranging from traditional craft to swiftly speeding vessels that looked like classified military secrets.
"This has all happened since you became COO of the EKC?" Ofdensen asked, using the stock market abbreviation for the Eastern Kingdom.
Ganesh beamed. "One might say, it is my small contribution to my parents' legacy."
"Since you kicked out Skanda's useless ass, in other words."
"Er. More or less."
Ofdensen watched a train whir by soundlessly on the opposite bank. A Maglev. Of course. Because everybody fucking had one.
There were people everywhere on this side. He wasn’t certain whether they were minor deities, ghosts or humans. There were snake charmers, businessmen nervously checking their iPhones, deliverymen on scooters balancing stacks of hot lunch dishes, and at least one fellow went whirling by on a flying carpet. Almost everyone seemed to recognize Ganesh, and he walked, his hands steepled, smiling and nodding to them all.
The main palace, on the southern bank, was of very traditional structure. One approached alongside a shallow reflecting pool that appeared to go on for miles. The pyramid-like temple to one side contained literally hundreds of lifelike stone carvings along the visible side, mostly graceful dancing figures. Ofdensen noticed monkeys playing among them, and thought it a pity Nathan Explosion hadn’t been invited. Although, to be fair, it sounded like the evening might be all he could handle without having to also keep a death metal band out of mischief.
Ganesh excused himself as they entered the palace. "I am so terribly sorry, but I think it best I go speak with the chef now rather than later. My father can be a bit, er, stubborn regarding the availability of vegetarian dishes. Especially as I am often the only one who requires such indulgences."
"Tell them I'll be eating it too," Raziel told him cheerfully.
Ganesh smiled and nodded.
"Me too," Ofednsen told him.
"Uh, Sariel, you really don't need-"
"Ganesh, is there any possibility there's gonna be Vritra meat? Or any other dishes based around flesh ripped off a goddam monster?"
"Er. There is every possibility."
"Then I'm sticking with the fucking paneer."
Ganesh grinned and departed.
The remainder of the party at last arrived at the courtyard, beckoned through the palace by innumerable barefoot servants. Ofdensen was forced to admit, whatever had been cooking smelled delicious, and, added to the ripe floral scents of the garden, made the surroundings even more intoxicating.
Ofdensen greeted Shiva and Parvati along with Wotan and Raziel, but as the couples exchanged small talk, he found his attentions directed towards three rather tall, rather unmistakably Nordic fellows standing off to one side. He slipped away, and nodded at the tallest, blondest, Nordic-est one.
“I am Thor!” said Thor. Thor, it could be honestly said, looked like he worked out. He gave Ofdensen a glance at his handsome profile. He seemed to be expecting music to play in the background. “These are my brothers," he pointed to either side in grand gestures, "Vali and Tyr.”
"I am Vali," the god repeated, if a bit redundantly.
"Hi," said Tyr, whose red blond hair had ended up on the red side of the spectrum.
“Sariel,” Ofdensen said.
“You are an angel!” Thor announced.
“Well. Nothing gets past you, does it?” Ofdensen observed dryly.
“He’s my brother,” said Raziel, who had suddenly appeared at Ofdensen’s side, encircling an elbow in her tiny viselike grip.
“He’s here with me,” added Ganesh, now gripping his other elbow.
“Now, now, you two,” Ofdensen mock-scolded. “There’s enough of me to go around.” Raziel was now scowling in his general direction. "My sister was just telling me about your hammer!" Raziel's scowl morphed into her Look of Death, but he noticed Ganesh was now biting his lip the way he did when he was desperately trying to keep from laughing.
"Ah, you have heard of its legend! Perhaps after dinner, friend angel, I might show you how to wield it!" Vali did not bother to cover his snicker. Tyr sighed.
"No, no," Ofdensen said, extracting a Marlborough from a pocket. "Couldn't think of it."
"Do not be overly impressed by its legendary power," Thor, who was obviously quite impressed himself.
"No, it's not that. Shiva is our host, and I wouldn't wanna cause any property damage. We angels tend to do that."
"Property damage?"
"Yeah. I was just apologizing to your dad, in fact. I gave him a little friendly tap a while back, sent him 20 feet." Ganesh now had a hand plastered across his own mouth, and looked in danger of having to bring out extra arms. Raziel's glare had turned into a sideways glance at Thor.
"IT'S TRUE," boomed Wotan, coming up behind Thor, and startling him with a powerful clap on the back. "The angel bastard knocked me over with a look. Don't get on that one's bad side," he laughed.
"Uh," said Thor.
"Are we ready to dine, my little Raven?" Wotan asked Raziel, courteously extending an arm. With a final grin at Ofdensen, she was off.
It was a rather intimate gathering. As his party had arrived late, Ofdensen had not been formally introduced to everybody seated around Shiva's table. In the case of Gamesh's brotherer, Skanda, he was actually a grateful for this. It appeared too that Skanda had brought along no less than four dates - wives, girlfriends or consorts, Ofdensen had no idea. Thankfully, they were all seated near the opposite end of the table. They didn't seem to talk much. They also didn't appear to get along with each other terribly well. Of Odin's sons, Vali appeared to be alone, Tyr's date looked like a goddess, and Ofdensen was pretty sure Thor had come with a human woman - maybe the only human seated around the table. She was a pretty brunette. He didn't catch her name, but he noticed that when Gamesh's monster-free vegetarian entree was introduced, she seemed relieved as well.
"What is this peasant offering?" Shiva groused when he spotted the tureen of paneer. "Ganesha, is this your doing? I will not insult our honored guests with such poor fare!"
"I specifically requested this, Lord Shiva," Raziel supplied. "I'm on a diet so I can fit into my swimsuit for the Pleiades!"
"You will look enchanting, my little Raven," Wotan cooed, kissing her hand.
"I have been meaning to speak with you, Ganesha," Shiva persisted. "Regarding the status of our business! It seems you do not have as much time as you formerly did to oversee our projects."
Ganesh looked up and gave a “here it comes” sort of look. “Father, is this an appropriate conversation for…?”
“It had been my thought,” Lord Shiva continued, obliviously, “to increase Lord Skanda’s role.” Skanda, sitting near the other end of the table, got a sly look.
“It would have to be an increase,” Ganesh sighed, “would it not, as his current role is, er, rather limited? To nothing."
Skanda cast a rather malicious glance at Ganesh.
"Husband," Parvati cautioned.
"This is a misuse of resources!" Shiva continued, pointing several index fingers. "We should begin to employ your brother, immediately, I think, in the role of executive director.
Gamesh sighed and pushed himself back from the table. He threw his napkin onto his plate. He extracted his cigarette case from his jacket pocket. “No, Father, this would not be acceptable to me.”
“What?”
“I find it, in fact, completely unacceptable. I will tender my resignation in the morning.”
“Cool,” put in Ofdensen, “then you can come work for me?”
“Sorry?” said Ganesh, pausing with a beedi in his lips.
“Sariel, my son currently runs the world’s eleventh largest economy,” Shiva spat. “I do not wish to cause offense to honored guests at my table, but you marshall some scruffy musicians.”
“Yes, we are in fact the world’s seventh largest economy,” Ofdensen informed him. “And growing.”
“You shan’t waste your time working in such an occupation!” the blue god insisted.
“I agree, Lord Shiva!” Wotan interjected. “The boy will come work for me. My consortium runs the world’s largest economy!”
"He doesn't wanna work for you!" Ofdensen snorted. "Arguing with a bunch of leprechauns in the ECX?"
"Or, should he be arguing with William Murderface?" Wotan laughed.
"OK, point," Ofdensen admitted.
"Is this acceptable dinnertime conversation?" Shiva asked.
"The boy won't last long on the open market!" Wotan told him.
"Sorry, Shiva, but we're businessmen," Ofdensen explained. "If you're calling for Ganesh's resignation...."
"Somebody will snap him up!" Wotan vowed.
"Namely, us," Ofdensen grinned.
“My son is not ending his employment!” Parvati interjected coldly. “And, no, this is not an appropriate topic for an engagement dinner table, husband, as you should have been aware when you brought this up.” She shot her husband a murderous glare. Ofdensen suddenly noticed that Lady Parvati had and extra set of arms out, and was jabbing her steak knife at whatever monster dish was lying in her metal plate in a rather threatening manner. He had never seen her go into her Kali manifestation before, but was quite relieved it was not he she was directing that third eye at right now.
Raziel spotted her brother and started to giggle. She carefully composed her features before she actually approached him. He was sitting in Shiva’s garden, in the midst of all four of Skanda’s wives/girlfriends/consorts/mistresses, apparently demonstrating a slip stitch.
Raziel emitted a low whistle, and when he looked up, she inclined her head.
Sariel looked up, all innocence. “What? I was just showing them how to finish up a row.”
“Angel emergency!” she announced. “Big, big angelic emergency.” Sariel handed back the needles, and, to a chorus of disappointed female voices, walked with Raziel.
“When are you gonna learn to stop knitting with goddesses?” Raziel laughed.
“What’s the big deal? And why can no one in your knitting circle finish a fucking row?”
“Can you stay out of mischief for one minute?”
“According to Pickles, I can never be in enough trouble.”
“You’re taking your life lessons from Pickles now?” Raziel asked.
“He is a great shaman. What’s the emergency?”
“Oh. Idiot Skanda is running around wondering where his girls have gotten to. I figure we could avoid a scene if he doesn’t find ‘em with, you know, his brother’s boyfriend.”
“Did we ever figure out who the hell all those women are?”
“Yeah, according to Ganesh, it’s three wives plus his mistress," Raziel supplied. "And Parvati had to talk him out of also inviting his current girlfriend!”
“Fucking freeloader.”
“Like hell.”
They looked up.
Skanda stood before them, two sets of arms crossed.
“You have dishonored my brides, angel!” he sneered at Sariel.
The angels looked at each other. “Well, you did just say you can never be in enough trouble,” Raziel reasoned.
“You wanna talk to him?” Ofdensen asked. “Your Hindi is better than mine.”
“He speaks English.”
“Yeah, I know, but it never seem to get through.”
“I’ll give it a go. Shri Skanda!” Raziel shouted over the balcony. Skanda wriggled around and looked up.
“Tell him to quit fucking thrashing or I’m gonna drop him,” grumbled Ofdensen, who was currently gripping the Hindu god by one ankle, holding him upside-down over Shiva’s crocodile-infested pond.
“Sariel says to quit wiggling!” She listened while Skanda said something. “Lord Skanda insists you put him down.”
“What, in the crocodiles?”
She listened. “He says no to that.”
“I speak English, you know!” Skanda protested.
“Well, see if you can understand this, Skanda, and I’ll try and talk slowly,” Ofdensen told him. “See, Raziel and me, we’re not gods.”
“We’re angels,’ Raziel supplied.
“And all those stories about angels having no conscience?”
“All true!” Raziel supplied.
“And the thing is,” Ofdensen continued, “I mean, you’re obviously not a great guy, but you’re not the worst we’ve encountered.”
“You’re just annoying.”
“You’re really annoying,” Ofdensen agreed.
“And you upset Lord Ganesh!” Raziel pointed out.
“I concur. You upset Lord Ganesh.”
“And we like Lord Ganesh!”
“So, we angels have unique ways of dealing with things,” Ofdensen supplied. He was removing a cigarette from his pack one-handed.
“I favor dismemberment!”
“It’s true. Now me, I just kill people. Slowly.”
“Very slowly!”
“Very slowly.”
“It’s like an art form!”
“Well thank you, Raziel. I do try.” Ofdensen had a cigarette in mouth now, and was trying to get the match to it while Skanda wriggled annoyingly.
“What do you want from me?” Skanda implored.
“Quit bothering Ganesh,” Ofdensen told him.
“Angels are watching over you,” Raziel scolded.
“All right,” Skanda pleaded. “Just, please. Let me go.”
Raziel grinned at Ofdensen. He released his hand.
Skanda screamed.
Raziel stuck her hand over the balcony. Skanda halted in mid-air, just above the water.
“Whoa, you kind of waited until the last minute there,” Ofdensen said, not disapproving.
“It’s an art,” she grinned. She waved Skanda clear of the crocodile pond, and a couple of snapping crocodiles. “Whoa! Look at him run!” Raziel said appreciatively. “Was he heavy?”
Ofdensen was shaking out his arm. “Think I sprained something. Wanna get back?”
“I probably need to fix my outfit.”
“You look OK.”
She stood, arms crossed, tapping her foot.“When are you gonna make a joke about my goddam outfit?”
“I dunno. It’s….” He waved a hand. “An outfit.” He squinted. “What is that anyway? Rodarte?”
“Holy fuck.”
Ofdensen sighed. “Ganesh gets Vogue from like 300 different countries! He gets Vogue Fucking Madagascar! And, I’m over like three nights a week.”
“You read Vogue?”
“NO!”
“But somehow, this information travels from the inert magazines and into your head?”
“Yes, that’s, uh, very like what happens.”
Ofdensen found Ganesh sitting alone, near one of the quiet reflecting pools of his father’s residence. A thin Indian cigarette was rapidly turning to ash in one elegant hand.
Ofdensen sat down next to him. He turned so his back rested comfortably on Ganesh’s side, draping the god’s arm over his shoulders.
“What is the matter, jaanu?” asked Ganesh suspiciously.
“What do you mean?”
“You normally disdain public displays of affection,” the Hindu god said.
“Public? There’s nobody else here. And, this isn’t necessarily affection! It’s just leaning. It’s a semi-public display of … leaning.”
“What have you been up to?”
“Why are you so suspicious?”
“Perhaps because I know you too well?” Ganesh tapped his cigarette, and took a considered puff. “I do thank you, for your vote of confidence, earlier, when my father took it upon himself to discuss matters at the Eastern Kingdom.…”
“I could have papers drawn up by dawn!”
"Regarding?"
"Your contract! When you come work for us. Good god. We'll be so fucking rich. I'm getting a hard-on just thinking about it."
"Sariel, I have a great deal of affection for you, but you are a rather strange being."
"True. Anyway, you can't go work for Wotan! You'd waste your day arguing with banshees and fucking leprechauns!"
"Were I to leave my parents' employ, which I should emphasize, has not been determined, I am not certain I would like to continue in the corporate world."
"Really? What the fuck would you do instead?"
"Perhaps pursue my medical practice. Or do more charitable work."
"Hey, that's a great idea! You could come run our charitable organization!"
"What charitable organization?"
"The one you're gonna start for us!"
"And how are you going to get your band to agree to this? The person you are currently sleeping with being brought in to run some kind of ... dodgy enterprise?"
"Ha! I'll threaten to explain it to 'em."
Ganesh shrugged. "That would work."
"This will be the most amazing tax deduction in the history of accounting!"
"It's all about money with you?"
"Yes. Yes, it really is."
They looked up. Try was standing there, looking somewhat ... apologetic?
"Uh, Ganesh?"
"Tyr." Ganesh made to politely stand up, but found himself held down by a suddenly quite maddeningly heavy angel.
"I've been meaning to say something to you for a while now. Ya know how we used to act with you, when we were kids, me and my brothers and Skanny?"
“That was long ago-” Ganesh started, to a rather rude elbow in the ribs.
“The man obviously has something to say,” Ofdensen told him. “Don’t interrupt.”
Ganesh shot the angel a glare and then turned his attention back to the redheaded Tyr.
“Anyway,” the god continued, “I thought maybe we could start over? And try and act like adults this time?”
“All right,” Ganesh said, considering. “You first.”
“Wotan is looking to expand the Council at Ithavoll. We’re going to include members of other pantheons, and use it as a place to talk about some overriding issues. Anyway, I told him it was pretty damn obvious the first person we should ask about it.”
Ganesh blinked.
“Looks like you’re fated to be arguing with leprechauns,” Sariel laughed.
“Please tell him I would be honored to be considered,” Ganesh said, finally.
“You can tell him yourself.”
“Where is he?” Ganesh asked.
“I think he was playing cards with my brothers.”
Sariel grinned. “Uh, did they let Raziel play?” Upon hearing the affirmative, the angel was suddenly up on his feet, tugging at Ganesh to follow. They arrived to find three beings gathered around the card table, the angel Raziel, who appeared to have a pile of clothing by her side, and Vali and Thor, to whom the clothing apparently belonged to, as they were currently wearing very little.
“Uh-oh, I’m gonna need your pants there, Thor!” Raziel was announcing to a not terribly pleased looking Norse god. “Oh, hey, guys,” she said to the newly arrived threesome. “Wanna play a hand?”
“Not on your life, Raziel,” Ofdensen told her. “But please don’t let us interrupt you.”
“C’mon Thor! Pants!” the little angel urged.
“I’ve got us a charter up the river!” Wotan announced, striding up to the table. “Are you ready to go, my little Raven?”
“Aw, I wanted to finish this hand,” Raziel pouted.
“Now, what have I told you about cheating at strip poker, my pet?” Wotan scolded.
“Wait, she cheats?” Thor asked.
“Of course I cheat! Where’s the fun if you don’t?” Raziel grinned.
Thor and Vali looked daggers at her, and both grabbed for the clothing.
“Aw shit,” Sariel whispered to Ganesh. “Now we’re not gonna get to see Thor’s legendary hammer.”
Ganesh did not have enough hands on his person to stifle his laughter.
A light was on in one of the well-appointed bedrooms in Lord Shiva’s residence.
“I fail to see why that angel persists on pursuing Ganesha.”
Lady Parvati sighed. “Ganesha is the pursuer, my husband. You taught the boy to hunt, and he has brought us back an angel.”
“I do not wish to see him involved with those shifty death metal people.”
“But you are their biggest fan!”
“Yes. This does not make it an appropriate match for my son.”
“Well, at least we know he is not out for our son’s money.”
“This is not clear! Sariel’s greed knows no bounds. Just look upon him! Perhaps he means to absorb the Eastern Kingdom as well? One must not trust angels.”
“Your best friend is marrying one,” Parvati told him. Shiva was silent for a long moment. “My Lord, is this to say you do not approve?”
“She has bewitched Wotan.”
Parvati rolled her third eye. “No one possesses that much magic, beloved husband. And I have not seen the King so happy in many years. Not since before we lost Baldr. And that has been a long time.”
“I do not wish our family intermixed with … angels.” Shiva spat out the word.
“Jaanu, do you recall what happened when you tried to talk the boy out of going to medical school.”
“A waste! A distraction!”
“Our Ganesha has devoted many years to the family business.”
“I thought you were the one promoting Skanda’s interests in this?” Shiva protested.
“I meant for you to grant him some inflated title, and then keep him safely out of the way. I love my Skanda. This does not mean I would like him involved in my retirement fund.”
“Oh, and when were you planning your retirement?”
“Not soon, if you mean to involve Skanda with the business!”
“You mean to hide away, perhaps with a musician?”
Lady Parvati’s third eye glowered. “And what do you hear from your river goddess, my husband?”
Ganesh was right: the north bank of Lord Shiva’s imperial city looked stunning from the water.
King Wotan had rented a boat for an after dinner cruise. Upon hearing that there was no smoking allowed, however, he bought the tour company on the spot, and was now standing on the deck of his new ship, merrily passing out cigars.
Ganesh and Lady Raziel stood apart.
“He bought the company?” Ganesh asked.
Raziel giggled. “Aw. He’ll probably give it back at the end of the night. My baby does love his cigars.” She was sitting on the boat railing, wrapped up in Wotan’s overcoat.
“The wedding will be very soon. You are not nervous?”
“Sariel is nervous enough for the both of us!”
“Why does he have such a contrary attitude towards the proceedings?”
“Because he has a contrary attitude towards everything, or hadn’t you noticed?” she laughed. Ganesh was frowning, so she continued. “I don’t know this for sure, but I think part of it is that it’s been us two, for centuries. I mean, there were others, obviously, but we never trusted them.”
“Oh. So,” he looked at Sariel contentedly getting a light from Wotan. “Sariel doesn’t trust Wotan?”
“He trusts Wotan. He doesn’t like that I trust Wotan.” Ganesh frowned again. “That’s how things get fucked up,” Raziel continued. “I mean, look what happened with Eototo.”
Ganesh considered for a moment. “Do you trust me, Lady Raziel.”
“Oh, that’s a good question!” She appeared to be mulling it over. “I trust you of course, because you’re helping me with my reception seating chart. But the question is, do I think Sariel should trust you?”
“This is very complicated!”
“It’s mind-bending!” she grinned.
Ganesh directed his attention to the Christmas light colors of the northern river bank. A tugboat bearing an animated electronic billboard sailed by. He turned to inquire of Lady Raziel if she had further considered his question, but saw instead another angel standing there, blinking at him.
"Ganesh," Sariel said, flicking his cigar ashes over the side. "Could you tell me something? Honestly?"
The Hindu god nodded.
"Your dad's deal with bringing Skanda into the business? Exactly how much, do you think, does this have to do with me? I mean," he took a drag and exhaled, "you and me?"
"My father...." Ganesh began. He sighed. He watched the electronic billboard retreat. "My father does not approve. He has mentioned disownment, although I do not sincerely suppose he will follow through. I do believe, however, that he would be more content were I involved with a mortal being, as at least, he could be hopeful of them dying." He blinked, and finally looked over at Sariel.
"Well. OK then," the angel said, flicking ashes.
Charles woke up suddenly on an unfamiliar bed.
His brain blearily toggled through the possibilities: not Valhalla, not Ganesh's residence, not his Great Plains-sized bed at Mordhaus.
He jerked up. "SHIT!"
Nathan, whose bed this was, laughed. "Don't sweat it, dude."
"Shit," Charles repeated, trying to straighten his wadded tie.
Still laughing, Nathan came over to sit beside him. "I was gonna wake you up, but you looked like you could USE THE Z'S."
It actually sounded awesome, when Nathan said it. Of course, anything sounded awesome when Nathan said it. Charles remembered he had actually come over here as part of his new initiative. Instead of crisis management, which basically described the good portion of his typical day - or in fact his life - he had taken it upon himself to walk around the place, seeking out incipient situations before they blossomed into apocalyptic events. It was not such a bad plan, in theory. Ganesh had mentioned it, as he had evidently been reading about it in one of those journals he tended to browse when he didn't have his nose in a GQ. But the strategy seemed to require for its successful execution someone who occasionally used their evenings for sleep purposes. He remembered coming to Nathan's room, chatting with Nathan, and sitting down on Nathan's bed, because he was sort of tired, and there was nowhere else to sit. And then....
"Sorry. Sorry, Nathan."
"Now you know what I feel like at those FUCKING BAND MEETINGS." Nathan smiled. "You know what my dad used to say? It used to drive me FUCKING CRAZY. He'd say, ‘you're burning the candle at both ends.’ Fucking stupid thing to say. But you know what? You're fucking BURNING THE CANDLE AT BOTH ENDS!"
"Yeah." He really needed to get up, and maybe put in a few miles on the treadmill and then administer some intravenous coffee to get his brain going again. But instead he found himself stupidly lying back down on Nathan’s bed and saying, "I tried to hire Ganesh. The other night. To work for me. To work for us."
"BAD IDEA!" Nathan growled.
"I thought you liked Ganesh?"
"Ganesh is AWESOME!" Nathan declared, flopping down beside Charles. "He has long hair! And he drinks with us!"
“Yeah?”
“Though, I think, dude,” Nathan had turned his voice down to his version of a whisper, “Pickles was sort of hitting on him maybe?”
“Uh, I happen to know Pickles was hitting on him. Definitely.” Ofdensen covered his eyes with an arm and tried not to think too much about Wotan’s Yule party. He told himself once again that he was blind drunk, even though he actually had not consumed so much as a drop of punch that entire evening. Somehow, by transitivity, he had gotten very drunk. Or high. Or maybe both.
“Uh, OK.” Nathan seemed to be considering for a moment. “Anyway. You know what happens when you work with someone…. You know…. You have a thing with. ARGUMENTS! And then … YOKO!”
“Yoko? Uh, OK, I guess I don’t really follow the logic….”
“You know what would work? I’ve been thinking about this. I think it’s time that I take on some MANAGEMENT RESPONSIBILITIES.”
“Uh, what?”
“It’s the PERFECT SOLUTION.”
“Nathan? You remember what happened? When I was, uh, away?”
“But that’s the BRILLIANT PART! You’re here now to talk us out of the STUPID SHIT.”
“Look, Nathan, I’ll just get a new assistant….”
“Dude! Not an assistant. You’ll just fucking kill them in a week or two, and then you’ll have to train some new asshole.”
“I don’t kill them!”
“Then why do they all die?”
“It’s been unrelated fucking accidents!”
“C’mon dude. We all knew you were a murderous son of a bitch when we hired you.”
“I don’t kill-“
“Whatever!”
“And, Nathan, this is the worst possible idea!” Charles was stalling, actually. He knew there was a down side to this. There must be. A big giant, glaring and terrible down side. He just couldn’t make it appear in his brain. “You fall asleep during band meetings. Why the hell would you wanna manage? Don’t you wanna do … whatever it is you do?”
“I fall asleep during band meetings because meetings are BORING. But checking out our money, that’s fucking awesome.”
“You like … accounting?”
“Here’s a million! There’s a million! Everywhere a million. Fucking. Awesome. Especially now that you’re back making us FUCKING MILLIONS!”
“Money does kick ass.”
“Please don’t say that.”
“Sorry.” Suddenly - perhaps it was talk of money - his brain kicked back. “Nathan,” Charles said, sitting up, “Is this all because they’re still pissed at you over quitting the band?”
“Yeah!” Nathan admitted. “I figure this will show everybody I’M BACK.”
“OK, Nathan, you know, it doesn’t always work out when you gotta tell those guys to get working, or, ya know, that Super Tits Doritoland is a stupid idea.”
“Super Tits Candy Snake!”
“I stand corrected.”
“Anyway, I figure I’ll just let you do that shit. You’re a better asshole than I am.”
“Uh, OK.”
“I’ll just FOLLOW THE MONEY!” the lead singer growled.
Charles hefted a mug that read, “WHERE’S MY FUCKING COFFEE?” on the side to his lips. He waited for the caffeine molecules to discover his central nervous system. He sat back in his office chair.
He blinked, suddenly realizing he had just spent the previous 20 minutes lying in bed with Nathan Explosion discussing management practice.
“My life has gotten weird,” he said to no one in particular, opening his Dethlaptop.
****
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A dinner party in the Dreamtime
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing, smoking.
Notes: Notes after the jump
Cross-posted to capslokdethklok.
This is probably the last bit I'll post before our vacation. Have a very metal new year, everybody!
This is a Metalocalypse AU which tiktaalikroseae has dubbed “Mythklok.” Here are the other bits, about an angelic visit (Chapter 1), a hunt (Chapter 2), a barbecue (Chapter 3), a ski trip (Chapter 4), a sword fight (Chapter 5), Bette Davis Movies (Chapter 6), a concert (Chapter 7), tall tales (Chapter WTF), a trial (Chapter8), an argument (Chapter 9), a stray cat (Chapter 10), Satan’s shinkansen system (Chapter 11), the highway to Hell (Chapter 12), a meeting with Satan (Chapter 13), a tiger hunt (Chapter 14), Hamms beer signs (Chapter 15), kidnapping and Monty Python (Chapter 16) and a chase (Chapter 17).
And it all everything eventually ends up rolling to my fic journal, tikific, where you are welcome to come poke it with a pointed stick. There’s also now an overall summary and introduction to this madness, here, if you want a list of all the reasons why reading this fic will annoy you.
A lot has happened in the last few chapters! First, Lucifer kidnapped Nathan Explosion, which caused everybody else to march down to Hell and rescue him, after Charles had relieved Satan of one foot, one eye, and both his wings, thanks to a flaming chainsaw. Our Heroes next learned that the Legion, the badass angel army, has been trying to find and evidently destroy some legendary magical monsters that dwell in North America. Hopi Kachinas had kept their secrets locked away for centuries. The angels’ plan was foiled thanks to Raziel’s vengeance and a volcano that erupts to the tune of Dethklok music. A traitorous Kachina, Eototo, was captured by Charles and Wotan and imprisoned in the Dreamtime. Unfortunately, the Hopi’s young shaman, Aaron, didn’t survive the adventure, but his spirit is now happily hanging in Dreamtime with Pickles, who turns out to be a pretty awesome shaman himself. Meanwhile, Raziel and Wotan announced their engagement, and Raziel has now launched into full metal bridezilla mode.
Lady Raziel’s engagement dinner ensemble:
The Sons of Odin
There was silence in the board room.
And then the sound of footsteps came from somewhere down the hallway. A thud. Followed by what sounded like a mechanical clank. In a weird, shambolic rhythm. Thud. Clank. Thud. Clank. Thud. Clank.
Several people at the table cringed visibly when the double doors burst open. A pair of aides followed, each one holding aside one door.
Then he was there, standing in the doorway, his figure so large he almost filled the space. One of his feet, the one making the clanking noise, was made of pure gold. One ear, too, flashed pure gold. And one eye, or where one eye should have been, was obscured with an eye patch, inlaid with pure gold thread marking 666.
He stepped - clank, thud - into the boardroom. Dozens of tiny golden gears spun, and tiny golden cogs meshed with golden cogs, and golden levers extended, pushing out dozens of pure golden sheets: his pair of golden wings unfurled, extending damn near across the entire room.
He slammed one hand down on the table, causing several board members to jump in their seats.
“Gentlemen," said Lucifer, "we have a wedding to stop.”
“Can you fixsch it?” Murderface asked.
Lady Raziel looked up cheerfully from the engine of Murderface’s pink Cadillac. She was sitting on the fender, the hood propped open. She had a bit of grease smeared on her face. But, being Raziel, she managed to look rather more adorable than grubby.
“It’ll cost ya!” she replied.
“What doesch that mean exschactly?” Murderface inquired.
“Oh, I dunno. That’s just always what they seem to say on your television programs. Anyway. Your clutch will have to be replaced.”
“I told you to go easchy on the clutch!” Murderface scolded.
“I was trying to escape from Hell!” Raziel protested.
“How the fuck did you get this thing out of Hell?”
Raziel and Murderface turned to the sound of the unexpected visitor.
“Hey Ofdenschen,” grumbled Murderface.
“Sariel!” sang Raziel. “Hi Pickles! I would give you a hug, but I’m all greasy!” she said, showing her blackened hands.
“But you wouldn’t offer me a hug?” Ofdensen sniffed.
“You don’t like hugs!”
“No! I don’t! And I’ll thank you to keep an appropriate distance!”
Pickles grinned and skillfully leaned in to wrap Raziel in a headlock that avoided most transfer of grease.
“And I repeat….” Ofdensen ventured. The car obviously needed some body work, but it looked rather surprisingly intact.
“Knubbler helped usch,” Murderface explained. “He knowsch schome guys in Purgatory.”
“Hell has changed since your boys were down there!” Raziel supplied.
“Really?” Ofdensen asked.
“Yesch, they schay Schatan doeschn’t much venschture beyond the schixschth schircle.”
“Uh…what?” Ofdensen did not often find himself at a loss with Murderface’s odd speech defect, but in this case, he could not believe he had correctly understood.
“Dood, he don’t go up too far any more” Pickles explained. “Da musicians keep him back.”
“And we exschploded his schinkanschen!”
“Has Lucifer really gotten that allergic to music?” Ofdensen asked.
“Not scho much Schaten, asch hisch demonsch.”
“From what I’ve heard,” Raziel said, “since you clipped his wings, nobody has much seen nor heard from him.”
“Meaning he’s fucking up to something,” Ofdensen grumbled.
“You know our Honored Brother,” she laughed.
“Yeah. I do. That wasn’t the only back door to Hell we used when we went down. I just wish I knew what he was up to. Maybe I should talk to Dick.” He cringed internally. Knubbler was a veritably font of gossip - and, all things being equal, angels venerated gossip more than gold - but it would mean having to endure being called “Sarry baby” for the length of any conversation.
“He’sch in Brazschil at preschent, but will be back schortly,” Murderface informed them.
“So. Raziel,” Ofdensen asked. “The engagement dinner tonight? You want me to meet you guys at Asgard?”
Raziel sighed and nodded.
“Oh, yeah, congratulaschions!” Murderface added.
“You guys are coming to the wedding, right?” Raziel asked.
“Sure, dood,” Pickles replied. “Did yoo guys want us t’ play?”
“Of couse not!” Raziel said, perhaps a bit too quickly. “You’re, um, our honored guests! That would be tacky! You’ll just come up and drink beer.”
“Well, t’ank god fer dat,” Pickles sighed.
“Are you regischtered?”
“We made lists at Tiffany’s, Sax, Cartier, Nieman Marcus, and amazon.com," Raziel counted off on her small, greasy fingers, "but I feel like I’m really falling behind. We’re already getting wedding presents coming in!”
“What kinda stuff do god doods get fer weddin’ presents?” Pickles asked.
“Well,” nattered Raziel, wiping her hands with a rag, “We got a dirigible.”
“You got a zeppelin?” said Ofdensen. “As a wedding gift?”
“That was pretty cool. I’ve always wanted an airship! Oh, and one of Wotan’s cousins got us Iceland. I just really don’t know what we’re gonna do with it though. It doesn’t GO with anything, you know?”
“I think that is often true of islands,” Ofdensen said.
“Speaking of which, I probably need to get back now. We’ll need to order some parts, William,” she told Murderface, indicating the Caddy.
“Will you have time to do the maintenansch, Lady Raschiel?” Murderface asked.
“Are you sure you don’t wanna give it to your little hoodie guys?” Raziel asked.
“I don’t truscht those dudesch with my preschiousch Caddy!”
“Wait,” Ofdensen protested. “Little hoodie guys? And, William, is there no one in the motor pool you could bring this to?”
“Thosch ashholes? You know why my Preschidential Caddy is up on blocksch?”
“This has nothing to do with your getting drunk, crashing it into a wall, and then shooting the engine block?” Ofdensen scowled.
“It’s fine,” Raziel said. “It’s fine. I find it relaxing. And it’s so much easier to get to all the little engine part thingies than it is on the Ferrari! Anyway, I’ll see you guys later!” And she was gone.
“William,” Ofdensen protested, “Raziel calls them ‘engine part thingies!’”
“I can tell you are not a devotee of classchic car, Ofdenschen.”
“If you’re having trouble with the motor pool, then come to me!”
“Yeah. They’re dickheadsch. But you’re not around musch.”
“I’m here now!”
“Oh, hey, Charles dood,” Pickles interjected, “we got an idea about a totally brutal weddin’ present!”
Ofdensen broke off scowling at Murderface to pay attention. “Yeah? Not a dirigible. I hear they’ve already got one.”
They were in the arcade room at Mordhaus.
“You wanna get the head of the Norse pantheon and his queen Zombie Slayer 3: The Undead Hoard as a wedding gift?” Ofdensen asked.
“In tree dee, dood!” Pickles stood in front of the giant arcade game, which featured not only a rather large monitor, but a stand featuring what looked like two sawed off shotguns. The drummer was holding a pair of VR glasses, which he slid over Ofdensen’s glasses. “Check it, dood! Totally noo technology!”
“Wow!” It was true: the 3D effects were absolutely stunning. You could practically smell the undead. Ofdensen absolutely couldn’t resist. He hefted one of the guns and fired at an attacking corpse. He cringed as he tried to dodge the flying bits of exploded brain.
“Yeh! It’s supposed t’ be top secret military.”
“Uh. The military, and Zombie Slayer?”
“Totally! An’ when we were at Lord Shiva’s fer da tiger hunt, Shiva dood had Zombie Slayer 2: Da Awakenin’, and he an’ Wotan dood were up all night, killin’ da undead.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah! Nobody has dis version yet! But, Dick Knubbler has dis buddy….”
“Dick hasch a lot of buddiesch!” Murderface grinned.
“An’ we got dis six months before it’s out.”
Ofdensen took off the VR glasses and frowned. “So, there’s absolutely no way Lord Shiva could have one yet?”
“Nope,” said Pickles.
“No way!” agreed Murderface.
“OK. Put me down for a share.”
“They’re outside, the both of ‘em,” Wotan said, looking up from his Wall Street Journal. “You want a cigar while we wait?”
“Shouldn’t we go get ‘em?” Ofdensen asked.
“You can try your luck. Me, I think you’ll be better off in here with the cigars,” Wotan laughed.
“What are they doing, building a snow fort?”
Wotan howled with laughter. “Ye’ll just have to go see,” he said.
It was difficult to miss them. Raziel had somehow located the world’s largest beach umbrella. She and Ganesh, both clad in terribly stylish beachwear and unneeded sunglasses, reclined in beach chairs, she underneath the unneeded shade; the Hindu god, out in the weak sun.
“You guys are out sunbathing, in mid-winter, in Asgard?” Ofdensen asked.
Ganesh and Raziel exchanged a glance, and then nodded.
“I believe that correctly summarizes the situation,” Ganesh confirmed, going back to his magazine.
“I need to get some sun before we hit the beaches in the Pleiades!” said Raziel, tipping down her oversized sunglasses with a well-manicured finger to squint at him in the admittedly rather low winter sun.
“Then why are you under a beach umbrella?”
“I don’t want wrinkles!” Raziel protested.
“They why don’t you just stay inside?”
“What about my honeymoon? You don’t have to be so negative about my wedding!”
“And Ganesh, you are already perfectly tanned!”
“Do you think so?” the Hindu god grinned. “Why don’t you come out and join us, Sariel?”
“Well, for some reason, I didn’t bring my swimsuit up to Valhalla!”
“We won’t tell,” Raziel grinned.
“And that is an excellent way to avoid tan lines,” Ganesh added.
“Are you guys gonna get ready for the engagement dinner? Raziel, it takes you a day to figure out your fucking ensemble for these things.”
“Oh, I’m not certain I’m going to be able to squeeze in the dinner,” Raziel sighed.
“Too busy, My Lady?” asked Ganesh.
“Well, I have tanning, and then I need to read a novel.”
“And I badly need to finish this GQ,” Ganesh grinned, holding up the magazine.
“You really read GQ, Ganesh?” Raziel asked.
“Well, yes.”
“Shouldn’t GQ actually come to you?” she giggled.
“You know, they really ought! I could give them many tips!”
“Raziel!” Ofdensen tried. “It’s your fucking engagement! And your fucking parents hosting it, Ganesh!”
“What’s gotten into them?” Ofdensen cried, letting the door bang behind him. “They’re worse than my fucking band!”
“Sariel. Sit.” Wotan emphasized the command with the motion of a whiskey bottle. The angel sat bad-naturedly on the couch opposite and accepted a glass.
“I thought Raziel was into this wedding shit! I thought they both were!”
Wotan poured two glasses. “Ain’t the wedding. It’s the company. Lord Ganesh has always had a bit of a rivalry with that brother of his.”
“Skanda? I haven’t been terribly impressed by the guy,” Ofdensen admitted.
“Now, I told Skanda, long ago, you’re not going to be able to lord over your little brother your whole life, gotta start using the old noggin,” he tapped his head. The King sat back and sighed. “And then, have you had the opportunity to meet my boys? All of ‘em?”
“Uh, no, haven’t had the pleasure.”
“Well, they’re good boys, but they can be a bit intimidating, if ye don’t know them too well. They can be a bit short with My Lady Raziel, and as you know, she does not suffer snubs too well.”
“I have seen dismemberments for less, in her case.”
“And our Ganesh, well, as ye might know, we brought them up together, my boys and Ganesh and Skanda. And, Ganesh,” Wotan grinned affectionately, “he was a bit of runt as a lad. Took him a while to find his height, if ye know what I mean.”
“Some of us never do,” muttered Ofdensen.
Wotan laughed. “Well, in your case, I suppose it help to know ye can knock a god across the room,” he said, rubbing his jaw.
“Uh, Wotan, I’m really sorry about….”
“Now, I won’t have it! I’m the one who owes the apology for acting like such an ass. Just remind me not to ever get on your bad side, angel.”
“I think that one is mutual,” Ofdensen laughed. They smiled and clinked glasses.
“Anyway, as for our Ganesh, I think the other boys may’ve treated him a bit harshly, as boys will.”
“So what you’re telling me is,” said Ofdensen, taking a cigar from the box Wotan was offering, “our two party monsters are likely to spend this entire evening in misery?”
“Aye, I’d say that’s a fair statement,” said Wotan, leaning over with a lighter.
“Hm,” Ofdensen puffed.
“Are you quite ready, my little Raven?”
Raziel stood, small hands on hips, in front of Sariel, who grinned up at her.
“So?” she asked.
“So what?”
She indicated her outfit. “No cracks about, was this a dress before the wolves chewed it?”
“Hey, that’s pretty funny.”
Wotan clapped a stylish but disgruntled looking Ganesh on the back, and they started walking.
“Is Skwisgaar showing up for this?” Ofdensen asked Raziel.
“Naw. I told him he could skip it as long as he gets his skinny ass to my wedding.”
“So, you guys are speaking again?”
“More or less. Better your Swede than Thor.”
“I’ve gotta meet this guy,” Ofdensen grinned.
“Just don’t get him talking about that fucking hammer.”
Despite having passed innumerable nights now in Ganesh’s residence, being a frequent guest at the castle of Valhalla, and in fact living in his own personal castle, Ofdensen found he was quite unprepared for Shiva’s palace. Or rather, his palace complex, as it was not so much a single structure as a small city, located, it seemed, somewhere between the Mahabharata and Silicon Valley.
The residence was built along a meandering river. On one side stood the traditional palaces, which may have been undisturbed for a thousand years. On the other side sprouted the most outrageous modern office buildings, architectural marvels that more resembled Christmas tree ornaments than actual structures. “As is probably obvious, the structures on the northern side are all new. We must stroll these banks after the sun has set,” Ganesh, who seemed to have cheered up somewhat from the sights, told them. “These sights look very beautiful when lit up after dark.”
"Are any of those held up by trickery, Ganesh?" Wotan asked, waving at the skyscrapers.
"Good question! It is all simple architecture! It is wasteful to expend magic on structures, we have found."
"I want to go up in that one!" Raziel said, pointing out a building that appeared to be a flying saucer spinning on a column.
"Perhaps, if it is not too late, we can arrange a river cruise following dinner?" Ganesh proposed. There were dozens of boats visible upon the waters, ranging from traditional craft to swiftly speeding vessels that looked like classified military secrets.
"This has all happened since you became COO of the EKC?" Ofdensen asked, using the stock market abbreviation for the Eastern Kingdom.
Ganesh beamed. "One might say, it is my small contribution to my parents' legacy."
"Since you kicked out Skanda's useless ass, in other words."
"Er. More or less."
Ofdensen watched a train whir by soundlessly on the opposite bank. A Maglev. Of course. Because everybody fucking had one.
There were people everywhere on this side. He wasn’t certain whether they were minor deities, ghosts or humans. There were snake charmers, businessmen nervously checking their iPhones, deliverymen on scooters balancing stacks of hot lunch dishes, and at least one fellow went whirling by on a flying carpet. Almost everyone seemed to recognize Ganesh, and he walked, his hands steepled, smiling and nodding to them all.
The main palace, on the southern bank, was of very traditional structure. One approached alongside a shallow reflecting pool that appeared to go on for miles. The pyramid-like temple to one side contained literally hundreds of lifelike stone carvings along the visible side, mostly graceful dancing figures. Ofdensen noticed monkeys playing among them, and thought it a pity Nathan Explosion hadn’t been invited. Although, to be fair, it sounded like the evening might be all he could handle without having to also keep a death metal band out of mischief.
Ganesh excused himself as they entered the palace. "I am so terribly sorry, but I think it best I go speak with the chef now rather than later. My father can be a bit, er, stubborn regarding the availability of vegetarian dishes. Especially as I am often the only one who requires such indulgences."
"Tell them I'll be eating it too," Raziel told him cheerfully.
Ganesh smiled and nodded.
"Me too," Ofednsen told him.
"Uh, Sariel, you really don't need-"
"Ganesh, is there any possibility there's gonna be Vritra meat? Or any other dishes based around flesh ripped off a goddam monster?"
"Er. There is every possibility."
"Then I'm sticking with the fucking paneer."
Ganesh grinned and departed.
The remainder of the party at last arrived at the courtyard, beckoned through the palace by innumerable barefoot servants. Ofdensen was forced to admit, whatever had been cooking smelled delicious, and, added to the ripe floral scents of the garden, made the surroundings even more intoxicating.
Ofdensen greeted Shiva and Parvati along with Wotan and Raziel, but as the couples exchanged small talk, he found his attentions directed towards three rather tall, rather unmistakably Nordic fellows standing off to one side. He slipped away, and nodded at the tallest, blondest, Nordic-est one.
“I am Thor!” said Thor. Thor, it could be honestly said, looked like he worked out. He gave Ofdensen a glance at his handsome profile. He seemed to be expecting music to play in the background. “These are my brothers," he pointed to either side in grand gestures, "Vali and Tyr.”
"I am Vali," the god repeated, if a bit redundantly.
"Hi," said Tyr, whose red blond hair had ended up on the red side of the spectrum.
“Sariel,” Ofdensen said.
“You are an angel!” Thor announced.
“Well. Nothing gets past you, does it?” Ofdensen observed dryly.
“He’s my brother,” said Raziel, who had suddenly appeared at Ofdensen’s side, encircling an elbow in her tiny viselike grip.
“He’s here with me,” added Ganesh, now gripping his other elbow.
“Now, now, you two,” Ofdensen mock-scolded. “There’s enough of me to go around.” Raziel was now scowling in his general direction. "My sister was just telling me about your hammer!" Raziel's scowl morphed into her Look of Death, but he noticed Ganesh was now biting his lip the way he did when he was desperately trying to keep from laughing.
"Ah, you have heard of its legend! Perhaps after dinner, friend angel, I might show you how to wield it!" Vali did not bother to cover his snicker. Tyr sighed.
"No, no," Ofdensen said, extracting a Marlborough from a pocket. "Couldn't think of it."
"Do not be overly impressed by its legendary power," Thor, who was obviously quite impressed himself.
"No, it's not that. Shiva is our host, and I wouldn't wanna cause any property damage. We angels tend to do that."
"Property damage?"
"Yeah. I was just apologizing to your dad, in fact. I gave him a little friendly tap a while back, sent him 20 feet." Ganesh now had a hand plastered across his own mouth, and looked in danger of having to bring out extra arms. Raziel's glare had turned into a sideways glance at Thor.
"IT'S TRUE," boomed Wotan, coming up behind Thor, and startling him with a powerful clap on the back. "The angel bastard knocked me over with a look. Don't get on that one's bad side," he laughed.
"Uh," said Thor.
"Are we ready to dine, my little Raven?" Wotan asked Raziel, courteously extending an arm. With a final grin at Ofdensen, she was off.
It was a rather intimate gathering. As his party had arrived late, Ofdensen had not been formally introduced to everybody seated around Shiva's table. In the case of Gamesh's brotherer, Skanda, he was actually a grateful for this. It appeared too that Skanda had brought along no less than four dates - wives, girlfriends or consorts, Ofdensen had no idea. Thankfully, they were all seated near the opposite end of the table. They didn't seem to talk much. They also didn't appear to get along with each other terribly well. Of Odin's sons, Vali appeared to be alone, Tyr's date looked like a goddess, and Ofdensen was pretty sure Thor had come with a human woman - maybe the only human seated around the table. She was a pretty brunette. He didn't catch her name, but he noticed that when Gamesh's monster-free vegetarian entree was introduced, she seemed relieved as well.
"What is this peasant offering?" Shiva groused when he spotted the tureen of paneer. "Ganesha, is this your doing? I will not insult our honored guests with such poor fare!"
"I specifically requested this, Lord Shiva," Raziel supplied. "I'm on a diet so I can fit into my swimsuit for the Pleiades!"
"You will look enchanting, my little Raven," Wotan cooed, kissing her hand.
"I have been meaning to speak with you, Ganesha," Shiva persisted. "Regarding the status of our business! It seems you do not have as much time as you formerly did to oversee our projects."
Ganesh looked up and gave a “here it comes” sort of look. “Father, is this an appropriate conversation for…?”
“It had been my thought,” Lord Shiva continued, obliviously, “to increase Lord Skanda’s role.” Skanda, sitting near the other end of the table, got a sly look.
“It would have to be an increase,” Ganesh sighed, “would it not, as his current role is, er, rather limited? To nothing."
Skanda cast a rather malicious glance at Ganesh.
"Husband," Parvati cautioned.
"This is a misuse of resources!" Shiva continued, pointing several index fingers. "We should begin to employ your brother, immediately, I think, in the role of executive director.
Gamesh sighed and pushed himself back from the table. He threw his napkin onto his plate. He extracted his cigarette case from his jacket pocket. “No, Father, this would not be acceptable to me.”
“What?”
“I find it, in fact, completely unacceptable. I will tender my resignation in the morning.”
“Cool,” put in Ofdensen, “then you can come work for me?”
“Sorry?” said Ganesh, pausing with a beedi in his lips.
“Sariel, my son currently runs the world’s eleventh largest economy,” Shiva spat. “I do not wish to cause offense to honored guests at my table, but you marshall some scruffy musicians.”
“Yes, we are in fact the world’s seventh largest economy,” Ofdensen informed him. “And growing.”
“You shan’t waste your time working in such an occupation!” the blue god insisted.
“I agree, Lord Shiva!” Wotan interjected. “The boy will come work for me. My consortium runs the world’s largest economy!”
"He doesn't wanna work for you!" Ofdensen snorted. "Arguing with a bunch of leprechauns in the ECX?"
"Or, should he be arguing with William Murderface?" Wotan laughed.
"OK, point," Ofdensen admitted.
"Is this acceptable dinnertime conversation?" Shiva asked.
"The boy won't last long on the open market!" Wotan told him.
"Sorry, Shiva, but we're businessmen," Ofdensen explained. "If you're calling for Ganesh's resignation...."
"Somebody will snap him up!" Wotan vowed.
"Namely, us," Ofdensen grinned.
“My son is not ending his employment!” Parvati interjected coldly. “And, no, this is not an appropriate topic for an engagement dinner table, husband, as you should have been aware when you brought this up.” She shot her husband a murderous glare. Ofdensen suddenly noticed that Lady Parvati had and extra set of arms out, and was jabbing her steak knife at whatever monster dish was lying in her metal plate in a rather threatening manner. He had never seen her go into her Kali manifestation before, but was quite relieved it was not he she was directing that third eye at right now.
Raziel spotted her brother and started to giggle. She carefully composed her features before she actually approached him. He was sitting in Shiva’s garden, in the midst of all four of Skanda’s wives/girlfriends/consorts/mistresses, apparently demonstrating a slip stitch.
Raziel emitted a low whistle, and when he looked up, she inclined her head.
Sariel looked up, all innocence. “What? I was just showing them how to finish up a row.”
“Angel emergency!” she announced. “Big, big angelic emergency.” Sariel handed back the needles, and, to a chorus of disappointed female voices, walked with Raziel.
“When are you gonna learn to stop knitting with goddesses?” Raziel laughed.
“What’s the big deal? And why can no one in your knitting circle finish a fucking row?”
“Can you stay out of mischief for one minute?”
“According to Pickles, I can never be in enough trouble.”
“You’re taking your life lessons from Pickles now?” Raziel asked.
“He is a great shaman. What’s the emergency?”
“Oh. Idiot Skanda is running around wondering where his girls have gotten to. I figure we could avoid a scene if he doesn’t find ‘em with, you know, his brother’s boyfriend.”
“Did we ever figure out who the hell all those women are?”
“Yeah, according to Ganesh, it’s three wives plus his mistress," Raziel supplied. "And Parvati had to talk him out of also inviting his current girlfriend!”
“Fucking freeloader.”
“Like hell.”
They looked up.
Skanda stood before them, two sets of arms crossed.
“You have dishonored my brides, angel!” he sneered at Sariel.
The angels looked at each other. “Well, you did just say you can never be in enough trouble,” Raziel reasoned.
“You wanna talk to him?” Ofdensen asked. “Your Hindi is better than mine.”
“He speaks English.”
“Yeah, I know, but it never seem to get through.”
“I’ll give it a go. Shri Skanda!” Raziel shouted over the balcony. Skanda wriggled around and looked up.
“Tell him to quit fucking thrashing or I’m gonna drop him,” grumbled Ofdensen, who was currently gripping the Hindu god by one ankle, holding him upside-down over Shiva’s crocodile-infested pond.
“Sariel says to quit wiggling!” She listened while Skanda said something. “Lord Skanda insists you put him down.”
“What, in the crocodiles?”
She listened. “He says no to that.”
“I speak English, you know!” Skanda protested.
“Well, see if you can understand this, Skanda, and I’ll try and talk slowly,” Ofdensen told him. “See, Raziel and me, we’re not gods.”
“We’re angels,’ Raziel supplied.
“And all those stories about angels having no conscience?”
“All true!” Raziel supplied.
“And the thing is,” Ofdensen continued, “I mean, you’re obviously not a great guy, but you’re not the worst we’ve encountered.”
“You’re just annoying.”
“You’re really annoying,” Ofdensen agreed.
“And you upset Lord Ganesh!” Raziel pointed out.
“I concur. You upset Lord Ganesh.”
“And we like Lord Ganesh!”
“So, we angels have unique ways of dealing with things,” Ofdensen supplied. He was removing a cigarette from his pack one-handed.
“I favor dismemberment!”
“It’s true. Now me, I just kill people. Slowly.”
“Very slowly!”
“Very slowly.”
“It’s like an art form!”
“Well thank you, Raziel. I do try.” Ofdensen had a cigarette in mouth now, and was trying to get the match to it while Skanda wriggled annoyingly.
“What do you want from me?” Skanda implored.
“Quit bothering Ganesh,” Ofdensen told him.
“Angels are watching over you,” Raziel scolded.
“All right,” Skanda pleaded. “Just, please. Let me go.”
Raziel grinned at Ofdensen. He released his hand.
Skanda screamed.
Raziel stuck her hand over the balcony. Skanda halted in mid-air, just above the water.
“Whoa, you kind of waited until the last minute there,” Ofdensen said, not disapproving.
“It’s an art,” she grinned. She waved Skanda clear of the crocodile pond, and a couple of snapping crocodiles. “Whoa! Look at him run!” Raziel said appreciatively. “Was he heavy?”
Ofdensen was shaking out his arm. “Think I sprained something. Wanna get back?”
“I probably need to fix my outfit.”
“You look OK.”
She stood, arms crossed, tapping her foot.“When are you gonna make a joke about my goddam outfit?”
“I dunno. It’s….” He waved a hand. “An outfit.” He squinted. “What is that anyway? Rodarte?”
“Holy fuck.”
Ofdensen sighed. “Ganesh gets Vogue from like 300 different countries! He gets Vogue Fucking Madagascar! And, I’m over like three nights a week.”
“You read Vogue?”
“NO!”
“But somehow, this information travels from the inert magazines and into your head?”
“Yes, that’s, uh, very like what happens.”
Ofdensen found Ganesh sitting alone, near one of the quiet reflecting pools of his father’s residence. A thin Indian cigarette was rapidly turning to ash in one elegant hand.
Ofdensen sat down next to him. He turned so his back rested comfortably on Ganesh’s side, draping the god’s arm over his shoulders.
“What is the matter, jaanu?” asked Ganesh suspiciously.
“What do you mean?”
“You normally disdain public displays of affection,” the Hindu god said.
“Public? There’s nobody else here. And, this isn’t necessarily affection! It’s just leaning. It’s a semi-public display of … leaning.”
“What have you been up to?”
“Why are you so suspicious?”
“Perhaps because I know you too well?” Ganesh tapped his cigarette, and took a considered puff. “I do thank you, for your vote of confidence, earlier, when my father took it upon himself to discuss matters at the Eastern Kingdom.…”
“I could have papers drawn up by dawn!”
"Regarding?"
"Your contract! When you come work for us. Good god. We'll be so fucking rich. I'm getting a hard-on just thinking about it."
"Sariel, I have a great deal of affection for you, but you are a rather strange being."
"True. Anyway, you can't go work for Wotan! You'd waste your day arguing with banshees and fucking leprechauns!"
"Were I to leave my parents' employ, which I should emphasize, has not been determined, I am not certain I would like to continue in the corporate world."
"Really? What the fuck would you do instead?"
"Perhaps pursue my medical practice. Or do more charitable work."
"Hey, that's a great idea! You could come run our charitable organization!"
"What charitable organization?"
"The one you're gonna start for us!"
"And how are you going to get your band to agree to this? The person you are currently sleeping with being brought in to run some kind of ... dodgy enterprise?"
"Ha! I'll threaten to explain it to 'em."
Ganesh shrugged. "That would work."
"This will be the most amazing tax deduction in the history of accounting!"
"It's all about money with you?"
"Yes. Yes, it really is."
They looked up. Try was standing there, looking somewhat ... apologetic?
"Uh, Ganesh?"
"Tyr." Ganesh made to politely stand up, but found himself held down by a suddenly quite maddeningly heavy angel.
"I've been meaning to say something to you for a while now. Ya know how we used to act with you, when we were kids, me and my brothers and Skanny?"
“That was long ago-” Ganesh started, to a rather rude elbow in the ribs.
“The man obviously has something to say,” Ofdensen told him. “Don’t interrupt.”
Ganesh shot the angel a glare and then turned his attention back to the redheaded Tyr.
“Anyway,” the god continued, “I thought maybe we could start over? And try and act like adults this time?”
“All right,” Ganesh said, considering. “You first.”
“Wotan is looking to expand the Council at Ithavoll. We’re going to include members of other pantheons, and use it as a place to talk about some overriding issues. Anyway, I told him it was pretty damn obvious the first person we should ask about it.”
Ganesh blinked.
“Looks like you’re fated to be arguing with leprechauns,” Sariel laughed.
“Please tell him I would be honored to be considered,” Ganesh said, finally.
“You can tell him yourself.”
“Where is he?” Ganesh asked.
“I think he was playing cards with my brothers.”
Sariel grinned. “Uh, did they let Raziel play?” Upon hearing the affirmative, the angel was suddenly up on his feet, tugging at Ganesh to follow. They arrived to find three beings gathered around the card table, the angel Raziel, who appeared to have a pile of clothing by her side, and Vali and Thor, to whom the clothing apparently belonged to, as they were currently wearing very little.
“Uh-oh, I’m gonna need your pants there, Thor!” Raziel was announcing to a not terribly pleased looking Norse god. “Oh, hey, guys,” she said to the newly arrived threesome. “Wanna play a hand?”
“Not on your life, Raziel,” Ofdensen told her. “But please don’t let us interrupt you.”
“C’mon Thor! Pants!” the little angel urged.
“I’ve got us a charter up the river!” Wotan announced, striding up to the table. “Are you ready to go, my little Raven?”
“Aw, I wanted to finish this hand,” Raziel pouted.
“Now, what have I told you about cheating at strip poker, my pet?” Wotan scolded.
“Wait, she cheats?” Thor asked.
“Of course I cheat! Where’s the fun if you don’t?” Raziel grinned.
Thor and Vali looked daggers at her, and both grabbed for the clothing.
“Aw shit,” Sariel whispered to Ganesh. “Now we’re not gonna get to see Thor’s legendary hammer.”
Ganesh did not have enough hands on his person to stifle his laughter.
A light was on in one of the well-appointed bedrooms in Lord Shiva’s residence.
“I fail to see why that angel persists on pursuing Ganesha.”
Lady Parvati sighed. “Ganesha is the pursuer, my husband. You taught the boy to hunt, and he has brought us back an angel.”
“I do not wish to see him involved with those shifty death metal people.”
“But you are their biggest fan!”
“Yes. This does not make it an appropriate match for my son.”
“Well, at least we know he is not out for our son’s money.”
“This is not clear! Sariel’s greed knows no bounds. Just look upon him! Perhaps he means to absorb the Eastern Kingdom as well? One must not trust angels.”
“Your best friend is marrying one,” Parvati told him. Shiva was silent for a long moment. “My Lord, is this to say you do not approve?”
“She has bewitched Wotan.”
Parvati rolled her third eye. “No one possesses that much magic, beloved husband. And I have not seen the King so happy in many years. Not since before we lost Baldr. And that has been a long time.”
“I do not wish our family intermixed with … angels.” Shiva spat out the word.
“Jaanu, do you recall what happened when you tried to talk the boy out of going to medical school.”
“A waste! A distraction!”
“Our Ganesha has devoted many years to the family business.”
“I thought you were the one promoting Skanda’s interests in this?” Shiva protested.
“I meant for you to grant him some inflated title, and then keep him safely out of the way. I love my Skanda. This does not mean I would like him involved in my retirement fund.”
“Oh, and when were you planning your retirement?”
“Not soon, if you mean to involve Skanda with the business!”
“You mean to hide away, perhaps with a musician?”
Lady Parvati’s third eye glowered. “And what do you hear from your river goddess, my husband?”
Ganesh was right: the north bank of Lord Shiva’s imperial city looked stunning from the water.
King Wotan had rented a boat for an after dinner cruise. Upon hearing that there was no smoking allowed, however, he bought the tour company on the spot, and was now standing on the deck of his new ship, merrily passing out cigars.
Ganesh and Lady Raziel stood apart.
“He bought the company?” Ganesh asked.
Raziel giggled. “Aw. He’ll probably give it back at the end of the night. My baby does love his cigars.” She was sitting on the boat railing, wrapped up in Wotan’s overcoat.
“The wedding will be very soon. You are not nervous?”
“Sariel is nervous enough for the both of us!”
“Why does he have such a contrary attitude towards the proceedings?”
“Because he has a contrary attitude towards everything, or hadn’t you noticed?” she laughed. Ganesh was frowning, so she continued. “I don’t know this for sure, but I think part of it is that it’s been us two, for centuries. I mean, there were others, obviously, but we never trusted them.”
“Oh. So,” he looked at Sariel contentedly getting a light from Wotan. “Sariel doesn’t trust Wotan?”
“He trusts Wotan. He doesn’t like that I trust Wotan.” Ganesh frowned again. “That’s how things get fucked up,” Raziel continued. “I mean, look what happened with Eototo.”
Ganesh considered for a moment. “Do you trust me, Lady Raziel.”
“Oh, that’s a good question!” She appeared to be mulling it over. “I trust you of course, because you’re helping me with my reception seating chart. But the question is, do I think Sariel should trust you?”
“This is very complicated!”
“It’s mind-bending!” she grinned.
Ganesh directed his attention to the Christmas light colors of the northern river bank. A tugboat bearing an animated electronic billboard sailed by. He turned to inquire of Lady Raziel if she had further considered his question, but saw instead another angel standing there, blinking at him.
"Ganesh," Sariel said, flicking his cigar ashes over the side. "Could you tell me something? Honestly?"
The Hindu god nodded.
"Your dad's deal with bringing Skanda into the business? Exactly how much, do you think, does this have to do with me? I mean," he took a drag and exhaled, "you and me?"
"My father...." Ganesh began. He sighed. He watched the electronic billboard retreat. "My father does not approve. He has mentioned disownment, although I do not sincerely suppose he will follow through. I do believe, however, that he would be more content were I involved with a mortal being, as at least, he could be hopeful of them dying." He blinked, and finally looked over at Sariel.
"Well. OK then," the angel said, flicking ashes.
Charles woke up suddenly on an unfamiliar bed.
His brain blearily toggled through the possibilities: not Valhalla, not Ganesh's residence, not his Great Plains-sized bed at Mordhaus.
He jerked up. "SHIT!"
Nathan, whose bed this was, laughed. "Don't sweat it, dude."
"Shit," Charles repeated, trying to straighten his wadded tie.
Still laughing, Nathan came over to sit beside him. "I was gonna wake you up, but you looked like you could USE THE Z'S."
It actually sounded awesome, when Nathan said it. Of course, anything sounded awesome when Nathan said it. Charles remembered he had actually come over here as part of his new initiative. Instead of crisis management, which basically described the good portion of his typical day - or in fact his life - he had taken it upon himself to walk around the place, seeking out incipient situations before they blossomed into apocalyptic events. It was not such a bad plan, in theory. Ganesh had mentioned it, as he had evidently been reading about it in one of those journals he tended to browse when he didn't have his nose in a GQ. But the strategy seemed to require for its successful execution someone who occasionally used their evenings for sleep purposes. He remembered coming to Nathan's room, chatting with Nathan, and sitting down on Nathan's bed, because he was sort of tired, and there was nowhere else to sit. And then....
"Sorry. Sorry, Nathan."
"Now you know what I feel like at those FUCKING BAND MEETINGS." Nathan smiled. "You know what my dad used to say? It used to drive me FUCKING CRAZY. He'd say, ‘you're burning the candle at both ends.’ Fucking stupid thing to say. But you know what? You're fucking BURNING THE CANDLE AT BOTH ENDS!"
"Yeah." He really needed to get up, and maybe put in a few miles on the treadmill and then administer some intravenous coffee to get his brain going again. But instead he found himself stupidly lying back down on Nathan’s bed and saying, "I tried to hire Ganesh. The other night. To work for me. To work for us."
"BAD IDEA!" Nathan growled.
"I thought you liked Ganesh?"
"Ganesh is AWESOME!" Nathan declared, flopping down beside Charles. "He has long hair! And he drinks with us!"
“Yeah?”
“Though, I think, dude,” Nathan had turned his voice down to his version of a whisper, “Pickles was sort of hitting on him maybe?”
“Uh, I happen to know Pickles was hitting on him. Definitely.” Ofdensen covered his eyes with an arm and tried not to think too much about Wotan’s Yule party. He told himself once again that he was blind drunk, even though he actually had not consumed so much as a drop of punch that entire evening. Somehow, by transitivity, he had gotten very drunk. Or high. Or maybe both.
“Uh, OK.” Nathan seemed to be considering for a moment. “Anyway. You know what happens when you work with someone…. You know…. You have a thing with. ARGUMENTS! And then … YOKO!”
“Yoko? Uh, OK, I guess I don’t really follow the logic….”
“You know what would work? I’ve been thinking about this. I think it’s time that I take on some MANAGEMENT RESPONSIBILITIES.”
“Uh, what?”
“It’s the PERFECT SOLUTION.”
“Nathan? You remember what happened? When I was, uh, away?”
“But that’s the BRILLIANT PART! You’re here now to talk us out of the STUPID SHIT.”
“Look, Nathan, I’ll just get a new assistant….”
“Dude! Not an assistant. You’ll just fucking kill them in a week or two, and then you’ll have to train some new asshole.”
“I don’t kill them!”
“Then why do they all die?”
“It’s been unrelated fucking accidents!”
“C’mon dude. We all knew you were a murderous son of a bitch when we hired you.”
“I don’t kill-“
“Whatever!”
“And, Nathan, this is the worst possible idea!” Charles was stalling, actually. He knew there was a down side to this. There must be. A big giant, glaring and terrible down side. He just couldn’t make it appear in his brain. “You fall asleep during band meetings. Why the hell would you wanna manage? Don’t you wanna do … whatever it is you do?”
“I fall asleep during band meetings because meetings are BORING. But checking out our money, that’s fucking awesome.”
“You like … accounting?”
“Here’s a million! There’s a million! Everywhere a million. Fucking. Awesome. Especially now that you’re back making us FUCKING MILLIONS!”
“Money does kick ass.”
“Please don’t say that.”
“Sorry.” Suddenly - perhaps it was talk of money - his brain kicked back. “Nathan,” Charles said, sitting up, “Is this all because they’re still pissed at you over quitting the band?”
“Yeah!” Nathan admitted. “I figure this will show everybody I’M BACK.”
“OK, Nathan, you know, it doesn’t always work out when you gotta tell those guys to get working, or, ya know, that Super Tits Doritoland is a stupid idea.”
“Super Tits Candy Snake!”
“I stand corrected.”
“Anyway, I figure I’ll just let you do that shit. You’re a better asshole than I am.”
“Uh, OK.”
“I’ll just FOLLOW THE MONEY!” the lead singer growled.
Charles hefted a mug that read, “WHERE’S MY FUCKING COFFEE?” on the side to his lips. He waited for the caffeine molecules to discover his central nervous system. He sat back in his office chair.
He blinked, suddenly realizing he had just spent the previous 20 minutes lying in bed with Nathan Explosion discussing management practice.
“My life has gotten weird,” he said to no one in particular, opening his Dethlaptop.
****