Birth (Mythklok, Chapter 40)
Title: Birth (Mythklok, Chapter 40)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Arrivals and departures
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs
Notes: Notes after the jump.
Cross-posted to capslokdethklok.
Don't worry, everybody. It's always darkest before the pie.
Mythklok is a Metalocalypse AU in which Charles is Sariel, an angel who fell to earth and subsequently got adopted by a death metal band. If you're behind and for some strange reason wanna catch up, the best place is my fic journal, tikific, where you are welcome to come visit the bits I’ve written and maybe poke them with a pointed stick. I've also written a general introduction in case you wanna jump in the middle of things, or have forgotten all this stuff due to Real Life.
Last time: everything’s coming up prophecies! Tzaphkiel has been chatting with children who haven't even been born yet, and The Book seems to suggest that someone is going to go attempt an assassination against the Creator Himself. But, who? Oh, and Charles deleted the new Dethalbum - sorry for you guys who have been waiting. By the way, this is not a terribly long chapter (for me) but you might put time aside so you can read the whole thing at one go. Just a suggestion.
Mordhaus
“Complicated.”
Sariel hadn’t said it. He had danced it.
It had literally taken months, but he had finally learned enough of Ganesh’s fucked up dance language shit to actually communicate.
“Not complicated,” Ganesh swiftly danced back.
Goddammit!
“Too complicated!”
“All right. No need to shout.”
“Sorry.”
They were out on the deck adjacent to Sariel’s suite at Mordhaus, dancing to soft music. Er, their suite? Ganesh had sort of taken over the decorating part. Well, in collusion with Raziel. Not that Sariel minded. The furnishings weren't particularly metal, but it was really kind of pleasant to have at least one place you could go in this fucking castle and not get your arm sliced off if you bumped the fucking furniture.
And the boys actually didn’t seem to give a shit, as long as Ganesh fixed them his coma-inducing martinis.
Fucking band. Disloyal sonsabitches liked his boyfriend better than they liked him.
“Just us. And Pickles?” Ganesh danced.
“Yes.”
“No other humans? I don’t mind,” Ganesh danced.
“No other humans.”
“You don’t like women?”
“I love women! MAMMARY GLANDS!”
Ganesh laughed. “Think you mean tits,” he supplied helpfully.
“Thanks.”
Ganesh had been down here a lot, lately. As it turned out, his place pretty much had to be gutted after the damage from the various unbinding spells he had cast in an attempt to retrieve Sariel from the alternate universe. Not that Sariel could say he minded this either. Waking up to a shower full of Ganesh every morning? He was probably a bit less productive. But nobody was ever awake for morning meetings anyway.
“No women?” Ganesh danced.
“No women. No other humans. No other gods. No other angels. Just us. OK?”
The music had run out, so Ganesh went to click the stereo. “OK,” he said.
“Wait, OK? Why didn’t you dance that?”
“Why didn’t I dance what?”
“Gods damn it, Ganesh! I just spent months learning your fucking dance language so we could work this out.”
“You don’t like dancing with me?”
Sariel sighed. Not that look! No one could resist that look. “No, of course I like dancing with you! I love dancing with you!”
“Just one more?”
“Can you dance me more Mahabharata? I’m in the mood for killer laser beam eyes.”
Ganesh grinned.
Valhalla
Lady Raziel was quite undeniably pregnant.
When people asked when she was due (and they now asked constantly), she would cheerfully tell them, "One month, but Ganesh says twins often surprise you!"
She had come to actually regard the birth as fait accompli, and now routinely consulted the beings who were blocking her view of her shoes about important matters, such as which cute hat to wear.
And so she had informed them today that they were to visit their Auntie Tzaphkiel. As they did, to be honest, every day.
Since Lady Tzaphkiel had come to stay at Valhalla, Raziel had made it a practice to have Wotan take her outside daily for some sun. She seemed to enjoy the garden. On weekdays, Raziel would sit with her. Sometimes she would chatter, and sometimes she would not. And Sariel would visit once a week, and sit with her. And Ganesh would read her aura, and make pleasant conversation.
Once or twice, Ogoun Sen Jacque, Sariel’s father, had come all the way from another universe to visit her. Though he was not what might be called a quiet or a gentle man, he became very quiet and gentle in her presence.
And then one day, the Lady had become too frail to go outside. So Raziel had her moved to a room with a very large, sunny window. And so the schedule continued, only inside.
On this day, Tzaphkiel looked up and smiled at Lady Raziel. “Have you perhaps guessed why I have used my gifts to view your children?”
“You’re not gonna live to see the birth,” Raziel told her.
“It is unfortunate.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’ve had a long existence, much longer than my Sisters. It was a great delight, finding my son. And Jacque….” She trailed off, as she often did when she spoke of her lover. It was obviously something beyond words, for the both of them. “Kindly see to my son,” she continued.
“Always.”
“I believe if he gets to know Jacque, it will be easier. For the both of them.”
“If they don’t kill each other.”
Tzaphkiel held up a hand. Raziel moved closer. The angel gently put a hand on her stomach and listened. “I will miss these two,” she said.
“We will miss you,” Raziel said quietly.
Raziel paused for a moment out in the hallway. She wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “Never do this,” she told her stomach. “Always use a handkerchief instead.” And then she dialed her cell phone. “Ganesha. You need to get Sariel up here. Yeah.”
Somewhat later, Raziel stood again in Tzaphkiel's room, her back against Wotan, his arms around her.
Jacque had crawled onto the bed with Tzaphkiel, and was now cradling her body. “Would you let me…. I’d like to take her remains…. I have a place. By the sea….” He was asking Phanuel. Raziel hadn’t thought it was possible for her father to look any sadder than usual, but he looked that way now, sitting by the bedside. He nodded to Jacque. Who said quietly, “Thank you.”
Sariel was in the back corner of the room, flanked by Ganesh and Pickles. Double-teaming him, Raziel thought. Good idea. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere - anywhere but here.
And then they were preparing to transport her body, Jacque and Elegba, who had held quietly back. Wotan walked Phanuel to the dining room, where they would eat or not eat or drink or not drink or smoke or not smoke but at any rate sit for a while together.
Pickles caught Raziel’s arm. “We’re gonna go home an’ watch a zillion DVDs an' feed him some pie," he told her.
Raziel nodded. “Mordhaus or…”
“Yeh, da ‘haus. Ganesh’s place still ain’t quite raight from da voodoo.”
Raziel smiled, despite herself. As it had turned out, Ganesh’s residence had required completely new furnishings. Since she had been forbidden to go anywhere near Mordhaus, she and Ganesh had spent many pleasant evenings in the empty residence poring over furniture catalogs. She had caught him a couple of times with his nose in the baby furnishing books she’d gotten to outfit Valhalla’s nursery. He had batted those lovely brown eyes at her and claimed it was all concern that her twins had only the best constructed bassinets. But she was beginning to wonder if Sariel had gotten in over his head yet once again.
“Just…. I wouldn’t leave him alone,” she told Pickles. “He might be a dick about it. He’ll probably be a dick about it. Don’t let him.”
“Gotcha, chief,” Pickles assured her.
Mordhaus
“Dood. How does she do dat?”
Ganesh sighed, looking at one of Auntie Sarasvati’s blueberry pies. It was sitting, untouched, on the coffee table in the media room at Mordhaus. Up until a few moments ago, Sariel had been sitting right there, gazing distractedly at the television. “My Auntie?” Ganesh asked.
“How da feck does she always know where t’ send da pie?”
“I’m not certain,” Ganesh admitted. “I believe it has to do with the fact that she and my uncle are unique in all the universes. So, they can keep track of everybody.”
“Whoa! Dat’s pretty heavy metaphysical shit!”
“Metaphysics. And, pie.”
“Yeh. An’ pie.”
“Er. Does it seem to you that Sariel has been gone for an undue amount of time?”
Sariel wasn’t exactly certain what he wanted. He only knew what he didn’t want. Pie was one of them. Being around people - any people - was another.
An elevator. With a cut cable.
He had burned Dethklok's new album - literally burned it. And then obliterated the ashes. But there was something remaining. Something he hadn't reckoned on. A piece that didn't fit. It had been nagging him. And with his mother's death, the piece had broken free. There wasn't even room for grief. Just the fear that he's missed something. Something very obvious.
Tzaphkiel's vision had foretold Raziel's children. That would imply Raziel must live to see the birth. Despite the other prophecy that she would rise against the Creator. Her Blade. Would Raziel survive the encounter? Was she really that strong now?
And was there really a spell strong enough, anywhere, to make her risk her children?
And he remembered another vision, a memory.
"Take what you need from these people. Some day, I will call for you."
“My most sincere condolences.”
“Morningstar. This is not the fucking time.”
He had almost unconsciously headed to his office. It probably wasn’t the greatest place to avoid people - they always found him here - but he really didn’t want to deal with this asshole. It was time for boots, maximum style.
“I shan’t be long.”
“You get 30 seconds, and I’m calling Security.”
Lucifer flicked his hand. The CD case rattled on Sariel’s desk.
“Thought you might want to see what the hip kids were listening to.”
Sariel held it up. “You’re claiming this is us? Not possible. EVERYTHING has been destroyed. I watched it go up.”
“Well, then, I guess I am sadly mistaken. Until we meet again, Little Brother.”
“I’m not your….” But Lucifer had already, mercifully, departed. “Asshole.” He frowned at the CD. He opened his laptop, and inserted it. “Will probably give my computer fucking VD,” he grumbled. He located the files and brought up the audio program.
“His office?”
“He always goes dere.”
“All right.” Ganesh and Pickles paused outside the door. There seemed to be music playing inside.
Ganesh shrugged and opened the door. “Sariel, it’s good that we’ve….”
Sariel was holding a sword.
He looked up at Ganesh.
His eyes were silver.
And then he was gone.
“Feck.”
“Skwisgaar. Now.”
Pickles ran.
Ganesh was at the computer. He ejected the disk.
It crumbled to dust in his hand.
“Cocksucking motherfucker.”
Skwisgaar skidded in.
Ganesh stood, dialing Valhalla. Various band members were now hovering at the door.
Skwisgaar looked around, doing whatever the fuck it was he did. He seemed to be taking an incredibly long time. An eternity.
Finally the guitarist stood. "I can'ts tracks him," he said in wonder.
"What?" Ganesh lowered the phone.
"He ams gots rids of all his magics. I ams not sure how he ams did it."
"Fuck," said Ganesh. "He can do that in his Court Form. Gods damn it.”
"Wut, Gannish? Yoo mean when he pushes out his spirit like?”
"Ganesh?” It was Raziel’s voice through the speaker.
“Yes.”
“When Lucifer was up here, he claimed he knew where the Creator was hiding."
"Oh, no," Ganesh said. His heart was sinking.
"Lucifer said He has a barrier against magical beings. I couldn’t get through…. Even though I'm supposed to be the fucking Blade or whatever. Do you think Sariel could?”
“Aw, feck!” Pickles howled. “He could go right t’rough. You can’t see his spirit when he does dat!”
“Lucifer ams beens here,” Skwisgaar said. “Ja, ams da New Ones, I t’inks it ams hims.”
“Schould we find Luschifer?” Murderface asked.
Ganesh nodded. “Yes, get Dick Knubbler, find Lucifer.”
“Schouda stuck a knife into that dousche when I had the chance,” Murderface muttered, hurrying off.
“When we destroyed the master tapes,” Nathan asked. “It wasn’t a spell for Lady Raz?”
“No,” Ganesh told him. “I think it was meant for Sariel. I think he’s supposed to kill the Creator.”
A typical suburban neighborhood….
Sariel was laughing.
It was the most cosy, white bread suburban street you could imagine.
He approached the house. There was even a lawn gnome.
Sariel got to the door. He grinned. He tried the doorknob.
Yes. Nobody even locked their doors here. So safe and happy!
He sensed the barrier against magical beings. So he Court Formed, taking a moment to very carefully stuff away every scrap of his magic. He got down to nothing, nobody. Something he’d always been able to do. Disappear.
Anonymous.
And then he simply stepped through.
And beheld infinity.
Satan’s office park….
“WHERE’S FUCKING LUCIFER?” Nathan’s peerless death metal voice echoed through all nine circles of Hell..
They had taken the shinkansen straight down to the very bottom. Pickles, who had jumped into the car mostly because he couldn’t figure out what else to do, was a bit stunned. He hadn’t been down this far on their earlier visit. He had figured it would be pretty awesome, with lots of creepy demons and shit.
It looked like a fucking office park.
They were in the waiting room. Lucifer’s waiting room.
A rather surly looking demon came barreling out of Satan’s office. “Who the fuck do you….”
Nathan punched him before he could finish. The demon went flying over the receptionist’s desk, knocking it over. The receptionist, who had been doing her nails, skillfully scooted her wheeled chair to the side, avoiding the damage.
“I’M NATHAN FUCKING EXPLOSION. WHERE THE FUCK IS SATAN?” Nathan said, actually a bit louder this time.
“Wish we knew, hon,” the receptionist told him, still studying her emery board.
“Whaddya mean, dood?” Pickles asked her.
“Bastard took a hike. A week ago.” She regarded her manicure. “None of us have been able to cash our paychecks!”
“If he’s not payin’ yoo, why are yoo still workin’ here?” It was stupid, but Pickles had to know.
“Eh,” the receptionist groaned. She indicated her leg, which was chained to her swivel chair. “I worked in the DMV during my lifetime, so it’s eternity here for me. Satan’s admin.”
“Oh,” said Pickles. “Were you one o’ da snotty clerks?”
“No, I was the one who took the photographs.”
“Ohhhhhhh!” said Nathan, who was nodding.
“You know where elsche we could look?” Murderface grumbled.
“Maybe up on the Fifth Circle?”
“Oh, isch he rumored to be there?”
“No. But, I’ve heard they have beer.”
Nowhere….
The room was immense. It was far bigger inside than outside.
And it was cold. Or not so much cold, as lacking in all warmth. It was as if all the heat, or even a memory of heat, had been banished. Sariel had True Formed, so he could wrap his wings about himself, but it was little help. He gripped his sword and kept walking.
As he walked, icicles formed on his mouth and nose. It was taking a long time. Hours? Days?
When had he taken off his shoes? He couldn’t remember. It seemed a very stupid thing to have done. His feet were so cold now, and the chill went all the way up.
It was such a long walk. The air felt thin. He gripped the hilt of the blade. It felt good in his hand. Like a part of him. Yes. This must be his purpose.
He was struggling to breathe now. Was he walking on a mountain top? Up in space? He couldn’t tell.
There was nothing.
And then there was a light up ahead. It was so dim, and far away. But he made for it, tucking his wings tight, struggling mightily with every breath.
It looked like a painter's studio. But a weird one. There was no outside light.
There was a canvas. It was blank.
There was a painter at the canvas.
"I have been expecting you, Sariel," the Creator told him. "You are my death,"
Mordhaus….
Ganesh grabbed the phone. “Yes, William?”
“He’sch not here. Nobody knowsch where he’sch gotten to. Baschtard took a hike.”
“Shit.”
“We’ll keep looking. He can’t hide out forever.”
“Thanks, William.”
Ganesh put down the phone. He was still sitting at Sariel’s desk.
Elegba, sitting quietly in a guest chair, regarded him.
“I’m sorry,” Ganesh told him. “I wish I had better news.”
“Losing Tzaphy. And then his son. This is fucked,” was all Elegba could come up with.
“You were saying….”
“I always suspected. I saw Her hand in all this.”
“The Goddess?”
Elegba nodded. “Jacque never questioned why she showed up the second time. Tzaphkiel. As he is my dearest friend, I held my tongue. But there was something about her. She seemed magicked.”
“It is difficult to enchant an angel, though, isn’t it?”
“Customarily. But, not for Her.”
"You think She would put in play a scheme so subtle that would take two thousand years to kill the Creator?"
"You don't wanna fuck with no goddess," Elegba noted.
Ganesh put a hand through his hair. It stubbornly fell back into his face. “But, Tzaphkiel really loved Jacque?” he asked sadly.
“Of course. In every universe, ‘tis the same, Tzaphkiel loves Jacque. Though, every universe, different Tzaphkiel, different Jacque. But love all the same.”
Ganesh looked up. “No. Not everyone is different in every universe. Like…. Like my relatives.”
“What?” Elegba asked.
Ganesh was already dialing his cell phone. “Uncle Brahma? Yes, this is Ganesha. Yes, I know I haven’t called for a while. Well, that’s is why I am calling. Yes, I am calling about Sariel. Yes… Yes, can you please put Auntie on the line? This is urgent. Tell her… Tell her he’s pining away!
“Yes, Auntie? Yes, that’s what I’m calling about. Sariel needs a pie. Yes, he’s absolutely desperate for one. Oh, uh, it doesn’t matter. Yes, rhubarb would be fine. Yes, Dutch apple would be fine as well. I’ll tell you what, dear, why don’t you make both? But, here’s what’s important. WHERE WILL YOU DELIVER IT? I need you to tell me. Yes, I need you to tell me right now.”
The end of time….
Sariel raised the blade. He gasped, short of breath.
He gripped the hilt of his sword. This was his True Form. His real True Form. He was Death.
“Why?” he gasped.
“It is for my many sins,” the Creator sighed. “But primarily against Her. One thing you should learn, my Son. Do not fuck with a Goddess.”
“But…. But why me?”
“This is why you were Created, my son. Or not so much Created. She never really had the knack. But She was always one manipulative bitch.”
"Why didn't you.... Why didn't you just kill me? Like the other one?"
"You haven't guessed? You were at least supposed to be smart," the Creator huffed. "It would create a rift. A big one, as Tzaphkiel and your father are from different realities. Cunning bitch."
Sariel was fighting for breath.
Valhalla….
Raziel was on the couch, sniffling piteously into the bits of yarn that were spooled all over he belly.
“We know where he is."
"Father!” she gasped, looking up at Phanuel. “Can you take me to him?"
"I am not Fallen. I may Walk where I will." He looked extraordinarily sad, even for him. "But there is a powerful barrier. I cannot breach it. I do not know how we will get through."
Raziel leapt off the couch. And then was on her knees, doubled over, gasping.
"Daughter!" said Phanuel, seizing her hand.
She held tight to his hand. "Get. Ganesh. Now," she told him.
The Creator’s Studio….
“I suppose you know how this works," the Creator told Sariel. "You just get your one shot. If you don’t kill me, I get my shot at you. And I don’t fucking miss. You are a misshapen thing. A cursed thing. This will give me much pleasure.”
Sariel looked up at the blank easel. He listened. There was something. Someone....
Keep talking.
"My boyfriend is a painter."
"Your what? I do not wish to hear this."
Just keep talking.
"He's a Hindu god!"
"I don't wish to hear any more of your filth."
"He died!”
“You are an abomination.”
“And, when he got reincarnated, he came back left handed."
"Shut up, Sariel."
"So, he can paint. And draw. And, do you know what he draws?"
There was a stony silence.
"He draws my wings. He thinks they look cool. In the light."
"That's disgusting."
"And, yeah, why did you make us and then decide we're disgusting?"
"I did not Create you. You were misbegotten."
"You made Tzaphkiel. You made Jacque's universe."
"Do not mention my Daughter. You are the one who caused her Fall."
"My mother was not Fallen. Do not fucking say that."
"Sariel. Take your shot."
Sariel breathed hard. His sides ached. He hadn't had such a hard time breathing since he'd had pneumonia. He hadn't been so cold since then, either.
He remembered. He had been almost dead. It had been too much work to even draw breath.
And then suddenly, a miracle: Ganesh was holding him, telling him how dear he was.
He heard the clatter. The blade had slipped from his hand. It did not seem a part of him. It seemed very far away.
Actually, he had no fucking idea who he was, but he wasn't death.
"Look at you," he whispered to the Creator. "You're the monster. Hiding here."
“You’re not…” the Creator started. “You’re Her Blade. It was foretold.”
“Fuck prophecy. It’s a bunch of bullshit. Especially your prophecies.”
“You’re my death!”
“Take your shot. You take your fucking shot,” Sariel told the Creator. He stood, weeping, and waited to die.
The Creator hesitated. “I don’t understand.”
And then Sariel felt a familiar hand, entwined with his.
"OK," said Raziel. "Show's over."
Sariel shuddered. But with warmth. Raziel seemed to have brought some heat with her. "How did you...?" he gasped.
She was seething. She stabbed her sword into the ground, which seemed to create an electric cloud of power around them.
The Creator had actually taken a step back.
"Mom?” Raziel growled. “Get your bitch ass out here. We need some fucking family time."
How long had it been since Sariel had seen the Goddess? She was so beautiful: even more lovely than Parvati. He looked to the Creator. The Creator looked at Her with an infinite sadness.
"All right, you two," Raziel scolded. "He's not your blade, and he's not your death. He's Sariel. He's my brother. And you both need to leave him alone and work out you OWN FUCKING PROBLEMS."
There was silence.
"Such a mouth on you," the Creator sighed.
"She was always a willful child!" the Goddess stated.
"And whose fault was that?" snapped the Creator.
"You sent us away to live in that rathole!" She snarled.
"Oh. You could have made your screwing around with that morbid angel a bit less obvious!"
"You guys are twins, aren't you?" All suddenly turned to look at Sariel.
"Whoa!" said Raziel. "No wonder everything got so screwed up."
"It's none of your business," the Goddess sniffed.
"None of my business? You just nearly tricked me into being your assassin, you fucking bitch!" Sariel sputtered.
"It wouldn't have worked," sniffed the Creator.
"It almost worked, you egotistical asshole!" She shrieked.
"You have too much guile and not enough smarts," he scolded, tapping his forehead with an index finger.
They both reeled at the sound of the crash. Raziel had dumped a can of purple paint all over the studio floor. She slammed her hand into it, and then slapped her painted hand onto the Creator's blank canvas. Then, for good measure, underneath the purple handprints, she wrote out "RaZiEL," being careful to dot the i with a tiny circle.
"What do you think of my painting, Father?" she asked. "Let's go," she told Sariel.
Sariel felt himself being led off. Funny, the door seemed only a few steps away now.
And then they were in the bright sunshine. Phanuel silently stood by awaiting them.
"He had a barrier set up against magical beings," Sariel asked. "How the hell did you-" But Raziel simply turned him around, grinning. The entire front of the quiet suburban house had been blown up.
"Gas leak," she told him. "Unfortunate coincidence." They heard the sirens wailing in the distance.
"My daughter hasn't a lot of patience with these things," Phanuel noted. "Shall we?"
They turned and Walked away.
"You're not pregnant any more," Sariel marveled, looking at her.
"I delivered my babies, hopped up off the table, and ran to rescue your skinny ass," she explained.
"Whoa. Right off the table?"
"I believe there was some photography," Phanuel intoned with a very slight smile.
"Just a quick snap," Raziel tutted.
"And then. Perhaps. A moment spent seeking. Suitable attire."
"Don't be an ass, Father."
"Well, I'm sorry if my whole being in mortal danger thing made you pick tacky boots," Sariel grinned.
"I NEVER WEAR TACKY BOOTS!"
"Was She present?" Phanuel asked.
"Father, She's a total bitch," said Raziel, taking up his hand. "C'mon, we know some great women we can introduce you too. I bet Sariel's boys know tons of nice girls."
"What?" asked Sariel. "I manage a metal band. I know exactly no nice girls."
They Walked into Valhalla, where Wotan and Ganesh stood, apparently mesmerized, over a bassinet.
"WHAT DID THEY DO THAT I MISSED?" Raziel exclaimed, rushing over to stand next to Wotan.
"That one yawned!" Wotan enthused, draping an arm over her.
"And I missed it!"
Ganesh. several arms now wrapped protectively around a strangely unprotesting Sariel, proceeded to show her approximately 164 cell phone camera photographs of the entire stunning incident. After Raziel had been satisfied by running through the amazing sequence three times through, she turned to Phanuel and Sariel and demanded, "Well, what are you waiting for?"
Phanuel caught Sariel's eye. "Are we gonna have to touch 'em?" Sariel whispered.
"I am. Afraid so," Phanuel sighed.
"SARIEL! Not by the scruff of the neck!" Raziel scolded.
"Ah, it works for puppies."
"They are angelic. We could potentially bounce them upon the floor and not incur much in the way of damage," Ganesh grinned.
"Et tu, Gaesha?" Raziel asked.
"This one looks like you,” Sariel noted about the infant he was awkwardly hefting.
"Yes, Sariel. It's my baby."
"But that one doesn't look so much like you."
"He looks like Wotan."
"Wotan isn't one foot tall."
"Neither am I!"
"Well, you're not much taller than that."
"SEE WHO RESCUES YOUR SKINNY ASS NEXT TIME, SARIEL!"
Sariel was being pulled from behind. He found himself on a sitting room couch, in Ganesh's lap, being grasped firmly by two sets of arms.
"I know," said Ganesh, kissing him. "I know you hate this. I don't care. I just really don't care right now."
"It's not so bad. Really. It's not so bad." He sat for a while, quiet. "What if you just pick your favorite arm?" Ganesh let him slide off, one arm still hooked around his shoulders. "Where did you find surgical scrubs with two sets or arm holes, anyway?"
"Oh! I find it most useful when attending patients to have the extra set out! It takes twice as long to scrub in, of course, but once you're set, you can deliver a baby over here while popping out an appendix over there." Ganesh waved his hands to demonstrate, even producing a popping sound for the appendix.
"Remind me to never, ever let you do a medical procedure on me." He sat for a minute. "How did.... How did you did you guys find me, anyway?"
"Auntie Sarasvati found you," Ganesh laughed.
"Really?"
"I told her you had a hankering for some of her baked goods. And then simply inquired as to where she would deliver the pies."
"Oh," said Sariel. "So, she can always find me?"
"Anywhere you go!"
"How the hell...."
"I believe Uncle Brahma's singularity provides him with a certain ... omnipresence."
Sariel sat in thought for a while. "So," he said at last, "What happened to the pies?"
Hell….
Lucifer was in his garden, the Nephilim abiding peacefully about him.
"Your pomegranates are quite lovely here."
Lucifer turned to regard the angel.
"Thank you."
"Will you share your secret?"
"I have many secrets. However, I do not share."
"Ah. Pity. Perhaps you will be amenable to answer this: did you inquire as to what was on that CD? Or were you merely, as they say, Her errand boy?"
"He deserves to die. You know that."
"Many times over. I am sure. But that is not an answer. To the question. I have put to you."
"He took my children. And confined me here."
"You feel aggrieved to live amongst your own children?"
"What are you doing here in my garden, Honored Brother Phanuel?"
“I am currently seeking. New. Employment."
"I thought you were needed elsewhere."
"When one gets to be my age. One seeks to be near. One's dear grandchildren."
"Ah. Well. It might be strange. Having a Seraph working for me."
"You misunderstand. That will not be the situation."
Phanuel's look told him all he needed to know.
"Can we not do it in front of them?" Lucifer asked, indicating the Nephilim.
"Certainly."
Phanuel accompanied Satan as he walked slowly up the path and disappeared behind a stand of trees.
Lucifer turned suddenly, sword in hand, ready to strike.
To find Phanuel's knife through his belly.
The Grey angel fixed him with a stare. “Always carry a spare,” he advised. He skillfully took off Lucifer's head with one stroke of his long sword.
Phanuel felt a hand on his shoulder. "I always say, it's a terrible thing when a man can't trust the head of his own underworld."
"Might I understand that I have successfully interviewed for the position?"
"Flying colors. Welcome to the family business," Wotan told him, extending a hand. "You care for cigars?"
"Thanks to my acquaintance, Jacque, I have acquired a taste of late," the angel explained, taking an appreciative whiff of one of the Norse god's fine Cubans.
"I always say, I can talk to any man I can smoke a cigar with!"
Wotan picked up his cell, which was ringing. "Raziel," he explained. "One of the babies made a bubble."
"Ah. And I see the occasion has been. Extensively documented."
"How did we manage to raise children before cell phones? They're a godsend for working parents, I say."
Valhalla
Ganesh had Sariel exactly where he wanted him.
In his lap, in private now, holding him tightly with so many hands, touching him everywhere.
Except the one spot he was now aching to be touched.
"Oh gods. Touch me," the angel pleaded, as Ganesh sent a hand down to softly brush the downy hairs that ran up and down Sariel's belly. Sariel writhed as much as he could, his arms and legs pinned. Ganesh, who had his own cock stuffed very pleasantly up Sariel's warm, tight ass right now, looked with delight at the angel's bare erection. Ganesh wished, greedily, that as well as having many hands, he had more mouths at his disposal. He grinned, and leaned over to whisper ever so softly in Sariel's ear, and in great detail, what he would do to him at that moment, if he only had lips and tongue to spare. Sariel struggled for an agonizing moment before he could bear it no more, and then came in quite spectacular fashion. Ganesh satisfied himself after a few more gentle strokes, but really, it was, one might say, an anticlimax.
He pulled a still gasping Sariel to lay beside him, gently cleaning him off with a soft towel. "Smug bastard," the angel muttered. Ganesh smiled, but did not reply.
"I didn't tell you. I was ready to kill the Creator. But I thought of you. And I didn't do it."
"Really?" Ganesh set the towel aside and gathered Sariel to him. "And, Lady Raziel...?"
"She got there right afterwards."
"How did she get past the barrier?"
"She didn't. She destroyed it."
"Oh. Oh! Your sister...."
"Cousin. Yeah. I don't think they'll mess with us again. Well. Those two won't fuck with us."
Ganesh readjusted his position slightly. He had a leg entangled with Sariel’s, as well as two sets of arms around him. “You know. You can’t run off any more. I will find you.”
“Yeah. Yeah. I know.” You’re there. Even if you’re not there.
"How are you?"
"It's weird. I don't know what I am."
"What you are?"
"I wasn't Created. But nearly so. To be his assassin. And I just sort of blew it. My sole purpose."
"Well, all right. I will give you a purpose," Ganesh said, chewing thoughtfully on Sariel's ear. "Here we go. You will now give me frequent blow jobs."
"Oh."
"Are you finding something lacking in your new assignment?"
"Well...."
"And you can eat pie."
"That would work."
"It is a good purpose." Ganesh smoothed back a tendril of Sariel's hair. "I need to tell you something as well."
"Yeah?"
"You said to wait until Raziel had her children?"
"Uh, yeah?"
"The answer? To your question? Is yes. A definite yes."
"To which...? Oh. That question. OK. Yeah."
And then Ganesh was sleeping.
And Sariel was quite wide awake.
An elevator.
With the cable cut.
But Ganesh was there, holding him.
And he was winged. Dark wings, with silvery tips.
Was it Ganesh?
He drifted off to sleep....
Pickles held an angel baby.
He wasn't totally sure which one. The blond one. It was not so bad, really. They already had spirits, which was pretty cool. And they had a sort of happy soothing buzz to them, like you'd just had a beer or two.
Lady Raz was taking a million pictures with her cell phone camera and then spending a great deal of time in consultation over which photo need be sent to which assortment of recipients.
Pickles didn't mind. He had come up partly to see the spuds. Though, mostly, he'd come up to make sure Charles wasn't, you know, dead. Or whatever. But he'd arrived just in time to see him and Ganesh steal off to their room. It was pretty clear what they intended to do. He supposed he could have joined in, but just lately, there had been this feeling of a third wheel status. It wasn’t like the two of them were acting like douche bags. Charles had actually be acting sort of nice. For him. Now that he was an angel more often, he seemed human. Which was weird.
Pickles needed something.
He needed to do something.
Like, a quest.
"Hey, baby dood," he said softly.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Arrivals and departures
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs
Notes: Notes after the jump.
Cross-posted to capslokdethklok.
Don't worry, everybody. It's always darkest before the pie.
Mythklok is a Metalocalypse AU in which Charles is Sariel, an angel who fell to earth and subsequently got adopted by a death metal band. If you're behind and for some strange reason wanna catch up, the best place is my fic journal, tikific, where you are welcome to come visit the bits I’ve written and maybe poke them with a pointed stick. I've also written a general introduction in case you wanna jump in the middle of things, or have forgotten all this stuff due to Real Life.
Last time: everything’s coming up prophecies! Tzaphkiel has been chatting with children who haven't even been born yet, and The Book seems to suggest that someone is going to go attempt an assassination against the Creator Himself. But, who? Oh, and Charles deleted the new Dethalbum - sorry for you guys who have been waiting. By the way, this is not a terribly long chapter (for me) but you might put time aside so you can read the whole thing at one go. Just a suggestion.
Mordhaus
“Complicated.”
Sariel hadn’t said it. He had danced it.
It had literally taken months, but he had finally learned enough of Ganesh’s fucked up dance language shit to actually communicate.
“Not complicated,” Ganesh swiftly danced back.
Goddammit!
“Too complicated!”
“All right. No need to shout.”
“Sorry.”
They were out on the deck adjacent to Sariel’s suite at Mordhaus, dancing to soft music. Er, their suite? Ganesh had sort of taken over the decorating part. Well, in collusion with Raziel. Not that Sariel minded. The furnishings weren't particularly metal, but it was really kind of pleasant to have at least one place you could go in this fucking castle and not get your arm sliced off if you bumped the fucking furniture.
And the boys actually didn’t seem to give a shit, as long as Ganesh fixed them his coma-inducing martinis.
Fucking band. Disloyal sonsabitches liked his boyfriend better than they liked him.
“Just us. And Pickles?” Ganesh danced.
“Yes.”
“No other humans? I don’t mind,” Ganesh danced.
“No other humans.”
“You don’t like women?”
“I love women! MAMMARY GLANDS!”
Ganesh laughed. “Think you mean tits,” he supplied helpfully.
“Thanks.”
Ganesh had been down here a lot, lately. As it turned out, his place pretty much had to be gutted after the damage from the various unbinding spells he had cast in an attempt to retrieve Sariel from the alternate universe. Not that Sariel could say he minded this either. Waking up to a shower full of Ganesh every morning? He was probably a bit less productive. But nobody was ever awake for morning meetings anyway.
“No women?” Ganesh danced.
“No women. No other humans. No other gods. No other angels. Just us. OK?”
The music had run out, so Ganesh went to click the stereo. “OK,” he said.
“Wait, OK? Why didn’t you dance that?”
“Why didn’t I dance what?”
“Gods damn it, Ganesh! I just spent months learning your fucking dance language so we could work this out.”
“You don’t like dancing with me?”
Sariel sighed. Not that look! No one could resist that look. “No, of course I like dancing with you! I love dancing with you!”
“Just one more?”
“Can you dance me more Mahabharata? I’m in the mood for killer laser beam eyes.”
Ganesh grinned.
Valhalla
Lady Raziel was quite undeniably pregnant.
When people asked when she was due (and they now asked constantly), she would cheerfully tell them, "One month, but Ganesh says twins often surprise you!"
She had come to actually regard the birth as fait accompli, and now routinely consulted the beings who were blocking her view of her shoes about important matters, such as which cute hat to wear.
And so she had informed them today that they were to visit their Auntie Tzaphkiel. As they did, to be honest, every day.
Since Lady Tzaphkiel had come to stay at Valhalla, Raziel had made it a practice to have Wotan take her outside daily for some sun. She seemed to enjoy the garden. On weekdays, Raziel would sit with her. Sometimes she would chatter, and sometimes she would not. And Sariel would visit once a week, and sit with her. And Ganesh would read her aura, and make pleasant conversation.
Once or twice, Ogoun Sen Jacque, Sariel’s father, had come all the way from another universe to visit her. Though he was not what might be called a quiet or a gentle man, he became very quiet and gentle in her presence.
And then one day, the Lady had become too frail to go outside. So Raziel had her moved to a room with a very large, sunny window. And so the schedule continued, only inside.
On this day, Tzaphkiel looked up and smiled at Lady Raziel. “Have you perhaps guessed why I have used my gifts to view your children?”
“You’re not gonna live to see the birth,” Raziel told her.
“It is unfortunate.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’ve had a long existence, much longer than my Sisters. It was a great delight, finding my son. And Jacque….” She trailed off, as she often did when she spoke of her lover. It was obviously something beyond words, for the both of them. “Kindly see to my son,” she continued.
“Always.”
“I believe if he gets to know Jacque, it will be easier. For the both of them.”
“If they don’t kill each other.”
Tzaphkiel held up a hand. Raziel moved closer. The angel gently put a hand on her stomach and listened. “I will miss these two,” she said.
“We will miss you,” Raziel said quietly.
Raziel paused for a moment out in the hallway. She wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “Never do this,” she told her stomach. “Always use a handkerchief instead.” And then she dialed her cell phone. “Ganesha. You need to get Sariel up here. Yeah.”
Somewhat later, Raziel stood again in Tzaphkiel's room, her back against Wotan, his arms around her.
Jacque had crawled onto the bed with Tzaphkiel, and was now cradling her body. “Would you let me…. I’d like to take her remains…. I have a place. By the sea….” He was asking Phanuel. Raziel hadn’t thought it was possible for her father to look any sadder than usual, but he looked that way now, sitting by the bedside. He nodded to Jacque. Who said quietly, “Thank you.”
Sariel was in the back corner of the room, flanked by Ganesh and Pickles. Double-teaming him, Raziel thought. Good idea. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere - anywhere but here.
And then they were preparing to transport her body, Jacque and Elegba, who had held quietly back. Wotan walked Phanuel to the dining room, where they would eat or not eat or drink or not drink or smoke or not smoke but at any rate sit for a while together.
Pickles caught Raziel’s arm. “We’re gonna go home an’ watch a zillion DVDs an' feed him some pie," he told her.
Raziel nodded. “Mordhaus or…”
“Yeh, da ‘haus. Ganesh’s place still ain’t quite raight from da voodoo.”
Raziel smiled, despite herself. As it had turned out, Ganesh’s residence had required completely new furnishings. Since she had been forbidden to go anywhere near Mordhaus, she and Ganesh had spent many pleasant evenings in the empty residence poring over furniture catalogs. She had caught him a couple of times with his nose in the baby furnishing books she’d gotten to outfit Valhalla’s nursery. He had batted those lovely brown eyes at her and claimed it was all concern that her twins had only the best constructed bassinets. But she was beginning to wonder if Sariel had gotten in over his head yet once again.
“Just…. I wouldn’t leave him alone,” she told Pickles. “He might be a dick about it. He’ll probably be a dick about it. Don’t let him.”
“Gotcha, chief,” Pickles assured her.
Mordhaus
“Dood. How does she do dat?”
Ganesh sighed, looking at one of Auntie Sarasvati’s blueberry pies. It was sitting, untouched, on the coffee table in the media room at Mordhaus. Up until a few moments ago, Sariel had been sitting right there, gazing distractedly at the television. “My Auntie?” Ganesh asked.
“How da feck does she always know where t’ send da pie?”
“I’m not certain,” Ganesh admitted. “I believe it has to do with the fact that she and my uncle are unique in all the universes. So, they can keep track of everybody.”
“Whoa! Dat’s pretty heavy metaphysical shit!”
“Metaphysics. And, pie.”
“Yeh. An’ pie.”
“Er. Does it seem to you that Sariel has been gone for an undue amount of time?”
Sariel wasn’t exactly certain what he wanted. He only knew what he didn’t want. Pie was one of them. Being around people - any people - was another.
An elevator. With a cut cable.
He had burned Dethklok's new album - literally burned it. And then obliterated the ashes. But there was something remaining. Something he hadn't reckoned on. A piece that didn't fit. It had been nagging him. And with his mother's death, the piece had broken free. There wasn't even room for grief. Just the fear that he's missed something. Something very obvious.
Tzaphkiel's vision had foretold Raziel's children. That would imply Raziel must live to see the birth. Despite the other prophecy that she would rise against the Creator. Her Blade. Would Raziel survive the encounter? Was she really that strong now?
And was there really a spell strong enough, anywhere, to make her risk her children?
And he remembered another vision, a memory.
"Take what you need from these people. Some day, I will call for you."
“My most sincere condolences.”
“Morningstar. This is not the fucking time.”
He had almost unconsciously headed to his office. It probably wasn’t the greatest place to avoid people - they always found him here - but he really didn’t want to deal with this asshole. It was time for boots, maximum style.
“I shan’t be long.”
“You get 30 seconds, and I’m calling Security.”
Lucifer flicked his hand. The CD case rattled on Sariel’s desk.
“Thought you might want to see what the hip kids were listening to.”
Sariel held it up. “You’re claiming this is us? Not possible. EVERYTHING has been destroyed. I watched it go up.”
“Well, then, I guess I am sadly mistaken. Until we meet again, Little Brother.”
“I’m not your….” But Lucifer had already, mercifully, departed. “Asshole.” He frowned at the CD. He opened his laptop, and inserted it. “Will probably give my computer fucking VD,” he grumbled. He located the files and brought up the audio program.
“His office?”
“He always goes dere.”
“All right.” Ganesh and Pickles paused outside the door. There seemed to be music playing inside.
Ganesh shrugged and opened the door. “Sariel, it’s good that we’ve….”
Sariel was holding a sword.
He looked up at Ganesh.
His eyes were silver.
And then he was gone.
“Feck.”
“Skwisgaar. Now.”
Pickles ran.
Ganesh was at the computer. He ejected the disk.
It crumbled to dust in his hand.
“Cocksucking motherfucker.”
Skwisgaar skidded in.
Ganesh stood, dialing Valhalla. Various band members were now hovering at the door.
Skwisgaar looked around, doing whatever the fuck it was he did. He seemed to be taking an incredibly long time. An eternity.
Finally the guitarist stood. "I can'ts tracks him," he said in wonder.
"What?" Ganesh lowered the phone.
"He ams gots rids of all his magics. I ams not sure how he ams did it."
"Fuck," said Ganesh. "He can do that in his Court Form. Gods damn it.”
"Wut, Gannish? Yoo mean when he pushes out his spirit like?”
"Ganesh?” It was Raziel’s voice through the speaker.
“Yes.”
“When Lucifer was up here, he claimed he knew where the Creator was hiding."
"Oh, no," Ganesh said. His heart was sinking.
"Lucifer said He has a barrier against magical beings. I couldn’t get through…. Even though I'm supposed to be the fucking Blade or whatever. Do you think Sariel could?”
“Aw, feck!” Pickles howled. “He could go right t’rough. You can’t see his spirit when he does dat!”
“Lucifer ams beens here,” Skwisgaar said. “Ja, ams da New Ones, I t’inks it ams hims.”
“Schould we find Luschifer?” Murderface asked.
Ganesh nodded. “Yes, get Dick Knubbler, find Lucifer.”
“Schouda stuck a knife into that dousche when I had the chance,” Murderface muttered, hurrying off.
“When we destroyed the master tapes,” Nathan asked. “It wasn’t a spell for Lady Raz?”
“No,” Ganesh told him. “I think it was meant for Sariel. I think he’s supposed to kill the Creator.”
A typical suburban neighborhood….
Sariel was laughing.
It was the most cosy, white bread suburban street you could imagine.
He approached the house. There was even a lawn gnome.
Sariel got to the door. He grinned. He tried the doorknob.
Yes. Nobody even locked their doors here. So safe and happy!
He sensed the barrier against magical beings. So he Court Formed, taking a moment to very carefully stuff away every scrap of his magic. He got down to nothing, nobody. Something he’d always been able to do. Disappear.
Anonymous.
And then he simply stepped through.
And beheld infinity.
Satan’s office park….
“WHERE’S FUCKING LUCIFER?” Nathan’s peerless death metal voice echoed through all nine circles of Hell..
They had taken the shinkansen straight down to the very bottom. Pickles, who had jumped into the car mostly because he couldn’t figure out what else to do, was a bit stunned. He hadn’t been down this far on their earlier visit. He had figured it would be pretty awesome, with lots of creepy demons and shit.
It looked like a fucking office park.
They were in the waiting room. Lucifer’s waiting room.
A rather surly looking demon came barreling out of Satan’s office. “Who the fuck do you….”
Nathan punched him before he could finish. The demon went flying over the receptionist’s desk, knocking it over. The receptionist, who had been doing her nails, skillfully scooted her wheeled chair to the side, avoiding the damage.
“I’M NATHAN FUCKING EXPLOSION. WHERE THE FUCK IS SATAN?” Nathan said, actually a bit louder this time.
“Wish we knew, hon,” the receptionist told him, still studying her emery board.
“Whaddya mean, dood?” Pickles asked her.
“Bastard took a hike. A week ago.” She regarded her manicure. “None of us have been able to cash our paychecks!”
“If he’s not payin’ yoo, why are yoo still workin’ here?” It was stupid, but Pickles had to know.
“Eh,” the receptionist groaned. She indicated her leg, which was chained to her swivel chair. “I worked in the DMV during my lifetime, so it’s eternity here for me. Satan’s admin.”
“Oh,” said Pickles. “Were you one o’ da snotty clerks?”
“No, I was the one who took the photographs.”
“Ohhhhhhh!” said Nathan, who was nodding.
“You know where elsche we could look?” Murderface grumbled.
“Maybe up on the Fifth Circle?”
“Oh, isch he rumored to be there?”
“No. But, I’ve heard they have beer.”
Nowhere….
The room was immense. It was far bigger inside than outside.
And it was cold. Or not so much cold, as lacking in all warmth. It was as if all the heat, or even a memory of heat, had been banished. Sariel had True Formed, so he could wrap his wings about himself, but it was little help. He gripped his sword and kept walking.
As he walked, icicles formed on his mouth and nose. It was taking a long time. Hours? Days?
When had he taken off his shoes? He couldn’t remember. It seemed a very stupid thing to have done. His feet were so cold now, and the chill went all the way up.
It was such a long walk. The air felt thin. He gripped the hilt of the blade. It felt good in his hand. Like a part of him. Yes. This must be his purpose.
He was struggling to breathe now. Was he walking on a mountain top? Up in space? He couldn’t tell.
There was nothing.
And then there was a light up ahead. It was so dim, and far away. But he made for it, tucking his wings tight, struggling mightily with every breath.
It looked like a painter's studio. But a weird one. There was no outside light.
There was a canvas. It was blank.
There was a painter at the canvas.
"I have been expecting you, Sariel," the Creator told him. "You are my death,"
Mordhaus….
Ganesh grabbed the phone. “Yes, William?”
“He’sch not here. Nobody knowsch where he’sch gotten to. Baschtard took a hike.”
“Shit.”
“We’ll keep looking. He can’t hide out forever.”
“Thanks, William.”
Ganesh put down the phone. He was still sitting at Sariel’s desk.
Elegba, sitting quietly in a guest chair, regarded him.
“I’m sorry,” Ganesh told him. “I wish I had better news.”
“Losing Tzaphy. And then his son. This is fucked,” was all Elegba could come up with.
“You were saying….”
“I always suspected. I saw Her hand in all this.”
“The Goddess?”
Elegba nodded. “Jacque never questioned why she showed up the second time. Tzaphkiel. As he is my dearest friend, I held my tongue. But there was something about her. She seemed magicked.”
“It is difficult to enchant an angel, though, isn’t it?”
“Customarily. But, not for Her.”
"You think She would put in play a scheme so subtle that would take two thousand years to kill the Creator?"
"You don't wanna fuck with no goddess," Elegba noted.
Ganesh put a hand through his hair. It stubbornly fell back into his face. “But, Tzaphkiel really loved Jacque?” he asked sadly.
“Of course. In every universe, ‘tis the same, Tzaphkiel loves Jacque. Though, every universe, different Tzaphkiel, different Jacque. But love all the same.”
Ganesh looked up. “No. Not everyone is different in every universe. Like…. Like my relatives.”
“What?” Elegba asked.
Ganesh was already dialing his cell phone. “Uncle Brahma? Yes, this is Ganesha. Yes, I know I haven’t called for a while. Well, that’s is why I am calling. Yes, I am calling about Sariel. Yes… Yes, can you please put Auntie on the line? This is urgent. Tell her… Tell her he’s pining away!
“Yes, Auntie? Yes, that’s what I’m calling about. Sariel needs a pie. Yes, he’s absolutely desperate for one. Oh, uh, it doesn’t matter. Yes, rhubarb would be fine. Yes, Dutch apple would be fine as well. I’ll tell you what, dear, why don’t you make both? But, here’s what’s important. WHERE WILL YOU DELIVER IT? I need you to tell me. Yes, I need you to tell me right now.”
The end of time….
Sariel raised the blade. He gasped, short of breath.
He gripped the hilt of his sword. This was his True Form. His real True Form. He was Death.
“Why?” he gasped.
“It is for my many sins,” the Creator sighed. “But primarily against Her. One thing you should learn, my Son. Do not fuck with a Goddess.”
“But…. But why me?”
“This is why you were Created, my son. Or not so much Created. She never really had the knack. But She was always one manipulative bitch.”
"Why didn't you.... Why didn't you just kill me? Like the other one?"
"You haven't guessed? You were at least supposed to be smart," the Creator huffed. "It would create a rift. A big one, as Tzaphkiel and your father are from different realities. Cunning bitch."
Sariel was fighting for breath.
Valhalla….
Raziel was on the couch, sniffling piteously into the bits of yarn that were spooled all over he belly.
“We know where he is."
"Father!” she gasped, looking up at Phanuel. “Can you take me to him?"
"I am not Fallen. I may Walk where I will." He looked extraordinarily sad, even for him. "But there is a powerful barrier. I cannot breach it. I do not know how we will get through."
Raziel leapt off the couch. And then was on her knees, doubled over, gasping.
"Daughter!" said Phanuel, seizing her hand.
She held tight to his hand. "Get. Ganesh. Now," she told him.
The Creator’s Studio….
“I suppose you know how this works," the Creator told Sariel. "You just get your one shot. If you don’t kill me, I get my shot at you. And I don’t fucking miss. You are a misshapen thing. A cursed thing. This will give me much pleasure.”
Sariel looked up at the blank easel. He listened. There was something. Someone....
Keep talking.
"My boyfriend is a painter."
"Your what? I do not wish to hear this."
Just keep talking.
"He's a Hindu god!"
"I don't wish to hear any more of your filth."
"He died!”
“You are an abomination.”
“And, when he got reincarnated, he came back left handed."
"Shut up, Sariel."
"So, he can paint. And draw. And, do you know what he draws?"
There was a stony silence.
"He draws my wings. He thinks they look cool. In the light."
"That's disgusting."
"And, yeah, why did you make us and then decide we're disgusting?"
"I did not Create you. You were misbegotten."
"You made Tzaphkiel. You made Jacque's universe."
"Do not mention my Daughter. You are the one who caused her Fall."
"My mother was not Fallen. Do not fucking say that."
"Sariel. Take your shot."
Sariel breathed hard. His sides ached. He hadn't had such a hard time breathing since he'd had pneumonia. He hadn't been so cold since then, either.
He remembered. He had been almost dead. It had been too much work to even draw breath.
And then suddenly, a miracle: Ganesh was holding him, telling him how dear he was.
He heard the clatter. The blade had slipped from his hand. It did not seem a part of him. It seemed very far away.
Actually, he had no fucking idea who he was, but he wasn't death.
"Look at you," he whispered to the Creator. "You're the monster. Hiding here."
“You’re not…” the Creator started. “You’re Her Blade. It was foretold.”
“Fuck prophecy. It’s a bunch of bullshit. Especially your prophecies.”
“You’re my death!”
“Take your shot. You take your fucking shot,” Sariel told the Creator. He stood, weeping, and waited to die.
The Creator hesitated. “I don’t understand.”
And then Sariel felt a familiar hand, entwined with his.
"OK," said Raziel. "Show's over."
Sariel shuddered. But with warmth. Raziel seemed to have brought some heat with her. "How did you...?" he gasped.
She was seething. She stabbed her sword into the ground, which seemed to create an electric cloud of power around them.
The Creator had actually taken a step back.
"Mom?” Raziel growled. “Get your bitch ass out here. We need some fucking family time."
How long had it been since Sariel had seen the Goddess? She was so beautiful: even more lovely than Parvati. He looked to the Creator. The Creator looked at Her with an infinite sadness.
"All right, you two," Raziel scolded. "He's not your blade, and he's not your death. He's Sariel. He's my brother. And you both need to leave him alone and work out you OWN FUCKING PROBLEMS."
There was silence.
"Such a mouth on you," the Creator sighed.
"She was always a willful child!" the Goddess stated.
"And whose fault was that?" snapped the Creator.
"You sent us away to live in that rathole!" She snarled.
"Oh. You could have made your screwing around with that morbid angel a bit less obvious!"
"You guys are twins, aren't you?" All suddenly turned to look at Sariel.
"Whoa!" said Raziel. "No wonder everything got so screwed up."
"It's none of your business," the Goddess sniffed.
"None of my business? You just nearly tricked me into being your assassin, you fucking bitch!" Sariel sputtered.
"It wouldn't have worked," sniffed the Creator.
"It almost worked, you egotistical asshole!" She shrieked.
"You have too much guile and not enough smarts," he scolded, tapping his forehead with an index finger.
They both reeled at the sound of the crash. Raziel had dumped a can of purple paint all over the studio floor. She slammed her hand into it, and then slapped her painted hand onto the Creator's blank canvas. Then, for good measure, underneath the purple handprints, she wrote out "RaZiEL," being careful to dot the i with a tiny circle.
"What do you think of my painting, Father?" she asked. "Let's go," she told Sariel.
Sariel felt himself being led off. Funny, the door seemed only a few steps away now.
And then they were in the bright sunshine. Phanuel silently stood by awaiting them.
"He had a barrier set up against magical beings," Sariel asked. "How the hell did you-" But Raziel simply turned him around, grinning. The entire front of the quiet suburban house had been blown up.
"Gas leak," she told him. "Unfortunate coincidence." They heard the sirens wailing in the distance.
"My daughter hasn't a lot of patience with these things," Phanuel noted. "Shall we?"
They turned and Walked away.
"You're not pregnant any more," Sariel marveled, looking at her.
"I delivered my babies, hopped up off the table, and ran to rescue your skinny ass," she explained.
"Whoa. Right off the table?"
"I believe there was some photography," Phanuel intoned with a very slight smile.
"Just a quick snap," Raziel tutted.
"And then. Perhaps. A moment spent seeking. Suitable attire."
"Don't be an ass, Father."
"Well, I'm sorry if my whole being in mortal danger thing made you pick tacky boots," Sariel grinned.
"I NEVER WEAR TACKY BOOTS!"
"Was She present?" Phanuel asked.
"Father, She's a total bitch," said Raziel, taking up his hand. "C'mon, we know some great women we can introduce you too. I bet Sariel's boys know tons of nice girls."
"What?" asked Sariel. "I manage a metal band. I know exactly no nice girls."
They Walked into Valhalla, where Wotan and Ganesh stood, apparently mesmerized, over a bassinet.
"WHAT DID THEY DO THAT I MISSED?" Raziel exclaimed, rushing over to stand next to Wotan.
"That one yawned!" Wotan enthused, draping an arm over her.
"And I missed it!"
Ganesh. several arms now wrapped protectively around a strangely unprotesting Sariel, proceeded to show her approximately 164 cell phone camera photographs of the entire stunning incident. After Raziel had been satisfied by running through the amazing sequence three times through, she turned to Phanuel and Sariel and demanded, "Well, what are you waiting for?"
Phanuel caught Sariel's eye. "Are we gonna have to touch 'em?" Sariel whispered.
"I am. Afraid so," Phanuel sighed.
"SARIEL! Not by the scruff of the neck!" Raziel scolded.
"Ah, it works for puppies."
"They are angelic. We could potentially bounce them upon the floor and not incur much in the way of damage," Ganesh grinned.
"Et tu, Gaesha?" Raziel asked.
"This one looks like you,” Sariel noted about the infant he was awkwardly hefting.
"Yes, Sariel. It's my baby."
"But that one doesn't look so much like you."
"He looks like Wotan."
"Wotan isn't one foot tall."
"Neither am I!"
"Well, you're not much taller than that."
"SEE WHO RESCUES YOUR SKINNY ASS NEXT TIME, SARIEL!"
Sariel was being pulled from behind. He found himself on a sitting room couch, in Ganesh's lap, being grasped firmly by two sets of arms.
"I know," said Ganesh, kissing him. "I know you hate this. I don't care. I just really don't care right now."
"It's not so bad. Really. It's not so bad." He sat for a while, quiet. "What if you just pick your favorite arm?" Ganesh let him slide off, one arm still hooked around his shoulders. "Where did you find surgical scrubs with two sets or arm holes, anyway?"
"Oh! I find it most useful when attending patients to have the extra set out! It takes twice as long to scrub in, of course, but once you're set, you can deliver a baby over here while popping out an appendix over there." Ganesh waved his hands to demonstrate, even producing a popping sound for the appendix.
"Remind me to never, ever let you do a medical procedure on me." He sat for a minute. "How did.... How did you did you guys find me, anyway?"
"Auntie Sarasvati found you," Ganesh laughed.
"Really?"
"I told her you had a hankering for some of her baked goods. And then simply inquired as to where she would deliver the pies."
"Oh," said Sariel. "So, she can always find me?"
"Anywhere you go!"
"How the hell...."
"I believe Uncle Brahma's singularity provides him with a certain ... omnipresence."
Sariel sat in thought for a while. "So," he said at last, "What happened to the pies?"
Hell….
Lucifer was in his garden, the Nephilim abiding peacefully about him.
"Your pomegranates are quite lovely here."
Lucifer turned to regard the angel.
"Thank you."
"Will you share your secret?"
"I have many secrets. However, I do not share."
"Ah. Pity. Perhaps you will be amenable to answer this: did you inquire as to what was on that CD? Or were you merely, as they say, Her errand boy?"
"He deserves to die. You know that."
"Many times over. I am sure. But that is not an answer. To the question. I have put to you."
"He took my children. And confined me here."
"You feel aggrieved to live amongst your own children?"
"What are you doing here in my garden, Honored Brother Phanuel?"
“I am currently seeking. New. Employment."
"I thought you were needed elsewhere."
"When one gets to be my age. One seeks to be near. One's dear grandchildren."
"Ah. Well. It might be strange. Having a Seraph working for me."
"You misunderstand. That will not be the situation."
Phanuel's look told him all he needed to know.
"Can we not do it in front of them?" Lucifer asked, indicating the Nephilim.
"Certainly."
Phanuel accompanied Satan as he walked slowly up the path and disappeared behind a stand of trees.
Lucifer turned suddenly, sword in hand, ready to strike.
To find Phanuel's knife through his belly.
The Grey angel fixed him with a stare. “Always carry a spare,” he advised. He skillfully took off Lucifer's head with one stroke of his long sword.
Phanuel felt a hand on his shoulder. "I always say, it's a terrible thing when a man can't trust the head of his own underworld."
"Might I understand that I have successfully interviewed for the position?"
"Flying colors. Welcome to the family business," Wotan told him, extending a hand. "You care for cigars?"
"Thanks to my acquaintance, Jacque, I have acquired a taste of late," the angel explained, taking an appreciative whiff of one of the Norse god's fine Cubans.
"I always say, I can talk to any man I can smoke a cigar with!"
Wotan picked up his cell, which was ringing. "Raziel," he explained. "One of the babies made a bubble."
"Ah. And I see the occasion has been. Extensively documented."
"How did we manage to raise children before cell phones? They're a godsend for working parents, I say."
Valhalla
Ganesh had Sariel exactly where he wanted him.
In his lap, in private now, holding him tightly with so many hands, touching him everywhere.
Except the one spot he was now aching to be touched.
"Oh gods. Touch me," the angel pleaded, as Ganesh sent a hand down to softly brush the downy hairs that ran up and down Sariel's belly. Sariel writhed as much as he could, his arms and legs pinned. Ganesh, who had his own cock stuffed very pleasantly up Sariel's warm, tight ass right now, looked with delight at the angel's bare erection. Ganesh wished, greedily, that as well as having many hands, he had more mouths at his disposal. He grinned, and leaned over to whisper ever so softly in Sariel's ear, and in great detail, what he would do to him at that moment, if he only had lips and tongue to spare. Sariel struggled for an agonizing moment before he could bear it no more, and then came in quite spectacular fashion. Ganesh satisfied himself after a few more gentle strokes, but really, it was, one might say, an anticlimax.
He pulled a still gasping Sariel to lay beside him, gently cleaning him off with a soft towel. "Smug bastard," the angel muttered. Ganesh smiled, but did not reply.
"I didn't tell you. I was ready to kill the Creator. But I thought of you. And I didn't do it."
"Really?" Ganesh set the towel aside and gathered Sariel to him. "And, Lady Raziel...?"
"She got there right afterwards."
"How did she get past the barrier?"
"She didn't. She destroyed it."
"Oh. Oh! Your sister...."
"Cousin. Yeah. I don't think they'll mess with us again. Well. Those two won't fuck with us."
Ganesh readjusted his position slightly. He had a leg entangled with Sariel’s, as well as two sets of arms around him. “You know. You can’t run off any more. I will find you.”
“Yeah. Yeah. I know.” You’re there. Even if you’re not there.
"How are you?"
"It's weird. I don't know what I am."
"What you are?"
"I wasn't Created. But nearly so. To be his assassin. And I just sort of blew it. My sole purpose."
"Well, all right. I will give you a purpose," Ganesh said, chewing thoughtfully on Sariel's ear. "Here we go. You will now give me frequent blow jobs."
"Oh."
"Are you finding something lacking in your new assignment?"
"Well...."
"And you can eat pie."
"That would work."
"It is a good purpose." Ganesh smoothed back a tendril of Sariel's hair. "I need to tell you something as well."
"Yeah?"
"You said to wait until Raziel had her children?"
"Uh, yeah?"
"The answer? To your question? Is yes. A definite yes."
"To which...? Oh. That question. OK. Yeah."
And then Ganesh was sleeping.
And Sariel was quite wide awake.
An elevator.
With the cable cut.
But Ganesh was there, holding him.
And he was winged. Dark wings, with silvery tips.
Was it Ganesh?
He drifted off to sleep....
Pickles held an angel baby.
He wasn't totally sure which one. The blond one. It was not so bad, really. They already had spirits, which was pretty cool. And they had a sort of happy soothing buzz to them, like you'd just had a beer or two.
Lady Raz was taking a million pictures with her cell phone camera and then spending a great deal of time in consultation over which photo need be sent to which assortment of recipients.
Pickles didn't mind. He had come up partly to see the spuds. Though, mostly, he'd come up to make sure Charles wasn't, you know, dead. Or whatever. But he'd arrived just in time to see him and Ganesh steal off to their room. It was pretty clear what they intended to do. He supposed he could have joined in, but just lately, there had been this feeling of a third wheel status. It wasn’t like the two of them were acting like douche bags. Charles had actually be acting sort of nice. For him. Now that he was an angel more often, he seemed human. Which was weird.
Pickles needed something.
He needed to do something.
Like, a quest.
"Hey, baby dood," he said softly.