Lost Horizon (Mythklok, Chapter 14)

[tikific]

Title: Lost Horizon (Mythklok, Chapter 14)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Lions and tigers and bears! Without the, er, bears. Or lions.
Warnings: Slash, AU, swearing, OCs, smoking.
Notes: Notes after the jump

Kinda long, so I'm posting it now to give you the weekend to tackle it.

Crossposted to capslokdethklok.



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 (Chapter 11), the highway to Hell (Chapter 12), and a meeting with Satan (Chapter 13).

And everything eventually ends up at my fic journal, tikific.

So, this has gotten kinda tangled, huh? Let me apply some conditioner. This is a Metalocalypse AU. Charles is an ex-angel, who used to go by the name of Sariel. He tried to leave this all behind him, because Heaven is full of douche bags, but now several weird immortal beings have started showing up at Mordhaus and making his existence even more complicated. Raziel is a ditzy Seraphim who sort of adopted him as her brother, and she’s now dating King Wotan, head of the Norse pantheon, and Skwisgaar’s birth father. One of Wotan’s hunting buddies is Shiva, lord of destruction and Dethklok super fan. Much to his own surprise, Charles is dating Shiva’s son, Ganesh, an elephant god.

In the last few chapters, Lucifer, another old college buddy of Charles’, kidnapped Nathan, so Charles led Raziel and Ganesh and the rest of Dethklok down to Hell, where they rescued him. Dick Knubbler went along with them, and we learned that he too is a Fallen angel. (Apparently, a lot of those people ended up in the entertainment industry.)
Only maybe Nathan drank too much Hell beer, because he started getting all emo and decided to quit the band. Well, I guess things can never be simple, huh?

Lost Horizon

Many years ago….

“Dood, so, yoo like dis band?”

“Dis band ams dildos. I ams likes da lead singers.”

Pickles grinned and glanced at Charles, who, as usual, was nearly expressionless. His new manager was one weird dude that was for sure. If you could even call him a dude. He admitted to Pickles he wasn’t really an angel, but that was about all he’d say. He would come along with them to clubs, though he seemed uncomfortable. And he’d even hang out with the groupies, though his heart didn’t seem to be into it. And he was hot as hell in bed, the few times Pickles decided to ignore his seemed indifference and just jump him, but he didn’t seem to get much satisfaction from that either.

Pickles had sort of stopped figuring. The dude did seem to know what he was fucking doing on the management side of things, and he could genuinely get them in to talk to people. That was good. They just needed a fucking band. Skwisgaar had been the first step.

Now, Skwisgaar: that Pickles understood. He was just fucking balls out nuts. Typical guitarist Frankenstein ego meets the wolfman of Scandinavian arrogance. Which was awesome. He paraded around like he thought he was some kind of demigod, even though, as far as Pickles knew, none of his former bands had ever even had a record contract. And he’d been in every fucking band in the history of rock music. He was supposed to be in a couple other bands right now, as it happened. Skwisgaar just seemed to think he could do better. No he was positively convinced he could do better. Like it was owed to him.

Pickles liked the idea of a flamboyant front man. He had grown to hate standing out front, being expected to lead a bunch of other morons. And, face it, musicians, by and large, were a bunch of fucking douche bags. No, he thought, in his next band, he’d stay in back of a drum kit, and let the other idiots get whacked on the head with flying beer bottles. He’d told his new manager about this, and the dude had his typical sanguine reaction. So, now in addition to a flashy guitarist, they needed to find a charismatic lead singer. And then maybe some asshole to pose with a bass guitar.

They got a table off to the side of the stage. Charles lit another cigarette and started twisting his whiskey glass, and Skwisgaar sat back and flirted with anything more-or-less female that caught his eye. Pickles was the only one really paying attention. Skwisgaar was right, the band was shit - a shambolic affair playing their version of thrash or melodic or whatever the fuck was popular last week.

And then some dude stepped into the spotlight. It took Pickles a minute or two to realize he was the lead singer. He really seemed to be from another band. On another planet. In another universe. He was fucking mesmerizing, like menace had been personified and funneled down into some big guy in this shitty club. And he hadn’t even opened his fucking mouth yet!

And then he started to sing, and whatever the fuck the band was doing, well, who gave a shit? They were playing polka music. This dude was singing from the Book of Revelation.

Pickles was jerked roughly from his reverie. Charles had grabbed a handful of his collar, and, with frankly surprising strength, had pulled Pickles’ ear over to his mouth.

“We need this guy. Say anything. Do anything. Get this guy.” And then he released his death grip, mashed out his cigarette, stood, and left.

“What was dat?” Skwisgaar asked, patting the blonde who had taken up residence in his lap.

“Uh. Charles likes da dood. I guess.”

The present day….

“Here ya go, Dick.” Ofdensen handed a flash drive over to Dick Knubbler, Dethklok record producer, cyborg, and erstwhile angel.

“Thanks! From Ganny babe, yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s from, uh, Lord Ganesh.” Knubbler plugged in the drive as his eyes flashed a happy green. They were sitting in Mordhaus’ recording studio. “Still working on the, uh, Planet Piss stuff?”

“Yeah, Willie baby doesn’t think it’s brutal enough! Never brutal enough, yeah!”

“You know, Dick, if you wanted me to set aside a room for you here so you could stay over. Or even a suite of rooms. We’ve got the space….”

“Oh, no thanks, baby, that would be a disaster! He’d never let me leave!”

“William, you mean?”

“Willie, yeah, baby. He’s got a little taste for that angel magic, if you know what I mean.” Knubbler grinned, his eyes a pair of green Christmas tree lights.

Ofdensen raised an eyebrow. Ah, so that’s why this fucking album was taking so goddam long. Well, all things considered, probably not the worst thing William could be up to.

“I wanted to tell you, thank you, again, for your help getting Nathan back. For everything. We literally couldn’t have done it without your help.”

“No problem at all, Sarry baby.” Ofdensen cringed internally and remembered why he didn’t tend to hang out for great periods of time with Dick Knubbler. “When you’ve been around Hell as long as I have, you pick things up, yeah. Useful things.”

“Um. I’m sorry, we were never, um, formally introduced, you know, up there.” He meant Headquarters.

Knubbler’s eyes briefly pulsed red. “I go by a lot of names, yeah. I’m sure you’ve had a lot of them too, huh? Samael. It means the blind one. Ironic that, huh? But I can see. I can see things, yeah.”

“Uh, what can you see, Dick?” Ofdsensen asked, wondering why Knubbler had switched to Angelic. If robot eyes can look far off, then that’s what Knubbler’s were doing.

“Those Seraphim? They weren’t Seraphim, Sarry babe.”

Ofdensen leaned forward, intrigued. “How do you know that?”

“Back when I was hanging with the Morningstar, yeah. Back in the old days. When I got up to your circle, yeah? My kind didn’t usually hang out there. Something you learned, not to get fooled by the Court Forms. Who’s Seraph, and who’s not, yeah? That kid you hang out with, Raziel? Yeah, powerful kid. Powerful kid.”

“But, uh, in Hell….”

“Those weren’t Seraphim, Sarry babe. No. Not any that I’ve seen, anyway. Yeah.”

“Not even down in Hell?”

“I hadn’t been down there for a bit, yeah. Not that I dislike the Morningstar. He’s uh…. He’s uh….”

Ofdensen frowned. Dick Knubbler was a person like Raziel - you never expected them to run out of things to prattle about.

Knubbler’s eyes narrowed to two red laser pointers. “A lot of us down in Hell, the original crew, are up here in the entertainment industry, yeah. It works better that way, if you know what I mean, yeah.” Knubbler removed the flash drive. Eyes returned to bright green, he handed it over to Ofdensen. “For Ganny babe, yeah!”

“WHAT DA FUCKIN’ FUCK?” Pickles wailed.

He was sitting at the meeting room table, he, Skwisgaar and his ever present Gibson, and Murderface, who was making no secret of checking his text messages on his Dethphone.

“Uh, you mean Nathan?” Ofdensen ventured.

“YEH OF COURSE FUCKIN’ NAT’AN!”

“Uh. And, where is Toki, exactly?”

“He’s EXACTLY at a fuckin’ STITCH N BITCH MEETING! Instead a’ HERE where he fuckin’ BELONGS. Da whole FUCKIN’ BAND IS FALLIN’ APART!”

Ofdensen was idly wondering if they might be best off just having Pickles switch over to handle Nathan’s vocal duties for the duration of his sabbatical. The drummer really seemed to have the pipes for it.

“So, have you guys, uh, thought about talking to Nathan about this?”

“WE DON’T TALK! YOU FUCKIN’ KNOW THAT! DIS BAND DON’T TALK!”

“Well, uh, maybe Nathan simply needs time to process-“

“NAT’AN DON’T PROCESS! YOU FUCKIN’ KNOW DAT TOO! HE JIST DOES SHIT!”

“OK. OK. Well, you know, there are things I can do for you, and things I can’t do. And I can’t make someone be in the band who doesn’t want to.”

“WHY CAN’T YOU JIST TRICK HIM? HYPNOTIZE HIM OR SOME OF YOUR FUCKIN’ ANGEL SHIT?”

Ofdensen frowned. “Would this, uh, be easier if I brought in some lamps?”

“ARE YOU MAKIN’ FUN O’ ME? IS DAT WHAT YOO…?”

“Uh, no, actually, I thought, I, ah, might enjoy breaking a lamp.”

“YOO…. Really?”

“Ams we breakings da lamps?” Skwisgaar suddenly asked.

“What lampsch?” said Murderface.

“Um, yeah, the IKEA ones,” Ofdensen told his communicator.

“And so DIS is how yoo do dat,” Pickles explained, and so saying, he took the floor lamp and swung it at the row of table lamps, taking out a good half dozen in one swing.

Ofdensen nodded, much impressed. He glanced at the beer bottle on the table in front of him. Actually, beer bottles. Uh, a couple more than he had intended, maybe. He picked up a bottle, emptied it, and frowned at it.

One of the table lamps remained, untouched, on the meeting room table. “Ah, shit!’ wailed Pickles.

Ofdensen stood, hefting the beer bottle, glaring at the stubborn table lamp. Then he sent the beer bottle hurtling into the lamp, knocking it squarely off the table, and shattering both in a very pleasing shower of glass.

“That counts as a spare,” Ofdensen stated.

“AWESCHOME!” cheered Murderface, who had long since retired from lamp-shattering to beer consumption and cheerleading. And, most probably, recounting the match on his Chitter page.

“I ams tops dats!” slurred Skwisgaar, who had a rather substantial nest of green bottles at his own place. “I ams tops dats! Ams sets up da lampses for me!” Pickles and Ofdensen obediently set up another array of table lamps. When they were done, the Swede gripped his trusty Gibson by the neck and then took a swing so wide he not only brought down a row of IKEA lamps, but himself, as he drunkenly overbalanced, crashing down to an approving chorus of golf claps.

“Uhhhhhhhh…” came a voice from the doorway. “What’re you guys doin’?” Nathan asked.

“Breakin’ lamps,” Pickles muttered at him. “What does it look like?”

“Oh. Hey. Can I smash one?”

Pickles and Murderface glared at him, and Skwisgaar would have glared, only as he was pulling himself back up on the table, he slipped and toppled to the floor again.

“Well, ah,” Ofdensen said, “I guess the fair thing would be, as you’re, ah, on sabbatical, to have a vote, with majority rule?”

“NO!” said Pickles.

“No,” said Murderface, distractedly texting.

“No!” declared Skwisgaar from somewhere under the table.

“Well, ah, I’m sorry, Nathan, there’s nothing I can do.”

Nathan glowered. And retreated.

Ofdensen looked unhappily after Nathan. Although it was probably a terribly poor management strategy, he had to admit there was a certain amount of pleasure to be had spending an entire afternoon with Dethklok seething at someone who most assuredly was not him.

“Doods! Bet I can do eight at once!” Pickles vowed.

“You cans not!” said Skwisgaar from somewhere below.

“No fuckin’ way,” growled Murderface.

“Set ‘em up!”

“Hey! Can someones ams hands me da beer under here?” asked Skwisgaar.

Ofdensen had decided he liked Ganesh’s shower. He liked it so much, he was going to have one installed in his room at Mordhaus.

With Ganesh inside it, of course.

No matter how miserable the day - and this had been a miserable week - it all melted away in the delicious warm water, as Ganesh kissed his neck, and caressed his chest, and stroked his stomach, and spread his thighs….

And um….

And….

He blinked. He looked down. He saw at least two right Ganesh hands. And three left Ganesh hands.

“Uh. Ganesh. How many arms…?”

“Never enough for you darling. Never, never enough,” the god murmured into his neck.

Ofdensen felt another hand on his face. Oh, what the hell, he thought, and greedily started to suck on the fingers.

Nathan Explosion walked the corridors of Mordhaus, gloomily seeking out someone or something that didn’t wish to smash an IKEA lamp over his head.

“Hey, TOKIIIII! Oh, sorry dude!”

Toki was sitting in his room with a very pretty, very giggly girl. She spotted Nathan, giggled some more, turned into water, and vanished, apparently through Toki’s floor.

“Whoa,” said Nathan.

“Dat ams Ismenides. She ams da Naiads.”

“A naiad?”

“Da river goddesses! But, she ams shys. I ams meets her at Ladies Parvati’s Stitches and Bitches meetings.”

“Oh, well, uh, she seems nice. So, uh, she turns to water?”

“If she ams embarrassesed.”

“Oh. So how do you two…?”

“How do we what?”

‘Oh, nothing.”

“Ams you still leavings da band, Nat’ans?”

“I’m not leaving!”

“Oh, yay, wowee!”

“But, I’m not sure I’m staying either.”

“Oh, then Skwisgaar ams sayings I cannots lets you breaks any of da lamps den.” And so saying, Toki shut the door in Nathan Explosion’s very surprised face.

Ofdensen sat on the end of Ganesh’s bed, looking more or less miserable. “If you’ll forgive me,” Ganesh said, straightening his collar in the mirror, “you seem a bit downcast this morning?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s just, you know, Nathan.”

“He is still intent on quitting the band?”

“I don’t know what he fucking wants.”

“Will you to talk to him?”

“You don’t know these guys. Sometimes, talking is the worst thing. I hate this, but I sort of need to let them work stuff out for themselves.” He sighed.

“I may have an idea in that regard.”

“Yeah?” He felt inside his jacket for his pack of cigarettes, even though Ganesh disliked him smoking in the bedroom. He felt something. He grabbed the flash drive. “Oh! I was supposed to give you this.” He tossed it to Ganesh. “This is from, uh, Dick Knubbler? He said it’s the DJ from Hell?”

“Oh, splendid!” Ganesh He popped it into his stereo and clicked a remote control. He listened intently. “This is the fellow who was on duty when we were in that club down in the eighth circle. Oh, yes. This is hot!” Ganesh immediately began writhing around the room.

“Uh. Does Wotan know you and Raziel go out and … dance like that?” Ofdensen asked Ganesh. Grinning, the elephant god made a beckoning gesture.

‘Oh, no, not to THAT shit!”

Ganesh laughed and clicked the remote control, switching the music to something slower.

“No. Look, I’m just not in the mood right now.” But Ganesh ignored his protests, pulled him up and swung him around a few times.

“OK, enough! Enough!”

“Well, you’re not terrible,” Ganesh smiled. “You could stand a couple of lessons.”

“I’ll pass.” Ofdensen seemed to be hyperventilating. He sunk back down on the bed. “Thanks.”

“But then how are we to dance together at the reception?” Ganesh asked, folding his arms.

Ofdensen scowled.

“What reception?”

“You’re wearing WHITE?”

Raziel was studying herself in front of the floor length mirrors when she saw Ofdensen’s reflection pop up over her shoulder. “Oh, fuck you, Sariel. And, what are you doing here in my goddamn dressing room anyway? I thought this place had standards!”

“Ganesh just told me. Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

She folded her small arms and scowled a small scowl at his reflection. “I showed you the ring!” she said, defiantly holding up her left hand. “What the fuck did you think it was for?”

“It converts into badass wolves so you can go kill shit.”

“Well, that too. That’s pretty cool, huh?”

“Yeah, that is pretty cool. But anyway, wedding? What the fuck?”

“Well, it usually goes along with getting married.”

“And why the fuck are you getting married?”

She studied her profile, holding in her stomach and sticking out her bust. “You know. Love. Children. Stuff.”

“CHILDREN? Raziel, if you and Wotan had any children, they would be half angel, half god! They wouldn’t be children, they’d be harbingers of the apocalypse!”

“Harbingers, huh? Yeah, you should know about that.”

“Wait, are you…? Is this the reason…?”

“No I am not pregnant with harbingers! I am not going to look fat in my wedding dress. Anyway, children should best come only after the first century or two of marriage, when you have gotten to know one another!”

“They’ll be half angel! They’ll be conniving little bastards!”

“My babies will not be conniving bastards!” she insisted, unconsciously patting her stomach. She looked down and frowned, sucking her tummy in again. “They may be granted strange and wonderful powers for the good of all humanity, yes. They might be able to…. Able to…. Open mayonnaise jars where the lids are on really tight. Or something. Ah, this one just won’t do either. Would you help me with the zip?”

“You’re wearing WHITE?”

“Oh, fuck off Ganesh! Not you too!”

“I simply meant, with your lovely pale skin tone, wouldn’t antique ivory be a better choice?” the Hindu god inquired.

“Huh.” Raziel eyed herself in the mirror. “Hey, you might be right!”

“What the fuck is antique ivory supposed to be?” Ofdensen growled, fingering some gowns. “This crap all looks white to me.” He grabbed a price tag. “Holy shit! Are these things made of spun gold?”

An officious looking sales attendant had now also poked his head into the dressing room. “Uh, madame, it’s not usual to have, er, so many gentlemen in with, er….”

“They’re both my … brothers. Um, he’s adopted. And, uh, so is he. And so was I,” Raziel explained. “And why didn’t you tell me white isn’t flattering for my skin tone?”

“Er?” The salesman beat a hasty retreat.

Ganesh was browsing through the rack in the dressing room, pulling out various gowns. He held up one to Raziel. He scowled. “I don’t really liked what this does to your line,” he said, disapprovingly.

“Sweetie, I’m too damn short to have a line,” Raziel grumbled. Ganesh held up another. “And I really don’t wanna end up looking like a fucking dessert topping.”

He held up another. He shook his head, tutting. “No.”

“Should we start over?” asked Raziel.

Ganesh nodded. Raziel pulled her clothes back on and stalked out of the dressing room and into the shop, the men trailing after her.

Ofdensen lit a cigarette. “Er, I’m sorry sir,” the sales attendant began, “but there’s no….”

“It’s medicinal!” Raziel told him. “It’s for his asthma.”

The attendant looked slightly skeptical, but withdrew.

“He didn’t really believe that bullshit, did he?” he asked Raziel, flicking ashes on several thousand dollars worth of wedding wear.

“Eh. I’m fucking rich. They’ll believe anything. OK, Ganesh, I’m looking for something innocent, but sexy! Romantic, but not over the top! Stylish, but timeless!”

“Yes, yes,” murmured Ganesh, fingering some gowns, and shaking his head.

“Ganesh!” Ofdensen warned him. “She’s obviously a madwoman. Stop humoring her!”

Raziel started browsing the men’s section. She held up one suit, and showed it to Ganesh. He frowned. They immediately held it up to a slightly baffled looking Ofdensen.

“No not quite the right shade,” Ganesh said. She held up another. “No. Just no.” And a third. “The collar is wrong on that one.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, replacing the suit.

“Aren’t you supposed to be shopping for a purple-polka-dot-but-without-the-dots gown?” Ofdensen sputtered.

“Yes, but, if you’re going to give me away, I insist you’ll be wearing something decent.”

“I…. No! No! Absolutely, positively not! I am not participating in this nonsense!”

“You don’t want to give me away, in front of all our honored guests?”

“No!”

“Michael. And Gideon. And Raphael…”

“Wait! Wait. You’re inviting angels?”

“All my honored angelic guests, watching me marry a pagan king.” Raziel grinned maliciously.

“All of them, seated at a table behind a pillar,” Ganesh agreed.

“Beside that Valkryie with the really bad breath,” Raziel added.

“And my cousins the rat gods, who will never stop talking about the war,” said Ganesh.

“And we’ll run out of steak, just before we serve them,” said Raziel.

“And give them the bad waiter, who will spill red wine on their gowns.”

“Wait,” said Ofdensen. “Uh.”

“You’re forgetting, Sariel, I am an angel of vengeance,” Raziel’s Cheshire grin widened. “And that is what weddings are all about. Terrible, terrible vengeance.”

“Nathan, I’ve just been talking with Lord Ganesh about your, uh, decision.” Ofdensen sat behind his desk in his office at Mordhaus, Ganesh standing to his side, both looking serious and concerned.

“It is a great pity, Nathan,” Ganesh agreed. “I will have to inform my father. He will be terribly disappointed, as he was so looking forward to Dethklok’s upcoming visit to our Eastern Kingdom.”

“Uhhhhhh. Upcoming visit?” Nathan asked.

“Monkeys, Nathan,” Ofdensen said, very softly.

“Oh, yes, the monkeys will definitely be disappointed as well,” Ganesh added. “They are all such death metal fans.”

“Monkey death metal fans?”

“Big fans,” Ofdensen said.

“The biggest,” Ganesh agreed.

“You know,” Nathan began. “Uhhhhh. I’ve been thinking.”

“Yes, Nathan?”

“Maybe I decided to quit, ya know, right after we got back from Hell. I mean, maybe I should, uhhhhhhhhh….”

“Defer your decision?”

“Uh, yeah, maybe. Uhhhh. What does defer mean again?”

“It means you’ll wait and think about it some more?”

“Uh, yeah, I need to wait and think about it! Definitely think about it!”

“Well, you’re sure about this Nathan? Because, you know, I could file all the paperwork. And you could make a clean break, right now!”

“Oh no no no no no no no! I need to do thinking! Lots of thinking! In fact, I’m gonna go think right now! And maybe, uh, break some lamps too!”

Ofdensen put his head down on his desk for a long moment after Nathan had left. He finally pushed himself back up, and looked at Ganesh. The Hindu god looked down at him, wearing a faint, dryly amused smile. Without thinking too much about it, Ofdensen mouthed, “I love you.”

The Hindu god arched an eyebrow. And then he disappeared.

Ofdensen froze. Oh, god, please tell me I didn’t just say that. And he put his head back on his desk with an anguished moan.

Dethklok and their manager walked through the vast courtyard of Lord Shiva’s “hunting cabin” in the Himalayas. If you took a look back over your shoulder, you could see mountaintops that seemed to stretch along forever. Shangri-La, Ofdensen thought, idly wondering if anyone in Dethklok would understand the reference.

“Dood! Dis is like dat mummy movie wit’ da Michelle Yeoh chick!”

OK, well, more or less.

Pickles had already grabbed Skwisgaar. “Dood! Check out da goddesses!”

Toki sniffed. “Dey ams servants, Pickle.”

“What?”

“Dey ams goddesses at Parvatis’ Stitches an’ Bitches. Dey ams differents. You shoulds ams knows da differences.”

“Dood! I should go t’ yer Stitch an’ Bitch.”

“I schould go too! I could learn macramé and schit.”

“Dat ams da gatherings for da serious knitsing! You ams not goes just to meets girls!”

“Why the Hell wouldn’t you go somewhere to MEET GIRLS?” Nathan demanded.

The remainder of Dethklok gave Nathan a collective lamp-breaking glare, and headed towards the palace.

“What?” Nathan asked Ofdensen, who was walking beside him. The manager tried to shrug noncommittally.

Lord Shiva himself was standing in front of the palace, Lord Ganesh by his side, a retinue of formally dressed soldiers arrayed behind them.

“Lord Shiva is honored to welcome The Dethklok to his humble mountain cabin.”

“Dis is a cabin, dood?” Pickles whispered. “Holy fuck.”

“Shiva invites The Dethklok to join him on a tiger hunt on the morrow.

“Tigersch are AWESCHOME,” Murderface whispered.

“Not as awesome as monkeys,” Nathan stated, to much shushing from the band.

“Lord Shiva hopes that The Dethklok will enjoy his hospitality, and write many best-selling death metal songs about the experience, thus affording Shiva many royalty payments.”

Ofdensen shot Ganesh an annoyed glance. The elephant god grinned and rolled his eyes.

“Ganesha,” orderd Lord Shiva, turning to his son. “Please show our honored guests to their quarters.”

Ganesh led off the band, first grabbing Ofdensen’s shoulder and telling him quietly to remain waiting outside. So the manager lit up a smoke and waited, staring into the reflecting pool, grateful for the moment of peace.

After half a cigarette, he spied the reflections of Wotan and Raziel, walking arm in arm, and apparently having an animated conversation that did not involve trousseaus.

“Lord Wotan!” Ganesh was calling. “I regret my father was not out here to greet you personally.”

“No problem, son. How are you, Sariel?”

“Unfortunately, I’ve been better. But, this place is absolutely spectacular. This view is … amazing.”

“It’s only a model,” Ganesh grinned. Raziel dissolved into giggles, as the other two looked on, confused.

“How did it go on the Council today, Lady?” Ganesh inquired.

“The Council?” Ofdensen asked.

“My lady is on the Council at Ithavoll this season,” Wotan bragged.

“Ganesh was helping me prepare!” Raziel told Ofdensen.

“Uh, he gave you some law books?”

“No! He helped me pick a tasteful, understated outfit!”

“And what of the cases, Lady?” inquired Ganesh.

“WELL!” Raziel said, winding up. “There was this official who was supposed to be taking bribes, and several people said, yes, he’s taking bribes, and he said, no, no, I could never take bribes, and then there were a couple of people who said, of course not, he’d never take a bribe, he is a fine upstanding man. And the other judges asked some questions. And then they asked if I had any questions, and I asked to look at his wristwatch.”

“His, uh, wristwatch?” Ofdensen asked.

“Yeah, you know that ugly watch you wear? This looked just like it. A Vacheron Constantin? So he was reluctant, but he showed me his wrist, and I told them how my brother - I didn’t go into the complicated bit - my brother Sariel wears the same watch, and I think he paid too much for the thing, because, you know, aesthetically, it’s not to my taste, so here’s my question, how much did you pay for that watch?

“So then he’s all, that’s a stupid question, and you’re a stupid woman, and this is a stupid council, and blah blah blah. And Wotan is all, well, answer the stupid question then. And then he goes, and why is a stupid angel doing on the stupid council anyway? And Wotan goes, well, she’s gonna be your queen pretty soon. And then I asked, if you don’t like angels, what were you doing winking at me when you came in? And then a couple of the people who were there to tell us how fine and upstanding the guy was? They sort of remembered that maybe he wasn’t as fine and upstanding as all that.”

“And, how did the outfit go over?” inquired Ganesh with a smile.

“No one commented! But I looked very cute!”

“If you’ll excuse us,” Wotan put in, “We should probably go give our greetings to your father.” He smilingly extended an arm, and Raziel accompanied him into the palace, chattering all the way.

“I like my watch,” Ofdensen muttered.

“Yes, it’s a fine watch,” Ganesh assured him. “Now, as for your accommodations, I don’t know if this will be acceptable to you, but my father has a room set aside for me here. It’s a bit out of the way.”

“Please. Lead me to it, Ganesh.”

Life did not completely suck.

Nathan explosion had beer.

He looked hopefully around at his bandmates, slouching around one of the large parlors at Lord Shiva’s “cabin.”

“So,” he ventured. “A tiger hunt. It sounds pretty awesome.”

“I ams not goings, Nat’ans,” Toki cheerily informed him, clicking his knitting needles. “I ams goings to Lady Parvati’s Stiches an’s Bitches wit’ da lady Raziel. Da Ladies Araka-knees ams gonna shows us da web stitchin’.”

“Wait! You’re going to some lady yarn thing! That’s totally lame! Guys, tell him he’s being a douche bag.”

“Pfft,” said Skwisgaar. “I ams not goings neither. I ams beens on too manies of these demon huntses befores.”

“But I thought you loved the hunts.”

“Ech.”

“And I ain’t going if there’s not gonna be any hot chicksch.”

“Murderface! Dude! They’re gonna be firing guns! It’ll be awesome!”

“Naw. Whenever I come to thesche god thingsch, I alwaysch end up schpending the day on my asch.”

Nathan looked at Pickles. Who grinned. “Spendin’ da day drunk. Or high. Or bot’, if I get ambitious!”

“Wait, we’re all up here to go on the tiger hunt, and none of us are GOING ON THE FUCKING TIGER HUNT?” Nathan growled.

“Dood, yer fuckin’ quittin’ da band anyway.”

“Ja, Nat’ans, stop ams beings da douche bags,” Skwisgaar grumbled.

“And you can’ts ams break any of our lamp!” Toki told him.

“I haven’t quit the band YET,” Nathan rumbled. “Listen up you douche bags! You’re all going on the FUCKING TIGER HUNT WITH ME, and you’re all gonna have GOOD FUCKING TIMES!”

The next morning, Nathan proudly surveyed his hunting party. Skwisgaar was looking especially sullen atop his pure white horse, and Pickles looked simultaneously drunk and hung over.

Dethklok was going on a tiger hunt!

Lord Wotan rode up on a giant bull, Lady Raziel mounted behind him.

“King Wotan! Dude! I thought you liked riding your horse!”

“When in Rome,” Wotan laughed. “I haven’t ever been on a tiger hunt before,” he confessed. “This is a very rare honor. Oh, look, here they are!”

A servant had just brought out a pack of growling tigers, each on a golden leash.

“Kitties!” squealed Raziel, hopping off the bull.

“RAZIEL!” shouted Wotan. “Don’t spoil the….” He turned to Lord Shiva. “I do apologize, Lord Shiva, my lady tends to be enthusiastic.” Shiva crossed to sets of arms and watched the small angel scratch a quite recently ferocious beast behind its soft ear.

Ofdensen sat and watched the riders gather from the wide veranda on Ganesh’s winter palace. Raziel had been persuaded to take a seat up beside him, well away from the hunting tigers.

“Shiva’s a giant dildo, not letting me pet his kitties like that,” Raziel groused.

“Raziel, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Ofdensen said.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve made a strategic error, I think.”

The hunting party started to move. Raziel waved to Wotan, riding off on a giant bull. Wotan, with a cheerful looking Toki mounted behind him, waved back.

“I said,” Ofdensen said again, “I think-

Raziel blew Wotan a little kiss, and the Norse god touched his cheek and grinned.

“RAZIEL!”

“Huh? What? I’m listening.”

“Listening to what?”

“I dunno. Whatever it is you were talking about.”

“This is important!”

“I’m blowing Wotan little angel kisses! What could be more important?”

“A monster.”

“What monster?” Suddenly, she was listening.

“I’ve made a mistake. I’m being too passive about this, waiting for Michael and Headquarters to make the next move.”

“So, what’s our next move?”

“We’re going to find a monster. A New World monster.”

“Oooo! The New World! New York City? San Francisco? Buenos Aires?”

“Flagstaff.”

“Ew! Pass.”

“Raziel, I need you to-“

“Why don’t you just take Ganesha?” she asked, waving to Ganesh as he rode past, wearing a fine gold-tusked elephant head. Ganesh waved back, and winked at Ofdensen, who turned a lovely shade of crimson. “Then you’d have somebody pretty to look at!”

“I think maybe I’ve gotten Ganesh nearly killed enough times for this month.”

“But you’re OK killing me a few more times?”

“I don’t want… I don’t want you to die either. I mean, for one thing, Wotan would kill me.”

“Oh, OK. Hm. It’s time away from Wotan. Of course, then we’d get to say our tearful goodbyes! You don’t think we could go by train? Train station goodbyes are the best. I have the greatest outfit….”

“So, you’ll go?”

Raziel had wriggled around to sit upside down in the chair. “Huh,” she said. “I guess so. So, what are you doing now?”

“I dunno.”

“Oooo! Wanna come to Parvati’s Stitch n Bitch with me? Toki decided to go hunt snakes.”

“No, I think I’ll just stay here.”

“What? And mope around?”

“I will not mope around.”

“You will so!”

“Isn’t it gonna be all goddesses?”

“Yeah! So? Toki goes and has a great time!”

“Raziel, I am absolutely not coming to a Stitch n Bitch meeting with you.”

Nathan glared back at Charles and Raziel as he rode off. The two angels remained gossiping together on the veranda. “So, dude, do you think he’s fucking that angel chick?” he asked Pickles, who was clinging on somewhat unsteadily behind him.

“What? Who?”

“Charles! He’s been acting almost happy and shit. And, he’s gone a lot at night. I think he’s getting some.”

Pickles laughed. “Are yoo stupid, dood?”

“What?”

“He’s totally fucking Ganesh.”

“What? Wait. HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN GOING ON.”

“I dunno. A few months?”

“How do you know?” Nathan demanded.

“I asked him.”

“Oh.”

They rode for a while in silence.

“Dude.”

“Yeh?” yawned Pickles.

“Do you, uh, do you suppose they do it when that Ganesh dude is an elephant?”

Ofdensen followed Raziel through the courtyard at Parvati’s sumptuous palace. It reminded him a lot of Ganesh’s residence, but an order of magnitude … well, more. It was much larger and more lavish, and there were more scurrying servants. That was a difference, he reflected. You really didn’t notice the servants at Ganesh’s place. Here they were difficult to ignore, as they were all, quite frankly, gorgeous. Male and female, lithe, graceful, clad in jeweled, flowing robes.

Raziel tugged on his jacket. He found he had actually stopped to do a double take at a pair of barefoot servant girls.

“Hee. Wait’ll you meet the goddesses,” Raziel giggled.

“Raziel. Please do not let me lose consciousness again.”

“You are such a sucker for a pretty face.”

The interior resembled an explosion at a cushion factory. How, Ofdensen wondered, would anyone who lived here ever achieve absolutely anything? No. You would sit down on the cushions - or better yet, lie down on the cushions - and enjoy the perfumed air and the gentle breeze.

They were in some kind of parlor area. He noted that there were small portraits set around on tables. They were about the size of family photographs, but they were instead small paintings and woodcuts. Several of them depicted two small boys. One was obviously Ganesh, as he often sported an elephant head. He didn’t recognize the other boy.

It was a strange concept, Ganesh as a child. Ofdensen had lived among the humans for centuries, and had become accustomed to their odd habit of being born and growing up and dying. But Ganesh was another immortal. It was inconceivable that he had once been a boy at play, and hadn’t just appeared one day, blinking in the bright light, sitting on somebody’s workbench.

“This is my brother, Sariel.” He became aware that he had just been introduced to a couple of goddesses, so he forced a bland social smile and nodded at them.

The goddesses didn’t return the courtesy. “Oh, didn’t TOKI come with you today?” the blonder one whined.

“Next time! He’s off hunting snakes, or something icky,” Raziel cheerfully volunteered. She grabbed Ofdensen by a sleeve and started walking. “Sorry,” she told him, patting his arm. “Toki is awfully popular here.”

“I see that.”

“Oh, hi Parvati!” They exchanged air kisses, and Raziel turned to indicate Ofdensen. “Sariel decided to join me here today.”

“Yes,” Parvati stated. “How very nice.” She glared at Ofdensen. “If you’ll excuse me, my dear,” she told Raziel, “I am needed.” And she turned and stalked off.

"Whoa. Sub zero," said Raziel.

"Well, I did almost get her son killed. And my lead guitarist dumped her for a model airplane." He sighed. “This was a mistake. I should’ve gone off to be eaten by a tiger.”

“Are you kidding? You’ll have a great time!’’ He shook his head, grabbing a cigarette.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” a gorgeous servant told him. “But there is absolutely no smoking inside Lady Parvati’s residence.”

He glared at Raziel. “Uh,” she said. “Oh, look, Arachne is here!” And she grabbed his sleeve and started pulling him along.

“So, dis is where dat Vritra dood is supposed t’ live?” Pickles asked, looking down into a deep pit.

“Yes,” Ganesh cheerfully volunteered, scratching behind a large elephant ear. “If you will kindly remain here, out of danger, we will have the tigers chase him from the pit, and then we will attempt to slay him.”

“Ams da tigerses be OK?” Toki asked.

“Oh, the tigers will do splendidly! I would not worry. The only one to have an unpleasant day shall be Vritra himself. Now, if you will excuse me?” Ganesh smiled his elephant smile and strode off.

“Cool dude, I guess,” Nathan allowed, after the Hindu god was out of earshot.

“Charles’ ams likes him,” Toki sighed.

“Wait. How the fuck did you know that, Toki?”

Toki crossed his arms and scowled his Toki-est scowl at Nathan. “It ams obvsiouses.”

“Yeh, Nat’an, mebbe t’ink about someone other dan yerself some of the time.”

With a cry of “Release the tigers,” a servant set the beasts off their leashes. They immediately prowled into the pit, snarling and growling

“Look, maybe I’m getting kinda tired of you guys being serious fucking douche bags!” Nathan fumed.

“Ja, well, we ams gots you out of Hells,” Skwisgaar scoffed, having just ridden up on his pure white horse. “Ands looks hows you treatses us?”

Suddenly, the Vritra appeared, like a mammoth golden cobra, three stories high, hissing out of its burrow.

“Dudes!” Nathan protested. “We play death metal. And Satan is a fucking douche bag!”

“Yeah, but Ofdenschen and Razchiel schay that God isch kind of a dousche,” Murderface put in as he stumbled unsteadily off Skwisgaar’s horse.

The Vritra spat a shower of poison.

Skwisgaar skillfully leapt down from his mount, tugging it aside to dodge the oncoming blast of snake venom. “What ams we supposed to do, switches da sides?”

“Yeh, it’d be like, outta da douche pan, int’ da douche,” Pickles snorted.

“Actually, that sounds a little gay,” Nathan stated.

The hunting party let fly with a round of arrows. Toki ducked, a stray arrow nearly taking off his head. The Vritra turned, menacing the hunting party.

“Yoo know what’s gay?” Pickles asked. “Quittin’ da band after we rescued yer sahry ass from Hell. Dat’s da gayest t’ing anyone’s ever done. In da history o’ gay!”

“And, you cans not smashes da lamps wit’ us no mores!” Toki averred.

“But I wanna smash lamps with you dudes! You’re the only dudes I wanna smash lamps with! Boy, that does sound totally gay.”

The Vritra reared and hissed and opened its yawning jaws to strike. Wotan ran forward to the edge of the pit and chucked a spear into its mouth. The beast reeled and, with a cry fell to the ground.

“Well, we’re jist not doin’ it fer Satan. We’re doin’ it fer us,” PIckles said.

“Maybe das ams always what we ams doings it for,” Skwisgaar said.

Ganesh leapt into the pit, and sprang up onto the grounded serpent, sword raised. With one quick strike, he severed its head form its body.

The hunting party cried out in victory.

“Wait, uh,” said Nathan. “Did something just happen?”

Ofdensen had decided that he was disabled.

Arachne held forth at the head of the room, knitting with one pair of hands, rolling yarn with another pair, demonstrating a stitch with another pair of hands.

He looked sadly at his own two hands. Pathetic. And then he looked over at his companion.

"Raziel, have you even been listening?"

"Hmmmm?" The small angel was seated with him on an overstuffed couch in Parvati’s living room - actually, every bit of furniture in Parvati’s residence appeared to be overstuffed - chattering away and, almost as an aside, knitting.

Ofdensen hadn’t had a cigarette in what seemed like 18 months. He was not in the best of moods. "That stitching? You're doing it all wrong!"

"Oh, shit!” She regarded her work. “Hrm. What do you think I did?"

"Look.... You.... Pull it out and I'll show you."

"OK. There, so, like..."

"Here, give me the needles, I'll show you what she did. See? Over and under, like this?"

"Oooo!” Raziel was up on her knees, watching intently. “Wait, do that again! And then what do you do at the end of the row?"

"You just finish it off. See? There!"

"Oh, could you do that one more time?" A pair of wood nymphs were standing in back of the couch, doe-eyed, eagerly watching.

"Could you do that again for them, Sariel?" Raziel pleaded.

"OK. Uh. Yeah. I’ll finish just one more row. Like this..."

"But what am I doing wrong?" asked a fertility goddess, holding up her half completed work."

"Well, uh, let's see...."

Ganesh had his human head back in place when he appeared at his mother’s residence. After greeting Lady Parvati formally, he went to find Sariel and Raziel, but was having rather a time of it finding them in the middle of a knot of enraptured goddesses.

“Namaste Ganesha!” Raziel told him.

“Er. My father simply wishes you to know that the hunting party has returned, and dinner will be served shortly.”

“We better get outta here, Sariel,” she told him.

“Sure,” Sariel said, finally setting down his knitting needles.

“Oh, do you have to go, Sariel?” one of the naiads pouted. Raziel grabbed him by the sleeve and managed to extricate him as far as Parvati’s veranda, where he was waylaid by a goddess bearing knitwear.

“Oh, take my scarf to wear home, Sariel, it might get cold on the way,” she insisted, winding said scarf several times around his neck.

“Did you guys get the icky snake thingie?” Raziel asked Ganesh.

“Yes, it was a perfectly splendid hunt. And, I believe the band may have resolved some of their issues as well.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! We need to tell Sariel!”

They glanced back to where the angel in question was now wrapped in at least three different scarves.

“Hmmm, this might take a while,” Raziel grinned.

“Oh, and speaking of snakes, I’ve made some inquiries regarding those serpents who bit you, back in Hell.”

“Yeah? I thought you said they had kind of wimpy venom?”

“I believe you might be interested in what I’ve discovered. Perhaps when we have a bit of privacy?”

They glanced back again at Sariel on the veranda.

"Eek, are they fighting over him?" Raziel asked.

"Hmm. That's not good. Shall we intervene?"

"Arachne's got him! He's OK."

“Oh, and we do need to get together to go over your guest list.”

“Thank you so much for helping me with the reception! You’re a lifesaver.”

“It’s a bit of fun. Quite a lovely distraction from my other duties.”

Ofdensen glared at Raziel as she flicked a cobweb off his suit. “And it didn’t occur to either of you to come fucking rescue me?”

“It looked like Arachne had you well in hand. Er, in web.” From across the dinner table, Ganesh stifled a small snicker.

“Aw, c’mon, Sariel, it was just a couple of goddesses. I take Toki every month, and he hasn’t had a problem.”

“Sariel is simply too irresistible to women,” Ganesh said. At which point both he and Raziel dissolved into giggles.

Ofdensen grabbed the wine bottle and refilled his glass, plucking a bit of spiderweb off hjs cuff, and draining the glass in one go. He reached for the wine bottle again. He scanned the room, but they were still the only three at the dining table. He leaned over towards Ganesh. “So, uh, how was today?”

“I had a splendid time, actually,” Ganesh said, grinning. “And, I believe your boys did as well.”

“I’m really grateful to you for arranging this.”

“All my father’s doing, really.”

“I really…. I really ought to invite you down to my place some time.”

“Oh, he’ll NEVER invite you,” Raziel laughed. “You just have to invite yourself!”

Ofdensen glared at Raziel as she picked some webbing out of his hair. “Yeah. Some people are not shy about that.”

“I don’t wish to intrude,” Ganesh ventured. “If there is an issue….”

“What? No, there’s no issue. It’s just my place is not like your world. There’s no privacy - Dethklok haven’t met a lock they can’t pick, and I have angels pop up in my office chair.” Raziel grinned. “And there’s just always…. There’s always something. I mean, if it’s not Nathan quitting, then one of them will decide to raise sharks in their bathtub, or they’ll conjure up a hailstorm of frogs in the kitchen….”

“Didn’t Jean-Pierre just end up making frogs legs?” Raziel asked.

“Oh, yeah, actually, that turned out pretty well.”

“Well, I do have some experience among magical beings,” Ganesh began.

“Not like these beings!”

“Granted. But I have not failed to notice, on occasion, you seem beset by the responsibility.”

“Anyone would be.”

“Still and all, you managed to absent yourself for a few hours today?”

“Well, yeah, but you were watching them the whole time.”

“Then, who is to say we could not arrange for such occasions in the future?”

“Ganesh. You’re volunteering to babysit Dethklok?”

“Well, I, uh, wasn’t going to phrase it in precisely that manner. But I thought perhaps, I might make myself available, as, er, a resource…”

“OK. You’re on.”

“Er. Yes?”

“Raziel and I need to take care of some business I the New World. Could you see clear to coming over and, making yourself available as a resource? Or whatever the fuck it is?”

“Er. Certainly,” Ganesh said. Although, at that precise moment, certain was one thing the Lord Remover of Obstacles was not.

They had availed themselves of a few more bottles of Lord Shiva’s wine before the rest of the diners finally arrayed themselves at the table.

A servant leaned over Ganesh’s shoulder with a tray of curried meat. “No, thank you. Have you more of the paneer?”

“So, uh, Ganesh dood?” Pickles asked.

“Yes, Pickles?”

“So, you don’ eat meat?”

“That is correct.”

“But, yer dad does?” The drummer pointed to the head of the table, where Lord Shiva and Nathan seemed to be in competition over who could down the most snake meat.

“Yes, that is also correct,” Ganesh smiled.

“I don’t wanna be rood. But, yer in da same religion?”

“Some of our followers have taken it upon themselves to abstain. I do this myself partly for reasons of health, and perhaps partly for my own, er, philosophical reasons.” He glanced across the table to Ofdensen, who was quietly sipping his wine.

“So, if I was one o’ yer followers say….”

“You could eat meat or not, I’m not terribly picky in that regard,” Ganesh said. “However, there are certain beings who can be, er rather persnickety about the details.” He inclined his head towards the angels. “Their Father, for example.”

“Depended on what day of the week it was,” Raziel groused, getting up on her knees so she could reach for the wine bottle. “One day it was fornication. And then the next day, it was like he’d forgotten all about it, and he would be, let’s go punish the sodomites!”

“Or he’d just wake up on the wrong side o’ the bed,” Ofdensen added, snatching the bottle back from Raziel, “and he’d think, I got it! Le’s go slay all the firs’born children.”

“Wait, doods, yer sayin’ it was all arbitrary?”

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” said Raziel, stifling a hiccup.

“But you’d question him,” Ofdensen grumbled, knocking back another glass, “an’ he’d tell you, was a Mystery. Or somethin’.”

“Or, why don’t you love me more?” whined Raziel.

“Yeah,” Ofdensen slurred. “Why don’ you loooove me. Like Lucifer does!”

“You should all be like Lucifer, look how shiny his teeth are!” And the both started snickering.

“I di’n’t, meet Loocifer,” Pickles commented. He felt a little odd, being the most sober one in the bunch.

“Mebbe it’s bes’ you di’n’t,” Ofdensen sighed.

“Nat’an says he’s kind of a douche.”

“Satan is a dildo!” Raziel declared.

“Raz, d’you even know whadda dildo is?” Ofdensen asked her.

“It’s a human sexual device meant to represent-“

“OK OK OK!”

“You asked!” She completely failed to stifle a hiccup.

“Not at th’ dinner table. Go…. Go ‘splain to Wotan later.”

Ganesh had, oddly enough, suggested that Ofdensen might want to sit on the veranda and smoke for a while after dinner.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH YOU AND THAT GANESH DUDE?”

He looked up. “Uhhh. Yeah. What d’you wanna know, Nathan?”

“What do you know about that guy?”

“He’s got, uh…. He’s got, uh…. He’s got a good family?”

“His dad is a bug! An INSANE BUG!”

“Actually….”

“He goes around with an elephant head half the time.”

“Uh, yeah, you don’ know th’ half of it….”

“And Raz told me he used to kill angels!”

“Yeah, Nathan, that was during…. That was during….”

“You’re a fucking angel! Are you stupid?”

“And…. Huh.”

Nathan glared for a moment. “Is that why you’re not around?”

“Sort of. Some.”

“So you’re gonna go off with that guy?”

“Uhhhh. No. Actually.” He frowned at Nathan. “He might come over. Like, for frogs legs. Or to, uh, hang out?”

Nathan scowled. “He doesn’t drink, right?”

“Uh, he drinks.”

“Or smoke.”

“He smokes.” He looked at his own cigarette. “Maybe, not as much as me.”

“No one smokes as fucking much as you do, Charles.”

“Doesn’ eat meat.”

“We can still have girls over?”

“Uhhh, yeah, you c’n have girls.”

“He’s religious! I mean, uh, even thought his dad is kind of a bug.”

“No. Uh. They…. Ya know Parvati? Tha’s his mom.”

“SHE’S his mom?”

“Yup.” Ofdensen nodded. “So, ‘re you stayin’ with th’ band or gonna leave the band? Or, uh, what?”

“Staying.” Nathan was silent for a moment, waiting for a reaction. He leaned over. Ofednsen was snoring.

“Whoa. Wouldn’t think a dude could drop off to sleep that fast,” he said. He carefully took the burning cigarette out of his manager’s hand and stubbed it out.

Some hours later, Lord Wotan was out on the veranda, cigar in mouth, angel in his lap, looking terribly content. She was intently knitting something that looked very much like a spider web.

“I trust you are finding our accommodations agreeable, Lord Wotan?” Ganesh inquired.

“This place is absolutely splendid! And a tiger hunt! Such a rare honor! Sariel, it’s a pity you couldn’t join us.”

“That’s OK, Wotan,” Ofdensen said, blinking and stifling a yawn. “I really don’t care for snakes.”

“I don’t either,” Raziel muttered.

“Well, a Vritra skin is a very fine trophy. You’re all right then, Sariel? I trust you didn’t let those biddies at her stitchery meeting tear ye limb from limb?”

“Barely.”

“We’re not biddies!” Raziel protested.

“This place is … stunning,” Ofdensen commented. “I keep wanting to say Shangri-La.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t mention that word,” Ganesh laughed.

“Sorry, I probably sound like an idiot.”

“Oh, no! It’s just Gautama is a neighbor of ours, and he does find the mix-up irritating.”

“Wait,” said Raziel. “Buddha is a cranky neighbor?”

“Oh,” Ganesh rolled his eyes, “you don’t know the half of it. He really kicks up a fuss when we try to throw a party. Always claims to be spending that week in fasting and prayer. I mean, excuse me, but fasting my ass. Have you seen his belly recently?”

“Neighbors,” said Wotan. “That’s why I don’t have any.”

“Would you care for a card game before you retire, Lord Wotan?” Ganesh asked.

Raziel suddenly unfurled her knitting project. It was a bustier. A very filmy bustier. It appeared to be woven entirely of the most delicate cobwebs.

“Uh,” said Wotan. “I was thinking, you know, it might just be time to retire.”

“Might it?” grinned Raziel.

“I think it might.” And with that, she grabbed his collar, and they disappeared.

“How the fuck did she do that?” Ofdensen asked the empty chair.

“What?”

“The whole time Arachne was teaching that class, she wasn’t fucking listening! I literally had to show her how to do some really simple stitches!”

Ganesh smiled and tilted his head at his friend. “And, precisely how long have you known Lady Raziel.”

“I told you. Since my Creation. It’s been centuries.”

“And, you nonetheless inevitably believe when she feigns ignorance regarding certain matters?” Ofdensen was glaring at him, so Ganesh suddenly batted his eyelashes, flipped his hair, and, miming a pair of knitting needles, asked, “And how do you finish off a row?”

“Whoa. You do that too well.”

Ganesh grinned. “Goddesses. I grew up among them, remember. Now. Would you care to retire?”

Ganesh’s “room” had turned out to be more like an entire wing. He had even imported a few of his barefoot servants.

Ofdensen sighed and took off his own shoes. It was pretty fucking awesome.

Ganesh sat at the dining room table in his quarters, frowning into a laptop computer. Ofdensen had decided not to inquire about Internet access in Shangri-La, as, quite frankly, he found he didn’t want to know. So he sat with his feet up and read a novel.

He looked up. The atmosphere of the room had somehow changed.

There was a man standing in the room, arms crossed, glaring at Ganesh.

He was clearly a supernatural of some sort. At first, Ofdensen took him for a Seraph. He had that air of someone who’d chosen a Court Form that looked like he’d just bathed in anabolic steroids.

Ganesh didn’t bother looking up from his computer

“Ganesha,” the visitor finally growled.

“Skanda. What an appealing incarnation you have chosen.”

“What’s this?” Skanda asked, nodding at Ofdensen, his eyes still fixed on Ganesh. “Something your cats dragged in?”

“A friend,” Ganesh said offhandedly.

“Is this your latest bauble? You realize, I could slay him right here!” Skanda threatened.

“You could try,” Ganesh mused, clicking on his mouse. “That might be diverting.”

“I take it you would jump in and defend him. Like a helpless woman?”

“Hrm. My female acquaintances are hardly helpless. Be that as it may, regarding my friend, I wonder, are you saying, were you to challenge him, right now, you would not wish me to intervene?” Ganesh finally looked up at Skanda. He smiled. It was a very thin smile.

Skanda’s eyes nervously flicked over to Ofdensen. Had the man’s eyes been silvery like that before, he wondered. They resembled knife blades.

“And I repeat,” Ganesh purred. “If you were to challenge my friend, you are requesting that I stand aside? You and he? And let be what may?”

Skanda blinked. “I don’t wish…. I don’t wish a challenge. Perhaps I spoke too hastily. I am simply making a social call.”

Ganesh arched an elegant eyebrow. “How very pleasant.”

Skanda bowed very tightly to Ofdensen. “I am Lord Skanda.”

Gansh waved a hand. “Skanda, this is Charles.”

“My friends call me Charles,” Ofdensen said very quietly. “You can call me Sariel.”

Skanda looked back to Ganesh, now obviously alarmed. “He is an angel?”

“How terribly clever of you to work that out,” Ganesh said, smiling mildly. “He is in the room, by the way, and angels are equipped to hear and understand speech. Or so I’ve heard.”

Skanda nodded. He bowed stiffly again, and then was there no more.

Ganesh sighed and pushed himself back from the table. He felt for the small box in his jacket pocket, which he had hung on the chair back. He extracted a beedi, and lit it. And he sat, hugging one knee to his chest, coiled in his chair, smoking in a quiet fury.

“Well,” said Ofdensen finally. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been called a ‘bauble’ before.”

“Or been threatened with death in your own home,” Ganesh sighed, looking over apologetically.

“Actually, that happens pretty regularly. You really oughta come to my place for a visit.” He grinned.

“That was my brother, Skanda,” Ganesh volunteered.

“Oh. You hadn’t mentioned him before.”

“He had, er, retreated from this mortal plain. Temporarily. That is, apparently, his brand new incarnation. I was, if you might recall, technically deceased for a period of time not so long ago?”

“I…. I could never forget that.”

“I believe this occurrence may have hastened his return. My family cannot long remain without a proper heir.”

“Oh, fuck no! Mujhē khēda hai, Ganesha.”

Ganesh shook his head sadly. “His return was inevitable. We always return. It is what we do. My family. At any rate, he is mostly an annoyance.” A wist of a smile traced his face. “In addition to his other fine qualities, I believe he has always been my mother’s favorite.”

“Well, we know your mother doesn’t always have the best taste.”

Ganesh laughed despite himself.

“Uh, you’re not gonna tell anyone I said that? Ever?” Ofdensen worried.

“I do apologize,” Ganesh smiled, more genuinely this time. “Skanda’s appearance has put me in a bit of a mood I am afraid.”

“Oh. Is there anything, I could, uh, do about that?”

Ganesh smiled ruefully, tapping his cigarette on the ashtray. “Despite what you apparently think, sexual congress is not necessarily a universal solution to all problems.” But then he felt himself being pulled underneath his dining room table. “Sariel! Not in the dining- Not…. Ah. Oh. Oh yes. Just there. Just….”