Into the Mystic (Mythklok Chapter 96)
Apr. 17th, 2012 05:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: Into the Mystic (Mythklok Chapter 96)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A strategic planning meeting.
Warnings: Just the usual nonsense
Notes: After jump
Last time: we sampled exotic cuisine and visited a celebrity-studded party.
“Chaaaaaarles!”
“Yeah, Nathan,” Charles muttered into the laptop on his desk.
“You gotta do something!” wailed Nathan, all six feet plus some inches of him planted in front of Charles’ desk like an immovable rock of celebrity entitlement.
“She ams diggsing into our stocks of girls!” added Skwisgaar from somewhere down on the floor where he was inevitably doodling with that damned sitar.
“Nathan,” Charles repeated for what seemed the millionth time, “as you know, because we have discussed this – repeatedly! – we have offered the goddess Durga a temporary – temporary! - residence at the ‘Haus, as we have in prior cases to supernatural beings in need.”
“She’s not fucking homeless! She’s got jeweled swords and shit! She could go, you know, mug some guys! Or something,” reasoned Nathan.
“And she ams cosksblocksing us wit’ alls da lovely ladies!” wailed Skwisgaar over his sitar drone.
“Yoo doods are overreactin’,” laughed Pickles, sitting cross-legged in one of the guest chairs, joint poking out of his mouth. “She slept wit’, wut? Wun er two o’ yer girls?”
“More like three or FOUR!” Nathan barked.
“Ja, you ams not concerned, Pickle, you ams spendings da evenings like da precussionsacockles sandswitches betweens da gods and da angel dudes!”
“Uh, Skwisgaar, ew,” said Nathan.
“Nawt every night!” said Pickles. “Dat’s nawt wut we did last night….”
“This is TOO MUCH INFORMATION!” thundered Nathan.
“I din’t even git t’ say,” laughed Pickles.
“That’s still too much. There is TOO MUCH IN MY BRAIN! And that hurts my brain! And I’m IN MY BRAIN! So don’t go giving out information!” fretted Nathan.
“Nat’an, I gaht no idear…” said Pickles.
“Angel Butlers, you ams keeps da Gurgles aways from da ladies!” Skwisgaar ordered Charles.
“Guys! Guys,” sighed Charles, reluctantly lowering his laptop screen. “It’s just for thirty days. Uh, and thirty nights.”
“That’s a LONG TIME WITHOUT PUSSY!” grumbled Nathan.
“Wait. So, Durga is somehow preventing you from having sexual relations?” asked Charles.
“No, OF COURSE NOT!” protested Nathan. Charles stared at Nathan.
“She ams has no businesses with our ladies!” supplied Skwisgaar from down on the floor.
“Heh. Dey’re jest mad dat mebbe da ladies like Doorga.” laughed Pickles.
“PFFFFT!”
“Keep outta this, PICKLES!” threatened Nathan.
“Look, guys. I’ve got to deal with the situation in the Abyss,” said Charles. “Durga is providing us with some important-“
“We’re going, right?” asked Nathan.
“You’re going where, exactly, Nathan?” said Charles, removing his eyeglasses and placing them on his desk. He rubbed his forehead and wished for a Marlboro.
“TO THE ABYSS!”
“No, you are not,” said Charles.
“And I ams goings too,” added Skwisgaar.
“And you are most definitely not going!” said Charles. “And no arguments! I’m not fucking around with this. It’s dangerous down there!”
“Yeh, I know. I don’t wanna go,” said Pickles.
“TEACHERS PET!” growled Nathan.
“You ams imposkibles,” Skwisgaar told Pickles.
Charles was standing. “OK, everybody, now, OUT OF MY OFFICE! This is not a suggestion!”
“Wait, you’re telling us-“ began Nathan.
“OUT!” said Charles, one trembling arm pointing towards the door. “Before I fucking THROW YOU OUT!”
“Dood, you can’t-“ said Pickes, who stood up.
“OUT! NOW!”
The three musicians exchanged glances, and then, for once, Charles had the last word as the three shuffled towards the door, closing it with a final click.
“Sariel,” came a very soft voice.
“NO LECTURES FROM YOU!” Charles told Ganesh, not bothering to look up.
“Jaanu…”
“Sorry,” Charles grumbled into his laptop. He felt a small pair of eyes upon him and heard a tiny bark. “C’mon,” he said, patting a leg, and then Elias was up in his lap, Murgatroyd, his faithful wolf, curled up underneath the chair.
“Boonie hep Daddy wok!” the child declared. He donned Charles' discarded eyeglasses and then expertly opened the laptop’s Photoshop program.
“You’re the only one,” said Charles.
“Sariel,” Ganesh began again. “Your other boys require your attentions as well.”
“They’re not kids, Ganesh!” said Charles, pulling the laptop closer for Elias. “Boon needs me. They’re just fucking … selfish, spoiled, self-absorbed….”
“They are your sacred duty, Sariel.”
“You’re just saying that because you like … hanging out with them.”
“Sariel! That is, as my uncle Brahma would say, utter nonsense.”
“He would also throw around a newspaper,” muttered Charles.
“You recall my state of affliction regarding Skwisgaar’s sitar lessons?” sighed Ganesh, who was twisting his long legs up into a lotus position, as he often did when he was aggrieved.
“They don’t need me. They just think they do. Boon needs me,” Charles declared stubbornly.
“Boonie wuvs Daddy!” Elias put in as pushed his father's glasses up on his nose, getting sticky fingerprints on the lenses.
“Yes he does,” smiled Charles indulgently.
“Sariel…” Ganesh began. He frowned, and was silent for a long moment. “Sariel, how long has it been since you have had a vacation?”
“We took one last year. Remember?” he asked Elias. “We showed you squids! And mosquitos! Plenty of mosquitos!”
“Skweetos id yukky,” opined Elias.
“And prior to that?” pressed Ganesh.
“Well….”
“Never, was it?” said Ganesh, rising gracefully from the chair and walking to stand behind Charles. “Then perhaps something like that is overdue? After we accomplish this small task,” he said, his voice soft and low, two fingers now rubbing up and down Charles’ back, “we will take Boonie, you and I, and we will go away for a short time….”
“Oh yeah? And who’s gonna watch over these clowns?” said Charles.
“Weren’t you just saying they don’t actually need your assistance?” said Ganesh with a wink.
“Don’t use logic! That’s Nathan’s deal!” said Charles.
“Lady Raziel will always come. Or you could call your father. You haven’t spoken to Jacque for a time. His presence always seems to cheer you.”
“Yeah, I could call Papa,” said Charles, who didn’t seem inclined to do any such thing.
Ganesh smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of Charles’ head. “I should go to see if my Auntie ‘Gurgle’ is creating havoc. Come along, Boonie. Do you want to see Auntie juggle swords?”
“Yeah, Wantie jug da swod!” said Elias. The glasses were off in a flash, and then he was wriggling off of Charles’ lap and scampering halfway to the door before Charles could stop him.
“Elias!” said Charles.
Elias skidded to a halt, causing Murgatroyd to bump comically into his ankles.
“Do I get a goodbye?” asked Charles.
The child wheeled, and doubled back. He threw himself at Charles, engulfing his waist in a small tackle. “Bye bye!” he said, and then just as suddenly he was at Ganesh’s side, on the way out the door.
“I think my kid is part eel,” said Charles, squinting through his fingerprinted eyeglasses. “And maybe part octopus.”
“You coming to the strategy meeting, Sariel?”
“Raziel, please don’t sit on my desk!” sighed Charles, pulling out a handkerchief.
“Come on, grumpy pants!”
“And don’t call me grumpy pants!”
“We’ll have canapés! Everyone who’s anyone will be there!”
“This isn't a party! It's very serious.”
“That doesn't mean we can't have a bit of fun.”
“Raziel,” sighed Charles. “I think we’re going about this the wrong way?”
“Waddya mean?” asked Raziel, swinging her legs and digging into her purse for a hand mirror.
“Look,” said Charles sitting forward, steepling his hands. “How about this? We go, just you and me. We don’t tell anyone, we just grab some swords, go tonight. Down to the Abyss, turn Gog and Magog to giant confetti, and we’re done.”
“Sariel, have you talked to Durga about the Abyss? I mean, at all?” asked Raziel, who was retouching her lipstick in her hand mirror.
“She’s been too busy sampling our groupies, from the sound of it.”
“This is not a guerilla operation. There’s logistics!” said Raziel, waving her lipstick.
“What logistics? Grab a fucking sword! And your eyeliner,” snarled Charles.
“Ha. This operation is going to be team oriented. First off we’ll need transport to the river delta….”
“WHAT river delta?” said Charles.
“Sariel!” said Raziel, snapping her compact shut. “You haven’t heard a fucking thing Durga’s said, have you?
“Why should we even trust her?”
“She’s Ganesha’s auntie!”
“Every fucking god or goddess on earth is Ganesh’s uncle or aunt. And they all like to hug,” he said, wrapping his own arms distastefully around himself. “Why can't it just be you and me? Like the old days? When did we start trusting all these outsiders?” he added in High Angelic.
”We have families now, Little Brother,” said Raziel. “You've gotta stop isolating yourself!”
“I'm not isolated!”
“OK, speaking of relatives, I'm gonna pull rank here,” said Raziel, hopping off Charles desk. “I'm your Big Sister.”
“You're actually more like my cousin....”
“Be there or I'll kick your skinny ass.”
“I'm not that skinny!” howled Charles to a now empty room. “I'm not that skinny,” he repeated, more softly.
But this time, there was no one to hear.
“BOONIE!”
Charles lost grasp of Elias' hand almost the instant he and his son arrived at the entrance to Valhalla as Elias' little cousins descended on him and then the group, including various sized wolves, at least one tiger and a rather large and drooling bearcat demon, barreled off for parts unknown.
“Where do they go?” asked Charles.
“No idea,” said Raziel. “Hey, you should see this first.”
“What? OK.” Charles let Raziel lead him into an out of the way bedroom. “Hey, Anna, are you OK?” he asked, rushing over to sit at the edge of the bed.
“Uh, I think I’m OK,” Anna the ghost told him. “Or something.”
Nephthys, the Egyptian goddess of death who served as a nanny for the twins, was sitting nearby, dressed all in black, poking on a smart phone. “That was like, weird and stuff,” she volunteered.
“It was totally weird!” agreed the ghost, who was lying on top of the covers, pale as, indeed, a ghost.
“It was way weird,” agreed Nephthys.
“What the hell happened?” asked Charles, as one of the gigantic wolves came up and rubbed it’s great muzzle under his hand.
“I was working on my possession!” said Anna. “I thought it would be cool to go into an animal.”
“So she, like, went into Geri!” said Nephthys, nodding at the wolf.
“It was freaky!” said Anna.
“It was so weird,” agreed Nephthys.
“So, what happened?” asked Charles, who was growing a bit frustrated at the teen speak.
“Anna tried to possess one of the wolves, but I guess they’re resistant or something,” supplied Raziel, scratching a great wolf behind the ears. “So I guess she just got yanked around by the stupid thing for a while, until she figured out how to get out.”
“It’s cool in there!” said Anna. “He thinks he’s a guitarist!”
“Yeah,” said Charles. “They think they’re in a metal band.”
“Metal?” sniffed Nephthys. “Ew.”
“Excuse me, what exactly is ‘ew’ about metal?” demanded Charles.
“it’s sooooo … pre-millennial,” sniffed Nephthys.
“Anyway,” said Raziel, gripping Charles by his elbow, “you’ll stay with her, right, Nephthys?”
“Oh, yeah, definitely!” said Nephthys, suddenly sounding somewhat sincere.
“I think I need to start with something smaller,” said Anna. “Like a kitten!”
“A black cat would be cool!” said Nephthys, her dark eyes widening.
“C’mon,” said Raziel, tugging at Charles’ arm. “We gotta get to the meeting.”
“Are you sure she’ll be OK?” Charles asked Raziel.
“I had Ganesh take a look. As far as he can tell, she's just shaken up.”
“Will Nephthys stay with her? Those twin goddesses are dips.”
“Nephthys thinks it’s the most goth thing ever to be pals with a ghost,” laughed Raziel.
“You’re a comely lass! Why don’t you come sit on Durga’s lap?”
The Valkyrie, giggling like a schoolgirl, wriggled into the lap of the many-armed goddess, who was sitting comfortably on a couch in one of Valhalla’s many sitting rooms.
Across the room, Skwisgaar was sitting cross-legged on a Persian rug, fingers worrying a sitar. “Pfft,” he whispered to Nathan, who was settled on a couch nearby, rifling through a bowl of taco chips. “What ams dat Gurgles got dat we hasn’t gots?”
As if in answer, the goddess opened her mouth and lashed out a whip-liked forked tongue, slurping up some salted peanuts from a serving dish set on the nearby coffee table.
“Well, others dan dats,” allowed Skwisgaar.
“You going along on this Abyss thing, Skwisgaar?” asked Nathan.
“Of course I ams goings alongs! I ams da best trackers,” asserted Skwisgaar. “Also, I ams t’inks Charles ams wants Tokis alongs, and he ams not looks out for himselfs.”
“I don’t think the guy wants me to go,” grumbled Nathan.
“You do not think who wishes you to go?” inquired Ganesh, who had just breezed in along with Pickles. Pickles slumped on the couch beside Nathan, and Ganesh sprawled into a nearby overstuffed chair.
“You guys out SMOKING again?” asked Nathan, noticing his friends' distended pupils.
“Lady Raz dood don't like us smokin' in da house,” said Pickles.
Ganesh picked up the bowl of taco chips and plucked one out, staring at it. “Do they have anything not composed primarily of inorganic substances?”
“I'd stay away from the peanuts, dude,” Nathan confided, just as Durga snarfed up another mouthful from the peanut bowl without using any of her many hands.
“Oh, yes,” agreed Ganesh setting down the bowl, but continuing to stare at the taco chip in his hand. “That is good advice.” He crunched one corner of the chip and chewed it thoughtfully.
“Ganesh, don't you god dudes even know how to EAT CHIPS?” said Nathan.
“I'm sorry?” said Ganesh, who seemed both perplexed and infinitely intrigued by mysteries of the chip in his hand.
“That isn't how you eat chips,” said Nathan, sticking a meaty paw into the bowl of chips and bringing a goodly portion into his mouth. “Thi' I' how you ea' chi's!” he attested, spewing chip spittle hither and yon.
“But, Nathan, if that were so, how can you taste anything?”
“It's not about the taste. It's ABOUT THE CHIPS!”
Ganesh frowned, and, setting the half-eaten chip carefully on the coffee table, took up the bowl of taco chips once more, grabbing a fist-sized portion, and stuffing them into his mouth.
“Is everybody here?” asked Charles, who had just walked in.
“I ain't seen Murderface,” said Pickles.
“I t'ink he' wa' ge' Tok’,” gabbled Ganesh around a mouthfull of semi-masticated chips.
“Are you HIGH?” asked Charles.
“Er. Liddle,” admitted Ganesh.
“Is no one else taking this seriously!” Charles raved, walking off.
“Charles! Dood!” said Pickles, who jumped up and went after Charles.
“I'm taking this seriously!” Nathan told Charles' retreating back.
“You ams not going, probably,” Skwisgaar told him.
“Of course I'm fucking going,” said Nathan, who somehow lacked his characteristic confidence.
Ganesh swallowed hard. “Why would Nathan not come along?” he rasped, grabbing a cocktail as well as the bottle from a tray held by a passing servant, and downing it in one.
“He ams not da gods. Like us,” averred Skwisgaar, his fingers skillfully caressing the sitar.
“You are a demigod, Skwisgaar,” said Ganesh, stifling a burp and reaching for the bottle of Scotch to refill his glass.
“What you ams means by dat?” asked Skwisgaar, who had quite suddenly quit playing.
“Er,” said Ganesh.
“You t'inks I ams not as good as you?” said Skwisgaar, who was standing.
“Dude, I thought all that SITAR CRAP was supposed to make you mellow and shit,” Nathan told Skwisgaar.
“It primarily made me wish to smash things,” Ganesh confessed.
“What's all the fuss and holler?” demanded Wotan, who had just marched up. He gave Skwisgaar a friendly thump on the back that took the guitarist's breath away.
“Oh, nothing, Uncle,” said Ganesh.
“Hims ams says I ams da demi-gods!” said Skwisgaar.
“Well, you are, son! Half god, half human. No shame in that! But as young Ganesh knows, you ain't any lesser than we. Right, Ganesh?”
“Er, yes, of course, Uncle,” said Ganesh.
“Boy, are you stoned?” declared Wotan.
“A bit,” admitted Ganesh.
“Then out of my good Scotch,” said Wotan, grabbing up the bottle. “Get some hot coffee for this one. I hope Pickles didn't have him smoking inside, the wife will have my head.”
“Naw, they went out back King Wotan dude,” said Nathan, who was clearly enjoying the interchange.
“Where the hell is Sariel?” asked Wotan.
“Hims go dis way,” said Skwisgaar. “Here I shows you, Far,” he said, leading Wotan off.
Ganesh eyed the cup of black coffee that an efficient servant already held before him.
“Busssssted,” grinned Nathan. Ganesh glared into his coffee.
“Where'sch everybody?” asked Murderface. Toki, who had just entered the room with him, thumped down on the couch and, to Nathan's annoyance, began to spread the contents of a large cloth bag across the coffee table.
“Hey, watch the CHIPS!” warned Nathan, rescuing his bowl from under something that looked like a photo album.
“I ams crapsbooksing,” retorted Toki, who continued to pile crafting materials up the table.
“I believe we are almost all assembled now,” said Ganesh, crossing his legs and sipping coffee. “This coffee is a bit weak.”
Murderface winked and pulled out a Facebones flask. Ganesh, after scanning up and down the room for Wotan, held out his coffee mug. “I should like you to know that you are my personal hero,” Ganesh told him.
“I hope no one exschpeschted usch to attend thisch party schober,” grinned Murderface.
“Ams not da parties, Moiderfaces! Ams da skerious plannings missions,” said Toki, who was carefully cutting out a lace snowflake.
“Yeah, I hope they start soon, it's a little BORING,” grumbled Nathan.
“Oh, would you care to see a trick, Nathan?” asked Ganesh, who suddenly sprang up.
“What kinda trick?”
“Auntie Durga!” Ganesh was already calling.
“Eh, I've already seen her juggling swords trick,” said Nathan, looking gloomily at his empty chip bowl. “Hey, what is that guy doing?” he asked.
Durga had brushed a Valkyrie off her knee and moved to an empty corner of the room. She stood poised, sixteen arms wielding sixteen swords.
Ganesh stood just in front of her. She began to throw her swords around, each one seeming to just miss the god. Ganesh, a small smile on his face, casually pulled out his cigarette case, extracted a slim beedi, put it in his mouth, and - as the flashing swords whirled - lit up.
“Hey, no smoking in the house!” yelled Raziel. As if on cue, one blade whizzed by extra close, neatly slicing off the burning end of Ganesh's cigarette.
Durga ceased throwing swords, and, as the room erupted in applause, both gods bowed with a flourish.
“Dude....” said Nathan.
“Dood, yoo shure yoo don't wanna puff?”
“Pickles, we're planning an invasion! Quit getting everybody stoned!”
“Jest a puff. Yer all uptight!”
Charles sighed and turned to face Pickles. Across the small meandering stream that ran in back of Valhalla, weird children and their various weirder pets were playing. Over the sound of burbling water, the two men could hear giggles and barks and shouts and growls. “Look, not in front of the kids,” Charles finally said.
“SARIEL!” The booming voice could only have belonged to Nathan Explosion, god of metal, or Wotan, god of the North. It was the latter.
Wotan was accompanied by Skwisgaar, who led the way, pointing, like a terrible tattle-tale, at Charles.
A much shorter figured accompanied them.
“There you are, you little cocksucker!”
“Hey, Jacque dood!” said Pickles brightly.
“Uh. Hi, Papa,” said Charles, a bit sheepishly.
“What's gotten into you?” asked Jacque, stomping right up to Charles. “You plan a raid on the Abyss – the Abyss! - and you don't even tell your Papa?”
“Uh, Papa, it's like this,” said Charles, nervously. “We wanted to keep this, uh, low key....”
“Low key, hah? You don't think I could help on a trip upriver?”
“Sorry, Papa.”
“I’m not known as Black Jack, the terror of the Seven Seas, for nothing,” Jacque raved.
“Yes, Papa.”
“You know, you're not too old to put across my knee!” scolded Jacque.
“WHAT?” said Charles.
Pickles grinned at Skwisgaar. “Busssssted!” he whispered.
“OK, assholes! Everybody inside!” came a shout. For once in his life, which was a very long one, Charles was happy to hear Raziel's voice. With Jacque's hand on his shoulder, and mindful of Skwisgaar and Pickles grinning like crazy up ahead, Charles made his way inside to the room where people had gathered.
He was immediately taken aback by what he saw.
“Nathan? WHAT THE FUCK!”
He started to bolt across the room, but found himself restrained by several hands, all of which belonged to Ganesh. “It's just time for the grand finale!” whispered Ganesh. As Charles stood, horrified, Durga juggled a number of deadly looking sabers around Nathan Explosion, who was standing absolutely stock still, looking deadly pale and fairly terrified.
The swords suddenly increased to a shiny blur of metal, and then, just as abruptly, ceased.
Nathan remained frozen for one moment more. His green eyes darted from side to side, as if looking for a stray sword or two. And then, with a great gasping of breath, he bowed beside Durga to the great applause and hooting and whistling.
“Ganesh!” Charles whispered.
“In all the centuries, she has never missed,” Ganesh whispered back.
“There's a first time for everything!” said Charles. “Your aunt was gonna make my lead singer into a shish kabob!”
“Well, you don't need all your limbs to be a singer, do you?”
“OK, fun's over. Everybody! SIT THE FUCK DOWN AND SHUT THE FUCK UP!” screeched Raziel, who was standing atop a coffee table. The partygoers hastened to obey, distributing themselves over couches and chairs and bits of the floor, all gathering around the many-armed goddess, who took a seat at the front of the room, near the roaring fire. Charles, who found he was still trembling, both from Jacque’s scolding and the fright, let himself be guided to sit on a couch next to Ganesh.
“We'd like everyone to listen closely to Durga,” said Wotan, his hand on Raziel's shoulder, “while she relates for us the tale of her adventure in the Abyss. Lady?”
“I am Durga! I sprang to being as a creation of the three holy brothers, Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva, to slay the foul demon, Mahishasura....” began the goddess.
“Whoopsie daisy!”
“Such nonsense! What do you mean by 'whoops,' Vishnu?” demanded Great Brahma, who was, as was his wont, huffing and puffing.
“Brahma, baby,” said Vishnu, putting his sunglasses up atop his head. “Our little demon slayer? She's female!”
“WHAT!”
“I am Durga!” announced the same. She stood proudly before them, each of sixteen arms holding a glinting sword, her jeweled bindi gleaming in the sun.
“Shiva wonders, what is everybody's great problem?” asked the blue god, who was eyeing Durga admiringly.
“She's a girl, Shiva! Girls can't go running around hither and yon, slaying demons,” huffed the red-robed, and presently very red-faced Brahma, readjusting his pink Financial Times under one arm.
“No, we'll have to go back to the drawing board on this one, Shiva darling,” sighed Vishnu, hitching up his saffron robes.
“Because she is female?” scoffed Shiva. “Shiva wonders, have his brothers ever espied Shiva's wife when she is in her Kali manifestation?”
“You have a demon to slay?” asked Durga eagerly, spinning her swords.
“Shiva!” came a honey-soaked female voice.
“Hail, Parvati patni,” said Shiva to his wife.
“Whatever are you doing?” asked the gorgeous goddess, who was holding a large plastic bag in one slim hand and a small, elephant-headed child in the other. “You promised to take out the recycling ages ago!” she said, handing off the bag to Shiva.
“I am Durga!” said Durga.
“Yes, hello there dear,” said Parvati. “Would you mind holding the baby?” she asked, handing over tiny Ganesha to Durga.
“Coochie-coo!' said Durga, tickling the baby under his trunk.
“Shiva and his brothers used the holy light of their bodies to create a great demon-slayer,” explained Shiva.
“Well, that is very nice, Shiva pati,” said Parvati, who was adjusting her slipper on her foot. “And what is the hold up here?”
“To avenge the terrible demon, Mahishasura, who has turned day into night, and night into day!”
“Yes, yes, it's getting rather impossible to know when to put out the laundry to dry,” agreed Parvati.
“And who has unleashed a reign of terror on heaven, the earth, as well as the nether regions.”
“Well, I've always stated that the nether regions can bloody well take care of themselves,” stated Parvati. “Now, what is the issue?”
“Can't you see, woman?” blustered Great Brahma. “Such nonsense! Our slayer is a female!”
Parvati arched a single elegant eyebrow and stared at Brahma, who, after a time, harrumphed and looked away.
“Now, Shiva pati, here is what you need to do,” said Parvati. “Construct her a shining golden army, and send her on her way! Demons are not going to slay themselves, I always say! Oh, and do remember to separate out the glass, they get to tiresome about it. Come here, you,” she concluded, holding out her arms to receive baby Ganesha. “Time for somebody's bath!”
“Bye-bye!” sang the baby, waving four little hands as Parvati bore him away.
Watching her go, Vishnu made a whip-like noise at Shiva.
Shiva rounded, bringing the bag of recycling down on Vishnu's head. The bag split, sending bottles and aluminum cans rolling everywhere.
“Ow!” said Vishnu.
“Will you two quit squabbling!” demanded Brahma.
“Can I have my army now?” asked Durga, studying several dozen fingernails. “I'd like to get slaying.”
“And so the Triumuti fixed for me a splendid golden army, which I did lead to war against the fiend, Mahisashura. And we met on the field of battle, and there were great casualties on both sides. For forty days and forty nights we battled. But one by one, I slew Mahisashura's warriors, until only he remained standing.”
“Oooooo!” Three children sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Durga, listening raptly to every word.
“Look, I don't wanna be an asshole,” interrupted Charles.
“But you make a great asshole,” laughed Nathan, to general merriment.
“Durga,” Charles persisted. “What does this have to do with the Abyss?”
“List, and I will tell you,” Durga told the toddlers sitting before her, who all leaned forward, mouths open.
“Surrender, Mahisashura!” demanded Durga.
“Tschk,” lisped Mahisashura, twirling his booshy mustache. “Why schould I schurrender?”
“Well, let's tote it up,”said Durga, holding out another arm with another sword for each point. “Your army is decimated, my army has you surrounded, and I have my sword point on your evil neck!”
“Haven't you ever scheen a horror movie, dearie?” said Mahisashura.
“What is a 'movie?'” asked Durga. “I have no knowledge of this magic.”
“The villain alwaysch getsch the last laugh!” taunted Mahisashura.
“You won't be laughing so loud when I cut out your tongue,” warned Durga. But suddenly, the goddess looked up. It was such a soft sound, a strange sound. So like a song. The call of a chorus, so very far away.
A sound not of this earth.
Somehow, in the middle of the battlefield, while her army gathered around, there appeared a rift in reality: an opening, just about the size of a man.
With a terrible laugh, Mahisashura leapt away from Durga and, before any of her swords could find him, plummeted into the hole. The goddess lunged, but somehow, just as quickly as it had appeared, it was no more, and so she stood, swords poised, the villain having 'scaped.
“Well, fuck this shit!” growled Durga, throwing down her sabers.
“Auntie?”
“Yes!” snapped Durga, who was obviously still angry about the whole deal. And then more softly, “Yes, Ganesha Beta?”
“Mahisashura?” asked Ganesh, who had his cell phone out.
“That ASSHOLE,” spat the goddess.
“That was the way he spoke? He had, er, a distinctive speech pattern?”
“I recall as if it were yesterday, and he was sitting right across the room!” declared Durga.
“Hrm,” said Ganesh, staring at his phone. “Apologies for the interruption. Please do go on.”
“More stowwy!” yelled several toddlers.
“He went where, dearie?” asked Vishnu, staring skeptically over his sunglasses.
“I don't fucking know, dearie,” growled Durga.
“All right, all right, don't get emotional!” said Vishnu, waving several hands.
“Don't you two squabble, you'll upset the baby!” scolded Parvati, holding out a handkerchief to Ganesha's little trunk. “Now, blow!” she urged the tot, who obligingly sneezed.
The gods and goddess stood (or paced irritably) on the porch of Brahma’s cozy house in the Heavens, the smell of one of Sarasvati’s delicious pies wafting out the door.
“I believe I know where he went,” sighed Great Brahma.
“What?” asked Vishnu.
“Where?” demanded Durga. “My swords await him!”
“He has obviously disappeared into the Abyss,” sighed Brahma.
“What, Brahma, not the Creator's unholy eyesore!” wailed Vishnu.
“But Shiva believes the paint is not yet dry on that edifice!” put in Shiva.
“That bit of property in the nether regions?” asked Parvati.
“Neber wegion!” chorused tiny Ganesha.
“Yes, we granted him an easement,” said Brahma. “He said it would be no problem, going to fence it all in. Fence of copper and iron: good quality!”
“Not one of those horrible wire things! Those are so tacky,” moaned Vishnu.
“Shiva has always favored classy ornamental iron,” commented Shiva.
“Yes, but people tend to pop in their beer bottles through the pickets,” sighed Vishnu.
“Perhaps in your neighborhood, Vishnu bhaii,” said Shiva, as the two brothers scowled at each other.
“And the Creator said he would post a guard. Gated community! Very upscale,” concluded Brahma.
“Never anything good can come in the nether regions,” said Parvati, shaking her head.
“What shall we do?” asked Shiva. “We cannot let the menace of Mahisashura continue to plague our land!”
“Well,” said Parvati, gently burping little Ganesha, “it sounds as if you must craft Durga another army….”
“But we already crafted her a shining golden army!” blustered Brahma.
“Then craft her a sparkling jeweled army this time,” sighed Parvati. “I swear, do I have to think of everything? And then she will pursue Mahisashura into the Abyss. It is the only way!”
“Yes, a sparkling jeweled army!” said Durga. “I will hunt him down, and he will have my swords!”
“Little dears!” came a trill from inside the house. “Dinner is ready! Do come inside before the sacred cow gets cold.”
“Yes Sarasvati my pet!” called Brahma.
“You can ride one of our tigers, dear,” said Parvati, leading Durga into the house. “It’s really the only way to ride into battle, I’ve found.”
“Boy, those guys sprang for a lot armies,” muttered Charles, who had been toting up the accounting in his head and not liking the mental spreadsheets. Ganesh grinned and started to sip his spiked coffee, but Charles snatched it out of his hand and took a swig instead.
“Things were different in those days!” declared Wotan, settling back in his chair.
“Easier to recruit?” asked Raziel, who was sitting on the arm of the chair.
“They would march off just for the glory of it!” said Wotan. “Nowadays, there’s union regulations, health and safety requirements, regimental taxes….”
“Governments all want their share,” reasoned Raziel.
“Not to mention the pension funds!” said Wotan.
“There was to be no need of such a thing,” said Durga.
“Yes, those were different times,” said Wotan.
“No, that is not the reason,” said Durga. “For I rode out from there, leading my shining jeweled army, to the mouth of the Abyss. And there, as we descended, down and down, down and down, along the narrow ledge, barely wide enough for a horseman to pass, we were beset: a flurry of poisoned arrows, from every direction, we could tell not where! One by one, one by one, they fell, my mighty warriors, and their mounts, man and beast, until at last, when I stepped to the very bottom of the Abyss, there remained not a one, and only I, I alone, remained alive.”
“Ooooo!” chorused Elias and Liam and Abby from the floor.
Charles felt something in his hand. It was Ganesh, who had quieted, and had silently slipped his hand into Charles’. Charles said nothing, but gripped back.
“Where you headed, sweetheart?”
Fortunately for her, the flurry of poisoned arrows had ceased once Durga and her faithful tiger had finally reached the floor of the Abyss. Knowing not what else to do, she had ridden along what looked like a coastline until at last she had come to a great river delta. She rode her sure-footed cat along the muddy banks to where the river widened and cleared. She soon spotted what looked like a watercraft moored to a rickety dock.
“I am seeking the dread demon, Mahisashura!” she told the skinny bearded man who was scraping barnacles off a broken-down looking water taxi.
“Yeppers, yeppers. Temple, head of the river. That’s where that sort goes.”
“Can you convey me?” asked Durga.
“Whelp. I won’t be able to convey that one,” he said, shaking his scraper at the tiger, who growled low. “No room for kitties. And I’ll need something of value from you. The traditional is a gold coin.”
“I haven’t any money. Would this serve?” she asked, holding out one of her jeweled sabers.
“That oughter do,” said the skinny old man, wiping off his hands on a much used rag to accept the saber. “I’m your Cap’n Chauron, by the way. You can call me Cap’n, or you can call me Chauron, or you can call me you motherfucker, it’s all the same to me.”
Bidding a tearful farewell to her faithful mount, Durga boarded Chauron’s boat, and with a great puttering, the engine was fired up, and they started up the river. It was a lazy journey, which took many weeks, as the river was swift, but the boat was not. They stopped at several villages along the way, although the captain never left the boat. Durga would often go ashore, and was much surprised to find that the residents were friendly towards her. When she inquired of Mahisashura, however, all knew the name, but none would talk. They would only go quiet, and point upriver.
Finally, she noticed an edifice nearing in the distance, its great tops peeking, at certain river bends, from the hazy tangle of jungle growth. It was a magnificent temple, with great spires poking up here and there. Sometimes one could see movement: troops of monkeys, or flocks of birds which had come to rest. As they neared, Durga became aware that each spire was intricately carved with many hundreds – or even thousands – of effigies: there were monkeys and birds, tigers and elephants, gods and men, all writhing and stomping and standing and crawling over the vast surface of the spires. It took a full three days from when she first espied the edifices in the distance to when they finally pulled up ashore, the greatest temple now looming over them like an ill prophecy.
“This is where you get off, darlin’,” said the Captain. “I don’t leave the boat. Never have, never will.”
Durga bid the captain farewell, and, keeping her sabers at the ready, debarked for the final time. She heard the song of many birds, and heard monkeys calling, but saw no signs of life. She walked through the windy courtyard to the entrance of the main temple building. She paused for a moment at the bottom of the great stone steps, gazing up in wonder at the many many carvings that made up the temple wall. Durga, it must be remembered, was very new to the earth and elsewhere, and had never regarded such a sight.
But she was on a mission, so she began to climb the temple steps, sandaled feet sure in their grip. She blinked at the entryway, crossing from the bright tropical sunlight into the dim interior. She was much surprised at what she beheld inside: it was as if the outer walls had been twisted inwards, folded and folded many times over, reflections on reflections, and now she regarded a gorgeous maze of stone carvings: tigers and camels and birds and lions and horses, any mythical beasts of all sorts. They stood and pranced and danced along the walls and columns and archways.
And then, a movement. Just in the corner of her eye.
Durga did not turn, but raised her weapons.
“I have been waiting for you, Durga,” chuckled Mahisashura. “Onsche, you defeated me and my army, but now you will find, I am the maschter.”
“Only a master of evil, Mahisashura.” And no sooner had she spoken than she struck. Mahisashura struck and retreated, no doubt using his knowledge of the temple layout to try and deceive Durga. But a goddess of wrath is not easily fooled, nor foolishly distracted. And so they clashed, until at last, Mahisashura extended a pair of leathery wings and fled out the temple door.
“You won’t escape me that way,” laughed Durga. Because though she could not fly, she could fight.
It was not a quick battle. For forty days and forty nights, they clashed: through the phases of the moon.
And it was at night, under the full moon, that finally Durga landed the fatal blow, ripping one of Mahisashura’s long black wings. He fell to earth, wailing in pain, and soon the goddess was over him, sword at his throat.
“Durga,” he pleaded. “I know you are my death. May I aschk one lascht requescht?”
“You have been a worthy adversary, Mahisashura. I will grant it, if I am able,” pledged Durga.
“My barrow: it would be dishonorable for me to have no wealth there.”
“I can leave one of my swords,” offered Durga.
“Thank you, that would be most honorable,” said Mahisashura.
And so Durga slew the demon Mahisashura, and then she buried him, and laid beside him the very sword she used to slit his throat.
She stood for a long while at the gravesite, wondering how she would ever return home, as Chauron’s boat had long since departed, and she had given up he tiger mount.
And then she heard it. It was not the wind, nor the call of a bird.
It was a very soft sound, a slight sound. Much like a song. The call of a chorus, but very far away.
She looked up. It was like an opening. A tear in the fabric of reality.
She did not know why, but she stepped through.
And then for a moment, all was darkness.
“Well, hello there dear! Would you like some nice sacred cow steak?” inquired Sarasvati, wiping her hands on her apron.
“What is this nonsense!” barked Great Brahma as Durga leapt up to her feet.
“Where am I?” asked Durga.
“You’re just in time for dinner!” said Sarasvati.
“What the bloody hell? What happened to Mahisashura?” asked Brahma.
“I slew him. Down in the Abyss,” Durga told him. “I have been gone many days and nights. I do not know how I ended up here.”
“Well, all’s well that ends well, I always say,” said Sarasvati. “You must stay for some pie.”
“I need some time to think this over, Wotan,” said Charles.
“Aye, me as well,” agreed the god. “I had heard the Abyss was a land of warfare, but this sounded like a boat ride in the countryside.” They stood in entryway at Valhalla, along with Ganesh and Raziel, the rest of the visitors having departed.
“Well, other than getting her entire army slain,” said Charles. “I just don’t know what to make of it.”
“It’s been a long time ago. Memories fade,” said Wotan.
“My auntie has a mind like a steel trap,” laughed Ganesh.
“Well, be that as it may,” said Wotan. “Sleep on it, and let me know.”
Charles nodded uncertainly, and, turning, Walked off with Ganesh and Elias.
“So what was all the doodling on your phone?” Charles asked Ganesh.
“I’ve been looking for images,” said Ganesh. “Our demon friend.”
“That's Mahisashura?” asked Charles, squinting into Ganesh's smart phone.
“Yes. Strange, isn't it?” said Ganesh as they stood in the hallway in Mordhaus just outside the door of Charles' office.
“A draugr, maybe?”
“Perhaps.”
“You don't remember him?” asked Charles. “Mahisashura?”
“Dimly, but I was quite tiny,” said Ganesh, putting the phone away in a jacket pocket. “Even smaller than this one,” he said, looking down at Elias.
“Boonie id da bid boy!” Elias told him.
“Yes you are a big boy!” agreed Ganesh. “So, you can watch him for a while?” he asked Charles.
“Yeah, sure. You'll help Daddy work?” Charles asked, extending a hand.
“Uh-huh!” promised Elias, his dog adding a small agreeing bark.
Elias was very soon spread out on the carpet of Charles' office, quietly creating a Basilica out of LEGO or some such, and Charles was just as soon swept away by the quarterly reports. When he thought about this later, he wasn't certain how much time had slipped by. For although he wore the world's most expensive watch, he rarely consulted it while lost in his accounts.
“Look, Daddy, loooooook!”
“Yes, that’s nice,” Charles told his laptop screen.
“Daddy! Da ‘Byss!”
“The what?”
Charles heard the sound of many pairs of running feet. He looked up, and noticed that the shadows in his office had grown decidedly longer.
And then….
It was such a soft sound. Perhaps none other than angel ears might have caught it. So like a song. The call of a chorus, so very far away.
Not a human chorus.
Charles was on his feet.
“Da ‘Byss Daddy!”
“BOON STAY AWAY FROM THERE!” Charles didn’t go around the desk, he was over it, in one leap, bounding across the room, inches away from Elias’ retreating back.
His fingers caught air as the boy disappeared into wormhole, Murgatroyd a fraction of a second behind. And then it closed, that slight gap in the universe which had somehow found its way into Charles’ office, and he was left, frantic, alone, fingernails scraping desperately on the floor.
The desperate cry split the night.
“BOON!”
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A strategic planning meeting.
Warnings: Just the usual nonsense
Notes: After jump
Last time: we sampled exotic cuisine and visited a celebrity-studded party.
“Chaaaaaarles!”
“Yeah, Nathan,” Charles muttered into the laptop on his desk.
“You gotta do something!” wailed Nathan, all six feet plus some inches of him planted in front of Charles’ desk like an immovable rock of celebrity entitlement.
“She ams diggsing into our stocks of girls!” added Skwisgaar from somewhere down on the floor where he was inevitably doodling with that damned sitar.
“Nathan,” Charles repeated for what seemed the millionth time, “as you know, because we have discussed this – repeatedly! – we have offered the goddess Durga a temporary – temporary! - residence at the ‘Haus, as we have in prior cases to supernatural beings in need.”
“She’s not fucking homeless! She’s got jeweled swords and shit! She could go, you know, mug some guys! Or something,” reasoned Nathan.
“And she ams cosksblocksing us wit’ alls da lovely ladies!” wailed Skwisgaar over his sitar drone.
“Yoo doods are overreactin’,” laughed Pickles, sitting cross-legged in one of the guest chairs, joint poking out of his mouth. “She slept wit’, wut? Wun er two o’ yer girls?”
“More like three or FOUR!” Nathan barked.
“Ja, you ams not concerned, Pickle, you ams spendings da evenings like da precussionsacockles sandswitches betweens da gods and da angel dudes!”
“Uh, Skwisgaar, ew,” said Nathan.
“Nawt every night!” said Pickles. “Dat’s nawt wut we did last night….”
“This is TOO MUCH INFORMATION!” thundered Nathan.
“I din’t even git t’ say,” laughed Pickles.
“That’s still too much. There is TOO MUCH IN MY BRAIN! And that hurts my brain! And I’m IN MY BRAIN! So don’t go giving out information!” fretted Nathan.
“Nat’an, I gaht no idear…” said Pickles.
“Angel Butlers, you ams keeps da Gurgles aways from da ladies!” Skwisgaar ordered Charles.
“Guys! Guys,” sighed Charles, reluctantly lowering his laptop screen. “It’s just for thirty days. Uh, and thirty nights.”
“That’s a LONG TIME WITHOUT PUSSY!” grumbled Nathan.
“Wait. So, Durga is somehow preventing you from having sexual relations?” asked Charles.
“No, OF COURSE NOT!” protested Nathan. Charles stared at Nathan.
“She ams has no businesses with our ladies!” supplied Skwisgaar from down on the floor.
“Heh. Dey’re jest mad dat mebbe da ladies like Doorga.” laughed Pickles.
“PFFFFT!”
“Keep outta this, PICKLES!” threatened Nathan.
“Look, guys. I’ve got to deal with the situation in the Abyss,” said Charles. “Durga is providing us with some important-“
“We’re going, right?” asked Nathan.
“You’re going where, exactly, Nathan?” said Charles, removing his eyeglasses and placing them on his desk. He rubbed his forehead and wished for a Marlboro.
“TO THE ABYSS!”
“No, you are not,” said Charles.
“And I ams goings too,” added Skwisgaar.
“And you are most definitely not going!” said Charles. “And no arguments! I’m not fucking around with this. It’s dangerous down there!”
“Yeh, I know. I don’t wanna go,” said Pickles.
“TEACHERS PET!” growled Nathan.
“You ams imposkibles,” Skwisgaar told Pickles.
Charles was standing. “OK, everybody, now, OUT OF MY OFFICE! This is not a suggestion!”
“Wait, you’re telling us-“ began Nathan.
“OUT!” said Charles, one trembling arm pointing towards the door. “Before I fucking THROW YOU OUT!”
“Dood, you can’t-“ said Pickes, who stood up.
“OUT! NOW!”
The three musicians exchanged glances, and then, for once, Charles had the last word as the three shuffled towards the door, closing it with a final click.
“Sariel,” came a very soft voice.
“NO LECTURES FROM YOU!” Charles told Ganesh, not bothering to look up.
“Jaanu…”
“Sorry,” Charles grumbled into his laptop. He felt a small pair of eyes upon him and heard a tiny bark. “C’mon,” he said, patting a leg, and then Elias was up in his lap, Murgatroyd, his faithful wolf, curled up underneath the chair.
“Boonie hep Daddy wok!” the child declared. He donned Charles' discarded eyeglasses and then expertly opened the laptop’s Photoshop program.
“You’re the only one,” said Charles.
“Sariel,” Ganesh began again. “Your other boys require your attentions as well.”
“They’re not kids, Ganesh!” said Charles, pulling the laptop closer for Elias. “Boon needs me. They’re just fucking … selfish, spoiled, self-absorbed….”
“They are your sacred duty, Sariel.”
“You’re just saying that because you like … hanging out with them.”
“Sariel! That is, as my uncle Brahma would say, utter nonsense.”
“He would also throw around a newspaper,” muttered Charles.
“You recall my state of affliction regarding Skwisgaar’s sitar lessons?” sighed Ganesh, who was twisting his long legs up into a lotus position, as he often did when he was aggrieved.
“They don’t need me. They just think they do. Boon needs me,” Charles declared stubbornly.
“Boonie wuvs Daddy!” Elias put in as pushed his father's glasses up on his nose, getting sticky fingerprints on the lenses.
“Yes he does,” smiled Charles indulgently.
“Sariel…” Ganesh began. He frowned, and was silent for a long moment. “Sariel, how long has it been since you have had a vacation?”
“We took one last year. Remember?” he asked Elias. “We showed you squids! And mosquitos! Plenty of mosquitos!”
“Skweetos id yukky,” opined Elias.
“And prior to that?” pressed Ganesh.
“Well….”
“Never, was it?” said Ganesh, rising gracefully from the chair and walking to stand behind Charles. “Then perhaps something like that is overdue? After we accomplish this small task,” he said, his voice soft and low, two fingers now rubbing up and down Charles’ back, “we will take Boonie, you and I, and we will go away for a short time….”
“Oh yeah? And who’s gonna watch over these clowns?” said Charles.
“Weren’t you just saying they don’t actually need your assistance?” said Ganesh with a wink.
“Don’t use logic! That’s Nathan’s deal!” said Charles.
“Lady Raziel will always come. Or you could call your father. You haven’t spoken to Jacque for a time. His presence always seems to cheer you.”
“Yeah, I could call Papa,” said Charles, who didn’t seem inclined to do any such thing.
Ganesh smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of Charles’ head. “I should go to see if my Auntie ‘Gurgle’ is creating havoc. Come along, Boonie. Do you want to see Auntie juggle swords?”
“Yeah, Wantie jug da swod!” said Elias. The glasses were off in a flash, and then he was wriggling off of Charles’ lap and scampering halfway to the door before Charles could stop him.
“Elias!” said Charles.
Elias skidded to a halt, causing Murgatroyd to bump comically into his ankles.
“Do I get a goodbye?” asked Charles.
The child wheeled, and doubled back. He threw himself at Charles, engulfing his waist in a small tackle. “Bye bye!” he said, and then just as suddenly he was at Ganesh’s side, on the way out the door.
“I think my kid is part eel,” said Charles, squinting through his fingerprinted eyeglasses. “And maybe part octopus.”
“You coming to the strategy meeting, Sariel?”
“Raziel, please don’t sit on my desk!” sighed Charles, pulling out a handkerchief.
“Come on, grumpy pants!”
“And don’t call me grumpy pants!”
“We’ll have canapés! Everyone who’s anyone will be there!”
“This isn't a party! It's very serious.”
“That doesn't mean we can't have a bit of fun.”
“Raziel,” sighed Charles. “I think we’re going about this the wrong way?”
“Waddya mean?” asked Raziel, swinging her legs and digging into her purse for a hand mirror.
“Look,” said Charles sitting forward, steepling his hands. “How about this? We go, just you and me. We don’t tell anyone, we just grab some swords, go tonight. Down to the Abyss, turn Gog and Magog to giant confetti, and we’re done.”
“Sariel, have you talked to Durga about the Abyss? I mean, at all?” asked Raziel, who was retouching her lipstick in her hand mirror.
“She’s been too busy sampling our groupies, from the sound of it.”
“This is not a guerilla operation. There’s logistics!” said Raziel, waving her lipstick.
“What logistics? Grab a fucking sword! And your eyeliner,” snarled Charles.
“Ha. This operation is going to be team oriented. First off we’ll need transport to the river delta….”
“WHAT river delta?” said Charles.
“Sariel!” said Raziel, snapping her compact shut. “You haven’t heard a fucking thing Durga’s said, have you?
“Why should we even trust her?”
“She’s Ganesha’s auntie!”
“Every fucking god or goddess on earth is Ganesh’s uncle or aunt. And they all like to hug,” he said, wrapping his own arms distastefully around himself. “Why can't it just be you and me? Like the old days? When did we start trusting all these outsiders?” he added in High Angelic.
”We have families now, Little Brother,” said Raziel. “You've gotta stop isolating yourself!”
“I'm not isolated!”
“OK, speaking of relatives, I'm gonna pull rank here,” said Raziel, hopping off Charles desk. “I'm your Big Sister.”
“You're actually more like my cousin....”
“Be there or I'll kick your skinny ass.”
“I'm not that skinny!” howled Charles to a now empty room. “I'm not that skinny,” he repeated, more softly.
But this time, there was no one to hear.
“BOONIE!”
Charles lost grasp of Elias' hand almost the instant he and his son arrived at the entrance to Valhalla as Elias' little cousins descended on him and then the group, including various sized wolves, at least one tiger and a rather large and drooling bearcat demon, barreled off for parts unknown.
“Where do they go?” asked Charles.
“No idea,” said Raziel. “Hey, you should see this first.”
“What? OK.” Charles let Raziel lead him into an out of the way bedroom. “Hey, Anna, are you OK?” he asked, rushing over to sit at the edge of the bed.
“Uh, I think I’m OK,” Anna the ghost told him. “Or something.”
Nephthys, the Egyptian goddess of death who served as a nanny for the twins, was sitting nearby, dressed all in black, poking on a smart phone. “That was like, weird and stuff,” she volunteered.
“It was totally weird!” agreed the ghost, who was lying on top of the covers, pale as, indeed, a ghost.
“It was way weird,” agreed Nephthys.
“What the hell happened?” asked Charles, as one of the gigantic wolves came up and rubbed it’s great muzzle under his hand.
“I was working on my possession!” said Anna. “I thought it would be cool to go into an animal.”
“So she, like, went into Geri!” said Nephthys, nodding at the wolf.
“It was freaky!” said Anna.
“It was so weird,” agreed Nephthys.
“So, what happened?” asked Charles, who was growing a bit frustrated at the teen speak.
“Anna tried to possess one of the wolves, but I guess they’re resistant or something,” supplied Raziel, scratching a great wolf behind the ears. “So I guess she just got yanked around by the stupid thing for a while, until she figured out how to get out.”
“It’s cool in there!” said Anna. “He thinks he’s a guitarist!”
“Yeah,” said Charles. “They think they’re in a metal band.”
“Metal?” sniffed Nephthys. “Ew.”
“Excuse me, what exactly is ‘ew’ about metal?” demanded Charles.
“it’s sooooo … pre-millennial,” sniffed Nephthys.
“Anyway,” said Raziel, gripping Charles by his elbow, “you’ll stay with her, right, Nephthys?”
“Oh, yeah, definitely!” said Nephthys, suddenly sounding somewhat sincere.
“I think I need to start with something smaller,” said Anna. “Like a kitten!”
“A black cat would be cool!” said Nephthys, her dark eyes widening.
“C’mon,” said Raziel, tugging at Charles’ arm. “We gotta get to the meeting.”
“Are you sure she’ll be OK?” Charles asked Raziel.
“I had Ganesh take a look. As far as he can tell, she's just shaken up.”
“Will Nephthys stay with her? Those twin goddesses are dips.”
“Nephthys thinks it’s the most goth thing ever to be pals with a ghost,” laughed Raziel.
“You’re a comely lass! Why don’t you come sit on Durga’s lap?”
The Valkyrie, giggling like a schoolgirl, wriggled into the lap of the many-armed goddess, who was sitting comfortably on a couch in one of Valhalla’s many sitting rooms.
Across the room, Skwisgaar was sitting cross-legged on a Persian rug, fingers worrying a sitar. “Pfft,” he whispered to Nathan, who was settled on a couch nearby, rifling through a bowl of taco chips. “What ams dat Gurgles got dat we hasn’t gots?”
As if in answer, the goddess opened her mouth and lashed out a whip-liked forked tongue, slurping up some salted peanuts from a serving dish set on the nearby coffee table.
“Well, others dan dats,” allowed Skwisgaar.
“You going along on this Abyss thing, Skwisgaar?” asked Nathan.
“Of course I ams goings alongs! I ams da best trackers,” asserted Skwisgaar. “Also, I ams t’inks Charles ams wants Tokis alongs, and he ams not looks out for himselfs.”
“I don’t think the guy wants me to go,” grumbled Nathan.
“You do not think who wishes you to go?” inquired Ganesh, who had just breezed in along with Pickles. Pickles slumped on the couch beside Nathan, and Ganesh sprawled into a nearby overstuffed chair.
“You guys out SMOKING again?” asked Nathan, noticing his friends' distended pupils.
“Lady Raz dood don't like us smokin' in da house,” said Pickles.
Ganesh picked up the bowl of taco chips and plucked one out, staring at it. “Do they have anything not composed primarily of inorganic substances?”
“I'd stay away from the peanuts, dude,” Nathan confided, just as Durga snarfed up another mouthful from the peanut bowl without using any of her many hands.
“Oh, yes,” agreed Ganesh setting down the bowl, but continuing to stare at the taco chip in his hand. “That is good advice.” He crunched one corner of the chip and chewed it thoughtfully.
“Ganesh, don't you god dudes even know how to EAT CHIPS?” said Nathan.
“I'm sorry?” said Ganesh, who seemed both perplexed and infinitely intrigued by mysteries of the chip in his hand.
“That isn't how you eat chips,” said Nathan, sticking a meaty paw into the bowl of chips and bringing a goodly portion into his mouth. “Thi' I' how you ea' chi's!” he attested, spewing chip spittle hither and yon.
“But, Nathan, if that were so, how can you taste anything?”
“It's not about the taste. It's ABOUT THE CHIPS!”
Ganesh frowned, and, setting the half-eaten chip carefully on the coffee table, took up the bowl of taco chips once more, grabbing a fist-sized portion, and stuffing them into his mouth.
“Is everybody here?” asked Charles, who had just walked in.
“I ain't seen Murderface,” said Pickles.
“I t'ink he' wa' ge' Tok’,” gabbled Ganesh around a mouthfull of semi-masticated chips.
“Are you HIGH?” asked Charles.
“Er. Liddle,” admitted Ganesh.
“Is no one else taking this seriously!” Charles raved, walking off.
“Charles! Dood!” said Pickles, who jumped up and went after Charles.
“I'm taking this seriously!” Nathan told Charles' retreating back.
“You ams not going, probably,” Skwisgaar told him.
“Of course I'm fucking going,” said Nathan, who somehow lacked his characteristic confidence.
Ganesh swallowed hard. “Why would Nathan not come along?” he rasped, grabbing a cocktail as well as the bottle from a tray held by a passing servant, and downing it in one.
“He ams not da gods. Like us,” averred Skwisgaar, his fingers skillfully caressing the sitar.
“You are a demigod, Skwisgaar,” said Ganesh, stifling a burp and reaching for the bottle of Scotch to refill his glass.
“What you ams means by dat?” asked Skwisgaar, who had quite suddenly quit playing.
“Er,” said Ganesh.
“You t'inks I ams not as good as you?” said Skwisgaar, who was standing.
“Dude, I thought all that SITAR CRAP was supposed to make you mellow and shit,” Nathan told Skwisgaar.
“It primarily made me wish to smash things,” Ganesh confessed.
“What's all the fuss and holler?” demanded Wotan, who had just marched up. He gave Skwisgaar a friendly thump on the back that took the guitarist's breath away.
“Oh, nothing, Uncle,” said Ganesh.
“Hims ams says I ams da demi-gods!” said Skwisgaar.
“Well, you are, son! Half god, half human. No shame in that! But as young Ganesh knows, you ain't any lesser than we. Right, Ganesh?”
“Er, yes, of course, Uncle,” said Ganesh.
“Boy, are you stoned?” declared Wotan.
“A bit,” admitted Ganesh.
“Then out of my good Scotch,” said Wotan, grabbing up the bottle. “Get some hot coffee for this one. I hope Pickles didn't have him smoking inside, the wife will have my head.”
“Naw, they went out back King Wotan dude,” said Nathan, who was clearly enjoying the interchange.
“Where the hell is Sariel?” asked Wotan.
“Hims go dis way,” said Skwisgaar. “Here I shows you, Far,” he said, leading Wotan off.
Ganesh eyed the cup of black coffee that an efficient servant already held before him.
“Busssssted,” grinned Nathan. Ganesh glared into his coffee.
“Where'sch everybody?” asked Murderface. Toki, who had just entered the room with him, thumped down on the couch and, to Nathan's annoyance, began to spread the contents of a large cloth bag across the coffee table.
“Hey, watch the CHIPS!” warned Nathan, rescuing his bowl from under something that looked like a photo album.
“I ams crapsbooksing,” retorted Toki, who continued to pile crafting materials up the table.
“I believe we are almost all assembled now,” said Ganesh, crossing his legs and sipping coffee. “This coffee is a bit weak.”
Murderface winked and pulled out a Facebones flask. Ganesh, after scanning up and down the room for Wotan, held out his coffee mug. “I should like you to know that you are my personal hero,” Ganesh told him.
“I hope no one exschpeschted usch to attend thisch party schober,” grinned Murderface.
“Ams not da parties, Moiderfaces! Ams da skerious plannings missions,” said Toki, who was carefully cutting out a lace snowflake.
“Yeah, I hope they start soon, it's a little BORING,” grumbled Nathan.
“Oh, would you care to see a trick, Nathan?” asked Ganesh, who suddenly sprang up.
“What kinda trick?”
“Auntie Durga!” Ganesh was already calling.
“Eh, I've already seen her juggling swords trick,” said Nathan, looking gloomily at his empty chip bowl. “Hey, what is that guy doing?” he asked.
Durga had brushed a Valkyrie off her knee and moved to an empty corner of the room. She stood poised, sixteen arms wielding sixteen swords.
Ganesh stood just in front of her. She began to throw her swords around, each one seeming to just miss the god. Ganesh, a small smile on his face, casually pulled out his cigarette case, extracted a slim beedi, put it in his mouth, and - as the flashing swords whirled - lit up.
“Hey, no smoking in the house!” yelled Raziel. As if on cue, one blade whizzed by extra close, neatly slicing off the burning end of Ganesh's cigarette.
Durga ceased throwing swords, and, as the room erupted in applause, both gods bowed with a flourish.
“Dude....” said Nathan.
“Dood, yoo shure yoo don't wanna puff?”
“Pickles, we're planning an invasion! Quit getting everybody stoned!”
“Jest a puff. Yer all uptight!”
Charles sighed and turned to face Pickles. Across the small meandering stream that ran in back of Valhalla, weird children and their various weirder pets were playing. Over the sound of burbling water, the two men could hear giggles and barks and shouts and growls. “Look, not in front of the kids,” Charles finally said.
“SARIEL!” The booming voice could only have belonged to Nathan Explosion, god of metal, or Wotan, god of the North. It was the latter.
Wotan was accompanied by Skwisgaar, who led the way, pointing, like a terrible tattle-tale, at Charles.
A much shorter figured accompanied them.
“There you are, you little cocksucker!”
“Hey, Jacque dood!” said Pickles brightly.
“Uh. Hi, Papa,” said Charles, a bit sheepishly.
“What's gotten into you?” asked Jacque, stomping right up to Charles. “You plan a raid on the Abyss – the Abyss! - and you don't even tell your Papa?”
“Uh, Papa, it's like this,” said Charles, nervously. “We wanted to keep this, uh, low key....”
“Low key, hah? You don't think I could help on a trip upriver?”
“Sorry, Papa.”
“I’m not known as Black Jack, the terror of the Seven Seas, for nothing,” Jacque raved.
“Yes, Papa.”
“You know, you're not too old to put across my knee!” scolded Jacque.
“WHAT?” said Charles.
Pickles grinned at Skwisgaar. “Busssssted!” he whispered.
“OK, assholes! Everybody inside!” came a shout. For once in his life, which was a very long one, Charles was happy to hear Raziel's voice. With Jacque's hand on his shoulder, and mindful of Skwisgaar and Pickles grinning like crazy up ahead, Charles made his way inside to the room where people had gathered.
He was immediately taken aback by what he saw.
“Nathan? WHAT THE FUCK!”
He started to bolt across the room, but found himself restrained by several hands, all of which belonged to Ganesh. “It's just time for the grand finale!” whispered Ganesh. As Charles stood, horrified, Durga juggled a number of deadly looking sabers around Nathan Explosion, who was standing absolutely stock still, looking deadly pale and fairly terrified.
The swords suddenly increased to a shiny blur of metal, and then, just as abruptly, ceased.
Nathan remained frozen for one moment more. His green eyes darted from side to side, as if looking for a stray sword or two. And then, with a great gasping of breath, he bowed beside Durga to the great applause and hooting and whistling.
“Ganesh!” Charles whispered.
“In all the centuries, she has never missed,” Ganesh whispered back.
“There's a first time for everything!” said Charles. “Your aunt was gonna make my lead singer into a shish kabob!”
“Well, you don't need all your limbs to be a singer, do you?”
“OK, fun's over. Everybody! SIT THE FUCK DOWN AND SHUT THE FUCK UP!” screeched Raziel, who was standing atop a coffee table. The partygoers hastened to obey, distributing themselves over couches and chairs and bits of the floor, all gathering around the many-armed goddess, who took a seat at the front of the room, near the roaring fire. Charles, who found he was still trembling, both from Jacque’s scolding and the fright, let himself be guided to sit on a couch next to Ganesh.
“We'd like everyone to listen closely to Durga,” said Wotan, his hand on Raziel's shoulder, “while she relates for us the tale of her adventure in the Abyss. Lady?”
“I am Durga! I sprang to being as a creation of the three holy brothers, Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva, to slay the foul demon, Mahishasura....” began the goddess.
“Whoopsie daisy!”
“Such nonsense! What do you mean by 'whoops,' Vishnu?” demanded Great Brahma, who was, as was his wont, huffing and puffing.
“Brahma, baby,” said Vishnu, putting his sunglasses up atop his head. “Our little demon slayer? She's female!”
“WHAT!”
“I am Durga!” announced the same. She stood proudly before them, each of sixteen arms holding a glinting sword, her jeweled bindi gleaming in the sun.
“Shiva wonders, what is everybody's great problem?” asked the blue god, who was eyeing Durga admiringly.
“She's a girl, Shiva! Girls can't go running around hither and yon, slaying demons,” huffed the red-robed, and presently very red-faced Brahma, readjusting his pink Financial Times under one arm.
“No, we'll have to go back to the drawing board on this one, Shiva darling,” sighed Vishnu, hitching up his saffron robes.
“Because she is female?” scoffed Shiva. “Shiva wonders, have his brothers ever espied Shiva's wife when she is in her Kali manifestation?”
“You have a demon to slay?” asked Durga eagerly, spinning her swords.
“Shiva!” came a honey-soaked female voice.
“Hail, Parvati patni,” said Shiva to his wife.
“Whatever are you doing?” asked the gorgeous goddess, who was holding a large plastic bag in one slim hand and a small, elephant-headed child in the other. “You promised to take out the recycling ages ago!” she said, handing off the bag to Shiva.
“I am Durga!” said Durga.
“Yes, hello there dear,” said Parvati. “Would you mind holding the baby?” she asked, handing over tiny Ganesha to Durga.
“Coochie-coo!' said Durga, tickling the baby under his trunk.
“Shiva and his brothers used the holy light of their bodies to create a great demon-slayer,” explained Shiva.
“Well, that is very nice, Shiva pati,” said Parvati, who was adjusting her slipper on her foot. “And what is the hold up here?”
“To avenge the terrible demon, Mahishasura, who has turned day into night, and night into day!”
“Yes, yes, it's getting rather impossible to know when to put out the laundry to dry,” agreed Parvati.
“And who has unleashed a reign of terror on heaven, the earth, as well as the nether regions.”
“Well, I've always stated that the nether regions can bloody well take care of themselves,” stated Parvati. “Now, what is the issue?”
“Can't you see, woman?” blustered Great Brahma. “Such nonsense! Our slayer is a female!”
Parvati arched a single elegant eyebrow and stared at Brahma, who, after a time, harrumphed and looked away.
“Now, Shiva pati, here is what you need to do,” said Parvati. “Construct her a shining golden army, and send her on her way! Demons are not going to slay themselves, I always say! Oh, and do remember to separate out the glass, they get to tiresome about it. Come here, you,” she concluded, holding out her arms to receive baby Ganesha. “Time for somebody's bath!”
“Bye-bye!” sang the baby, waving four little hands as Parvati bore him away.
Watching her go, Vishnu made a whip-like noise at Shiva.
Shiva rounded, bringing the bag of recycling down on Vishnu's head. The bag split, sending bottles and aluminum cans rolling everywhere.
“Ow!” said Vishnu.
“Will you two quit squabbling!” demanded Brahma.
“Can I have my army now?” asked Durga, studying several dozen fingernails. “I'd like to get slaying.”
“And so the Triumuti fixed for me a splendid golden army, which I did lead to war against the fiend, Mahisashura. And we met on the field of battle, and there were great casualties on both sides. For forty days and forty nights we battled. But one by one, I slew Mahisashura's warriors, until only he remained standing.”
“Oooooo!” Three children sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Durga, listening raptly to every word.
“Look, I don't wanna be an asshole,” interrupted Charles.
“But you make a great asshole,” laughed Nathan, to general merriment.
“Durga,” Charles persisted. “What does this have to do with the Abyss?”
“List, and I will tell you,” Durga told the toddlers sitting before her, who all leaned forward, mouths open.
“Surrender, Mahisashura!” demanded Durga.
“Tschk,” lisped Mahisashura, twirling his booshy mustache. “Why schould I schurrender?”
“Well, let's tote it up,”said Durga, holding out another arm with another sword for each point. “Your army is decimated, my army has you surrounded, and I have my sword point on your evil neck!”
“Haven't you ever scheen a horror movie, dearie?” said Mahisashura.
“What is a 'movie?'” asked Durga. “I have no knowledge of this magic.”
“The villain alwaysch getsch the last laugh!” taunted Mahisashura.
“You won't be laughing so loud when I cut out your tongue,” warned Durga. But suddenly, the goddess looked up. It was such a soft sound, a strange sound. So like a song. The call of a chorus, so very far away.
A sound not of this earth.
Somehow, in the middle of the battlefield, while her army gathered around, there appeared a rift in reality: an opening, just about the size of a man.
With a terrible laugh, Mahisashura leapt away from Durga and, before any of her swords could find him, plummeted into the hole. The goddess lunged, but somehow, just as quickly as it had appeared, it was no more, and so she stood, swords poised, the villain having 'scaped.
“Well, fuck this shit!” growled Durga, throwing down her sabers.
“Auntie?”
“Yes!” snapped Durga, who was obviously still angry about the whole deal. And then more softly, “Yes, Ganesha Beta?”
“Mahisashura?” asked Ganesh, who had his cell phone out.
“That ASSHOLE,” spat the goddess.
“That was the way he spoke? He had, er, a distinctive speech pattern?”
“I recall as if it were yesterday, and he was sitting right across the room!” declared Durga.
“Hrm,” said Ganesh, staring at his phone. “Apologies for the interruption. Please do go on.”
“More stowwy!” yelled several toddlers.
“He went where, dearie?” asked Vishnu, staring skeptically over his sunglasses.
“I don't fucking know, dearie,” growled Durga.
“All right, all right, don't get emotional!” said Vishnu, waving several hands.
“Don't you two squabble, you'll upset the baby!” scolded Parvati, holding out a handkerchief to Ganesha's little trunk. “Now, blow!” she urged the tot, who obligingly sneezed.
The gods and goddess stood (or paced irritably) on the porch of Brahma’s cozy house in the Heavens, the smell of one of Sarasvati’s delicious pies wafting out the door.
“I believe I know where he went,” sighed Great Brahma.
“What?” asked Vishnu.
“Where?” demanded Durga. “My swords await him!”
“He has obviously disappeared into the Abyss,” sighed Brahma.
“What, Brahma, not the Creator's unholy eyesore!” wailed Vishnu.
“But Shiva believes the paint is not yet dry on that edifice!” put in Shiva.
“That bit of property in the nether regions?” asked Parvati.
“Neber wegion!” chorused tiny Ganesha.
“Yes, we granted him an easement,” said Brahma. “He said it would be no problem, going to fence it all in. Fence of copper and iron: good quality!”
“Not one of those horrible wire things! Those are so tacky,” moaned Vishnu.
“Shiva has always favored classy ornamental iron,” commented Shiva.
“Yes, but people tend to pop in their beer bottles through the pickets,” sighed Vishnu.
“Perhaps in your neighborhood, Vishnu bhaii,” said Shiva, as the two brothers scowled at each other.
“And the Creator said he would post a guard. Gated community! Very upscale,” concluded Brahma.
“Never anything good can come in the nether regions,” said Parvati, shaking her head.
“What shall we do?” asked Shiva. “We cannot let the menace of Mahisashura continue to plague our land!”
“Well,” said Parvati, gently burping little Ganesha, “it sounds as if you must craft Durga another army….”
“But we already crafted her a shining golden army!” blustered Brahma.
“Then craft her a sparkling jeweled army this time,” sighed Parvati. “I swear, do I have to think of everything? And then she will pursue Mahisashura into the Abyss. It is the only way!”
“Yes, a sparkling jeweled army!” said Durga. “I will hunt him down, and he will have my swords!”
“Little dears!” came a trill from inside the house. “Dinner is ready! Do come inside before the sacred cow gets cold.”
“Yes Sarasvati my pet!” called Brahma.
“You can ride one of our tigers, dear,” said Parvati, leading Durga into the house. “It’s really the only way to ride into battle, I’ve found.”
“Boy, those guys sprang for a lot armies,” muttered Charles, who had been toting up the accounting in his head and not liking the mental spreadsheets. Ganesh grinned and started to sip his spiked coffee, but Charles snatched it out of his hand and took a swig instead.
“Things were different in those days!” declared Wotan, settling back in his chair.
“Easier to recruit?” asked Raziel, who was sitting on the arm of the chair.
“They would march off just for the glory of it!” said Wotan. “Nowadays, there’s union regulations, health and safety requirements, regimental taxes….”
“Governments all want their share,” reasoned Raziel.
“Not to mention the pension funds!” said Wotan.
“There was to be no need of such a thing,” said Durga.
“Yes, those were different times,” said Wotan.
“No, that is not the reason,” said Durga. “For I rode out from there, leading my shining jeweled army, to the mouth of the Abyss. And there, as we descended, down and down, down and down, along the narrow ledge, barely wide enough for a horseman to pass, we were beset: a flurry of poisoned arrows, from every direction, we could tell not where! One by one, one by one, they fell, my mighty warriors, and their mounts, man and beast, until at last, when I stepped to the very bottom of the Abyss, there remained not a one, and only I, I alone, remained alive.”
“Ooooo!” chorused Elias and Liam and Abby from the floor.
Charles felt something in his hand. It was Ganesh, who had quieted, and had silently slipped his hand into Charles’. Charles said nothing, but gripped back.
“Where you headed, sweetheart?”
Fortunately for her, the flurry of poisoned arrows had ceased once Durga and her faithful tiger had finally reached the floor of the Abyss. Knowing not what else to do, she had ridden along what looked like a coastline until at last she had come to a great river delta. She rode her sure-footed cat along the muddy banks to where the river widened and cleared. She soon spotted what looked like a watercraft moored to a rickety dock.
“I am seeking the dread demon, Mahisashura!” she told the skinny bearded man who was scraping barnacles off a broken-down looking water taxi.
“Yeppers, yeppers. Temple, head of the river. That’s where that sort goes.”
“Can you convey me?” asked Durga.
“Whelp. I won’t be able to convey that one,” he said, shaking his scraper at the tiger, who growled low. “No room for kitties. And I’ll need something of value from you. The traditional is a gold coin.”
“I haven’t any money. Would this serve?” she asked, holding out one of her jeweled sabers.
“That oughter do,” said the skinny old man, wiping off his hands on a much used rag to accept the saber. “I’m your Cap’n Chauron, by the way. You can call me Cap’n, or you can call me Chauron, or you can call me you motherfucker, it’s all the same to me.”
Bidding a tearful farewell to her faithful mount, Durga boarded Chauron’s boat, and with a great puttering, the engine was fired up, and they started up the river. It was a lazy journey, which took many weeks, as the river was swift, but the boat was not. They stopped at several villages along the way, although the captain never left the boat. Durga would often go ashore, and was much surprised to find that the residents were friendly towards her. When she inquired of Mahisashura, however, all knew the name, but none would talk. They would only go quiet, and point upriver.
Finally, she noticed an edifice nearing in the distance, its great tops peeking, at certain river bends, from the hazy tangle of jungle growth. It was a magnificent temple, with great spires poking up here and there. Sometimes one could see movement: troops of monkeys, or flocks of birds which had come to rest. As they neared, Durga became aware that each spire was intricately carved with many hundreds – or even thousands – of effigies: there were monkeys and birds, tigers and elephants, gods and men, all writhing and stomping and standing and crawling over the vast surface of the spires. It took a full three days from when she first espied the edifices in the distance to when they finally pulled up ashore, the greatest temple now looming over them like an ill prophecy.
“This is where you get off, darlin’,” said the Captain. “I don’t leave the boat. Never have, never will.”
Durga bid the captain farewell, and, keeping her sabers at the ready, debarked for the final time. She heard the song of many birds, and heard monkeys calling, but saw no signs of life. She walked through the windy courtyard to the entrance of the main temple building. She paused for a moment at the bottom of the great stone steps, gazing up in wonder at the many many carvings that made up the temple wall. Durga, it must be remembered, was very new to the earth and elsewhere, and had never regarded such a sight.
But she was on a mission, so she began to climb the temple steps, sandaled feet sure in their grip. She blinked at the entryway, crossing from the bright tropical sunlight into the dim interior. She was much surprised at what she beheld inside: it was as if the outer walls had been twisted inwards, folded and folded many times over, reflections on reflections, and now she regarded a gorgeous maze of stone carvings: tigers and camels and birds and lions and horses, any mythical beasts of all sorts. They stood and pranced and danced along the walls and columns and archways.
And then, a movement. Just in the corner of her eye.
Durga did not turn, but raised her weapons.
“I have been waiting for you, Durga,” chuckled Mahisashura. “Onsche, you defeated me and my army, but now you will find, I am the maschter.”
“Only a master of evil, Mahisashura.” And no sooner had she spoken than she struck. Mahisashura struck and retreated, no doubt using his knowledge of the temple layout to try and deceive Durga. But a goddess of wrath is not easily fooled, nor foolishly distracted. And so they clashed, until at last, Mahisashura extended a pair of leathery wings and fled out the temple door.
“You won’t escape me that way,” laughed Durga. Because though she could not fly, she could fight.
It was not a quick battle. For forty days and forty nights, they clashed: through the phases of the moon.
And it was at night, under the full moon, that finally Durga landed the fatal blow, ripping one of Mahisashura’s long black wings. He fell to earth, wailing in pain, and soon the goddess was over him, sword at his throat.
“Durga,” he pleaded. “I know you are my death. May I aschk one lascht requescht?”
“You have been a worthy adversary, Mahisashura. I will grant it, if I am able,” pledged Durga.
“My barrow: it would be dishonorable for me to have no wealth there.”
“I can leave one of my swords,” offered Durga.
“Thank you, that would be most honorable,” said Mahisashura.
And so Durga slew the demon Mahisashura, and then she buried him, and laid beside him the very sword she used to slit his throat.
She stood for a long while at the gravesite, wondering how she would ever return home, as Chauron’s boat had long since departed, and she had given up he tiger mount.
And then she heard it. It was not the wind, nor the call of a bird.
It was a very soft sound, a slight sound. Much like a song. The call of a chorus, but very far away.
She looked up. It was like an opening. A tear in the fabric of reality.
She did not know why, but she stepped through.
And then for a moment, all was darkness.
“Well, hello there dear! Would you like some nice sacred cow steak?” inquired Sarasvati, wiping her hands on her apron.
“What is this nonsense!” barked Great Brahma as Durga leapt up to her feet.
“Where am I?” asked Durga.
“You’re just in time for dinner!” said Sarasvati.
“What the bloody hell? What happened to Mahisashura?” asked Brahma.
“I slew him. Down in the Abyss,” Durga told him. “I have been gone many days and nights. I do not know how I ended up here.”
“Well, all’s well that ends well, I always say,” said Sarasvati. “You must stay for some pie.”
“I need some time to think this over, Wotan,” said Charles.
“Aye, me as well,” agreed the god. “I had heard the Abyss was a land of warfare, but this sounded like a boat ride in the countryside.” They stood in entryway at Valhalla, along with Ganesh and Raziel, the rest of the visitors having departed.
“Well, other than getting her entire army slain,” said Charles. “I just don’t know what to make of it.”
“It’s been a long time ago. Memories fade,” said Wotan.
“My auntie has a mind like a steel trap,” laughed Ganesh.
“Well, be that as it may,” said Wotan. “Sleep on it, and let me know.”
Charles nodded uncertainly, and, turning, Walked off with Ganesh and Elias.
“So what was all the doodling on your phone?” Charles asked Ganesh.
“I’ve been looking for images,” said Ganesh. “Our demon friend.”
“That's Mahisashura?” asked Charles, squinting into Ganesh's smart phone.
“Yes. Strange, isn't it?” said Ganesh as they stood in the hallway in Mordhaus just outside the door of Charles' office.
“A draugr, maybe?”
“Perhaps.”
“You don't remember him?” asked Charles. “Mahisashura?”
“Dimly, but I was quite tiny,” said Ganesh, putting the phone away in a jacket pocket. “Even smaller than this one,” he said, looking down at Elias.
“Boonie id da bid boy!” Elias told him.
“Yes you are a big boy!” agreed Ganesh. “So, you can watch him for a while?” he asked Charles.
“Yeah, sure. You'll help Daddy work?” Charles asked, extending a hand.
“Uh-huh!” promised Elias, his dog adding a small agreeing bark.
Elias was very soon spread out on the carpet of Charles' office, quietly creating a Basilica out of LEGO or some such, and Charles was just as soon swept away by the quarterly reports. When he thought about this later, he wasn't certain how much time had slipped by. For although he wore the world's most expensive watch, he rarely consulted it while lost in his accounts.
“Look, Daddy, loooooook!”
“Yes, that’s nice,” Charles told his laptop screen.
“Daddy! Da ‘Byss!”
“The what?”
Charles heard the sound of many pairs of running feet. He looked up, and noticed that the shadows in his office had grown decidedly longer.
And then….
It was such a soft sound. Perhaps none other than angel ears might have caught it. So like a song. The call of a chorus, so very far away.
Not a human chorus.
Charles was on his feet.
“Da ‘Byss Daddy!”
“BOON STAY AWAY FROM THERE!” Charles didn’t go around the desk, he was over it, in one leap, bounding across the room, inches away from Elias’ retreating back.
His fingers caught air as the boy disappeared into wormhole, Murgatroyd a fraction of a second behind. And then it closed, that slight gap in the universe which had somehow found its way into Charles’ office, and he was left, frantic, alone, fingernails scraping desperately on the floor.
The desperate cry split the night.
“BOON!”
