Red Tag (Mythklok Chapter 100) (Part 1 of 2)

[tikific]

Title: Red Tag (Mythklok Chapter 100)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A search and rescue mission blah blah blah.
Warnings: Just the usual nonsense
Notes: After jump


Part 1 of 2




Last time: we built a bridge and made calamari.

Holy fuck. I made it to 100.



I do not understand the human fascination with simpering angels.

I am an angel. I am Seraph.

I am terrible.

…

Well, I was pretty terrible.

Before I got mixed up with these douche bags.

For aeons, I devoted my absolute loyalty to Him. My every move, every breath, was dedicated to His Purpose.

For this dog-like devotion, I was rewarded by spending years locked up in a box by an unstable half-angel and her earth god fuck toy.

And then She granted my release, and restoration to my former glory and more!

Only to be once again be terribly mutilated by that devious cunt, Raziel.

And Sariel, my lovely little Sariel, now humiliating himself with that philandering earth god.

He does not know a love like mine. There is no love like mine….



“The dumb Seraph fuck has a fucking Bumblr account?”

“Yes, your son and I have been following it for quite some time. No one pays attention to his more emo text posts, however, he also constructs some rather amusing animated GIFs. Have you seen The Avengers?

Jacque glared at Edgar, electrodes taped all over his sweating forehead like a bizarre case of measles.

Jacque tapped out his cigar. “No, I haven’t fucking seen the fucking Avengers.”

“Well, there is a rather clever photoset showing Tony Stark, Bruce Banner and Captain America….”

“Edgar!”

“Stark Spangled Banner! Clever, I think-”

“EDGAR.”

“Yes, Jacque?” asked the bespectacled Jomfru.

“Do like we said.” Mordhaus creaked, and rocked violently. “And fucking prioritize it.”

Jacque turned on a heel and began to march out, machetes clanging at his waist.

“Wait, don’t you want to know what the whales have to say about this?” inquired Edgar.

Jacque stopped on a dime. He turned around. He stood for a moment, fixing Edgar with a pair dark, almost black eyes.

“Do I LOOK like I give a motherfuck about the fucking whales?”

And then Jacque was gone in a puff of cigar smoke.

“Just asking,” muttered Edgar into his keyboard.



“Come Mr. Tally man tally me bananas….”

“Raz, dude! Will you QUIT FUCKING SINGING!”

“Daylight come and me wanna go home!” sang Raziel,

“I thought angels were supposed to have, you know, angelic voices and shit!” Nathan grumped.

“Not me, you’re thinking about my kids,” she laughed.

“Six han’ seben han’ eigh han’ BUNCH!” sang the kids, in harmony rather a lot better than their mother. From somewhere up overhead, they heard Skwisgaar’s guitar first echo the same notes, and then crash into a much heavier version of the same tune.

“Whoa, death metal banana boat,” said Nathan, who was honestly impressed.

“I’m just trying to pass the time! I thought you said you were bored, Nathan?”

“I AM BORED!” groused the lead singer. They both sat at the stern of Charon’s boat, watching the river go by. They had left the Koori back with the Men in Black and the Jordanaires at the bridge, so, lacking their magic, the boat had contracted back to a smallish rusty hulk.

The river had petered out to become not so much a river as a meandering stream. This had delayed progress, as Charon now had to stop occasionally to sound the depths. The river, he told them, had changed course since he had last been up this way, many, many years ago.

“Why don’t you go with the rest of the guys and zap fish with Thor’s hammer?” suggested Raziel.

“Aw, that guy is KIND OF A DOUCHE.”

“No he’s not,” said Raziel.

“What?” said Nathan.

“Naw, he’s a total douche,” grinned Raziel, scratching the tigeress, Serain, behind her orange tiger ears.

“But isn’t he your kid? I mean, sort of?”

“Aw, even Wotan admits now his parenting methods might have been lacking. Though Ganesha turned out OK.”

“Why is Wotan Ganesh’s uncle? Why is every fucking body his uncle? Wait! Am I his uncle?” said Nathan, who hadn’t really thought it through fully before.

“Ganesh has a big family, but those guys also use ‘uncle’ as a term of respect for older gods.”

“Oh, the guys with tentacles?” asked Nathan.

“No, that’s the elder gods, Nathan.”

“Oh, well it’s FUCKING CONFUSING. Especially because not everybody is your family.”

“Wotan thinks we’re all family,” said Raziel.

“What? Really? But, he’s a smart dude,” mused Nathan.

“He is a smart dude,” laughed Raziel.

“Lady Raziel!” came a call from the front of the boat. Raziel jumped up and hastened to the bow.

“Dead ahead,” said Charon, pointing the way.

“WHOA!” said Nathan, who had come up behind the little angel. It was definitely the temple grounds, but it looked like it had been hit by some combination of a typhoon, a whirlwind, and maybe a plague of frogs for good measure.

Or perhaps it had experienced a Dethklok concert.

“This was faster than I expected,” said Raziel.

“This ain’t where we landed your Auntie Durga,” said Charon, who was already tying up. He spat off the side of the boat. “River’s path has completely changed.”

“Yeah, this looks like we’ve come around the back way,” commented Raziel. “Hey, Toki, did any of your scrapbook photos survive?”

The guitarist pulled out a stack of damp, sticky photos. Raziel combed through the stack while she walked down the gangplank, along with the band and Thor. “We can try to match ‘em, maybe we can figure out where Boon is.”

“He’sch that way,” said Murderface, pointing off in the distance.

“What?” said Raziel.

“Hisch dog piddled on that busch!” said the bassist, indicating the nearby underbrush.

“How the fuck do you-“ Nathan began.

“Don’t ask!” said Raziel. “OK, William, Dick, you’re with me. Thor, take the rest of Dethklok and sweep nearby to see if you can locate Sariel or Ganesh. You’re just searching you are NOT engaging. Understood?”

“Yes, Lady,” agreed Thor.

“Kids!” she said, as the twins fluttered up, Abby holding a tiger kitten. “You two, keep Geri and Freki, and stay here with Charon in case anybody shows up at the boat. Do not let anybody on that boat unless it’s one us, understood?”

“Yes mummy!” they chorused. A tiger kitten squeaked.



“Daddy!”

Charles was down on his knees, a little one wrapped up safely in his large wings, two little sets of arms hugging him back tightly.

“Daddydaddydaddy!” said Elias, pushing himself back, all excited. Reluctantly – very reluctantly – Charles let his wings go slack. “An' wen' in da hole, an' Mugga-toad, an’ draw da bidchur, an' Nana!” Elias told him, gesticulating everywhere, needing to tell him everything about everything.

Charles looked up. Indeed, Anna the ghost was now standing before him. “Anna. What happened?” he asked.

“Oh my god, what a time!” she said, plopping down next to him. “So, I was trying to possess the wolves, you know? But, it wasn't working, and Nephthys and I thought they were too big. So I thought, a puppy! That’s about right! Only, whoa! He’s not a puppy!” she said, pointing to Murgatroyd, who yipped happily. “And then I was trying to get out, and I thought I had it, but just then I saw Boon jumping away from you, so I just decided I needed to hang on. And we got here. And, I don’t know where 'here' is. But I just fell out of Murgatroyd. And we walked around a little, but it’s pretty destroyed, and I think it’s kind of dangerous. I don't know how I know, but I know, you know?

“But I found this building, the one over there? And I think it was a library or something, because it's full of books, and it’s sort of intact, so we hung out here, and we read stories, and he had a pen, so I let him tear up the books to draw. I hope that was OK!”

“No. No. That was fine. You did just fine,” said Charles. “You scared your Daddy, you know?” he told Elias, who immediately got teary eyed and gripped him with all his strength, weeping piteously into Charles’ side. “No, no, it’s OK,” Charles, suddenly feeling like the meanest father on earth, reassured him. “It’s all right. It’s gonna be all right.”

“He was scared a little bit,” said Anna. “But he’s been pretty good. Like I said, I think there’s bad stuff, especially at night, but Murgatroyd will go after it, and that seems to be enough. So, maybe it’s just squirrels?”

“Maybe. Anyway. Hey, Boon, look who I brought along!” said Charles, placing the weepy Boon down on the ground. He reached out a hand, as if to draw a sword, but instead produced two well-worn plush animals.

“Wunge! Lelefun!” squealed Elias, hugging them to him. Murgatroyd put his little paws on Elias’ legs, sniffing at the toys as well.

“Yeah, you keep away from Wunge, Murgatroyd. So, come along,” he said, standing and taking Elias by the hand. “We’re getting out of here.”

“Uh,” said Anna.

“What is it?” he asked, putting a hand through Elias’ short hair.

“Well, there’s a thing, see, and I don’t know if I did right or I messed up?”

“Messed up how?” asked Charles, careful to keep his voice even. He felt a sudden dread, gnawing away at the pit of his stomach, and wasn’t quite sure why.

“Well, we got hungry and thirsty. And there was this good spring to drink from. But we also ate the fruits.”

“You ate the pomegranates?” said Charles, looking worriedly at the trees nearby. They were heavily laden with fruit.

“Yeah, I mean, he got hungry, and I get weird if I don’t eat. But, you know, I’ve also read stories about this stuff. In college. You get into trouble that way, right?”

“You were fine. Everything will be all right.” His throat was tightening, and then Murgatroyd was yipping up a storm.

“Whoa, holy crackers!” said Anna, as Murgatroyd suddenly transformed once again into a huge wolf.

Charles pulled Elias up onto his hip and rested a hand on the hilt of his sword.

But it was nothing but an old man. “Ah, Sariel, here for a visitation I see,” He said pleasantly, ignoring Murgatroyd’s snarling.

“Who is that?” whispered Anna.

“That? My Father.”

“You mean…?” asked the girl.

“Yeah. He’s kind of an asshole,” warned Charles. More loudly, he said, “What are you talking about, Father? I’m here to take him back.”

“Well, now, I suppose you’ve heard our little complication from your servant?” smiled the old man. There was a coldness to the smile.

“Anna is my friend. She’s not a servant.”

“Ate of my food. Drank of my water. He has,” smiled the Creator.

“I don’t care.”

“But, as I am a benevolent Father, I suppose we could arrange some kind of joint custody. Perhaps alternating weekends?”

“You are not getting him, not for one hour, one minute, one second,” said Charles.

“Well it’s clear you are not a suitable guardian for my creation! You are raising him as a heathen, Sariel! He bears the mark of the beast!” said the Creator, pointing to the red mark on Elias’ forehead.

“That’s a tilaka mark. As you damn well know. You have tea with fucking Ganesh every weekend!”

“I lost one son. To earth. I am not losing another,” vowed the old man.

“He’s not your son. He’s mine. Mine and-“ Charles paused. It seemed so far off, the sound. Like a distant drumming.

But there it was, the thunder of hoofbeats, the black horse, hooves that sparked the ground, snorting fire, and here it pulled up, as Murgatroyd was suddenly a squealing pup again, delirious with happiness.

“BAAP!” squealed Elias.

“Eliu! Beta!” shouted Ganesh, who was off Ashva in one great leap, and then had arms all over and around his son, kissing him on the top of the head and on his arms and twirling him around. “Beta Beta Beta!”

“Baap!” grinned Elias.

“Beta!”

“Beta. It means son, does it not?” asked the old man.

Ganesh pulled Elias in closer. “What is He doing here?” he asked, and suddenly his voice held a darkness.

“Ganesh. Elias ate pomegranates,” said Charles. “His pomegranates.”

“Shit, I really messed up, didn’t I?” said Anna.

“It’s OK. It’s OK,” Charles told her, though he thought no such thing.

Ganesh set down Elias. “Go to your Daddy,” he whispered. He looked at Ashva. “Go. Fetch the others.” And the horse was off in a shower of smoke and sparks.

He turned to the Creator, his dark eyes full of fire. “I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

“Now, earth God,” began the Creator.

Ganesh took a step towards the old man, sending the entire valley trembling.

The Creator took a step back. “Do not challenge me, Shri Ganesha. You will not survive.”

“You will not have my son,” said Ganesh.

“I have observed your servant. Have you met mine? They are loyal too,” said the Creator. “GOG! MAGOG!”

Charles and Ganesh drew closer together. It was as if every shadow in the forest was moving. And then they were near: black shapes that consolidated into human-like figures, assembling in the clearing.

There was a growl. Murgatroyd had grown back to his monster wolven form, and was wailing, his hackles up.

But the shadows ignored them, and instead, oddly enough, began to pile up on one another, upward and every upward, like circus acrobats.

“What is this, fucking Pilobolus?” asked Charles, who remembered Ganesh dragging him to a stupid modern dance performance.

It resembled the side of the ruined temple, so many writhing figures, one on top of each other.

And then the figures began to slowly consolidate, commingling to create just one monstrous figure. Big as a house, big as a hill.... A shadow, big as a mountainside.

It stepped to the side. The valley trembled.

“What is that … thing?” asked Anna.

“It isn’t good,” said Ganesh.



They were a green and gold cloud, hovering in the sky above Mordhaus.

And they had been standing at the ready for what seemed like days. Powers are loyal sorts, and deadly archers, but they are not the most patient of beings.

“Orders, sire?” asked the lieutenant, whose name, if it had mattered to anyone, was Castiel. He had no reason to expect orders, but his own men had been fluttering up to him, nervously inquiring.

The big Seraph stood hunched over in back of the chariot. Despite the situation, he was Court Formed. This one rarely True Formed any more. He had been wounded – he had but one flight wing remaining – and he was obviously self-conscious about it. Castiel wanted to talk to him, to reassure him his legions didn’t think any less of him. But this one didn’t seem inclined to talk. At least not to a being as lowly as a Power.

Now, General Phanuel – there was a good guy. Castiel had liked serving Phanuel. He would always chat, and sometimes he would even invite his lieutenants to have a drink with him.

Castiel leaned closer. The Seraph had just muttered something to him.

“I am sorry, Venerated Brother Uriah?”

The Seraph glared up from the little human object he was fiddling with. It looked slightly ridiculous in his large hands. He waved the screen at Castiel, who saw a cartoon of an envelope with a little red number hovering over it. “Fool! Can you not see? MY ASK BOX IS FULL!” thundered the big angel.

“Yes, sire,” said Castiel, who turned, caught an air current with his striking green-gold wings and retreated.

He soared above his troops, all of them now flapping and fluttering discontentedly. This was not a good thing. This was a bad thing. The waiting.

He spotted one of his captains beckoning to him, and gracefully soared over. Probably idle gossip. Powers weren’t talented gossips like Cherubs, but it passed the time.

But there was an unexpected member in the flock. It took Castiel a moment to search for the name. “Honored Engelbert?” he asked. Castiel was fairly good at names, for a Power.

“He brings tidings! From….” The captain looked around stealthily. “Venerated Brother Phanuel,” he whispered.

“Phanuel!” said Castiel.

“He requests a favor of my Honored Brothers,” said Engelbert.

“What is it?” asked Castiel, as the other Powers’ crowded eagerly around.



Uriah, slumped in the corner of his chariot, looked up from attending to his ask box. “And that is why those are my three favorite flowers,” he typed. He was so glad he hand enabled anons! He peered around. Something seemed out of place. His driver was gone: that was definitely weird.

Uriah stood. He was now not simply all alone in his chariot: he was alone in his corner of the sky, all his archers now massed around Mordhaus, bows in hand, arrows at the ready.

“Wait!” he shouted. “Do not attack! I GAVE NO ORDER!”

The beep was soft. He turned to his small handheld device. His cartoon envelope runneth over.

He looked back over his troops. And back to his Ask box.



“This way, William?” asked Raziel.

Murderface, oddly enough, had transformed into his black demon-winged Form nearly as soon as they had left the boat. He seemed more a creature than a man, scrabbling about on all fours, sniffing at the plants.

“Thisch way! Thisch way!” he urged, undulating off.

Raziel, like most angels, hadn’t a lot of experience with demons, though, unlike most angels, she also harbored very few prejudices regarding their kind. What Murderface in his Draugr form reminder her most was some rather large bats she had seen when she had been traveling in India with Ganesha. When such creatures walked, they used their large wings as another set of legs.

William suddenly paused and sniffed. “There’sch something wrong here.”

“The shadows, baby. They ain’t shadows.”

“What do you mean, Dick?” asked Raziel. The record produce was still politely Court Formed, meaning he was seeing through his blinking robotic eyes. He squatted down and picked up a rock, and then threw it, seemingly at random, into the jungle.

Raziel blinked. Something she could have sworn was a bit of shade suddenly scampered away. It was small, like some kind of rodent.

“OK,” said Raziel, getting a grip on her sword. “I guess the safest thing is to keep our distance from the thick jungle. And try to make this quick. Which way, Willliam?”

“I think it’sch-“ But he was never to finish the sentence. It came streaking from the jungle, and pounced right on William, who let out a strangled scream.

“Oh! Hi Serani!” said Raziel, going to pet the tiger.

“Why do they alwaysch pick on me?” wailed Murderface from somewhere under several hundred pounds of cat.

“You’re irresistible baby!” laughed Knubbler.

“This is great! So we know Sariel made it!” said Raziel.

“Can you get thisch thing off-“ started Murderface, before he received an affectionate lick of a sandpaper tongue. “Of me!”

“Come on, girl,” laughed Raziel, snapping her fingers. “You need to let William up so we can keep searching.”

The tigress agreeably switched her tail, and then bounded off the bassist.

“Wish we had Ganesha here, he can speak elephant,” said Raziel.

“Why would it help to speak elephant?” asked Murderface, brushing off much tiger fur from his black wings.

“Our tiger picked up the elephant language while it was working for Shiva,” said Raziel.

“I thought you could schpeak any language, Lady Raschiel,” said Murderface.

“Yeah, this one is a little obscure,” she said. She frowned at Serani. “OK. Uh, speak elephant, honored tiger?” she grunted, although her voice was many octaves higher than any pachyderm.

The tigress suddenly grinned a tiger grin, and leaned affectionately into Raziel, as would a large dog, nearly knocking over the little angel. She would have fallen over had Knubbler not grabbed her and pulled her back.

“Huh. Well, maybe she understands, but doesn’t speak?” said Raziel. “Hmm. Uh, Lady Tiger, can you help us?”

The tiger batted her lovely tiger eyes, and then turned tail and departed.

“But that’sch not the way!” protested Murderface.

“Maybe I said it wrong?” said Raziel. “Well, let’s go with her. See where she’s headed. You guys stick close, OK?”

To Raziel’s relief, the tiger walked boldly in the clearing. She seemed to be making her way towards the main temple building, which, though its top peak had broken off, was still the tallest structure in the complex.

“I wonder who built all thisch schit?” asked Murderface.

“I guess it was Our Father,” said Raziel.

“It’sch weird looking.”

“Yeah, I never cared for his taste either,” Raziel told him. “I always preferred minimalist design to – WILLIAM! Wait!” she shouted as he suddenly took off, clumsily flying on his bat wings.

Raziel was about to wing off herself, when she felt a hand on her arm. “It’s OK, Raz baby! I’ve seen the Willy demon do this before, yeah.”

“Whaddya mean?” asked Raziel. But Knubbler merely inclined his head, his robot eyes revealing nothing, so they walked around a bend in the path, to a very odd site. Serani the tigress sat, tiger smile on her face, switching her tail, while Murderface tore frantically, hands and clawed wings, at a mound of earth.

“It’sch a barrow!” he announced happily, not pausing in his frantic digging.

“I’ve seen him do this before, Raz baby,” said Knubbler. “Bound to be treasures there. He just can’t resist!”

“Shit, we don’t have time for this,” grumbled Raziel. “Huh. Is that Mahishasura’s grave?” she asked the tiger. The tiger offered a small growl. “Hum. Well, that’s a first,” she commented. “Look, Dick, we really need to find Sariel and Ganesha. Can you stay here with him ‘till he’s done with whatever? I’ll try to scout ahead.”

“Sure, Raz baby! William digs his barrows! Ha!”

Raziel ducked to dodge a dirt clod, and then told the tigress, “You watch these guys, I’m gonna try and find Sariel.”

The tiger just stared, so Raziel headed off, intending to make a big circle around the temple buildings. She stayed clear of the thick jungle, concerned now about what was hidden within.

She was around what must have been the front of the great temple now, where Charon’s boat had ferried Durga, so many years ago. The river here now had faded to a small tributary.

Raziel stopped short, thinking she saw some movement in the reeds next to what was left of the river. Holding on to her sword, she approached.

“Hello?” she said.



“Look, I found THE HORSE!” said Nathan proudly, holding the bridle.

Ashva snorted derisively.

“Unless I miss my guess, that is indeed my brother’s demon horse,” said Thor. “Well met, Nathan Explosion!”

“But where’s Gannish dood?” asked Pickles.

“An’ where ams Charles?” put in Toki. “An’ Boom?”

“I feel certain he is not far away,” said Thor confidently.

“I dunno, T’or dood. Dere’s sum bad karma around dis place,” Pickles told him.

“Do not focus on your cares, friend Pickles,” counseled Thor.

“Somet’in ain’t right,” said Pickles. “An’ I t’ink I seen some o’ dem shadows movin’!” he said, pointing off to the jungle.

“Eh, what have you been SMOKING, Pickles,” chuckled Nathan.

“Dudes, look what I ams found!” said Skwisgaar, who had just headed back into the clearing.

“I found a badass HORSE!” bragged Nathan. “Is it better than that?”

“Ja, ams better!”

“Where da feck did yoo go, Skwisger,” asked Pickles. “We wuz supposed to stick togedder! Dat’s wut Raz said!”

“Pffft, Razizelses,” grumbled Skwisgaar, who was already ambling off. The others followed, Nathan leading Ashva.

“Raziel!” corrected Toki, though none could hear him. He hastened to go after them.

They walked past several ruined structures, to a smaller, oddly undecorated building. It had a door, but no windows.

“Sees!” said Skwisgaar, pointing up above the door. The single adornment to the building was a carving of what appeared to be a human skull.

A human skull with goat horns.

“OH MY GOD FACEBONES!” yelled Nathan, which somewhat annoyed Ashva. “I fucking LOVE FACEBONES!” He grabbed the door handle and rattled it mightily. “Shit! It’s LOCKED. I WANNA GET IN AND SEE FACEBONES!”

“Mebbe we ain’t supposed t’ get in,” speculated Pickles.

“Oh, Pickles, quit being an OLD LADY!” scolded Nathan. “Thor, dude, can we use your HAMMER? Just for a sec?”

“I dunno if dat’s a gud idea,” said Pickles. “Raz sed-”

“Come on, Thor!” urged Nathan, who quite literally pushed Pickles out of the way. The god didn’t need all that much urging. He raised his hammer high and gave the door a mighty thump.

“The door did not yield,” said Thor, casting a skeptical glance at his hammer.

But then there was a click, and the sound like air escaping, as if a seal had been broken.

And then there was a huge boom as the door suddenly exploded off its hinges and thundered outwards.

“DUCKS!” screamed Toki.



Mordhaus reeled once again.

“You sure this bullshit is gonna work?” shouted Jacque over the terrible din.

“Yes, this will work very well! My brother Powers are all very good archers!” said Engelbert, his wings arched up proudly.

Jacque stood, scowling while Edgar, in his sling near his computer array, and Wotan, Breagan and Pie the Klokateer, all standing nearby, looked on expectantly. “My boy will never forgive me if I break his fucking castle,” he muttered. “All right. Edgar? Cut the power.”

Edgar did not reply, but, sweating, typed on his ergonomic keyboard. “Power to suspensors is cut-“ he began. But suddenly, Mordhaus lurched, and then it was like the bottom dropped out as Mordhaus plummeted towards earth. For five … ten … fifteen seconds, everyone held their breath.

And then there was another lurch, like bouncing up and down and the end of a rubber band. And then they were swaying, as if in the wind..

Jacque made for the window, the rest (save Edgar) right on his heels.

“Holy shit. That’s a sight!” said Wotan.

Angels - a flock of heavenly charioteers - glided overhead. Connected to each golden chariot were cables, hundreds and thousands of cables sent down to Mordhaus, grounded everywhere by sturdy, anchor-like arrows.

As the angels soared, they glided downwards, towards a stretch of land near a smoking volcano. The great kraken – one alive, one undead – were still about, but now were pulling ineffectively on the suspensors.

“Call Surtr,” Jacque told Edgar, “and tell him to fire up the burners on his volcano!”



“What is that thing?” asked Anna.

It seemed almost as big as one of the temple buildings now: big as a Dethjet. Big as Mordhaus. The writhing had mostly stopped, though when it moved, you could see ripples of the individual shadow figures moving along the surface, positioning and repositioning themselves, thousands upon thousands of shadow people.

“I don’t know,” said Charles. “But I think it’s this place's version of Gog and Magog.”

It looked, more or less, like a tremendous two-headed human-like figure. The figure stomped, flexing its great arms, and snorted.

“Behold. My champions,” said the Creator, who was clearly very proud. “No being of woman born may defeat them.”

“Nobody born of woman? That leaves out … most everybody,” sighed Ganesh.

“For once we can’t call Raziel to save us,” agreed Charles.

“Hey look who I found everybody!” sang Raziel, who came ambling up as casually if she had just entered a rather decent cocktail party.

“Wanty Waz!” yelled Elias.

“Raziel!” said Charles. “And, Rev. Gantry?” he asked, regarding the smiling figure beside her.

Ganesh tore his eyes from Gog/Magog. “Rev. Gantry!”

“Here to offer salvation to those who’ve a mind!” announced the affable preacher as Raziel went to hug Elias.

“How did you get here? You cannot be here!” insisted the Creator, who suddenly did not seem quite so smug.

“I go where I will, Father. That’s how you made me,” smiled Rev. Gantry.

“I did not make you to go consorting with thieves and prostitutes!” snarled the Creator.

“Thieves and prostitutes are some of my biggest clients! Well, hello there, little one!” said Rev. Gantry, squatting down so he was eye to eye with Elias. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“BOON! An, dis many!” the boy told him, holding up two small fingers.

“Well, that’s a lot.”

“An’ Wunge, an’ Lelefun,” the boy explained. “An’ Muggatoad!” he concluded, as the dog had begun to yip for attention.

“Well, that’s a fine group of friends, young man! You must be very proud, Brother Sariel.”

Charles didn’t reply, but only nodded sadly, one hand in Elias’ hair.

“Boon wasn’t at my baptism party,” said Raziel.

“Well it looks like someone could stand an encounter with the water!” said Rev. Gantry, tracing Elias’ face with a big grin. “I see pomegranate juice all down your chin!”

“No!” said the Creator.

“Would you like to be washed in the blood of the lamb, young one?” asked Rev. Gantry.

“Da bwood a da wam?” asked Elias, wide-eyed.

“With your permission?” said Rev. Gantry, looking up to Ganesh.

“He has been steeped in my family’s traditions. I do not see why he should not follow those of your family as well,” said Ganesh, giving a polite namaste bow.

“You can’t do this!” said the Creator.

“Well of course we can. Have river, will travel!” said Rev. Gantry, extending a hand. Elias grabbed two of Rev. Gantry’s fingers, and pattered after him to the shallow river.

“I forbid this!” yelled the Creator.

“Oh, fuck off, Father,” said Raziel.

The Rev. Gantry and Elias were now ankle deep in the shallow stream. Gantry hunkered down and scooped up a palm full of water, which he sprinkled over Elias. “May you live with joy,” he said. But then he stood up, gawping.

The water had turned to running blood on Elias’ forehead.

“Well, that was unexpected,” said Gantry.

The boy grinned and hugged the reverend’s leg. “Boonie pwotect da Son!” he told the startled being. And then he turned and splashed out of the water. But a strange thing happened to him as soon as he reached dry land, for with every step, he grew and grew, turning to a child, and then an adolescent, and then a teenager, and, when he had finally walked back to where his fathers stood, astonished, he was a full grown young man.

“Oh, hell, he turned out handsome!” squealed Raziel. “I wish Abby were here to see.”

Elias did not speak, but smiled at Ganesh, extending a hand. His normally dark eyes glinted with silver, and he had extended his silver-tipped wings.

Ganesh stood still for a moment, and then dug in his belt and presented Elias with Durga’s sword. Elias smiled and accepted it. He then turned to Charles.

“You need something from me, don’t you?” asked Charles. Elias merely blinked his lovely silver-brown eyes.

“Hey you guysch!” It was the world’s biggest, most ungainly bat, suddenly hurtling into view. “Look what I found!” He alit, somewhat clumsily, nearby, a demon holding a jeweled sword.

“William! Where did you find that?” asked Ganesh.

“He was digging in Mahishasura’s grave when I left them,” said Raziel.

“Sariel!” said Ganesh. “That is Durga’s sword!”

“William,” said Charles. “I think we need that.”

“But, it’sch mine! I found it, fair and schquare!” said Murderface irritably.

“Well, William,” said Charles, “I think Boon needs it.”

“Eliasch! Where isch he?” asked Murderface. Charles nodded at Elias, who was standing serenely by his side. “Whoa,” said Murderface. “Lookin’ good, bro.”

“William, give him the danged sword! There’s gonna be an awesome sword fight!” said Raziel, who was growing impatient.

“I dunno-”

“Willy baby!” puffed Dick Knubbler, who had True Formed into a white angel to follow along. “They say they need it now, yeah!”

“Wait,” said Charles. “Don't.”

“What?” said Raziel.

Charles looked over at Elias. “I don't care what you look like. I don't care what the magic has done. You're a kid. You're my kid. You're.... You're not doing this.”

Elias did not reply, but only smiled.

“Sariel,” said Ganesh quietly, “I realize this is difficult for you, but it is his destiny.”

“NO!” said Charles stubbornly.

But Elias' hand was now on Charles' face. Charles was startled by how darned big it was. Elias closed his eyes, and, leaning down slightly, gently brought his forehead to touch that of his father. Charles stood silent and still for a long moment, but then edged back, wiping his eyes, the red tilaka mark from Elias' forhead having transferred onto his own.

He felt a nudge, and turned to see William Murderface handing him a jewel-hilted sword. With a nod, he took the sword, and, with trembling hands, presented to Elias.

Elias grinned and took the sword in his left hand. He made a clicking noise to Murgatroyd, who growled and Formed up to a snarling wolf again. And then he turned and strode towards the writing giant, Gog/Magog.

“Raziel,” whispered Charles, and she was suddenly at his side. “You guys.... You guys go find my band....”

“On the double!” said Raziel. “Dick! William! C'mon!” she said as she took wing.

“Come on, Willy Baby!” laughed Dick Knubbler.

“Dammit! You guysch know I'm not asch schkilled at the flying thing!” barked Murderface, half walking, half gliding after them.

Murgatroyd growled and lunged at the Gog/Magog giant. As it reeled back, out of balance, Elias winged up and gave it a sturdy whack on one arm.

Part of the arm fell off. As it fell, it broke into pieces: the shadowy figures.

The shadow creatures took a moment to get their bearings, and then rushed towards Charles, Ganesh and the rest.

“Get ready,” said Ganesh, flourishing his own sword.

“Rev. Gantry,” said Charles. “If you wanna stay behind Ganesh and me-”

“I did not come to bring peace, but a sword,” said Rev. Gantry, drawing a rather impressive blade.

“Nice!” said Charles. “And, Anna- Anna?”

Suddenly, a shadowy figure ran itself onto Charles' sword. Anna popped out of the slumping figure.

“Hey, I can possess these guys! They're not like dogs! They're stupid!” she laughed.

“OK, then,” said Charles.



“I simply no longer care to be his BFF!”

“Now, Edgar, chin up boy! Just a little while longer!” said Jacque, who was staring out the window. Wotan, astride the eight-legged Sleipnir, was guiding a large contingent of green-gold winged angels as they carefully lowered Mordhaus and its environs into the vicinity of Surtr's steaming hot volcano.

“Almost there,” said Jacque. “Get ready girl!”

“Ready when you are, darlin'!” the goddess, at her terminal, told Jacque.

“He is selfish and immature!” maintained Edgar.

“You don't have to marry him!” said Jacque. “Can't you just post a picture of kittens or some shit?”

“I am running low on amusing animated cat GIFs, as well as rabbits, dogs wearing safety cones, and red pandas.”

“How about some fucking penguins? They're pretty goddamed cute!” suggested Jacque.

“Edgar! Which member of the Avengers are you?” suggested Breagan.

“Done that,” sniffed Edgar.

“Your zombie apocalypse team?” asked Jacque.

“HOURS ago,” sighed Edgar.

Pie the Klokateer was looking out the window as well. “Tentacles?” he suggested.

“Ooooooo!” chorused Edgar, Breagan and Jacque. The former began typing frantically.

“Breagan, time to quit fucking around. We're in position. Prepare to jettison!”

“Preparing to jettison, captain!” she said, clicking on a mouse.

“On my mark.”


Up in his chariot, Uriah heard a very loud splash that sounded for all the world like a giant-squid draped suspsensor hitting a pool of hot magma.

He looked up, then glanced down at his smart phone screen.

“Tentacles do … that?” he asked.



“Instruments!” hollered Nathan, holding up the zither. “The building is full of instruments!”

“Pffft,” said Skwisgaar, picking shards of splintered door out of his hair.

“Dat is kinda lame, dood,” agreed Pickles.

“I have an affection for zither music!” protested Thor, who was doodling with his hammer.

“There's cooler instruments inside!” said Nathan. “They got everything!”

“Oh, ams like dat place in Hell,” said Toki, who was peeking in the doorway. “Oh, look at da tubacockles! Maybe we ams forms da marching bands!”

“Why ams we forms da marching bands, Toki,” pffted Skwisgaar. Dat ams stupids ideas.

“Ja, you ams gots da better ideas, Skwisgaar?”

“Toki. Dood. Wut if we played deat' metal?” asked Pickles.

“Why ams we do dat?” wailed Toki.

“Because we're a DEATH METAL BAND, Toki,” sighed Nathan.

“You ams not in da bands!” said Toki darkly.

“Wul, dood, technakally, dat's troo,” said Pickles.

“We ams never had da time for da frauditions,” reasoned Skwisgaar.

“Oh, I have been told I have a merry singing voice,” supplied Thor. “Would you like me to sing a Norse ballad?”

Ashva the horse snorted derisively.

“Oh, here you guys are!” said Raziel, as she swept in along with Dick Knubbler, Murderface puffing along behind.

“We found a room o' moosical instruments, Lady Raz!” said Pickles, holding up a xylophone.

“We were gonna play death metal but these guys are being DILDOS about it,” grumbled Nathan.

“Satanic music?” said Raziel, glancing at Dick Knubbler. “Yes, I think that would be perfect!”

“SEEEEEEE?” taunted Nathan as the rest of the band sulked.

“Babies, I think I know a boffo place for you to perform!” said Dick Knubbler, pointing to the ruined main temple. “Have you dug the acoustics in that place? It's trippy, baby, yeah!”

“But we'd hafta set up!” protested Pickles. “An' I don't pack in my own stuff,” the drummer insisted.

“That's fine, you got the best roadie ever, right here!” said Raziel, grabbing one of Thor's arms with a tiny hand.

“What do you say, woman?” asked the god.

“I ams wants you to find me da bestest geetar, and it should ams be better dan Skwisgaar's geetar,” instructed Toki, who, along with Murderface, was already hustling the god into the building containing the cache of instruments.

“And we need your help too, Raz baby!” said Dick Knubbler.

“Yeah?” asked the angel.

“Yeah, baby! I have the perfect place for Skwisgaar's solo!” he said, pointing up to the top of the ruined temple.

“Ja, I can do dat,” nodded Skwisgaar, confidently fingering his guitar.



The Charon's boat appeared to be empty.

Some shadowy figures approached. They stole up the gangplank.

Odd. It had been left unattended. Or almost so.

There were two small children playing on the deck.

Weird children: they had wings on their backs, like little fairies. And they were playing with odd, orange cats.

It wouldn't matter. Weird or not.

Soon they would be dead.

The figures stole closer.

“HI!” greeted one of the blue eyed children.

“DERI! FWEKI!” yelled the other.

The figures reeled, now chased down by a pari of horrible, huge, snarling beasts, while the kids fluttered overhead, laughing.

They streaked back down the gangplank, desperate for escape.

They heard the roar too late.

“Sewani!” cheered the children, as the large, ferocious tiger licked her chops.



Charles paused once again to watch his son.

The wolf and the boy were slowly making progress against the Gog/Magog giant. But Charles found himself tiring, as he presumed Ganesh and Rev. Gantry were as well, although they were doing there best not to show it.

Elias, small and lightning quick, would whack off bits of the clumsy giant, which would transform back to the shadow spirits. But the Creator had started a new trick: he was now adding smaller spirits to the mix, seemingly as quickly as Elias could dispense with them. They were stuck.

Not for the first time in his long existence, Charles wondered where the fuck Raziel had gotten to. They could definitely use another blade around here.

And then he heard it. He thought he was going insane at first, but Ganesh and Rev. Gantry both stopped as well, cocking an ear.

There was lightning coming down – probably Thor's hammer.

And then, in the middle of the Abyss, Satanic music stirred.

And there was a muffled scream. Charles turned. It wasn't Nathan, it was from the Creator.

“TURN THAT SHIT OFF!” screamed the old man, who sank to his knees, holding his ears.

“ELIAS!” screamed Charles. “KICK HIS ASS!”

His beautiful boy grinned back and him.

The Creator was on the ground. He appeared to be having a seizure.

The ground began to tremble.

“What's happening now?” asked Charles.

“This is his land,” said Ganesh, pausing to run though a couple of shadow creature. “I believe it is affected by his health.”

“So we gotta defeat him without bringing the whole thing down?”

“I believe that is the challenge,” noted Ganesh.

“He was always an annoying old bastard,” laughed Rev. Gantry, kicking a shadow creature in the balls.



“This is Nick Ibsen LIVE at Mordland, where it appears that Mordhaus has once again returned to earth. Can you comment, Connie.”

“Well, Nick, it appears that Mordhaus has indeed returned down to earth, borne down by a resplendent flock of psychedelic angels.”

“Is that true, Connie? And can I ask, what have you been smoking.”

“Only the best shit, I assure you, Nick!”

“And these were definitely angels, and not, as one would expect, horrible demons, Connie?”

“No indeed, Nick! And we have a spokesangel right here to tell us more!”

“That sounds interesting, Connie! HELLO, CELESTIAL MESSENGER!”

“I'm Bert!”



The shaking had gotten worse. Much worse.

It had gotten catastrophic, actually.

Both Raziel and Dick Knubbler were now in winged Form, and were spending their time flying overhead, trying to keep pieces of falling architecture from crushing the band, who played obliviously below. Raziel, who had just split a falling human figure from the side of the temple with her sword to keep it from smashing through Pickles' bass drum, turned and skillfully caught a plummeting elephant. “Oo, I bet the kids would like this!” she noted, flying it down from the ground.

No one paid much mind to the single band member Raziel had some time ago flown up to the very top of the broken temple.

Skwisgaar stubbornly held on as the shaking became worse, fingers picking out the solo of his life.

In his life, there had been so many solos.

He was not afraid of death.

His fingers flew, timing the bend of the notes with the bend of the earth. Imagining to himself that it was he – he controlling the shaking of the tectonic plate, he buckling the earth with sheer will.

Skwisgaar was a god. But the top of the temple, unfortunately, was made brick and mortar. At the last possible moment, he reached out, just a second too late, skilled fingers desperately tracing the top of the wall. And then gravity had him, he clutched his guitar to him and let himself be taken, falling free as the entire top of the temple went crashing down.

For a moment, he hung suspended in air. Then he gasped, the wind knocked out of him. It came from nowhere, crazy, a piece of the sky come loose to knock him off his path. He looked down, the ground coming up at a weird angle, not falling at all, but not flying, a weird sensation, like when he and Nathan got drunk and tried hang gliding in Mexico.

And then he was smashed into the ground, not hard enough to kill him, just enough to bruise his legs good and sore for a couple days.

He was up on his feet almost at once, staring in wonder at the crazy blue animal, the weird patch of sky who had blocked out his fall.

“I ams not good…. At da catchsing t’ing,” gasped Toki. Weird winged Toki, feathers all funny powder blue, sort of like that strange Bert creep who hung out with him.

What the fuck. What the actual fuck?

“Skwisaar? You ams OK? Ja, dey ams different colors here!” said the guitarist, stretching out a bright parrot wing.

The wings….

“You ams not saying anyt’ings? Bert ams tried to show me how you do da float t’ings, but I ams not too good at it.”

Blue, the powder blue of his eyes, now multiplied, so many times, each wing of many feathers, each feather of so many filaments.

“Skwisgaar?”

The guitarist had thrown down his guitar, and then he was kissing this lovely thing, this most beautiful thing, his angel, his savior, and it was so sweet, and he heard the colors now, could hear the sweet sound of blue, such a pretty, delicate sound.



Gog and Magog: it was down to two now.

Charles stood looking on in wonder as Elias now dueled two shadows. One would feint, drop back, and then its companion would advance. It was frustrating as hell to watch, but Elias didn't seem any the worse for wear.

Suddenly, the boy turned. “WUNGE! LELEFUN!”

Two lovely spirits, an angel, and an elephant, were suddenly at his side. They surrounded one of the shadows, the elephant light on its feet, the angel fluttering overhead. Meanwhile, Elias, concentrating on the one shadow, exchanged a flurry. And then his blade hit home, beheading the creature, which melted into a sticky black pool.

The music, which started loud, had only gotten louder. Now it was a cacophony as Skwisgaar began to solo.

Wunge and Lelefun flitted back, and now Elias was at the remaining shadow creature, thrusting and parrying, their blades spitting sparks.

There was a tremendous crack, like nothing Charles had heard before outside of a Dethklok concert.

“Everybody! LOOK OUT!” he called. But it was already too late: the top of the main temple had apparently broken off, and now it was rolling towards them, down the slight slope from the temple grounds, picking up speed and debris like some crazy Katamari Damacy game.

The game Elias liked. Elias wasn't listening, all of his attention still focused on the one remaining shadow creature. Both of them, their swords flashing too fast to see, a blur of activity.

“BOON!” screamed Charles, but the cry was strangled off as Ganesh tackled him, rolling him out of the way barely in time.

Elias looked up too, but then everything turned to dust and noise and cracking branches.

“BOON!” shouted Charles again. Now desperate, he jumped up and rushed into the chaos and debris. The temple top had cleared out anything living, but now there was a smoky haze of dust everywhere.

Where had Elias been? Was it here? But it was empty: no shadows.

And no son.

And then, the softest of sighs.

“Daddy?” came a little voice.

Charles rushed to the source.

It was Elias, who was back to his toddler form, Wunge and Lelefun sitting faithfully at his side. He held up four little arms, so Charles picked him up.

“Are you all right, baby?” he asked.

Ganesh was already at his side, looking into the boy’s eyes. “He appears to be just fine. However….”

“What?” asked Charles, suddenly concerned. Ganesh gently tilted Elias’ head, so Charles could see.

In the boy's dark eyes, there was a glint of silver.

“Wow,” said Charles, who didn’t really know what else to say.

There was another figure emerging from the dust.

“You will never leave here with that boy!” thundered the Creator, who seemed to have recovered from his seizure.

“But he defeated your guy!” said Charles. “Boon defeated him! That’s not playing fair.”

“As long as I live, none of you will leave my Abyss!” raved the Creator.

“As long as you live? That might not be long,” warned Ganesh, gripping the hilt of his sword.

“SUCH NONSENSE,” harrumphed Great Brahma.

Charles blinked. A new group of people had just arrived out of nowhere: Brahma, Phanuel, Erzulie, and a man Charles didn’t recognize.

“My Abyss is not nonsense,” huffed the Creator. “What are you doing here, Brahma you great windbag?”

“You lied on your easement application!” scolded Brahma. “You are not being a good neighbor!”

“I did no such thing!” insisted the Creator. “Besides, the Nether Regions are unincorporated. You have no authority here.”

“No,” said Phanuel. “That is incorrect. This land. Abuts. And overlaps. The City of Dis.”

“WHAT?” sputtered the Creator.

“Yes! That is how you were able to send Ashva to us!” said Ganesh.

“This construction therefore falls under zoning regulations for Dis. You leave us no choice, but to red tag your construction project,” announced Erzulie, proffering a very official looking sheaf of papers.

“YOU CAN’T RED TAG THE ABYSS!” wailed the Creator. But the man Charles didn't recognize had taken out a roll of yellow tape and extended it from one rock to another. To this he attached a red placard with the title, UNSAFE.

“Father! You're here!” shouted Raziel. Both the Creator and Phanuel looked up, but Raziel fluttered down to stand by Phanuel.

“Some trouble. With an obnoxious. Neighbor,” Phanuel told her. Both angels turned to glare at the Creator, who suddenly appeared quite sad.

“One almost feels sorry for him,” Ganesh told Charles.

“What? I don't,” said Charles. “Raziel, where the fuck is my band?”

“Dethklok?” laughed Raziel. “Don't you know by now those guys are indestructible?”

“They're all OK?” Charles asked her.

“A little shaken up. But fine,” Raziel assured him. “Toki found a new Form! He looks really cool.”

“Let's get out of here,” said Charles, still hefting Boon.

“Oh, yeah, his cousins are anxious to see him!” said Raziel, grabbing Elias away from him.

“Wantie Waz!” he said as they hastened away, Murgatroyd nipping at Raziel's high heels.

“RAZIEL! DON'T STEAL MY KID AGAIN!” said Charles, running after her.

“I apologize. Sariel is a bit overwrought,” Ganesh told Rev. Gantry.

“No problem. Nice saving souls with you!” Gantry told him, extending a hand.

“We really ought get together for a drink some time,” offered Ganesh.

“I am notoriously partial wine,” winked Rev. Gantry. “Now I ought to see if I can talk to my Father,” he added, inclining his head towards the still squabbling Creator.

Ganesh nodded and then smiled over at Anna, who had thoughtfully picked up Wunge and Lelefun. “Come along,” he told her, offering his arm. “I'm sure you're eager to get home too,” he said.

“Oh my GAWD,” said Anna, glomming instantly to his arm, “I have so much to tell Nephthys! Do you know if any texting works here?”

“Perhaps you should talk to Lady Raziel.”



“BOONIE!”

The cousins fell upon him, and Elias was very soon introduced to the most fascinating aspect of the trip.

“Daddy! KITTIES!” he said, holding up a mewling tiger kitten for Charles’ approval.

“Yeah, I see,” said Charles, who very uncertainly picked up the cat as Murgatroyd sniffed curiously at his ankles. “What’s up with Toki?” he whispered to Raziel, as they both glanced at the presently blue-winged guitarist.

“Like I said, he found a new Form. Remember when we went to Hell, and I found my real True Form?” she asked him. “I think the magic is different here.”

“It’s just … I dunno. Now I gotta worry about him turning into two different things while we’re onstage?” The little kitten had crawled to his shoulders and was now batting with a paw, utterly fascinated at his silver wings.

“Well, I suppose this would serve. As a concert venue,” Phanuel was saying.

“I’m telling you, Phanny baby!” raved Dick Knubbler, who was fluttering after the grave angel. “The acoustics here are outrageous! Yeah!”

“We have rather a lot of musicians amongst. Our permanent residents,” mused Phanuel.

“What’s happening with Our Father?” Charles asked Phanuel.

“Arguing. With Brahma. And Miss Erzulie. He is demanding. Legal counsel.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” laughed Raziel.

“I should say. As the greatest legal minds. In history. Are amongst my guests,” said Phanuel with a sly smile.

“One more headache,” sighed Charles.

“SARIEL,” scolded Raziel. “You got your kid back! Everybody came out safe. Why are you being such a grump.”

“I dunno. I just have a bad feeling….”

“CHARLES!”

“Yeah, Nathan,” said Charles distractedly.

“I have a great idea for our new album!”

“We ams not let you back in da bands yet!” counted Skwisgaar.

“Ja, like Skwisgaar ams says, you ams not in da bands!” agreed Toki, blue wings flapping.

“Guys, don’t you think-“ But Charles never finished his thought, as quite suddenly, Nathan’s eyes rolled up in his head, and he toppled over backwards. “GANESH!”

“I am here,” said Ganesh, who was already kneeling down, pulling out a stethoscope.

“Pickles! Did you give him something?” asked Charles frantically.

“Oh, always pickin’ awn me!” said the drummer.

“Did you?”

“Well, mebbe…” allowed Pickles.

“I do not believe he has been drugged, Sariel,” said Ganesh. He looked up, worry in his eyes. “I believe the antidote … simply stopped working.”

“What?” said Charles. “But, it was an antidote! Wasn’t that supposed to be an antidote?”

“Well, you did get it from a bunch of singing cowgirls,” Raziel pointed out.

“He needs treatment!” said Ganesh.

“Son,” said Phanuel, a hand on Ganesh’s shoulder. “We shall bring him. To my realm. The way is not long.”

Ganesh nodded and then, as if Nathan weighed no more than a child, hefted the burly lead singer to his shoulders and hurried after Phanuel, who was already striding away.

“OK, everybody! We gotta get guys and wolves and horses and tigers and all that other shit after Phanuel!” shouted Charles. “Raziel?” he pleaded.

“On it,” she grinned, whistling for the wolves to start herding beings in the direction Phanuel and Nathan had just departed.

“Charon!” said Charles. The captain appeared on the deck of his ship. “Sorry we have to head off in a hurry. We’re grateful to you! Can you get the Koori back where they belong?”

“I am in your service,” said Charon, who bowed formally.

And then he and the ship disappeared.

“Whoa,” said Charles, who hadn’t much time to wonder, as he felt himself being nosed in the back. “Hey! Oh!” He turned to face the demon horse, Ashva, who was grinning a horsey grin at him.

“You take care of that horse!” laughed Raziel, who was flying after the group heading into the jungle.

“OK, OK,” said Charles, who still had a tiger kitten up on his shoulders. “BOON!”

“Daddy!” said the boy. “KITTY!” he said, even more excited.

“Yes, Daddy has a kitty. And now Daddy has a horse. Here,” he said, scooping up the boy and putting him up on Ashva’s broad back. “You don’t like me, but you like Boon, right?” he asked the horse.

“I t’ink dat’s everyone,” said Pickles. Charles nodded distractedly and began to lead a mostly cooperative Ashva off after the others.

“Boy, dood, did you see Gannish lift Nat’an like that?” asked Pickles, wide-eyed.

“Yeah. So?” asked Charles.

Pickles grinned widely. “Makes you wanna, yoo know, do udder t’ings,” he said, eyeing Elias up on the horse to see if he was listening. “When yoo git him home.”

“PICKLES! Nathan is sick! Is that all you can think about?”

“Wul….”

“What is wrong with you guys?” ranted Charles. “You kicked Nathan out of the band when he was dying!”

“Yeh, dood, but he woulda done da same t’ing t’ any o’ us,” reasoned Pickles.

“Why can’t you stop it! Set an example!” said Charles.

“Wut, an’ act like I’m better dan da udder guys?” asked Pickles, seeming mildly offended.

“Not acting better!” protested Charles, as the tiger kitten on his shoulder looked quizzical.

“Den, wut?”

“Just…. Not acting like a horse’s ass!”

Ashva whinnied and ducked his head.

“Oh, uh, sorry Ashva.”

“Daddy id silly!” opined Elias, happily riding on Ashva’s back.

“Yes, your Daddy is silly,” agreed Charles.

“An’, Boonie wuv da Daddy!”

Charles turned to look back up at his son. “Yes. I know that,” he said softly.

“Dood! Tawk about da horse’s ass! Tell him yoo love him back!” said Pickles.

“He knows,” grumped Charles. “Anyway, I just wanna get back to Mordhaus.”

“Da Haus!” laughed Elias.

“You wanna make shoore it’s still standin’?” asked Pickles.

“I wanna make sure there’s something left. Anything,” sighed Charles.



Charles and Jacque stood side by side, looking up at Mordhaus, now nestled in the shadow of an active volcano.

“We did what we fucking could,” Jacque was saying. “You know. Those elder god motherfuckers.”

“They’re assholes,” agreed Charles.

“Fucking tentacles.”

“Yeah, fucking tentacles.”

“Some structural damage,” Jacque pointed out.

“It will be fine, Papa.”

“I’ll see if Phanny can set his engineers on it.”

“Those guys are good.”

“Why do they not embrace?”

Raziel, who had been watching the conversation with dry amusement, turned to the god who had just walked up beside her. “Oh, hey, Ganesh. How’s Nathan?”

“He will be fine.” He waved a hand at Charles and Jacque. “Why do they just … stand there? Beings of my family, upon being reacquainted after such an ordeal, would fall upon each other, weeping piteously!” he declared.

“Yeah, that’s not how these guys work,” Raziel chuckled.

“I often wondered why Sariel is as he is!” said Ganesh disapprovingly, casting a hand towards Jacque.

“OK, you want demonstrative?” She whistled. “Boonie!”

“Wantie Waz?” asked the boy.

“Go to your Papa!” she instructed. The boy obediently ran over to his father and grandfather.

“Papa!” called Elias.

“Well, look at you!” said Jacque, hefting the boy. “You’re big as a battleship!”

“Yeah, we can’t keep him in clothes,” said Charles, ruffling the boy’s hair.

“That’s as good as you’re gonna get,” Raziel told Ganesh as the two men fussed over the boy.

“Oh, Ganesh!” said Charles, suddenly turning around and rushing over. “How is Nathan?”

“Er,” said Ganesh.

“I thought you told me two seconds ago he would be fine?” asked Raziel.

“He shall be! He shall!” Ganesh assured them.

“But…?” asked Charles.

“There is a slight … caveat.”

“What kind of caveat?” asked Charles.

“All ready to go?” boomed Wotan, who had just ridden up on the eight-legged Sleipnir. He held down a hand, and Raziel jumped up to ride with him. She put two fingers in her mouth and emitted a sharp whistle. Suddenly, they were surrounded by angel twins and gigantic wolves and a tiger with a kitten in her mouth.

“Kitty, daddy!” said Abby, proudly holding a tiger kitten up for her father's approval.

“Are we leaving here with a few more tigers than we brought?” asked Wotan.

“They kind of followed the kids,” explained Raziel.

“Well, at least it's not more of those demons. Farewell, everyone!”

“Goodbye, Father!” said Raziel, blowing a kiss as Phanuel had just walked up, accompanied by a large leathery-winged demon. And then she and Wotan and the rest of the menagerie rode off and disappeared.

Phanuel waved indulgently.

“Phanuel!” said Charles. “What’s happening with Nathan?”

“Yes. Nathan. There is a slight … caveat,” said Phanuel.

“WHAT CAVEAT?” demanded Charles.

“Er,” said Ganesh.

“Um,” said Phanuel.

“What cavity? My teeth are FINE. I feel FUCKING AWESOME!” declared the demon.

In the voice of Nathan Explosion.