Bargain (Mythklok Chapter 101)
Jul. 3rd, 2012 07:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: Bargain (Mythklok Chapter 101)
Author: tikistitch
Fandon: Metalocalypse
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Something's wrong with Skwisgaar. Ganesh asks Raziel for a favor.
Warnings: Nothing much. Some mild gratuitous gore at the very end.
Notes: Never say never I guess. I thought I would walk away from this universe for a while, but then this story just kind of appeared in my head. I actually sort of miss doing these. Sort of.
THE PRESENT DAY
“I'm used to Raziel hanging out up here with me,” said Charles as he sensed the person appearing behind him.
“Perhaps you will tolerate my presence, for a time?”
Charles kicked his legs, peering down off the dragon spire upon which he was sitting. “How did you find me?”
“This is where you come to sneak a smoke,” smiled Ganesh, who chose that moment to take out a thin Indian cigarette.
“You know me too well.”
“I know you precisely well enough.”
Charles turned. Ganesh was leaning up against the side of Mordhaus, casual as hell, fingers cupped round his lighter, igniting his cigarette, while another set of arms jammed casually into his pants pockets. His shirt was undone, revealing his perfect chest. Lord Ganesh refused to wear shirts having more than two sleeves as he did not believe that they draped correctly.
You would never know, unless you happened to look down, that he was up at a neck-breaking height, standing on a narrow spire in a crosswind, and not perhaps instead posing for a snooty men's fashion magazine.
“You don't mind heights?” asked Charles.
“I suppose you might rescue me, were I to encounter trouble,” speculated Ganesh, glancing downwards.
“Here's one thing I wanna know,” said Charles, now partially turning his body, “why are you allowed to smoke and not me?”
“Because I look so damned good,” laughed Ganesh. “'Twould be better were neither of us to indulge, given our son. However, I was not the one nearly dead of pneumonia.”
“That was a long time ago, now.”
“Not as long as you might think. Further, it scared the bloody shit out of me. Returning to this world to find my idiot lover near death. Do you have any idea how difficult it was to talk myself out of Uncle Brahma's paradise? He is one stubborn son of a bitch.”
Charles was up, although it was difficult to say exactly how he had managed to stand. He motioned with a hand, and, with much mock reluctance, Ganesh passed him the beedi. Charles inhaled, paused (as if he were smoking something more potent) and then let out a cloud of smoke with a contented sigh. “I could get used to these things,” he said, handing it back, dopey smile now on his face.
“My terrible little addict,” said Ganesh.
“Why do you like me if I'm terrible?” asked Charles sincerely, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets against the wind.
“I do not like you: I love you. And this is because you are terrible,” explained Ganesh. He studied Charles for a moment. “Do you wish to return inside?”
“In a minute,” said Charles, his teeth chattering, looking down.
“I know you are worried. But all will be well,” said Ganesh.
Charles was silent for a beat. “Maybe not this time.” He gestured for the cigarette.
Ganesh handed the cigarette, but paused. “Do you know why I hold my memories of pulling you back from death's door ever in my mind?”
Charles shook his head. “You're a morbid bastard?”
“Perhaps. But perhaps also it serves as a reminder to me that we have suffered the worst, and bore through it.”
Charles looked at him. “Gimme the damned cigarette.”
“And then we shall go inside?”
Charles nodded. Ganesh handed over the cigarette, and as their hands touched, they were no longer out there, and nothing remained, but the low howling of the wind.
ONE MONTH AGO
“Ganoshes!”
“Yes, Skwisgaar, what is it?” asked Ganesh, who was paying great attention to tuning his sitar, and very little to the braying guitarist.
“I ams not plays today!”
“If you wish to skip the lesson, that would be fine with me,” said Ganesh, finally looking up. What he saw brought him pause. “Skwisgaar? Whatever is wrong?”
Skwisgaar fell to his knees. “Listen, Ganoshes,” he whispered, fingering the instrument. Ganesh paused. Skwisgaar sounded every bit the beginner, that is, more or less like anyone else should have sounded after only a few months mastering the sitar.
Only this was Skwisgaar Skwigelf who sat before him.
“I ams no knows what happens,” admitted the Swede. Ganesh set down his own instrument, and leaned forward, grasping Skwisgaar’s shoulders in a pair of hands. He stared.
“What you ams doing? You ams looking at my magicksal stuffs?” asked Skwisgaar.
“Yes. I’m taking a good look at your magical aura,” said Ganesh. Ganesh, along with his mother, was one of the few supernatural beings blessed with the ability to see the magical fields generated by living beings. One of the things that had deeply surprised him when he met the members of Dethklok was the crazy surfeit of magic among the boys. Four of them – Skwisgaar, Toki, William and Pickles – threw off levels he had never observed in humans (or demi-humans) before, and the fifth, Nathan, seemed to somehow channel the magic of his fellows, giving him his own crazy awesome aura.
“Ams everythings … OK?” asked Skwisgaar, worry clouding his clear blue eyes.
Ganesh at last sat back on his heels.
“No,” he said.
“Skwisgaar’s woo woo is off, but you have no idea how or why? Yeah, that’s very useful, Ganesh.”
Ganesh sighed and sat forward, a set of elbows on his knees. “Sariel….”
“Look, are you sure there’s not a more rational explanation? Carpal tunnel, or maybe Pickles slipped him something?”
“He does not have carpal tunnel-“
“Or maybe this is a negotiating ploy?” speculated Charles. “Let me look up his contract-“
“Sariel!”
“Ganesh!”
“Why are you being so damned stubborn about this?” asked Ganesh.
“Ganesh,” said Charles, “we are getting ready for a major tour, and I have a million things to do. You know, aside from leading expeditions to the Abyss, I do have a business to run!”
Ganesh narrowed his eyes. “My angel wishes a rational explanation?”
“I’m an atheist.”
“DADDEEEEE!” said Elias, who had just pattered into the room.
“Yes, Boon, what is it? Your daddy is very busy having a stupid argument with your Baap,” said Charles as Elias nevertheless wriggled his way into Charles’ lap.
“Bidchure, Daddy!” said Elias, holding up his camera.
“Yes, I’m sure you have nice pictures for Daddy,” said Charles. “Look, Ganesh, I don’t wanna be a jerk about this, but I’ve worked with these guys for a long fucking time, and-“
“And have you ever, in your long acquaintanceship, seen Skwisgaar Skwigelf voluntarily put down that guitar? For any reason? He carries it into the hot tub, Sariel!”
“I don’t know-“
“BIDCHURE, DADDY!” said Elias, insistently holding the camera before Charles. “Daddy, looook!”
“Elias. As I said, Daddy is very busy right now,” said Charles.
“Boonie. What kind of picture?” asked Ganesh quietly.
“Skwissy, Baap!” said Elias, waving the camera. “Id Skwissy, and da maddik!”
“What?” said Charles. “Skwisgaar what?”
“May I see please?” asked Ganesh, holding out a hand.
Elias heaved a very big sigh and now waved the camera at Ganesh, who took it and stared into the display. “Sariel-“
“What?”
“You ought see this.”
Ganesh passed the camera back to Charles, who took one look at the display and then began rummaging in his drawers. “Where’s the damn firewire?” he muttered. Elias wiggled around in Charles’ lap and opened a drawer, coming up with the connector. Charles grabbed it and hooked Elias’ camera to the laptop, where his son thereupon clicked the mouse and repeated, “Downwoad!” Ganesh was now in back of the desk as well, leaning over, the three men staring at the image on Charles’ laptop.
“What the fuck is this?” asked Charles. “Does this camera do that?”
“I think it is not so much the camera as the photographer,” smiled Ganesh, reaching over to affectionately tousle Elias’ hair. “At any rate, you wanted evidence of woo woo, here it is.”
Charles stared. Elias’ picture depicted Skwisgaar Skwigelf, moodily draped over his Gibson, a black cloud over his head. A literal black cloud.
“BOONIE!”
“WANTIE WAZ!”
Raziel embraced her nephew and covered him in kisses, causing a great deal of giggling. “KIDS! GUESS WHO’S HERE?” she screamed, causing the twins to come zooming in from opposite directions.
“So, where have you guys been all morning?” she asked suspiciously as Abigail and Liam stood side by side, blinking innocently at her.
“NOWEAH!” they chorused, after exchanging a rather naughty glance.
“Uh-huh. And what were you up to, nowhere?”
“NUFFING!”
Raziel rolled her eyes and cast a glance at Ganesh, who merely chuckled. “Well, it better not involve peanut butter and your father’s saddle. Or he’s gonna be pretty grumpy.”
The twins shared an evil grin.
“OK, you guys go play with your cousin. But have him back her in half an hour!”
“There will be consequences from my uncle?” asked Ganesh.
“Are you kidding?” asked Raziel, collapsing into a chair on the porch. “They’ve got him wrapped around their chubby little fingers.”
“I have something to request,” said Ganesh.
“Anything for you, Ganesh! You wanna sit down?”
“No, I must return shortly.”
“You’re not staying for the visitation? Not that I blame you.”
“No, there are circumstances, back at Mordhaus. Skwisgaar.”
“What’s up with Skwisgaar? You need me to go bonk him on the head for you?” grinned Raziel.
“On the contrary. We think he has been cursed. Magicked some way.”
“Oh. I hope it didn’t affect his dick!” laughed Raziel.
“No, or not that I know of,” Ganesh laughed. “He is unable to play guitar.”
“WHAT?” asked Raziel, sitting up, her expression changing to one of actual sympathy. “Wow, that’s gotta hurt. Should I tell Wotan?”
Ganesh thought for a moment. “I am surprised he has not brought this up himself. Although he may be embarrassed about it.”
“Did he make some kind of stupid deal again?”
“Not that we can determine,” said Ganesh. “At any rate, my request does not concern Skwisgaar. It is rather, something about Sariel. Something, if you won’t mind, you might broach with the Creator?”
“Oh, gods, is Sariel playing emo boy that he’s Fallen again?” asked Raziel, collapsing back into the chair.
“Lady Raziel, it is a matter of great and continuing concern to him. And as you apparently have the Creator’s ear-“
“Look, I got away with stuff that would have gotten Sariel another half dozen Falls. I dunno, maybe I remind Father of my mother, or maybe it’s just that I’m a girl.”
“Be that as it may….”
“Look, you must know my Father by now! Logic has nothing to do with it.”
“I am only requesting that you bring it up.”
“No! Absolutely not! I am not getting Sariel’s hopes up again. Father had him all convinced that he’d get redeemed by going to the Abyss. The old fucker….”
“Sariel does not know,” said Ganesh.
“He doesn’t?”
Ganesh shook his head.
“You really adore my stupid Little Brother, don’t you?”
“I thought that would be apparent by now.”
Raziel sniffed. “You didn’t even wanna marry him,” she snorted, her eyes flashing dark.
Ganesh went down on his knees, beside her chair, hands lightly on her shoulders. “Have I not, since that time, acted as every bit a devoted husband? And father?” he asked.
Raziel frowned at Ganesh. “You think you can talk me into this because you’re so danged pretty?”
“That is undeniable as well.”
“All right. All right. For you, Ganesh. I’ll see what I can do.”
“I am in your debt, Lady Raziel,” said Ganesh, standing and pulling a very graceful bow.
“That’s Queen Raziel to you, bud,” she grumbled as he disappeared.
“Guys, do we really have to do this now?”
“I want to be FIRE CHIEF,” thundered Nathan Explosion, moving his bulk around in the office guest chair.
“Well, yes, Nathan-“
“Dood! I wanna be fire chief! I gaht da experience,” countered Pickles, lighting up.
“Uh, yes, noted. Guys, I thought only William was interesting in the job?”
“Naw, he’s giving it up. Said it was too much work,” said Nathan. “When he’s got other things to do.”
“Uh, what else does William have to do?” asked Charles before he could stop himself.
“Dood! He makes sammiches.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot,” said Charles. “So, you guys disagree on who should be fire chief? Did you put it to a vote?”
“Yeah. SKWISGAAR VOTED FOR ME.”
“An’ Toki voter fer me,” puffed Pickles.
“And William?” asked Charles, waving his hand to dissipate the toxic smoke.
“Voted for HIMSELF,” pouted Nathan.
“Da douche,” seconded Pickles.
“Wait, I thought he wasn’t- Nevermind,” Charles interrupted himself. “All right. OK. But you guys need to know, the position has been eliminated.”
“WHAT?” bellowed Nathan.
“Dood?” choked Pickles, who had nearly swallowed his joint at Nathan’s outburst.
“It has, rather, been subsumed into the duties of the Dedicated Emergency Training and Hardship Management Operations Manager.”
“Da … wut?” asked Pickles, who thought perhaps he was smoking some bad shit. Some really bad shit.
“The Dedicated Emergency Training and Hardship Management Operations Manager,” rattled off Charles. “You will have to fill out some paperwork to qualify. Of course. And there is mandatory training.”
“Ooooo,” said Nathan. “Facebones?”
“Why, yes, Nathan, there are several Facebones-led training modules for you to master. I’ll just issue you guys the Dethlaptops,” said Charles, pushing a button on his phone.
“Wait, dood, yer nawt gonna decide who wins?” asked Pickles.
“Why don’t you two just go ahead and complete the training modules,” said Charles as the ever efficient Pie the receptionist bustled in holding two Facebones-logo computers. He was holding them carefully, as both sported a number of wicked-looking spikes. “Oh, there you go,” he added, as Klokateer 31415 distributed the laptops to the boys.
“Ow! Dood!” said Pickles, shaking out his pricked hand.
“OUCH!” complained Nathan. “How are you supposed to hold these fucking things?”
“Carefully,” said Charles. “But, uh, you guys designed them. Remember?”
“Were we DRUNK?” asked Nathan, sucking on a poked finger.
“Well, you were drunk, Nathan. I believe Pickles was high.”
“Yeh, I wud do dat.”
“Sire. Lord Phanuel awaits you,” said Pie.
“So, guys,” said Charles, standing up, “the Female Online Division has already programmed those for you. The training modules are loaded, you just go ahead and complete them, and report back to me. Great! Tally ho!” he concluded, as Pie ushered Nathan and Pickles from the office, both of them protesting all the way at the prickly computer equipment.
Pie shut the door behind the two musicians, who stood for a moment in the corridor.
“Hey! Hey, did he just say, ‘Tally ho?’” asked Nathan.
“Look, Gampa!” said Elias.
“That is lovely, Elias,” said the Creator, leaning over from his own canvas to view the Botticelli-esque scape of capering angels that graced the boy’s easel.
His cousin, Liam, looked over as well, and then contentedly went back to fingerpainting, although it appeared that a substantial proportion of the paint had ended up on the lad’s smock. Abby, by contrast, favored a brush, which she was currently using to mime various fencing moves. Her canvas, as a result, was completely pristine.
“Ha, Father, Abby takes after you,” laughed Raziel, who was sitting reading a fashion magazine.
The Creator frowned at Raziel.
“You're just still pissed I’m actually making you paint,” Raziel told him. She stood, and came around behind the Creator. He was working on a landscape. It was actually quite good. “Hey, that's really nice,” said Raziel.
“What do you want, Raziel?” asked the Creator.
“What? It looks nice?” Raziel frowned. She was not a creature to beat around the bush, however, so she next said, “Reinstate Sariel.”
“Why should I do that?”
“Because I asked. You exiled him.”
“That is incorrect.”
“WHAT?” asked Raziel, pushing her sunglasses down her nose to stare over them.
The Creator painted. “He is a chatty sort. Did he never tell you the story of how he came to be Fallen?”
“Michael and Uriel tossed his ass out. Well, alongside some of your goons.”
“Michael. And Uriel,” repeated the Creator, dabbing some ripples in a stream he was painting.
“Hey, we don't have a stream there,” Raziel pointed out.
“Don't you?” asked the Creator.
Raziel heard a rippling sound, and turned around. “MUMMY!” the twins called. The three children were on the bank of a stream, poking at tadpoles.
“I dunno if Wotan will be pleased,” mused Raziel. “Unless you've stocked it with trout.”
“Michael sometimes took it upon himself to do what he presumed was my bidding,” said the Creator.
“Wait! So you're now claiming you didn't exile Sariel?”
“Was I in the room? Are you now claiming you were there, Raziel?” asked the Creator, who seemed caught up in his watercolor.
“You take no responsibility for what your angels did to my Little Brother?”
“I always wondered at that. You were all brothers and sisters. Why did you always favor him? He is a ratty little thing. Was it pity?”
“He is my kin. My real kin,” said Raziel, although now there was a warning in her voice.
“But you couldn't have known that.”
“No. You made sure of that,” whispered Raziel.
“You would have wanted to know? That you were born of Her sins against me?”
Raziel began to speak. And then, evidently think the better of it, re-donned her sunglasses, walked up the porch stairs, and disappeared into the house, letting the screen door slam behind her.
“Phanuel,” said Charles as the Grey angel along with his companion, Engelbert, materialized in his office. “Sorry, it's been a busy morning.” Bert hopped up in a guest chair and contentedly flapped his lovely green gold wings.
“We are both busy men,” said Phanuel affably. “I hope this appointment will move quickly. Simply a few matters. Regarding the wedding.”
“I'm afraid there's been a complication,” sighed Charles. “With the concert.”
“Oh? What sort of complication?” asked Phanuel.
“My lead guitarist … is cursed,” explained Charles.
“Bloody hell,” said Phanuel. “I am sorry. I had not heard.”
“We haven't been spreading it around,” said Charles. “Look, worst comes to worst, we can do your gig, with Toki filling in on lead.”
“Toki?” asked Engelbert, big smile on his face. “My Toki?”
“Yes, your Toki,” Phanuel told him kindly. “But I regret the obvious inconvenience,” he told Charles. “To you. Do you know the source. Of the curse?”
“Ganesh is following up with Elegba. I haven't had time to deal with it. The thing is, Skwisgaar has no memory of this, so we're not sure where to start.”
“Who would wish mischief upon the Odinsson?” asked Phanuel.
“Well, regrettably-” started Charles.
“CHARLES!” yelled Toki from the doorway. “I ams wants to know about da fires marshalls- Oh. Hey, Berts.”
“TOKI!” said Engelbert, who was already over in the doorway. He reared back just as he came face to face with Toki however, his great wings spread wide. “Toki?” he asked. He whirled around to look searchingly at Phanuel.
“Whatever is wrong, Engelbert?”
“THS IS NOT MY TOKI! What have you done with him?” the angel demanded, standing poised over Toki, who cringed back.
“ENGELBERT,” said Phanuel. “This is not. How we. Behave.”
“WHERE IS MY TOKI?”
“Bert,” said Charles, who was quite suddenly standing between Engelbert and a cowering Toki, nose to nose with the green-yellow Power. “Back. The fuck. Off.”
Phanuel was there, yanking Engelbert back by the scruff of the neck. “Engelbert. This is inexcusable.”
“I ams not like you no mores,” Toki told Engelbert. “I ams normal!”
“Wait. You're what?” asked Charles, now rounding on Toki.
“Um,” said Toki.
“What do you mean you're not like Bert?” Charles pressed.
“Ams not da … kabomination!” spat Toki. “Ams just da humans.”
Phanuel and Charles regarded one another. Toki looked a strange mixture of defiant and contrite.
“Toki,” said Charles. “What did you do?”
“What did you get for question FIVE HUNDRED THIRTY TWO B?” whispered Nathan, although it was probably that half of Mordhaus had heard the throaty-voiced singer.
“Wut?” asked Pickles, who had not heard. He popped off his headphones, causing death metal beats to blare through the library. A hooded librarian Klokateer held a finger to her lips and whispered, “Shush, sires.”
“What did yo get for question 532b?” Nathan repeated. “It's the one about Article 43a subsection 7332.”
“Oh, yoo mean da Article 43a subsection 6543?”
“NOOO!” said Nathan, who cringed at another glance from the librarian: those chicks were scary! “Article 43a subsection 7332...” he explained, tilting his laptop around to Pickles could see it. He cringed as he pricked himself on a spike.
“Oh, yoo mean dis?” asked Pickles, pointing to the screen.
“No, I mean-” started Nathan, who grabbed away the computer. Unfortunately, one of his meaty fingers tapped the ESCAPE key by mistake. “NOOOOOOO!” he wailed as the screen went blank.
“Shush,” said a librarian.
Skwisgaar sat alone.
Completely alone. There was no one else in his room. Not even a single GMILF.
His beloved Gibson was propped on the wall.
Skwisgaar gazed sadly at it.
“Skwisgaar!”
“Lady Raz?” he asked. He recognized the voice but did not even bother to turn.
“Come on,” she urged. He saw her finely manicured little hand in front of him.
“Where I ams goes?”
“Your father needs you.”
Skwisgaar blinked, looking up into Raziel's face. She looked completely serious. “He ams needs me?”
Raziel nodded grimly.
Skwisgaar spared one more glance at his Gibson.
Then he reached out his hand.
And then they were there no more.
“Yeah, but what kind o' witch? You have any more information?” asked Elegba.
“Just a witches,” grumbled Toki, arms crossed, a look of furious defiance on his face. He was sitting in a chair in Charles' office, Elegba directly across from him, also seated, his top hat now on one knee. The god had his hands pressed together, beseechingly.
“There are many witches in the world,” said Ganesh softly. Ganesh was standing behind Elegba.
“We need your help to puzzle out which one,” added Elegba.
“I ams not knows.”
“We would all like to help Skwisgaar,” said Ganesh. “I am sure you would too.”
“Why I helps dat dumb dildos? I can play leads geetars. Charles, you tell dem!”
Charles was seated behind his desk. As the lights were turned down, he was in shadows. “Toki,” he said at last. “Why don't you take us through what happened? Just go through it step by step, take your time, and tell us everything.”
“When we ams in Zimbabwe, I ams goes to see da goil. She ams knows my friends, Dr. Rockso.”
“Who?” asked Elegba.
“You don't wanna know,” sighed Charles.
“So, we takes da taxis to her house. Ams across from da Duncan Hills coffee shops!”
“Wow. Those places really are everywhere,” said Charles.
“Like a weed,” sighed Ganesh.
“So, Dr. Rockso ams gets a latte, though I ams not wants anythings, 'cause coffees keeps me up. An' anyways, Dr. Rockso ams not has cash, so I has to loans him some, but I tells him I can't give him all, 'cause I ams needs to see da witches....”
“Toki! I think we don't need to know about you stopping for coffee,” said Charles.
“You ams said-”
“Just,” said Ganesh calmly, “tell us what happened when you reached the, er, witch's house.”
“Oh, ams not da house! Ams da condominickle.”
“Uh-” said Elegba.
“Condominium,” supplied Charles.
“Thank you,” said Elegba, who was scratching his head.
“She ams flies in on da magicksal basket!”
“And, let me guess, she wasn't wearing any clothes?” prompted Elegba, which sent Toki giggling.
“Ja, an den she casted da bones. Dey ams da bones of da albinoses!” related Toki, who mimed what looked like someone throwing dice.
“Albino bones,” muttered Elegba, rolling his eyes.
“An den I tells her what I wants, and she says she ams needs somet'ings to trades. An so I tells her da I ams Toki Wartooth, da second fastest geetarist in da woild! And she ams says, who ams da fastest? An I tells her dat dumb dildos Skwisgaar. But den I ams t'inking, maybes I can gets da better spells....”
“So, Toki,” said Elegba. “You traded Skwisgaar's guitar skills for....”
“For to be mes!”
“Meaning?” asked Charles.
“I ams Toki now. Not da angels t'ings. Just Toki.”
“You traded away your powers … and gave her more power?” asked Charles, now leaning into the light. His expression was unreadable.
“Ja! Now I ams not da kabominations. Not dat you ams da kabominations, Charles. You ams not helps it, you was borned dat way,” Toki explained, looking in pity at Charles, who had already slumped back into the dark.
“Is that all, Elegba?” asked Charles.
“Toki. Did she give you a name?”
“Oh ja! She ams Da Goddess!”
“WHAT?” said Charles, snapping to attention.
“A tagati, Toki? Did she say tagati?” asked Elegba.
“Ja. Tagatis.”
Elegba turned to Charles. “Tagati is just a generic Zulu word for a conjurer.”
Charles ran a hand through his hair, and leaned back again. “Thank you, Toki.” He looked at Elegba and Ganesh, who nodded. “That's all for now.”
Toki stood. “Ams I da lead geetarist now?”
“We'll, uh, we'll talk about it,” said Charles. Toki smiled and departed. “Elegba?” asked Charles after the door was shut again.
“The person he went to was almost certainly one motherfucker of a fraud,” said Elegba as Ganesh collapsed into the chair where the guitarist had been sitting.
“Are you sure?” asked Charles.
“It's typical fucking hogwash,” said Elegba. “Or I'll eat my hat,” he added, nudging it with his knee.
“But what about the effect on Toki and Skwisgaar?”
“Toki might be explained by the power of suggestion,” said Elegba.
“What?”
“It's true. His magical aura is no different,” said Ganesh. “That is why I did not spot anything amiss. It is possible he believes he cannot True Form, and that is sufficient.”
“But what about Skwisgaar? He didn't even know about the curse!” said Charles.
“Didn't he?” asked Ganesh.
“What do you mean?” asked Charles.
“We questioned him about whether he remembers consulting a witch, or any kind of curse. Is it possible that this took place, but he does not recall?” asked Ganesh.
“Like a post-hypnotic fucking suggesting?” said Elegba.
“So, I get Twinkletits and hypnotize him back?” asked Charles, picking up the phone.
“It is possible,” said Ganesh.
“You guys gonna seek out that friend of his? Rockso?” asked Elegba.
“I suppose we must,” sighed Ganesh.
“Huh,” said Charles, replacing the phone in its cradle. “Skwisgaar isn't around. I wonder where he went? He's just been moping in his room....”
“Grand day, ain't it?” Wotan asked the Creator.
The Creator turned. Wotan and Skwisgaar were coming out on the porch. He eyed them, but did not reply.
“Kids!” shouted Raziel. “Come get washed up for lunch!” Elias and the twins went barreling for the porch, where they disappeared inside, Raziel going after them.
Wotan stood on the porch, lighting a cigar, Skwisgaar standing silently behind him. “Like a cigar?” he asked the Creator.
“I do not partake,” said the old man, wiping a brush on a rag.
“You know, you can't rightly trust a man who doesn't smoke cigars, I always say,” said Wotan.
“My thanks for sharing your colorful folk wisdom,” grumbled the Creator.
“So,” said Wotan, “the wife tells me, she just asked a favor of you, and you turned her down. Flat.”
“That is not my recollection.”
“You know,” continued Wotan, ignoring the Creator, “seems to me like you owe us. The only reason the fathers let you continue to see that boy is under my Lady's supervision.”
“Are you threatening to take away my visitations of Elias?” snapped the Creator.
“Oh, heavens no,” said Wotan, smiling and holding up his hands. “I haven't even gotten to the threat part. Believe me, you'll know when I do.”
“You cannot threaten me, Earth god.”
“Funny, Lucifer said something of the same thing. You do remember him, don't you?” asked Wotan.
“You literally cannot threaten me. You know this!” said the Creator. “And do not even consider sending Phanuel. I know your trick with Lucifer.”
“Sending one of your children against another? That was hardly the first time, old man,” smiled Wotan.
“It will not work again,” said the Creator.
“You have met my boy?” asked Wotan, clapping Skwisgaar on the shoulder.
“The musician?” asked the Creator.
Skwisgaar shrugged. “I was a musicians,” he sighed.
“You. Boy,” the Creator told Skwisgaar. “Odinsson. You have just lost a brother. You will gain another. Before the day is ended.
“Uh. Ja,” said Skwisgaar, who looked puzzled.
“Skwisgaar is my half human son,” said Wotan, puffing smoke.
The Creator was silent for a long moment. “You woudn't dare!”
“Oh ja. He would dare,” said Skwisgaar. “And I ams not believes in you anyways,” he added, crossing his arms. “You ams kinds of a dicks.”
The Creator was now trembling with rage. “All Father. You will pay for this.”
“So, see you next Sunday?” asked Wotan, as the Creator disappeared. “Huh, don't go away mad,” he said, waving his cigar.
“Douche bags,” muttered Skwisgaar.
“We can't apply for Fire Chief. It's TOO HARD!” whined Nathan as he and Pickles stood in Charles' office.
“That was, uh, your impression too, Pickles?” Charles asked solicitously.
“I wuz fine, dood,” said Pickles.
“I, uh, noticed you scored a zero on your exam, Pickles.”
“What?” said Nathan. “Pickles, you were in there as long as I was. What the fuck were you doing?”
“Oh, I took, yeh, jest a liddle spash o' dis an' dat,” explained Pickles.
“Do you recall anything about your training session?” asked Charles.
“Nope. Nawt a fraction.”
“Maybe I need some of that stuff,” grumbled Nathan.
“Well, I tell you guys what, maybe I can see if William is willing to extend his term? Just a few months?” asked Charles.
“Yeah, you just go DO THAT, why don't you?” grumbled Nathan.
“All rightie,” said Charles, picking up the phone.
Nathan and Pickles began to leave. “Dude, what was that stuff you were tripping on?”
“Jest a spash o' dis an' a dash o' dat,” explained Pickles.
“I fucking need some. I HAVE A HEADACHE.”
Charles waited for the door to close before he dialed the number. “Yeah, the uh, Female Online Division? Yeah, thanks guys, great job with that, uh, training session. Uh-huh. Yeah, I'm sending down a bottle of champagne. OK. Yeah. Bye.” Charles smirked and replaced the phone. Some things he couldn't do, but some things he could.
He looked up as his lights in his office flickered. The light bulbs fizzled, and then suddenly all popped.
Then the entire light fixture began to sway, as if it was an earthquake.
There was a screeching of metal, and suddenly, Charles dove under his desk as the entire chandelier came crashing down to the sound of twisting metal and shattering glass.
“What the-?” asked Charles, peeking out from under his desk.
He heard the sound of a wind rushing, and another great crash as his windows blew in.
“Holy fuck!” said Charles, who had ducked back under the desk. He was already fumbling amid the wreckage on his desk for his phone.
“Sariel.”
Charles let the phone drop back down.
He stood.
There was broken glass everywhere. His floor sparkled in the sun like thousands of diamonds.
And there, in the middle of it all, stood the Creator.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” asked Charles.
“Is that any kind of greeting?” said the Creator. “I have been dragooned here. We might as well get this over with. SARIEL!” he said, pointing a hand at Charles.
“What the fuck?”
“You are released!”
Charles threw his arms up and screamed. The next few seconds or minutes were something he could never recall, not for the rest of his long life.
“Sariel!”
This time it was Ganesh calling him. Ganesh was standing in the office doorway, several others standing behind him.
Charles was standing in the middle of his office, True Formed. His jacket and shirt were ripped to shreds: he must not have bothered removing them before he manifested, he thought.
And then he felt the breeze from the broken windows. He looked out, silver eyes blinking in the sun.
FREEDOM.
And then he was no longer there.
“SARIEL!” yelled Ganesh.
“You guys go get washed up now. It's almost naptime,” Raziel told the kids.
“Stowwy!” yelled several of them.
“Yeah, I'll tell you a story. If you wash your grubby hands!” Raziel promised. The three whirled off to the bathroom. Raziel stood up.
“I'll clear this away,” offered Wotan.
“I think you've had enough excitement today,” said Raziel, gathering dishes. “Threatening my Father.”
“It wasn't a threat. It was a suggestion. If he wished to remain in good health,” said her husband, who had an armful of cups.
“What's that?” asked Raziel, noticing a breeze out on the porch.
“Your Father's damned river better not be overflowing the banks, I'll skin the bastard alive,” vowed Wotan, as Raziel went outside to investigate.
“Sariel?” she asked. “What are you doing-?”
“Raziel? Is Sariel here for dinner?” called Wotan. There was no response. “Tell him I'll break out the good Scotch!” He waited for a moment, and then, setting down the dirty dishes, opened the back door.
There was no one there.
“What ams happened, Ganoshes?” asked Skwisgaar. The god stood in the middle of the wreckage of what had once been Charles' office.
“Oh, Skwisgaar! Thank the gods you're here! I was wanting to ask you what happened.”
“Dey ams a lot of magic,” said Skwisgaar, looking around. “Dat ams plains as da frets on my geetar.”
“Angel? Demon?”
Skwisgaar frowned. “Actuallies, you know dat guy, da Creator.”
“WHAT?”
“I know hims magics. I ams just saw him. Wit' my Father,” said Skwisgaar, hiking his thumb northward.
“You were up at Valhalla?” asked Ganesh. Skwisgaar nodded. “We wondered what had happened to you.”
“Wotan ams needed da favor. For Charles.”
“I'm sorry?” said Ganesh. Skwisgaar suddenly had his full attention.
“Lady Raz. She ams asked for da Creators to help Charles. So he ams not da Fallens angels?”
“So you were up there as well?” asked Ganesh.
“Ja. Da Creators ams beings da douche bags, so my father ams asks if I ams helps. We ams threatens da old mother dildos. But he ams not sounds like he ams doing it.” Skwisgaar suddenly gasped, as he found himself entwined in a many-armed embrace.
“Skwisgaar,” whispered Ganesh as he pulled back, several hands still gripping the uncomfortable guitarist. “This you did for Sariel?”
“Uh. Ja,” said Skwisgaar. He shrugged.
Ganesh's eyes were teary. “If there is ever anything.... Anything I can do.... I can't tell you....”
“Ams not'ings,” scoffed Skwisgaar, who suddenly looked down, and whose cheeks just might have been a bit flushed.
“No, it is everything,” said Ganesh. “Anything I can do for you. My brother.”
Skwisgaar tried with all his might to emit a “Pffft.” But for once, it just wouldn't come out.
“Wow,” said Raziel. The lake was a lovely shade of lavender, reflecting a flushed pink sky. They were up on a butte, looking over a vast plain. There were several mysterious monoliths out towards the horizon, casting long shadows in the alien sun. “I don't think I've ever been to this place.”
“This is just the beginning, Raziel!” said Sariel, his arms and wings spread wide. “The whole universe! We have the whole fucking universe now!”
“That's torn,” said Raziel, who went over to Sariel and began to remove his ruined jacket. “Ganesh will be upset.”
“Who gives a flying fuck about my human clothes?” asked Sariel. “I won't need them any more!”
“Not even to visit Elias?”
“He's coming with us! We'll go back we'll get him....”
“And Ganesh?” asked Raziel, folding the torn jacket over her arm and starting to unbutton Sariel's shirt. “You know he's not really supposed to leave his reality.”
“We'll.... Well, I haven't thought that far. We'll figure that out.”
“You know what happened this morning, right?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” asked Sariel, wings ruffling in the breeze.
“You don't think the Creator showed up at random, do you?”
“No. Who knows what the fuck motivates that guy?”
“Ganesh asked me.”
“Ganesh?”
“Ganesh asked me to intervene with Our Father. And since I can't say no to those pretty brown eyes,” said Raziel, now removing the rags that had once been Sariel's shirt, “Wotan and Skwisgaar threatened the old bastard.”
“They threatened him? That's pretty cool! Wait, Skwisgaar too?”
“Wotan and Skwisgaar,” said Raziel, folding the torn shirt over her arm, and smoothing it out.
“Huh,” said Sariel. “Well, it worked!” he said, jumping back and extending his wings.
“Did you check out your wings,” asked Raziel. “By the way, you look weird wearing just a tie.”
Sariel looked over his shoulder. He frowned, and pulled on his own wingtip. “My undercoat is completely dark now,” he said in wonder.
“All mixed up with Ganesh,” smiled Raziel.
“Look, it doesn't matter! I'm free! We're going places now!” said Sariel.
“I'm not going anywhere. Not for a while,” said Raziel.
“What? What do you-? OH!” said Sariel, suddenly cocking his head at her. “Why didn't you tell me?”
“It's still early. Nobody knows. I mean, Ganesh knows, but you know how fanatical he is about doctor patient confidentiality.”
“But … again?”
“You can do it more than once,” laughed Raziel.
“But, I didn't see this in any of my visions!”
“I've decided I'm gonna make my own reality,” said Raziel. “Anyway. I've got some kids who expect a story, so I need to get going back. This was nice though,” she said, waving towards the horizon. “You want me to take Boonie back to Mordhaus for you?”
“Boon? No, no! I'll come get him! Of course. He needs his Daddy to pick him up! I wanna bring him here, and show him this! And I'll show Ganesh....” Sariel trailed off. “I need to see Ganesh,” he said, tugging at his tie. “I need to thank him.”
“You wanna come back with me?” asked Raziel. “Maybe I could figure out where the fuck this is, and get us all out for a picnic some time?”
Sariel nodded. And then he touched Raziel's shoulder. And they were there no more.
“Sariel!” Ganesh watched in wonder as Charles burst through the window, little Elias in his arms. “We wondered where you had gone to. Are you well?” But then Ganesh felt himself enwrapped in two powerful silvery wings, Charles embracing Ganesh and Elias with all his might.
“What … what has happened?” asked Ganesh as Charles at last broke the embrace. He stared at Charles for a long moment. “Sariel! Your aura!”
“Dey ams a lot more magics in dis room,” said Skwisgaar, who had been quietly watching.
“I've never been better,” said Charles, hoisting Elias, who smiled and reached over to pull a tendril of hair out of his father's face. “And, hey, Skwisgaar?”
“Ja?”
“We're gonna go find your witch. And kick her ass.”
IN A DUNCAN HILLS COFFEE SHOP, FAR FAR AWAY....
“Yes, sir?”
The customer placed a cardboard tray full of assorted espresso drinks on the counter before the barista.
“This half decaf no foam 155 degree venti vanilla soy latte with room?” said the customer, scowling and pointing to one of the cups.
“Yes sir?” asked the clerk.
“This is not 155 degrees. This is only 140 degrees. Maybe 145!” said the customer, adjusting his tie and completely ignoring the line of thirsty customers who gathered in line behind him. “I'm extra sensitive. I can tell!”
“Yes, sir. I will remake it immediately,” said the clerk, reaching for the cup.
“You will remake every single drink in my order!” barked the customer.
“Certainly sir,” said the clerk, who obediently took the cardboard tray and vanished into the back.
“And see that you're quick about it!” the customer called after her. He turned around, gripping his cellular phone, but was surprised to see the clerk now in front of him.
“Here you go, sir,” she said, holding up a cardboard tray full of drinks.
“So quick?” asked the customer. “Oh, well,” he said, pocketing his phone and grabbing for the tray.
“But first!” said the clerk, pulling back the tray, “if you would please taste your half decaf no foam 155 degree venti vanilla soy latte with room? To make sure it is perfect. We do not serve espresso that is not perfect. That is not the Duncan Hills way!”
The customer hesitated just a fraction of a second, and then pulled out the cup. He began to drink. His eyes suddenly snapped open, and he seemed to issue a strangled moan. He began pulling at the cup, more and more frantically it seemed, but for whatever reason, continued drinking, as if compelled.
Steam began to rise from his ears. His lips blistered. His head went scarlet. He thrashed back and forth, but continued drinking.
And then with a strangled scream, he collapsed on the coffee shop floor, twitched for a bit, and then was still and silent. The cup rolled away, and brownish venti latte started to pool around his body.
“Very good, sir,” said the clerk. “Can we have a clean up?” she called, taking the cardboard tray and sashaying back behind the counter.
Author: tikistitch
Fandon: Metalocalypse
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Something's wrong with Skwisgaar. Ganesh asks Raziel for a favor.
Warnings: Nothing much. Some mild gratuitous gore at the very end.
Notes: Never say never I guess. I thought I would walk away from this universe for a while, but then this story just kind of appeared in my head. I actually sort of miss doing these. Sort of.
THE PRESENT DAY
“I'm used to Raziel hanging out up here with me,” said Charles as he sensed the person appearing behind him.
“Perhaps you will tolerate my presence, for a time?”
Charles kicked his legs, peering down off the dragon spire upon which he was sitting. “How did you find me?”
“This is where you come to sneak a smoke,” smiled Ganesh, who chose that moment to take out a thin Indian cigarette.
“You know me too well.”
“I know you precisely well enough.”
Charles turned. Ganesh was leaning up against the side of Mordhaus, casual as hell, fingers cupped round his lighter, igniting his cigarette, while another set of arms jammed casually into his pants pockets. His shirt was undone, revealing his perfect chest. Lord Ganesh refused to wear shirts having more than two sleeves as he did not believe that they draped correctly.
You would never know, unless you happened to look down, that he was up at a neck-breaking height, standing on a narrow spire in a crosswind, and not perhaps instead posing for a snooty men's fashion magazine.
“You don't mind heights?” asked Charles.
“I suppose you might rescue me, were I to encounter trouble,” speculated Ganesh, glancing downwards.
“Here's one thing I wanna know,” said Charles, now partially turning his body, “why are you allowed to smoke and not me?”
“Because I look so damned good,” laughed Ganesh. “'Twould be better were neither of us to indulge, given our son. However, I was not the one nearly dead of pneumonia.”
“That was a long time ago, now.”
“Not as long as you might think. Further, it scared the bloody shit out of me. Returning to this world to find my idiot lover near death. Do you have any idea how difficult it was to talk myself out of Uncle Brahma's paradise? He is one stubborn son of a bitch.”
Charles was up, although it was difficult to say exactly how he had managed to stand. He motioned with a hand, and, with much mock reluctance, Ganesh passed him the beedi. Charles inhaled, paused (as if he were smoking something more potent) and then let out a cloud of smoke with a contented sigh. “I could get used to these things,” he said, handing it back, dopey smile now on his face.
“My terrible little addict,” said Ganesh.
“Why do you like me if I'm terrible?” asked Charles sincerely, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets against the wind.
“I do not like you: I love you. And this is because you are terrible,” explained Ganesh. He studied Charles for a moment. “Do you wish to return inside?”
“In a minute,” said Charles, his teeth chattering, looking down.
“I know you are worried. But all will be well,” said Ganesh.
Charles was silent for a beat. “Maybe not this time.” He gestured for the cigarette.
Ganesh handed the cigarette, but paused. “Do you know why I hold my memories of pulling you back from death's door ever in my mind?”
Charles shook his head. “You're a morbid bastard?”
“Perhaps. But perhaps also it serves as a reminder to me that we have suffered the worst, and bore through it.”
Charles looked at him. “Gimme the damned cigarette.”
“And then we shall go inside?”
Charles nodded. Ganesh handed over the cigarette, and as their hands touched, they were no longer out there, and nothing remained, but the low howling of the wind.
ONE MONTH AGO
“Ganoshes!”
“Yes, Skwisgaar, what is it?” asked Ganesh, who was paying great attention to tuning his sitar, and very little to the braying guitarist.
“I ams not plays today!”
“If you wish to skip the lesson, that would be fine with me,” said Ganesh, finally looking up. What he saw brought him pause. “Skwisgaar? Whatever is wrong?”
Skwisgaar fell to his knees. “Listen, Ganoshes,” he whispered, fingering the instrument. Ganesh paused. Skwisgaar sounded every bit the beginner, that is, more or less like anyone else should have sounded after only a few months mastering the sitar.
Only this was Skwisgaar Skwigelf who sat before him.
“I ams no knows what happens,” admitted the Swede. Ganesh set down his own instrument, and leaned forward, grasping Skwisgaar’s shoulders in a pair of hands. He stared.
“What you ams doing? You ams looking at my magicksal stuffs?” asked Skwisgaar.
“Yes. I’m taking a good look at your magical aura,” said Ganesh. Ganesh, along with his mother, was one of the few supernatural beings blessed with the ability to see the magical fields generated by living beings. One of the things that had deeply surprised him when he met the members of Dethklok was the crazy surfeit of magic among the boys. Four of them – Skwisgaar, Toki, William and Pickles – threw off levels he had never observed in humans (or demi-humans) before, and the fifth, Nathan, seemed to somehow channel the magic of his fellows, giving him his own crazy awesome aura.
“Ams everythings … OK?” asked Skwisgaar, worry clouding his clear blue eyes.
Ganesh at last sat back on his heels.
“No,” he said.
“Skwisgaar’s woo woo is off, but you have no idea how or why? Yeah, that’s very useful, Ganesh.”
Ganesh sighed and sat forward, a set of elbows on his knees. “Sariel….”
“Look, are you sure there’s not a more rational explanation? Carpal tunnel, or maybe Pickles slipped him something?”
“He does not have carpal tunnel-“
“Or maybe this is a negotiating ploy?” speculated Charles. “Let me look up his contract-“
“Sariel!”
“Ganesh!”
“Why are you being so damned stubborn about this?” asked Ganesh.
“Ganesh,” said Charles, “we are getting ready for a major tour, and I have a million things to do. You know, aside from leading expeditions to the Abyss, I do have a business to run!”
Ganesh narrowed his eyes. “My angel wishes a rational explanation?”
“I’m an atheist.”
“DADDEEEEE!” said Elias, who had just pattered into the room.
“Yes, Boon, what is it? Your daddy is very busy having a stupid argument with your Baap,” said Charles as Elias nevertheless wriggled his way into Charles’ lap.
“Bidchure, Daddy!” said Elias, holding up his camera.
“Yes, I’m sure you have nice pictures for Daddy,” said Charles. “Look, Ganesh, I don’t wanna be a jerk about this, but I’ve worked with these guys for a long fucking time, and-“
“And have you ever, in your long acquaintanceship, seen Skwisgaar Skwigelf voluntarily put down that guitar? For any reason? He carries it into the hot tub, Sariel!”
“I don’t know-“
“BIDCHURE, DADDY!” said Elias, insistently holding the camera before Charles. “Daddy, looook!”
“Elias. As I said, Daddy is very busy right now,” said Charles.
“Boonie. What kind of picture?” asked Ganesh quietly.
“Skwissy, Baap!” said Elias, waving the camera. “Id Skwissy, and da maddik!”
“What?” said Charles. “Skwisgaar what?”
“May I see please?” asked Ganesh, holding out a hand.
Elias heaved a very big sigh and now waved the camera at Ganesh, who took it and stared into the display. “Sariel-“
“What?”
“You ought see this.”
Ganesh passed the camera back to Charles, who took one look at the display and then began rummaging in his drawers. “Where’s the damn firewire?” he muttered. Elias wiggled around in Charles’ lap and opened a drawer, coming up with the connector. Charles grabbed it and hooked Elias’ camera to the laptop, where his son thereupon clicked the mouse and repeated, “Downwoad!” Ganesh was now in back of the desk as well, leaning over, the three men staring at the image on Charles’ laptop.
“What the fuck is this?” asked Charles. “Does this camera do that?”
“I think it is not so much the camera as the photographer,” smiled Ganesh, reaching over to affectionately tousle Elias’ hair. “At any rate, you wanted evidence of woo woo, here it is.”
Charles stared. Elias’ picture depicted Skwisgaar Skwigelf, moodily draped over his Gibson, a black cloud over his head. A literal black cloud.
“BOONIE!”
“WANTIE WAZ!”
Raziel embraced her nephew and covered him in kisses, causing a great deal of giggling. “KIDS! GUESS WHO’S HERE?” she screamed, causing the twins to come zooming in from opposite directions.
“So, where have you guys been all morning?” she asked suspiciously as Abigail and Liam stood side by side, blinking innocently at her.
“NOWEAH!” they chorused, after exchanging a rather naughty glance.
“Uh-huh. And what were you up to, nowhere?”
“NUFFING!”
Raziel rolled her eyes and cast a glance at Ganesh, who merely chuckled. “Well, it better not involve peanut butter and your father’s saddle. Or he’s gonna be pretty grumpy.”
The twins shared an evil grin.
“OK, you guys go play with your cousin. But have him back her in half an hour!”
“There will be consequences from my uncle?” asked Ganesh.
“Are you kidding?” asked Raziel, collapsing into a chair on the porch. “They’ve got him wrapped around their chubby little fingers.”
“I have something to request,” said Ganesh.
“Anything for you, Ganesh! You wanna sit down?”
“No, I must return shortly.”
“You’re not staying for the visitation? Not that I blame you.”
“No, there are circumstances, back at Mordhaus. Skwisgaar.”
“What’s up with Skwisgaar? You need me to go bonk him on the head for you?” grinned Raziel.
“On the contrary. We think he has been cursed. Magicked some way.”
“Oh. I hope it didn’t affect his dick!” laughed Raziel.
“No, or not that I know of,” Ganesh laughed. “He is unable to play guitar.”
“WHAT?” asked Raziel, sitting up, her expression changing to one of actual sympathy. “Wow, that’s gotta hurt. Should I tell Wotan?”
Ganesh thought for a moment. “I am surprised he has not brought this up himself. Although he may be embarrassed about it.”
“Did he make some kind of stupid deal again?”
“Not that we can determine,” said Ganesh. “At any rate, my request does not concern Skwisgaar. It is rather, something about Sariel. Something, if you won’t mind, you might broach with the Creator?”
“Oh, gods, is Sariel playing emo boy that he’s Fallen again?” asked Raziel, collapsing back into the chair.
“Lady Raziel, it is a matter of great and continuing concern to him. And as you apparently have the Creator’s ear-“
“Look, I got away with stuff that would have gotten Sariel another half dozen Falls. I dunno, maybe I remind Father of my mother, or maybe it’s just that I’m a girl.”
“Be that as it may….”
“Look, you must know my Father by now! Logic has nothing to do with it.”
“I am only requesting that you bring it up.”
“No! Absolutely not! I am not getting Sariel’s hopes up again. Father had him all convinced that he’d get redeemed by going to the Abyss. The old fucker….”
“Sariel does not know,” said Ganesh.
“He doesn’t?”
Ganesh shook his head.
“You really adore my stupid Little Brother, don’t you?”
“I thought that would be apparent by now.”
Raziel sniffed. “You didn’t even wanna marry him,” she snorted, her eyes flashing dark.
Ganesh went down on his knees, beside her chair, hands lightly on her shoulders. “Have I not, since that time, acted as every bit a devoted husband? And father?” he asked.
Raziel frowned at Ganesh. “You think you can talk me into this because you’re so danged pretty?”
“That is undeniable as well.”
“All right. All right. For you, Ganesh. I’ll see what I can do.”
“I am in your debt, Lady Raziel,” said Ganesh, standing and pulling a very graceful bow.
“That’s Queen Raziel to you, bud,” she grumbled as he disappeared.
“Guys, do we really have to do this now?”
“I want to be FIRE CHIEF,” thundered Nathan Explosion, moving his bulk around in the office guest chair.
“Well, yes, Nathan-“
“Dood! I wanna be fire chief! I gaht da experience,” countered Pickles, lighting up.
“Uh, yes, noted. Guys, I thought only William was interesting in the job?”
“Naw, he’s giving it up. Said it was too much work,” said Nathan. “When he’s got other things to do.”
“Uh, what else does William have to do?” asked Charles before he could stop himself.
“Dood! He makes sammiches.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot,” said Charles. “So, you guys disagree on who should be fire chief? Did you put it to a vote?”
“Yeah. SKWISGAAR VOTED FOR ME.”
“An’ Toki voter fer me,” puffed Pickles.
“And William?” asked Charles, waving his hand to dissipate the toxic smoke.
“Voted for HIMSELF,” pouted Nathan.
“Da douche,” seconded Pickles.
“Wait, I thought he wasn’t- Nevermind,” Charles interrupted himself. “All right. OK. But you guys need to know, the position has been eliminated.”
“WHAT?” bellowed Nathan.
“Dood?” choked Pickles, who had nearly swallowed his joint at Nathan’s outburst.
“It has, rather, been subsumed into the duties of the Dedicated Emergency Training and Hardship Management Operations Manager.”
“Da … wut?” asked Pickles, who thought perhaps he was smoking some bad shit. Some really bad shit.
“The Dedicated Emergency Training and Hardship Management Operations Manager,” rattled off Charles. “You will have to fill out some paperwork to qualify. Of course. And there is mandatory training.”
“Ooooo,” said Nathan. “Facebones?”
“Why, yes, Nathan, there are several Facebones-led training modules for you to master. I’ll just issue you guys the Dethlaptops,” said Charles, pushing a button on his phone.
“Wait, dood, yer nawt gonna decide who wins?” asked Pickles.
“Why don’t you two just go ahead and complete the training modules,” said Charles as the ever efficient Pie the receptionist bustled in holding two Facebones-logo computers. He was holding them carefully, as both sported a number of wicked-looking spikes. “Oh, there you go,” he added, as Klokateer 31415 distributed the laptops to the boys.
“Ow! Dood!” said Pickles, shaking out his pricked hand.
“OUCH!” complained Nathan. “How are you supposed to hold these fucking things?”
“Carefully,” said Charles. “But, uh, you guys designed them. Remember?”
“Were we DRUNK?” asked Nathan, sucking on a poked finger.
“Well, you were drunk, Nathan. I believe Pickles was high.”
“Yeh, I wud do dat.”
“Sire. Lord Phanuel awaits you,” said Pie.
“So, guys,” said Charles, standing up, “the Female Online Division has already programmed those for you. The training modules are loaded, you just go ahead and complete them, and report back to me. Great! Tally ho!” he concluded, as Pie ushered Nathan and Pickles from the office, both of them protesting all the way at the prickly computer equipment.
Pie shut the door behind the two musicians, who stood for a moment in the corridor.
“Hey! Hey, did he just say, ‘Tally ho?’” asked Nathan.
“Look, Gampa!” said Elias.
“That is lovely, Elias,” said the Creator, leaning over from his own canvas to view the Botticelli-esque scape of capering angels that graced the boy’s easel.
His cousin, Liam, looked over as well, and then contentedly went back to fingerpainting, although it appeared that a substantial proportion of the paint had ended up on the lad’s smock. Abby, by contrast, favored a brush, which she was currently using to mime various fencing moves. Her canvas, as a result, was completely pristine.
“Ha, Father, Abby takes after you,” laughed Raziel, who was sitting reading a fashion magazine.
The Creator frowned at Raziel.
“You're just still pissed I’m actually making you paint,” Raziel told him. She stood, and came around behind the Creator. He was working on a landscape. It was actually quite good. “Hey, that's really nice,” said Raziel.
“What do you want, Raziel?” asked the Creator.
“What? It looks nice?” Raziel frowned. She was not a creature to beat around the bush, however, so she next said, “Reinstate Sariel.”
“Why should I do that?”
“Because I asked. You exiled him.”
“That is incorrect.”
“WHAT?” asked Raziel, pushing her sunglasses down her nose to stare over them.
The Creator painted. “He is a chatty sort. Did he never tell you the story of how he came to be Fallen?”
“Michael and Uriel tossed his ass out. Well, alongside some of your goons.”
“Michael. And Uriel,” repeated the Creator, dabbing some ripples in a stream he was painting.
“Hey, we don't have a stream there,” Raziel pointed out.
“Don't you?” asked the Creator.
Raziel heard a rippling sound, and turned around. “MUMMY!” the twins called. The three children were on the bank of a stream, poking at tadpoles.
“I dunno if Wotan will be pleased,” mused Raziel. “Unless you've stocked it with trout.”
“Michael sometimes took it upon himself to do what he presumed was my bidding,” said the Creator.
“Wait! So you're now claiming you didn't exile Sariel?”
“Was I in the room? Are you now claiming you were there, Raziel?” asked the Creator, who seemed caught up in his watercolor.
“You take no responsibility for what your angels did to my Little Brother?”
“I always wondered at that. You were all brothers and sisters. Why did you always favor him? He is a ratty little thing. Was it pity?”
“He is my kin. My real kin,” said Raziel, although now there was a warning in her voice.
“But you couldn't have known that.”
“No. You made sure of that,” whispered Raziel.
“You would have wanted to know? That you were born of Her sins against me?”
Raziel began to speak. And then, evidently think the better of it, re-donned her sunglasses, walked up the porch stairs, and disappeared into the house, letting the screen door slam behind her.
“Phanuel,” said Charles as the Grey angel along with his companion, Engelbert, materialized in his office. “Sorry, it's been a busy morning.” Bert hopped up in a guest chair and contentedly flapped his lovely green gold wings.
“We are both busy men,” said Phanuel affably. “I hope this appointment will move quickly. Simply a few matters. Regarding the wedding.”
“I'm afraid there's been a complication,” sighed Charles. “With the concert.”
“Oh? What sort of complication?” asked Phanuel.
“My lead guitarist … is cursed,” explained Charles.
“Bloody hell,” said Phanuel. “I am sorry. I had not heard.”
“We haven't been spreading it around,” said Charles. “Look, worst comes to worst, we can do your gig, with Toki filling in on lead.”
“Toki?” asked Engelbert, big smile on his face. “My Toki?”
“Yes, your Toki,” Phanuel told him kindly. “But I regret the obvious inconvenience,” he told Charles. “To you. Do you know the source. Of the curse?”
“Ganesh is following up with Elegba. I haven't had time to deal with it. The thing is, Skwisgaar has no memory of this, so we're not sure where to start.”
“Who would wish mischief upon the Odinsson?” asked Phanuel.
“Well, regrettably-” started Charles.
“CHARLES!” yelled Toki from the doorway. “I ams wants to know about da fires marshalls- Oh. Hey, Berts.”
“TOKI!” said Engelbert, who was already over in the doorway. He reared back just as he came face to face with Toki however, his great wings spread wide. “Toki?” he asked. He whirled around to look searchingly at Phanuel.
“Whatever is wrong, Engelbert?”
“THS IS NOT MY TOKI! What have you done with him?” the angel demanded, standing poised over Toki, who cringed back.
“ENGELBERT,” said Phanuel. “This is not. How we. Behave.”
“WHERE IS MY TOKI?”
“Bert,” said Charles, who was quite suddenly standing between Engelbert and a cowering Toki, nose to nose with the green-yellow Power. “Back. The fuck. Off.”
Phanuel was there, yanking Engelbert back by the scruff of the neck. “Engelbert. This is inexcusable.”
“I ams not like you no mores,” Toki told Engelbert. “I ams normal!”
“Wait. You're what?” asked Charles, now rounding on Toki.
“Um,” said Toki.
“What do you mean you're not like Bert?” Charles pressed.
“Ams not da … kabomination!” spat Toki. “Ams just da humans.”
Phanuel and Charles regarded one another. Toki looked a strange mixture of defiant and contrite.
“Toki,” said Charles. “What did you do?”
“What did you get for question FIVE HUNDRED THIRTY TWO B?” whispered Nathan, although it was probably that half of Mordhaus had heard the throaty-voiced singer.
“Wut?” asked Pickles, who had not heard. He popped off his headphones, causing death metal beats to blare through the library. A hooded librarian Klokateer held a finger to her lips and whispered, “Shush, sires.”
“What did yo get for question 532b?” Nathan repeated. “It's the one about Article 43a subsection 7332.”
“Oh, yoo mean da Article 43a subsection 6543?”
“NOOO!” said Nathan, who cringed at another glance from the librarian: those chicks were scary! “Article 43a subsection 7332...” he explained, tilting his laptop around to Pickles could see it. He cringed as he pricked himself on a spike.
“Oh, yoo mean dis?” asked Pickles, pointing to the screen.
“No, I mean-” started Nathan, who grabbed away the computer. Unfortunately, one of his meaty fingers tapped the ESCAPE key by mistake. “NOOOOOOO!” he wailed as the screen went blank.
“Shush,” said a librarian.
Skwisgaar sat alone.
Completely alone. There was no one else in his room. Not even a single GMILF.
His beloved Gibson was propped on the wall.
Skwisgaar gazed sadly at it.
“Skwisgaar!”
“Lady Raz?” he asked. He recognized the voice but did not even bother to turn.
“Come on,” she urged. He saw her finely manicured little hand in front of him.
“Where I ams goes?”
“Your father needs you.”
Skwisgaar blinked, looking up into Raziel's face. She looked completely serious. “He ams needs me?”
Raziel nodded grimly.
Skwisgaar spared one more glance at his Gibson.
Then he reached out his hand.
And then they were there no more.
“Yeah, but what kind o' witch? You have any more information?” asked Elegba.
“Just a witches,” grumbled Toki, arms crossed, a look of furious defiance on his face. He was sitting in a chair in Charles' office, Elegba directly across from him, also seated, his top hat now on one knee. The god had his hands pressed together, beseechingly.
“There are many witches in the world,” said Ganesh softly. Ganesh was standing behind Elegba.
“We need your help to puzzle out which one,” added Elegba.
“I ams not knows.”
“We would all like to help Skwisgaar,” said Ganesh. “I am sure you would too.”
“Why I helps dat dumb dildos? I can play leads geetars. Charles, you tell dem!”
Charles was seated behind his desk. As the lights were turned down, he was in shadows. “Toki,” he said at last. “Why don't you take us through what happened? Just go through it step by step, take your time, and tell us everything.”
“When we ams in Zimbabwe, I ams goes to see da goil. She ams knows my friends, Dr. Rockso.”
“Who?” asked Elegba.
“You don't wanna know,” sighed Charles.
“So, we takes da taxis to her house. Ams across from da Duncan Hills coffee shops!”
“Wow. Those places really are everywhere,” said Charles.
“Like a weed,” sighed Ganesh.
“So, Dr. Rockso ams gets a latte, though I ams not wants anythings, 'cause coffees keeps me up. An' anyways, Dr. Rockso ams not has cash, so I has to loans him some, but I tells him I can't give him all, 'cause I ams needs to see da witches....”
“Toki! I think we don't need to know about you stopping for coffee,” said Charles.
“You ams said-”
“Just,” said Ganesh calmly, “tell us what happened when you reached the, er, witch's house.”
“Oh, ams not da house! Ams da condominickle.”
“Uh-” said Elegba.
“Condominium,” supplied Charles.
“Thank you,” said Elegba, who was scratching his head.
“She ams flies in on da magicksal basket!”
“And, let me guess, she wasn't wearing any clothes?” prompted Elegba, which sent Toki giggling.
“Ja, an den she casted da bones. Dey ams da bones of da albinoses!” related Toki, who mimed what looked like someone throwing dice.
“Albino bones,” muttered Elegba, rolling his eyes.
“An den I tells her what I wants, and she says she ams needs somet'ings to trades. An so I tells her da I ams Toki Wartooth, da second fastest geetarist in da woild! And she ams says, who ams da fastest? An I tells her dat dumb dildos Skwisgaar. But den I ams t'inking, maybes I can gets da better spells....”
“So, Toki,” said Elegba. “You traded Skwisgaar's guitar skills for....”
“For to be mes!”
“Meaning?” asked Charles.
“I ams Toki now. Not da angels t'ings. Just Toki.”
“You traded away your powers … and gave her more power?” asked Charles, now leaning into the light. His expression was unreadable.
“Ja! Now I ams not da kabominations. Not dat you ams da kabominations, Charles. You ams not helps it, you was borned dat way,” Toki explained, looking in pity at Charles, who had already slumped back into the dark.
“Is that all, Elegba?” asked Charles.
“Toki. Did she give you a name?”
“Oh ja! She ams Da Goddess!”
“WHAT?” said Charles, snapping to attention.
“A tagati, Toki? Did she say tagati?” asked Elegba.
“Ja. Tagatis.”
Elegba turned to Charles. “Tagati is just a generic Zulu word for a conjurer.”
Charles ran a hand through his hair, and leaned back again. “Thank you, Toki.” He looked at Elegba and Ganesh, who nodded. “That's all for now.”
Toki stood. “Ams I da lead geetarist now?”
“We'll, uh, we'll talk about it,” said Charles. Toki smiled and departed. “Elegba?” asked Charles after the door was shut again.
“The person he went to was almost certainly one motherfucker of a fraud,” said Elegba as Ganesh collapsed into the chair where the guitarist had been sitting.
“Are you sure?” asked Charles.
“It's typical fucking hogwash,” said Elegba. “Or I'll eat my hat,” he added, nudging it with his knee.
“But what about the effect on Toki and Skwisgaar?”
“Toki might be explained by the power of suggestion,” said Elegba.
“What?”
“It's true. His magical aura is no different,” said Ganesh. “That is why I did not spot anything amiss. It is possible he believes he cannot True Form, and that is sufficient.”
“But what about Skwisgaar? He didn't even know about the curse!” said Charles.
“Didn't he?” asked Ganesh.
“What do you mean?” asked Charles.
“We questioned him about whether he remembers consulting a witch, or any kind of curse. Is it possible that this took place, but he does not recall?” asked Ganesh.
“Like a post-hypnotic fucking suggesting?” said Elegba.
“So, I get Twinkletits and hypnotize him back?” asked Charles, picking up the phone.
“It is possible,” said Ganesh.
“You guys gonna seek out that friend of his? Rockso?” asked Elegba.
“I suppose we must,” sighed Ganesh.
“Huh,” said Charles, replacing the phone in its cradle. “Skwisgaar isn't around. I wonder where he went? He's just been moping in his room....”
“Grand day, ain't it?” Wotan asked the Creator.
The Creator turned. Wotan and Skwisgaar were coming out on the porch. He eyed them, but did not reply.
“Kids!” shouted Raziel. “Come get washed up for lunch!” Elias and the twins went barreling for the porch, where they disappeared inside, Raziel going after them.
Wotan stood on the porch, lighting a cigar, Skwisgaar standing silently behind him. “Like a cigar?” he asked the Creator.
“I do not partake,” said the old man, wiping a brush on a rag.
“You know, you can't rightly trust a man who doesn't smoke cigars, I always say,” said Wotan.
“My thanks for sharing your colorful folk wisdom,” grumbled the Creator.
“So,” said Wotan, “the wife tells me, she just asked a favor of you, and you turned her down. Flat.”
“That is not my recollection.”
“You know,” continued Wotan, ignoring the Creator, “seems to me like you owe us. The only reason the fathers let you continue to see that boy is under my Lady's supervision.”
“Are you threatening to take away my visitations of Elias?” snapped the Creator.
“Oh, heavens no,” said Wotan, smiling and holding up his hands. “I haven't even gotten to the threat part. Believe me, you'll know when I do.”
“You cannot threaten me, Earth god.”
“Funny, Lucifer said something of the same thing. You do remember him, don't you?” asked Wotan.
“You literally cannot threaten me. You know this!” said the Creator. “And do not even consider sending Phanuel. I know your trick with Lucifer.”
“Sending one of your children against another? That was hardly the first time, old man,” smiled Wotan.
“It will not work again,” said the Creator.
“You have met my boy?” asked Wotan, clapping Skwisgaar on the shoulder.
“The musician?” asked the Creator.
Skwisgaar shrugged. “I was a musicians,” he sighed.
“You. Boy,” the Creator told Skwisgaar. “Odinsson. You have just lost a brother. You will gain another. Before the day is ended.
“Uh. Ja,” said Skwisgaar, who looked puzzled.
“Skwisgaar is my half human son,” said Wotan, puffing smoke.
The Creator was silent for a long moment. “You woudn't dare!”
“Oh ja. He would dare,” said Skwisgaar. “And I ams not believes in you anyways,” he added, crossing his arms. “You ams kinds of a dicks.”
The Creator was now trembling with rage. “All Father. You will pay for this.”
“So, see you next Sunday?” asked Wotan, as the Creator disappeared. “Huh, don't go away mad,” he said, waving his cigar.
“Douche bags,” muttered Skwisgaar.
“We can't apply for Fire Chief. It's TOO HARD!” whined Nathan as he and Pickles stood in Charles' office.
“That was, uh, your impression too, Pickles?” Charles asked solicitously.
“I wuz fine, dood,” said Pickles.
“I, uh, noticed you scored a zero on your exam, Pickles.”
“What?” said Nathan. “Pickles, you were in there as long as I was. What the fuck were you doing?”
“Oh, I took, yeh, jest a liddle spash o' dis an' dat,” explained Pickles.
“Do you recall anything about your training session?” asked Charles.
“Nope. Nawt a fraction.”
“Maybe I need some of that stuff,” grumbled Nathan.
“Well, I tell you guys what, maybe I can see if William is willing to extend his term? Just a few months?” asked Charles.
“Yeah, you just go DO THAT, why don't you?” grumbled Nathan.
“All rightie,” said Charles, picking up the phone.
Nathan and Pickles began to leave. “Dude, what was that stuff you were tripping on?”
“Jest a spash o' dis an' a dash o' dat,” explained Pickles.
“I fucking need some. I HAVE A HEADACHE.”
Charles waited for the door to close before he dialed the number. “Yeah, the uh, Female Online Division? Yeah, thanks guys, great job with that, uh, training session. Uh-huh. Yeah, I'm sending down a bottle of champagne. OK. Yeah. Bye.” Charles smirked and replaced the phone. Some things he couldn't do, but some things he could.
He looked up as his lights in his office flickered. The light bulbs fizzled, and then suddenly all popped.
Then the entire light fixture began to sway, as if it was an earthquake.
There was a screeching of metal, and suddenly, Charles dove under his desk as the entire chandelier came crashing down to the sound of twisting metal and shattering glass.
“What the-?” asked Charles, peeking out from under his desk.
He heard the sound of a wind rushing, and another great crash as his windows blew in.
“Holy fuck!” said Charles, who had ducked back under the desk. He was already fumbling amid the wreckage on his desk for his phone.
“Sariel.”
Charles let the phone drop back down.
He stood.
There was broken glass everywhere. His floor sparkled in the sun like thousands of diamonds.
And there, in the middle of it all, stood the Creator.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” asked Charles.
“Is that any kind of greeting?” said the Creator. “I have been dragooned here. We might as well get this over with. SARIEL!” he said, pointing a hand at Charles.
“What the fuck?”
“You are released!”
Charles threw his arms up and screamed. The next few seconds or minutes were something he could never recall, not for the rest of his long life.
“Sariel!”
This time it was Ganesh calling him. Ganesh was standing in the office doorway, several others standing behind him.
Charles was standing in the middle of his office, True Formed. His jacket and shirt were ripped to shreds: he must not have bothered removing them before he manifested, he thought.
And then he felt the breeze from the broken windows. He looked out, silver eyes blinking in the sun.
FREEDOM.
And then he was no longer there.
“SARIEL!” yelled Ganesh.
“You guys go get washed up now. It's almost naptime,” Raziel told the kids.
“Stowwy!” yelled several of them.
“Yeah, I'll tell you a story. If you wash your grubby hands!” Raziel promised. The three whirled off to the bathroom. Raziel stood up.
“I'll clear this away,” offered Wotan.
“I think you've had enough excitement today,” said Raziel, gathering dishes. “Threatening my Father.”
“It wasn't a threat. It was a suggestion. If he wished to remain in good health,” said her husband, who had an armful of cups.
“What's that?” asked Raziel, noticing a breeze out on the porch.
“Your Father's damned river better not be overflowing the banks, I'll skin the bastard alive,” vowed Wotan, as Raziel went outside to investigate.
“Sariel?” she asked. “What are you doing-?”
“Raziel? Is Sariel here for dinner?” called Wotan. There was no response. “Tell him I'll break out the good Scotch!” He waited for a moment, and then, setting down the dirty dishes, opened the back door.
There was no one there.
“What ams happened, Ganoshes?” asked Skwisgaar. The god stood in the middle of the wreckage of what had once been Charles' office.
“Oh, Skwisgaar! Thank the gods you're here! I was wanting to ask you what happened.”
“Dey ams a lot of magic,” said Skwisgaar, looking around. “Dat ams plains as da frets on my geetar.”
“Angel? Demon?”
Skwisgaar frowned. “Actuallies, you know dat guy, da Creator.”
“WHAT?”
“I know hims magics. I ams just saw him. Wit' my Father,” said Skwisgaar, hiking his thumb northward.
“You were up at Valhalla?” asked Ganesh. Skwisgaar nodded. “We wondered what had happened to you.”
“Wotan ams needed da favor. For Charles.”
“I'm sorry?” said Ganesh. Skwisgaar suddenly had his full attention.
“Lady Raz. She ams asked for da Creators to help Charles. So he ams not da Fallens angels?”
“So you were up there as well?” asked Ganesh.
“Ja. Da Creators ams beings da douche bags, so my father ams asks if I ams helps. We ams threatens da old mother dildos. But he ams not sounds like he ams doing it.” Skwisgaar suddenly gasped, as he found himself entwined in a many-armed embrace.
“Skwisgaar,” whispered Ganesh as he pulled back, several hands still gripping the uncomfortable guitarist. “This you did for Sariel?”
“Uh. Ja,” said Skwisgaar. He shrugged.
Ganesh's eyes were teary. “If there is ever anything.... Anything I can do.... I can't tell you....”
“Ams not'ings,” scoffed Skwisgaar, who suddenly looked down, and whose cheeks just might have been a bit flushed.
“No, it is everything,” said Ganesh. “Anything I can do for you. My brother.”
Skwisgaar tried with all his might to emit a “Pffft.” But for once, it just wouldn't come out.
“Wow,” said Raziel. The lake was a lovely shade of lavender, reflecting a flushed pink sky. They were up on a butte, looking over a vast plain. There were several mysterious monoliths out towards the horizon, casting long shadows in the alien sun. “I don't think I've ever been to this place.”
“This is just the beginning, Raziel!” said Sariel, his arms and wings spread wide. “The whole universe! We have the whole fucking universe now!”
“That's torn,” said Raziel, who went over to Sariel and began to remove his ruined jacket. “Ganesh will be upset.”
“Who gives a flying fuck about my human clothes?” asked Sariel. “I won't need them any more!”
“Not even to visit Elias?”
“He's coming with us! We'll go back we'll get him....”
“And Ganesh?” asked Raziel, folding the torn jacket over her arm and starting to unbutton Sariel's shirt. “You know he's not really supposed to leave his reality.”
“We'll.... Well, I haven't thought that far. We'll figure that out.”
“You know what happened this morning, right?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” asked Sariel, wings ruffling in the breeze.
“You don't think the Creator showed up at random, do you?”
“No. Who knows what the fuck motivates that guy?”
“Ganesh asked me.”
“Ganesh?”
“Ganesh asked me to intervene with Our Father. And since I can't say no to those pretty brown eyes,” said Raziel, now removing the rags that had once been Sariel's shirt, “Wotan and Skwisgaar threatened the old bastard.”
“They threatened him? That's pretty cool! Wait, Skwisgaar too?”
“Wotan and Skwisgaar,” said Raziel, folding the torn shirt over her arm, and smoothing it out.
“Huh,” said Sariel. “Well, it worked!” he said, jumping back and extending his wings.
“Did you check out your wings,” asked Raziel. “By the way, you look weird wearing just a tie.”
Sariel looked over his shoulder. He frowned, and pulled on his own wingtip. “My undercoat is completely dark now,” he said in wonder.
“All mixed up with Ganesh,” smiled Raziel.
“Look, it doesn't matter! I'm free! We're going places now!” said Sariel.
“I'm not going anywhere. Not for a while,” said Raziel.
“What? What do you-? OH!” said Sariel, suddenly cocking his head at her. “Why didn't you tell me?”
“It's still early. Nobody knows. I mean, Ganesh knows, but you know how fanatical he is about doctor patient confidentiality.”
“But … again?”
“You can do it more than once,” laughed Raziel.
“But, I didn't see this in any of my visions!”
“I've decided I'm gonna make my own reality,” said Raziel. “Anyway. I've got some kids who expect a story, so I need to get going back. This was nice though,” she said, waving towards the horizon. “You want me to take Boonie back to Mordhaus for you?”
“Boon? No, no! I'll come get him! Of course. He needs his Daddy to pick him up! I wanna bring him here, and show him this! And I'll show Ganesh....” Sariel trailed off. “I need to see Ganesh,” he said, tugging at his tie. “I need to thank him.”
“You wanna come back with me?” asked Raziel. “Maybe I could figure out where the fuck this is, and get us all out for a picnic some time?”
Sariel nodded. And then he touched Raziel's shoulder. And they were there no more.
“Sariel!” Ganesh watched in wonder as Charles burst through the window, little Elias in his arms. “We wondered where you had gone to. Are you well?” But then Ganesh felt himself enwrapped in two powerful silvery wings, Charles embracing Ganesh and Elias with all his might.
“What … what has happened?” asked Ganesh as Charles at last broke the embrace. He stared at Charles for a long moment. “Sariel! Your aura!”
“Dey ams a lot more magics in dis room,” said Skwisgaar, who had been quietly watching.
“I've never been better,” said Charles, hoisting Elias, who smiled and reached over to pull a tendril of hair out of his father's face. “And, hey, Skwisgaar?”
“Ja?”
“We're gonna go find your witch. And kick her ass.”
IN A DUNCAN HILLS COFFEE SHOP, FAR FAR AWAY....
“Yes, sir?”
The customer placed a cardboard tray full of assorted espresso drinks on the counter before the barista.
“This half decaf no foam 155 degree venti vanilla soy latte with room?” said the customer, scowling and pointing to one of the cups.
“Yes sir?” asked the clerk.
“This is not 155 degrees. This is only 140 degrees. Maybe 145!” said the customer, adjusting his tie and completely ignoring the line of thirsty customers who gathered in line behind him. “I'm extra sensitive. I can tell!”
“Yes, sir. I will remake it immediately,” said the clerk, reaching for the cup.
“You will remake every single drink in my order!” barked the customer.
“Certainly sir,” said the clerk, who obediently took the cardboard tray and vanished into the back.
“And see that you're quick about it!” the customer called after her. He turned around, gripping his cellular phone, but was surprised to see the clerk now in front of him.
“Here you go, sir,” she said, holding up a cardboard tray full of drinks.
“So quick?” asked the customer. “Oh, well,” he said, pocketing his phone and grabbing for the tray.
“But first!” said the clerk, pulling back the tray, “if you would please taste your half decaf no foam 155 degree venti vanilla soy latte with room? To make sure it is perfect. We do not serve espresso that is not perfect. That is not the Duncan Hills way!”
The customer hesitated just a fraction of a second, and then pulled out the cup. He began to drink. His eyes suddenly snapped open, and he seemed to issue a strangled moan. He began pulling at the cup, more and more frantically it seemed, but for whatever reason, continued drinking, as if compelled.
Steam began to rise from his ears. His lips blistered. His head went scarlet. He thrashed back and forth, but continued drinking.
And then with a strangled scream, he collapsed on the coffee shop floor, twitched for a bit, and then was still and silent. The cup rolled away, and brownish venti latte started to pool around his body.
“Very good, sir,” said the clerk. “Can we have a clean up?” she called, taking the cardboard tray and sashaying back behind the counter.
