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The Lady and the Tiger (2 of 2) (Mythklok, Chapter 6)
Title: The Lady and the Tiger (Mythklok, Chapter 6) (Part 2 of 2)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Pickles reaches out and touches someone. Nathan and Skwisgaar make some new friends. Charles smokes a lot and smashes stuff with a sword.
Warnings: THIS ONE GOT SLASHY - NOT A LOT BUT A LITTLE - I’M NOT SURE HOW BUT IT JUST DID I’M SORRY GUYS THIS HAPPENS SOMETIMES. Also, AU plus plenty o’ F-words and OCs and het other stuff you didn’t wanna read.
Notes: Notes attached to Part 1.
Since my fics tend to grow as obese as Murderface's belly, I posted Part 1 yesterday. Y'all don't have to read it, but I think this will make even less sense if'n ya don't.
Also, I know no one else besides me cares about this, but it's my fic, dammit, so here's some Lady Raziel's favorite Bette Davis costumes for ya:
Jerry Durrance (Paul Henreid) lights Charlotte Vale's cigarette in Now Voyager. (sigh)
Judith Traherne's adorable riding habit from Dark Victory.
THE LADY AND THE TIGER (Mythklok, Chapter 6)
Part 2 of 2
None of the current inhabitants of Valhalla were quite sure how long the standing stones had been there. They were arranged in roughly a spiral pattern.
Two angels moved among them.
Well, one and angel and one ex-angel.
There was, oddly, no vegetation inside this place. Which is why Raziel had chosen it for a post-dinner practice session.
“OK,” she announced to her imaginary audience of millions. “How to wield the flaming sword without incurring severe damage to yourself and others to whom you do not intend it!" She pulled a sword out of thin air with a special flourish.
"Can we please just get the fuck on with it?" Ofdensen grumbled.
She smiled and handed off the blade. "You’re obviously now aware of Secret and Arcane Flaming Sword Rule Number One, no flaming sword inside the house!” She grinned as he frowned harder, and then he flinched as she grabbed his right hand. “You sure you don’t want one of our people to look at your hand? It’s a magical injury, so it might take some extra attention. Parvati said Ganesh could-“
He snatched his bandaged hand away. “Definitely not! I don’t wanna end up with two left hands. Or a hoof. Or whatever the fuck.”
“You might look rather fetching with hooves!”
“How the hell would I hold a sword?”
“I don’t know. I suppose you’d have to figure that one out for yourself! So, holding your sword firmly in your hoof-” she said.
He glared mightily, sword now in his uninjured left hand. “Raziel. I am asking you this in all seriousness. Do you wish to live to see the dawn?”
“Holding your sword firmly in your hand, here’s the second important rule, don’t magick the whole thing at once, that’s how you get burned." She pointed to the sword. "Start just past the hilt and go up to the tip, in one direction.”
He did as she said. And found himself, against every instinct, smiling.
“Really neat trick, isn’t it? It looks especially arresting at night or in dim light I think.” She spoke as, mesmerized, he started feinting with fiery blade. “And, truth be told, half the time, this is all you need do. People who see a flaming sword tend to back the fuck off.”
“People who haven’t already backed off at the sight of a six-winged angel the size of a bus?” The flame danced as he parried several imaginary blows.
“I’m not THAT BIG when I’m Seraph,” she pouted.
“Yes. Yes you are actually.”
“I’m surprised you figured this one out on your own at all. It’s supposed to be our arcane secret, us Seraph types.”
“You gave away all the Secrets and Mysteries, remember?” he said, lunging at his imaginary opponent.
“Oh, yeah, my bad, I guess. You have a copy of The Book, then?”
“I have a copy of every book.”
“Huh. That’s interesting. OK, power levels: that’s the advantage of using Surtr’s magic instead of the angel stuff, as you are at liberty vis-a-vis intensity. So, it’s a matter of concentration. What I’d suggest is choosing a level when you start, as it’s sort of distracting to change the modulation while you’re trying not to get stabbed by some other bastard.”
He held the blade stationary, and they both watched, transfixed, as the blade color intensified from a rich, warm red to a glaring yellow.
“How powerful does it get?” he asked.
“Surtr’s magic, I haven’t really reached the limits yet. When I’m a big galumphing Seraph, I can pop a top off a mountain. You’re probably gonna have to play around….”
He suddenly whirled around and took the blade neatly through a 20-foot tall megalith. They watched as the obelisk, sliced cleanly through the middle, toppled over with a crash, and then took out another nearby lith with an even bigger crash.
When the dust had settled somewhat, Raziel hopped up on the stump, and surveyed the damage. “Huh. Pretty powerful,” she said approvingly.
He grinned.
“But you know,” she said, pointing at the stump, “you may’ve pissed off some druids.”
“They can send me a bill.”
“You sure you don’t want me to show you the angel version too?”
“Told you, I’m through with angel crap. Unless you can combine the two?”
“Heh. I’ve tried.”
“And?”
“I’ve got a museum-worthy collection of Daliesque melted swords to show for it. Oh, and by the way, definitely do a test run on your saber before you actually try to use it for demon-killing or whatever. Some blades stand up better than others. You gotta be careful with the human-made stuff, 'cause some of it is real crap." Raziel jumped off the megalith stump. “So, anything else?” she asked. They started to walk back towards the halls of Valhalla, Ofdensen still flashing the sword.
“You think I’d be able to take down a Seraph with something like this?”
“Oh, now who’s being ambitious?”
“Don’t be snarky. I simply remarked that world domination is a bit of an unusual hobby to share with ones boyfriend. Most girls might try sailing, or backgammon.”
“We’re just considering suggesting to Michael that he, you know, back the fuck off on our universe.”
“I’m certain Michael will love hearing that message. Especially from you.”
“Look. Honestly, I don’t know any more. You know I never had a head for any of that stuff! I’m thinking maybe just wanna abide here in peace and see some runway shows and stab demons.”
“Didn’t you hear the Kachinas? The New World Genocide?”
“Wait, I thought you were advocating for doing nothing?”
“I’m just pointing out, even if the Legion is in disarray, those people are very, very dangerous.”
“So, that’s why you wanna take a flaming sword to Michael.”
“I didn’t say anything about Michael. And besides, you never answered my question.”
“You versus a Seraph? I don’t know the answer. Maybe if you’re True Formed? I mean, do you have a sense of how much magic you have, relative to us?”
“I have enough magic.”
“Oh, great, I just showed you our most arcane and secret mysteries, and you’re getting all cagey!”
“Arcane and secret? You learned that trick from Surtr at his last barbecue!”
“I’m a well known fan of his demon barbecue sauce. Unlike some!”
“That stuff gives me violent indigestion. You know, not all of us were blessed with carbon fiber digestive systems.”
“Demon meat is healthy! It’s low in cholesterol! You should watch your cholesterol!”
“I’m immortal! Why would I need to watch my fucking cholesterol?”
“You’ve been stressed. It can’t be good for you!”
“You really wanna help my stress levels? Could you PLEASE help me keep Nathan away from Parvati for the rest of the weekend?”
“Nathan and Parvati?”
“Oh, shit, Raziel, you know what he’s like! And, I don’t think Shiva is gonna think it’s all a laugh, the way Wotan evidently does.”
“Um, OK. Shiva and Parvati? You know how you told me there’s no such thing as ‘kind of exclusive?’”
She followed him to the bedroom door laughing softly. Skwisgaar kissed her, and departed the room. He was trying to remember the last time he’s spent so much of an evening with a single woman.
He couldn’t remember spending two evenings in a row with the same woman. Nor plotting to spend more time with her.
But, she wasn’t a mere woman, was she now?
Her smell was still on his body. It was intoxicating, all by itself. Some kind of rare spices. Delicate and overpowering, all at the same time. How was it even possible? How was she even possible? She wasn't a woman, more like all his memories of all his women, all his fantasies about the ones he had yet to meet. But she was soft and perfect and real.
He walked quietly towards his bedroom. He passed by the kitchen. His father, King Wotan, sat at the table, drinking a glass of Scotch.
“Er,” he said. Why exactly was he feeling so guilty? That was ridiculous.
“Son.” Wotan smiled. “Would you like a drink?” he asked. Skwisgaar decided to sit down. At least that horrible angel woman wasn’t around.
Wotan picked up the book he was reading and seemed to be considering it. “I don’t read these stories too often. I have told you about Baldr, haven’t I?”
“I know he died. Loki killed him, right?”
“Well, that’s not exactly what happened. He was young. Not anywhere near as young as you. But young. And a bit stupid.” Wotan smiled ruefully. “They’d been drinking. We’d all been drinking. You know he was supposed to be invulnerable right? Freyja, his mother, had all sorts of spells and charms of all kinds over him. He was, maybe a little bit spoiled? So you could fire an arrow at him,” and Wotan mimed bending a bow and loosing an arrow, “and it would bounce off. We decided it was funny. I’m not sure why, you never know what will seem hilarious when you’re shitfaced.” Despite himself, Skwisgaar smiled.
“Anyway,” the god continued, “I can still remember him standing there, shouting, ‘Fire away! Fire away! Right here!’” And he pounded his own chest, right over his heart. “’I’m immortal! Nothing shall harm me! Nothing!’ And of course, something could harm him. They’d forgotten to lay in a charm for mistletoe. Or, that was the story. I’m sure if you’d thrown half a dozen things at him, you might have hurt him or killed him. You can’t set up a charm against everything in the world, can you?”
“I suppose no one is safe,” Skwisgaar said, trying his drink. “But what’s life without risk?”
“Well, I guess that’s a good point. I guess you might have to decide whether the risk is worth it.”
“You want to say what’s really on your mind, Father?”
“Maybe it’s not my place…” the king began.
“No. It isn’t.”
“Skwisgaar. Shiva is an old friend. I know him well. Perhaps too well. I know he has a certain measure of tolerance. But, only a certain measure.”
“I’ll remember that,” Skwisgaar said. He rose. “Thanks for the whiskey.”
“Aw, c’mon, pleeeeeeease?” she was whining. They had returned to Valhalla, and, after a bit of a pause at the doorway when she insisted he extinguish his flaming sword and some threats of bodily harm were exchanged, they had proceeded into the building and now walked the vast corridors.
“Raziel, it is extremely rude to keep bumming cigarettes when you don’t even smoke.” He was, in truth, still more than slightly miffed about having to put out his sword.
“I showed you the arcane secrets of the flaming sword!”
“OK. If you will just fucking shut up.” He sighed irritably and took out his pack of Marlboros. He knocked out two of them, and, while she watched rapturously, put them both in his mouth simultaneously and lit them. He then grudgingly handed over one to a besotted looking angel.
“You tell anybody I did that then so help me….” But she had already wandered away. “Why doesn’t anybody ever fucking listen to me?” She was standing in a doorway. She motioned him over.
Wotan sat alone, sleeping wolves snoring at his feet. He had a book opened on his lap, but he wasn’t reading it. There was a glass of Scotch, untouched, sitting on an end table. He was staring into the fire.
“That book is stories about Baldr,” she whispered. The angels regarded the god for a long moment, and then Sariel nodded at her to follow him.
Wotan looked up at them. He picked up the book. “I’ve read so many stories about him. There have been many written. None of them…. But none of them are quite right.”
“There’s one I like. It’s probably not right either.” Sariel went to the bookshelves and spent a bit of time considering. He finally went up on tiptoe to grab an older book off a high shelf. He walked back to where Raziel and Wotan were sitting. He noticed she held one of his large hands entwined in her smaller ones.
Wotan took the book from Sariel. “Oh, yes, this is one of my favorites. Shall I read?” Raziel nodded. Sariel made himself comfortable on one of the couches, and they listened for a time to a story about a young man who had died a very long time ago.
The next day dawned bright and early.
Too fucking bright and early for Nathan Explosion.
That douche bag Skwisgaar hadn’t even pretended like he was gonna go. And they were supposed to be after rock demons today, which sounded so totally metal and awesome.
And Shiva’s really cute girlfriend hadn’t shown up either. It was weird, after she’d arrived, he didn’t remember seeing her much, despite Charles kind of blowing a gasket over the whole thing. Speaking of which, the angels had decided to show up this morning babbling a mile a minute in their gay angel language about something. And then Shiva and the elephant dude arrived and it was apparent they were all four obsessing over something having to do with their swords or something, like when fucking Skwisgaar got talking about his guitar pickups and wouldn’t stop.
Fucking Skwisgaar.
Raziel was wearing the weirdest hunting outfit he’d ever seen: she had on a tie and a little bowler hat, like she thought she was going to have tea and crumpets in fucking London or something instead of going out looking for demons.
But then Hon and Kwahu had shown up, so at least there would be some kind of normal people to hang with on the ride. It turned out none of them had ever seen these stone demons before. So, while they rode, Nathan talked about the cool fire troll he’d killed, and they told him about ogres, which was evidently what you had to deal with in the Southwest.
“The asshole kept ducking!” Nathan remembered of the fire troll.
“So what did you do, Nathan dude?” Hon laughed.
“I yelled at it to FUCKING KEEP STILL.”
“You did what? No way.”
“WAY!”
Nathan noticed Kwahu and Hon had slowed, so he looked ahead. Raziel had pulled her mount back and was signaling them to stop. The man and the two Kachinas dismounted, and followed her quietly up the path. Not for the first time, Nathan was not quite certain what he was supposed to be looking at, though everyone else seemed to know. They were at the mouth of a canyon bounded by very steep rocky sides. At one side, the cliff seemed to jut directly from the canyon floor, but the other canyon wall was piled with what looked like a rockslide. Shiva and Ganesh had dismounted. Shiva stood, swords ready, at the mouth of the canyon, while Ganesh crept along the sheer wall.
“So, like, what’s that bug dude up to?” Hon asked Nathan, his bear eyes inquisitive.
“I dunno. I thought you guys knew!” Nathan whispered.
“Ten bucks says bug dude totally stabs elephant dude by mistake,” Kwahu said, scowling an eagle scowl. “Look how many fucking arms that guy has! How does he even keep track?”
Inside the canyon, Shiva and Ganesh exchanged some signals, and then Ganesh darted over to the rockslide and gave it a good sturdy elephant kick.
The rockslide stood up. It did not seem terribly pleased at being disturbed. It teetered threateningly towards Ganesh, but his father screamed “I am Shiva the Destroyer!” and then the rock demon whipped around, faster than seemed possible, and Ganesh had a job of avoiding getting smashed by the rocky tail.
Shiva waited, motionless, while the monster overran him. He dodged one rocky fist, and skillfully got inside its punching radius. Then there were several quick flashes of steel as several of Shiva’s limbs moved with lethal quickness, and the beast was down. Ganesh ran back over and inspected part of the fallen body, and Raziel had also somehow appeared atop another piece of the downed stone demon. She and Ganesh nodded to one another, and Shiva raised his swords in victory.
“Well met, friend Shiva! That was today’s first blood!” Wotan announced.
“I didn’t see any blood,” Nathan said.
“That’s why Raziel and Ganesh were inspecting the body,” Ofdensen, who’d been standing nearby, explained. “It’s difficult to tell when these things are dead. Because it’s difficult to tell when they’re alive. You’ll stay back, right?”
“Yeah, don’t freak out,” Nathan grumbled.
“Seriously, homeboy, you need to mellow,” Hon scolded Ofdensen. The manager rolled his eyes and went to talk with Raziel and Shiva, who were still evidently discussing the kill.
“So,” said Nathan, “you can’t see these fucking things, and you can’t even tell when they’re dead?”
“Heavy shit, huh?” Hon laughed.
They finally gathered together and continued down the trail, but didn’t spot any of the boulder demons for a while. Wotan stopped the party to send Huginn ahead to spot. Nathan, who had been putting away his share of the beer, decided this would be a decent time to answer the call of nature.
“Don’t go wandering off to far,” Hon told him, waving a beer. “That’s not a good way to get smashed.”
Nathan laughed and walked through a screen of trees and relieved himself in back of a boulder.
He was about to meander back when the boulder stood up.
Oh, shit.
Nathan backed up. “Uh, Hon? Old buddy? Are you around?”
The thing took a step forwards, towards Nathan. He kept his head enough to figure sound attracted the things, so yelling for help didn’t seem like a good strategy.
Trouble was, he didn’t exactly have in mind an alternative.
There was a flash of fire. And the demon fell, efficiently slashed into two neat pieces.
Ofdensen was standing behind it, holding a flaming sword in his left hand. He looked really weird. He was … smiling.
“SEE? I told you I could get it down in one stroke!”
He was talking to Raziel, who frowned, jumped on top of the ex-demon, and skeptically walked up and down the body pieces.
“Uh, is it dead?” Nathan ventured, hoping desperately that his heart would eventually slow down again.
“Hum? Yeah.” Raziel pointed with her own sword. “See? He got it right through the heart. Sometimes they’ll have two, but you can hear the heartbeat.” She jumped off the demon carcass and dug into her pocket. She extracted an American one-dollar bill. “Well, you were right,” she said, handing off the dollar to Ofdensen, who snatched it away with an air or triumph. “I gotta go tell Shiva. He’s not gonna believe this.”
“Dude?” Ofdensen looked up. Nathan was now standing beside him, looking down at the demon corpse. Ofdensen’s smile faded. “Are you right handed or left handed?”
“I am right handed, Nathan,” Ofdensen told him.
“And you did this left handed?”
“Yes, Nathan, I am currently using my left hand because my right hand is burned.” He held up his bandaged hand, and steeled himself, waiting for the inevitable crack.
“Yeah, uh,” said Nathan. “Hey. That was kind of not lame.” Ofdensen scowled, not quite certain how to respond. “Uh, and what’s up with the….” And he pointed to his head. “On that Raziel chick?”
“Oh, that hat? I’m pretty sure she is currently wearing a reproduction of the riding habit from Dark Victory.”
“Dark what?”
“Dark- It’s a Bette Davis movie.”
“Bette Davis? The scary chick?”
“Scary chick?”
“Yeah, you know, that movie with the chick in the wheelchair?”
“Oh, yeah. Huh. I guess that one was pretty scary.”
“See I told you!” Raziel was saying. Shiva was now officiously inspecting the damage, Ganesh hovering just over his shoulder.
“Ganesha,” the blue god began, and said something to his son in Hindi.
“Yes, he struck from the back,” Raziel told him. Shiva looked sharply at her, annoyed at being overheard. Angels tend to have an ear for languages, and Raziel, as it happened, was especially gifted in that regard.
“Shiva does not think it is possible to affect a similar lethal blow in a frontal attack,” the blue god insisted, folding both pairs of arms in a determined fashion.
“Why the hell not?” Ofdensen demanded.
“Obviously, the element of surprise,” said Shiva, holding up the finger of one hand, “the attacks of the claws,” holding up another finger of another hand, “the tusks,” and another finger of another hand.
“The back has the tail! It would be…. It would be easier from the front.” Ofdensen stated. Raziel actually arched a skeptical Bette Davis eyebrow at him.
"Shiva expresses his skepticism," sniffed the god, snapping some of his fingers.
"Next demon. One stroke. From the front."
"You will make this the matter of a wager?"
“I insist,” Ofdensen said, and the two men moved off, bickering.
“Uh, left handed?” Nathan asked. “Isn’t that…”
“Potentially suicidal hubris?” Raziel suggested.
“Uh, yeah, that’s exactly what I was gonna say.”
Wotan had decided it was a good time to stop for lunch. Ofdensen walked through the forest alone, a trail of furious smoke marking his path. He reflected that he might enjoy these outings far more if they found a way to eliminate the whole intervals where they were forced to actually hunt. His sour mood probably wasn’t much improved by the realization that Shiva had goaded him into a wager that even he himself thought a bit foolish.
He looked up when he heard a small commotion up ahead. Wotan had evidently grabbed the riding crop that was part of Raziel’s ridiculous riding ensemble, and she was jumping at it while he merrily played keep away. It already looked rather clear where this little game would end, so Ofdensen made sure to very noisily clear his throat as he approached them.
“Um. Have you guys seen Nathan around?” he asked.
Raziel looked like she was actually considering this. “Oh, I think he’s off over there, with the Kachinas,” she said, pointing. Wotan grinned and dangled the riding crop over her head, and she unsuccessfully snatched at it again.
“We’re going for a walk,” Wotan announced.
“We are? Oh, yes, we’re going for a walk.” Raziel quickly agreed.
“Uh-huh,” Ofdensen said.
“There’s a lovely view up by the cliff side. We’ll be back.” And with that, the king turned and walked off, Raziel trotting behind and occasionally making unsuccessful grabs at the crop. Ofdensen thought, but didn’t say, lovely view of what exactly? He did notice the king managed to give her a rather ungentlemanly little whack with the riding crop as they departed. Well, he reflected, Wotan was definitely not the first man to think Raziel might benefit from a smack on the backside, though he personally was pessimistic of this course of action having any positive effect at this point.
He proceeded along the path in the direction Raziel had indicated, though he was not enthusiastic about encountering the Kachinas again. As it turned out, Nathan was sitting alone. He saw Ofdensen and handed him a beer from a cooler, and the two men drank in companionable silence for a bit.
"Where are your friends?"
"Uh. I think they're off doing more of that stuff they gave me yesterday. I'm not sure I'm completely down from that stuff."
Ofdensen smiled. He didn't ask what the stuff was, but if it was enough to make Nathan think twice, he decided he didn't want to know.
"You don't like ''em?" Nathan asked.
"I don't dislike them, Nathan. It's just, as they said, at one point, many years ago, the Legion showed up and started slaughtering them. No one is quite sure why. But, New World gods don't tend to trust angels a whole lot."
"You didn't work for the Legion guys anymore?"
"No, I did not."
"But if you did...?"
"Would I have participated? I don't know. At the time I left, Raziel and I had begun to question many of their decisions. But, I genuinely can't say."
"You would just go kill people?"
"Well, they weren't people, they were gods, but, yes. That's what we did." He shrugged.
"And those Legion guys are now mad at us?"
"Uh-huh."
"Great."
"Yeah."
"What did we do, anyway" Nathan asked.
"Wish I knew. Uriah, the guy Raziel killed, was probably insane. I'm not actually sure Michael has all his marbles."
"So. Insane guys are mad at us."
“Yep.” Ofdensen set his beer down for a moment and lit another cigarette. “Seems to be a problem with supernaturals. Insanity. Maybe it’s the power.” He shrugged again.
“Is that what’s wrong with fucking Skwisgaar?”
Ofdensen laughed before he could catch himself. “Uh. Where is Skwisgaar today, anyway?”
“Haven’t seen the douche bag much this time. He’s been acting weird anyway. And I haven’t see that cute chick, either.”
“That cute…? Oh, Parvati?” Ofdensen watched his cigarette smoke curl. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen Parvati much. He wondered why she hadn’t accompanied Shiva today. According to Raziel, she was an enthusiastic hunter.
Oh. FUCK.
Gods and angels sometimes possessed very unusual powers. One of Raziel’s lesser powers was being able to snore quite enthusiastically while sleeping on her stomach. She was doing so now. The sun was bright and warm, and she had dozed off lying against Wotan’s chest. Consequently, she didn’t hear it the first time her name was called. The second time she roused, a kind of dopey smile on her face. She pushed herself up on her forearms and noticed with puzzlement that Wotan was still very much asleep. She looked around, bleary and a bit confused, and then noticed the ash from a cigarette glowing from the nearby woods.
“Shit,” she breathed. She carefully disentangled herself from her Norse god, and then snatched up a handful of her clothes.
“What do you want?” she angrily whispered to him as she tried to remember with limited success how to button her blouse.
Ofdensen pushed down his glasses with a fingertip, peering over them, doing an absolutely spot-on imitation of Raziel tipping her sunglasses. “I thought you preferred to stay clothed in public?” he grinned.
She tried to return one of his scowls, but did a rather lesser job of it. “What?” she repeated.
His smile faded somewhat. “Skwisgaar,” he said. She looked back at Wotan, and then beckoned him to follow her out of hearing distance..
She found a large rock and sat down, still attempting with limited success to make her shirt buttons cooperate. “I wanted to say something,” she said. “But, I’m also trying to stay out of it. Him and Skwisgaar,” she said, nodding back towards where Wotan lay asleep. “The kid fucking hates me. So, I just let them deal with each other.”
“I don’t think Skwisgaar hates you. He’s sort of that way.”
“Maybe. Wotan thinks he’s Baldr come back. He’s not.”
“Skwisgaar is … his own person,” Ofdensen tried diplomatically. “Anyway, I need to know how long my lead guitarist has to live.”
She snorted and appeared to give up on her blouse, instead simply wrapping the sides tighter around herself. “I honestly don’t know. Shiva and Parvati have … an arrangement. Like a lot of the older gods. But they’re also definitely still together. Which makes it complicated.”
“Could you ask her?”
“We’re friends, but not that kind of friends. We talk about fashion and knitting and stabbing demons. You know, girlie stuff? I’ve never really asked about her relationships because frankly I don’t wanna know!” She sighed. “But, yeah, when he’s in a temper, Shiva has dealt harshly with certain individuals in the past.”
Ofdensen laughed ruefully. “You just have to look at Ganesh to remember that one.”
“Ganesh!” she said. “You know, I could ask him.”
“Ganesh?”
“Heh. Ganesh knows all. You didn’t think Shiva was the one actually running the Eastern Kingdom, did you? Ganesh is their…. Ganesh is their Charles Ofdensen!”
He frowned at her. She so rarely used his human name, it sounded odd. He thought about Ganesh. Serious, intelligent, understated, beleaguered…. Jesus, she was right. “Can you talk to him?”
“Yeah. He might even be able to do something about it. Cut off Mommy’s allowance or something.”
“Really?”
“Hee. You really oughta have a drink with that guy some time.”
Huginn the raven returned with some news of a demon sighting, and the party at length was gathered back together on the trail again. It wasn’t long before they found it. A river had carved out a rocky canyon. And some of the rocks on the opposite side were apparently in an agitated mood, stalking up and down the bank.
"Whatever you do, make sure Nathan doesn't fucking die?" Ofdensen whispered to Raziel. She nodded and went over to stand near the singer.
“Don’t worry,” she told Nathan, patting his arm. “There’s enough gods here, whatever happens, we can probably get the pieces of him stuck back together.”
“We’ve tried that before,” Nathan told her. “It doesn’t work very well!”
Ofdensen found a relatively shallow place in the rapids and cautiously forded the stream. He quietly ignited his sword, and when he seemed pleased with the effect, he whacked the blade on a nearby pile of rocks to attract the beast’s attention. It turned and charged. It seemed a lot faster on its feet than the other rock trolls they’d confronted that day, perhaps because it had had a chance to warm up. Regardless, Ofdensen waited until it seemed fatally too late, dodged some rocky claws and then executed the fiery cut through the agitated demon with swift perfection, proving to all present swordsmen’s satisfaction that this constituted a valid frontal attack strategy against a rock demon.
Unfortunately, by this point, the rocks on which he had pounded his sword to attract the beast’s attention had themselves woken up. Attracted by the commotion upstream, the second beast was set on attack. Despite several cries of “Watch out,” Ofdensen didn’t manage to duck quite in time, and got a good raking across his back from one set of rocky claws. He fell forward, dropping the sword as he did.
Nathan started forward, not exactly sure what he intended to do, but found himself blocked by Lady Raziel's sword arm. He glanced at her, and the small angel shot him a surprisingly fierce warning glare.
Still on the ground, Ofdensen lunged forward and grabbed the sword, and managed to roll away a split second before a rocky foot stomped him on. He scrambled to his feet, and reignited the sword, this time pushing the power so crazy high that white hot flame literally arced from the blade. He raised the superheated sword at the charging rock beast. The confused rock creature momentarily froze in its tracks.
Taking his chance, he leapt at it. He hit it, hard. It blew apart.
Ganesh was already in middle of the stream, fording over, and Raziel appeared atop the still smoking remains. Nathan blinked and did a double take. He hadn’t even noticed she wasn’t still standing in front of him. After a period of silent inspection, they both nodded to Lord Shiva, who had followed them to the other bank. Shiva snapped imperiously at Ganesh, who dug something out of a pocket and handed it to Shiva. Shiva unfolded a crisp American one dollar bill, approached Ofdensen, and, with a bow, presented it formally to him. Ofdensen, bleeding and looking rather the worse for wear, snatched the bill, grinning a quite mad grin.
Nathan swallowed hard. What was that Ofdensen had just told him about supernatural dudes all being insane?
He sort of wanted to be on the couch in the living room at Mordhaus eating chips and yelling at Pickles to change the fucking channel.
He noticed that Hon and Kwahu were exchanging money as well, with a couple of Wotan’s soldiers. It looked like substantially more than one dollar.
“Did you dudes bet on him downing it in one?” Nathan asked.
“No way, dude. We were betting on whether he was gonna kill his fool angel self,” Hon laughed.
Nathan was silent. “You’re…. You’re fucking kidding me.”
Kwahu snickered. “Hey. We bet on him to live,” Hon said, flashing the money.
Nathan shook his head. Gods were a bunch of douche bags.
He wandered over to where an extremely annoyed-looking Ofdensen was very reluctantly letting Ganesh apply some herbs to the demon gashes in his back.
“We’re not sure whether or not those things are venomous. It’s better to be safe than sorry!” Raziel was saying.
“You better not fucking turn me into a goddam toad,” he growled.
“You might have a better temper as a toad,” Raziel suggested.
“I might have to replace your back with elephant skin,” Ganesh laughed.
“That sounds like damn fine skin to me!” Raziel said.
“Remind me why you are even here, Raziel?” Ofdensen demanded.
“To keep up your spirits!”
“I just downed two demons. I AM IN FUCKING FINE SPIRITS THANK YOU VERY FUCKING MUCH.” And so saying, he fine-spiritedly snatched his shirt back from Raziel.
“Hand,” Ganesh ordered. Ofdensen reluctantly offered up his right hand.
“He said he wants a hoof,” Raziel supplied.
“A hoof would be possible,” Ganesh laughed.
“Raziel-!”
“Whoa. Could you do that?” Nathan asked. “A hoof would actually be kinda cool. Or a CLAW.”
“A claw would be quite becoming!” Raziel agreed.
“Or like a big hook?” Nathan noted.
“How about a tentacle?” Raziel ventured.
“RAZIEL!”
“I’m already done, by the way,” Ganesh said. Ofdensen stopped yelling to regard his freshly re-bandaged hand. He opened and closed it experimentally. “In future, you ought consult me when you have any further magical injuries. The hand will be completely healed by sundown. The back might take another day. DO NOT SCRATCH! Or I shall be displeased.” Ganesh gave Ofdensen a surprisingly stern elephant scowl and snapped closed his medical pack.
“You can’t give him anything for the temper, can you?” Raziel asked.
“Unfortunately, no. You might try meditation.”
The little angel chick had dragged away Nathan Explosion. No, really dragged him away. Nathan was a bit weirded out, as she really couldn’t have been much taller than like five-two, but here he had been trying to ask Ofdensen a simple question about going after that rock demon thing and she put a tiny hand on his elbow and it was sort of like being hit by a truck. A tiny, sort of hot truck. But, a truck.
"So, the story is, Bette Davis is a very stylish human who's off riding a horse, but then she falls off. And. Then there's Humphrey Bogart! And then, she changes her outfit to something really cute, and she meets George Brent, who's even more appealing than Humphrey Bogart! And then she's dying, so she changes her outfits a couple more times, and then she marries George Brent, not Ronald Reagan, who I really think had an overrated sense of style, and then she gets a beautifully lighted death scene in the cutest bedroom set." Raziel's posed dramatically to try and capture the dying Davis.
"Huh," said Nathan.
"But, you MUST tell me about this Baby Jane movie!"
"Oh, yeah. Well, this one chick runs over the other chick with a car. And then there's this old house, and the one chick is in a wheelchair and she's gotten really creepy and there's the other chick too and she's even scarier. And then she serves her sister a dead rat for lunch and kills the maid and she's totally dancing on the beach where the other scary chick is dead because she was the one who was driving all along!"
"Wow, what a twist! This sounds like an intriguing movie."
"Yeah, I dunno if you'd like it, there's no cute chicks."
"Yes, but it has a certain gothic appeal."
"Hey, Raz, you know those Indian dudes?" Nathan confided. They had wandered away from the others a little distance by this point.
"The Kachinas? Yeah?"
“I think they're kinda dicks."
"Why do you think that?"
"When Charles killed the demons? They were betting on it."
"We were all wagering on it," Raziel laughed.
Nathan brushed her hand from his elbow, and she released him. "They were betting on whether he'd live or die."
Raziel arched an eyebrow. "Did they bet on him to live, or die?"
"Live?"
"Well, that's actually not too bad." She had started distractedly feinting with her sword.
Nathan was silent for a long moment. "You people.... You god dudes..... Are you all sick or something?"
"Nathan. Angels killed their guys."
"But you didn't do it. I mean, you said you weren't even here."
"I didn't do anything to stop it,” she said ruefully.
“Don’t you people, you know, just get over stuff?”
“Well, it was all pretty recent. I mean, for us. Seriously, Nathan, I’m surprised Wotan even talked Kwahu and Hon into showing up, with us here.” She shrugged. “We’re kind of horrible.”
“When that rock thing was gonna crush him, you guys all just fucking stood there.”
She nodded. “Yeah, you’re a human, I guess it would look odd to you.”
“Odd? I think you guys are fucked up!”
“OK, for us, if we’d jumped in to do something, it would have been a great insult. Like…. What’s that word you guys like to us? It would mean we think he’s a dildo!”
Nathan laughed. Just a little bit. But, he sort of couldn’t help himself.
“I’m trying to think of how to explain this,” she said. “You are all famous musicians. If you were playing a song, and someone else jumped upon the stage….”
“I’d fucking kick their ass off!” Nathan fumed. She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, but usually when I’m on stage, I don’t have a fucking demon trying to kill me.”
“Usually?”
“Eh, yeah, I guess you need to see one of our concerts some time.”
Then she smiled a not horrible at all smile and said, “Now, we really ought to catch up on classic movies.”
“What?” Nathan looked around. “It’s just, frankly, old movies are kinda gay.”
“Yes, some are very gay and happy! And some are romantic! And stylish! Have you see Now, Voyager?”
“Nah.”
“Oh, it’s a wonderful movie! Bette Davis is very sad and has never plucked her eyebrows. BUT! Then she goes to an insane asylum with Claude Rains and plays tennis. And before you know it, she’s wearing the most STUNNING hat, and Paul Henreid is lighting her cigarettes! TWO AT A TIME!”
Ofdensen appeared in his office. He’d been too busy to dream his way to Valhalla this time.
Pickles, he was exasperated to note, was already sitting there.
“So, dood,” the drummer merrily began. “Have ya t’ought any more about hanging wit’ me an’ da strippers?”
Ofdensen sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Pickles, I am extremely busy this week. We have a concert to put on.”
“Den next week?”
“All right. All right. Next week.”
“What?”
“I said all right. After the concert. All right.”
“Next week?”
“Yes, next week, but only if you get the fuck out of my office now.”
Pickles rose. “OK….”
“Now!”
“Next week?”
“Not one more word!”
Of course Pickles had turn around one more time at the door of the office. But before he could speak, he was slammed back against the door, his head yanked back by the braids.
“Why ask for the moon? We have the fucking stars.”
“Wha-“ Pickles began, but was stifled by Ofdensen’s mouth covering his, the taste of whiskey and cigarettes, and Pickles was trying to get his hands into the other man’s clothes to tear them off as efficiently as possible, but then the door wasn’t there against his back any more, and he was stumbling back in to the hallway.
“Now get the fuck outta my office!”
And the door was slammed.
“OK, dood, didn’t hafta slam da door,” Pickles muttered at the closed door. But then the grin was back, and he was off considering the pressing issue of big-titted stripper procurement.
Nathan Explosion clicked the TV remote in his bedroom and watched the screen for a time in baffled silence.
“What’s this?”
He looked up and cringed. One of the cute chicks from last night had evidently woken up and had crawled to the edge of the bed, peering over his shoulder.
“Er,” Nathan began. “It’s sort of a Bette Davis movie some weird chick told me about…” He frowned. The cute chick had crawled off the bed and was sitting beside him now, at the foot of the bed, looking at the screen. He shrugged and hit PLAY. They watched for a while. The Bette Davis chick was wearing some weird hat, and now this suave asshole was lighting her cigarettes. Damn, those people fucking smoked a lot. Didn’t they know about DEATH back in those black and white days?
Nathan looked over in surprise. The cute chick was now gripping his hand and was sort of all crying and stuff.
Whoa.
Nathan put an arm around the cute chick, and they continued to watch some hat-wearing dead people smoke cigarettes.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Pickles reaches out and touches someone. Nathan and Skwisgaar make some new friends. Charles smokes a lot and smashes stuff with a sword.
Warnings: THIS ONE GOT SLASHY - NOT A LOT BUT A LITTLE - I’M NOT SURE HOW BUT IT JUST DID I’M SORRY GUYS THIS HAPPENS SOMETIMES. Also, AU plus plenty o’ F-words and OCs and het other stuff you didn’t wanna read.
Notes: Notes attached to Part 1.
Since my fics tend to grow as obese as Murderface's belly, I posted Part 1 yesterday. Y'all don't have to read it, but I think this will make even less sense if'n ya don't.
Also, I know no one else besides me cares about this, but it's my fic, dammit, so here's some Lady Raziel's favorite Bette Davis costumes for ya:
Jerry Durrance (Paul Henreid) lights Charlotte Vale's cigarette in Now Voyager. (sigh)
Judith Traherne's adorable riding habit from Dark Victory.
THE LADY AND THE TIGER (Mythklok, Chapter 6)
Part 2 of 2
None of the current inhabitants of Valhalla were quite sure how long the standing stones had been there. They were arranged in roughly a spiral pattern.
Two angels moved among them.
Well, one and angel and one ex-angel.
There was, oddly, no vegetation inside this place. Which is why Raziel had chosen it for a post-dinner practice session.
“OK,” she announced to her imaginary audience of millions. “How to wield the flaming sword without incurring severe damage to yourself and others to whom you do not intend it!" She pulled a sword out of thin air with a special flourish.
"Can we please just get the fuck on with it?" Ofdensen grumbled.
She smiled and handed off the blade. "You’re obviously now aware of Secret and Arcane Flaming Sword Rule Number One, no flaming sword inside the house!” She grinned as he frowned harder, and then he flinched as she grabbed his right hand. “You sure you don’t want one of our people to look at your hand? It’s a magical injury, so it might take some extra attention. Parvati said Ganesh could-“
He snatched his bandaged hand away. “Definitely not! I don’t wanna end up with two left hands. Or a hoof. Or whatever the fuck.”
“You might look rather fetching with hooves!”
“How the hell would I hold a sword?”
“I don’t know. I suppose you’d have to figure that one out for yourself! So, holding your sword firmly in your hoof-” she said.
He glared mightily, sword now in his uninjured left hand. “Raziel. I am asking you this in all seriousness. Do you wish to live to see the dawn?”
“Holding your sword firmly in your hand, here’s the second important rule, don’t magick the whole thing at once, that’s how you get burned." She pointed to the sword. "Start just past the hilt and go up to the tip, in one direction.”
He did as she said. And found himself, against every instinct, smiling.
“Really neat trick, isn’t it? It looks especially arresting at night or in dim light I think.” She spoke as, mesmerized, he started feinting with fiery blade. “And, truth be told, half the time, this is all you need do. People who see a flaming sword tend to back the fuck off.”
“People who haven’t already backed off at the sight of a six-winged angel the size of a bus?” The flame danced as he parried several imaginary blows.
“I’m not THAT BIG when I’m Seraph,” she pouted.
“Yes. Yes you are actually.”
“I’m surprised you figured this one out on your own at all. It’s supposed to be our arcane secret, us Seraph types.”
“You gave away all the Secrets and Mysteries, remember?” he said, lunging at his imaginary opponent.
“Oh, yeah, my bad, I guess. You have a copy of The Book, then?”
“I have a copy of every book.”
“Huh. That’s interesting. OK, power levels: that’s the advantage of using Surtr’s magic instead of the angel stuff, as you are at liberty vis-a-vis intensity. So, it’s a matter of concentration. What I’d suggest is choosing a level when you start, as it’s sort of distracting to change the modulation while you’re trying not to get stabbed by some other bastard.”
He held the blade stationary, and they both watched, transfixed, as the blade color intensified from a rich, warm red to a glaring yellow.
“How powerful does it get?” he asked.
“Surtr’s magic, I haven’t really reached the limits yet. When I’m a big galumphing Seraph, I can pop a top off a mountain. You’re probably gonna have to play around….”
He suddenly whirled around and took the blade neatly through a 20-foot tall megalith. They watched as the obelisk, sliced cleanly through the middle, toppled over with a crash, and then took out another nearby lith with an even bigger crash.
When the dust had settled somewhat, Raziel hopped up on the stump, and surveyed the damage. “Huh. Pretty powerful,” she said approvingly.
He grinned.
“But you know,” she said, pointing at the stump, “you may’ve pissed off some druids.”
“They can send me a bill.”
“You sure you don’t want me to show you the angel version too?”
“Told you, I’m through with angel crap. Unless you can combine the two?”
“Heh. I’ve tried.”
“And?”
“I’ve got a museum-worthy collection of Daliesque melted swords to show for it. Oh, and by the way, definitely do a test run on your saber before you actually try to use it for demon-killing or whatever. Some blades stand up better than others. You gotta be careful with the human-made stuff, 'cause some of it is real crap." Raziel jumped off the megalith stump. “So, anything else?” she asked. They started to walk back towards the halls of Valhalla, Ofdensen still flashing the sword.
“You think I’d be able to take down a Seraph with something like this?”
“Oh, now who’s being ambitious?”
“Don’t be snarky. I simply remarked that world domination is a bit of an unusual hobby to share with ones boyfriend. Most girls might try sailing, or backgammon.”
“We’re just considering suggesting to Michael that he, you know, back the fuck off on our universe.”
“I’m certain Michael will love hearing that message. Especially from you.”
“Look. Honestly, I don’t know any more. You know I never had a head for any of that stuff! I’m thinking maybe just wanna abide here in peace and see some runway shows and stab demons.”
“Didn’t you hear the Kachinas? The New World Genocide?”
“Wait, I thought you were advocating for doing nothing?”
“I’m just pointing out, even if the Legion is in disarray, those people are very, very dangerous.”
“So, that’s why you wanna take a flaming sword to Michael.”
“I didn’t say anything about Michael. And besides, you never answered my question.”
“You versus a Seraph? I don’t know the answer. Maybe if you’re True Formed? I mean, do you have a sense of how much magic you have, relative to us?”
“I have enough magic.”
“Oh, great, I just showed you our most arcane and secret mysteries, and you’re getting all cagey!”
“Arcane and secret? You learned that trick from Surtr at his last barbecue!”
“I’m a well known fan of his demon barbecue sauce. Unlike some!”
“That stuff gives me violent indigestion. You know, not all of us were blessed with carbon fiber digestive systems.”
“Demon meat is healthy! It’s low in cholesterol! You should watch your cholesterol!”
“I’m immortal! Why would I need to watch my fucking cholesterol?”
“You’ve been stressed. It can’t be good for you!”
“You really wanna help my stress levels? Could you PLEASE help me keep Nathan away from Parvati for the rest of the weekend?”
“Nathan and Parvati?”
“Oh, shit, Raziel, you know what he’s like! And, I don’t think Shiva is gonna think it’s all a laugh, the way Wotan evidently does.”
“Um, OK. Shiva and Parvati? You know how you told me there’s no such thing as ‘kind of exclusive?’”
She followed him to the bedroom door laughing softly. Skwisgaar kissed her, and departed the room. He was trying to remember the last time he’s spent so much of an evening with a single woman.
He couldn’t remember spending two evenings in a row with the same woman. Nor plotting to spend more time with her.
But, she wasn’t a mere woman, was she now?
Her smell was still on his body. It was intoxicating, all by itself. Some kind of rare spices. Delicate and overpowering, all at the same time. How was it even possible? How was she even possible? She wasn't a woman, more like all his memories of all his women, all his fantasies about the ones he had yet to meet. But she was soft and perfect and real.
He walked quietly towards his bedroom. He passed by the kitchen. His father, King Wotan, sat at the table, drinking a glass of Scotch.
“Er,” he said. Why exactly was he feeling so guilty? That was ridiculous.
“Son.” Wotan smiled. “Would you like a drink?” he asked. Skwisgaar decided to sit down. At least that horrible angel woman wasn’t around.
Wotan picked up the book he was reading and seemed to be considering it. “I don’t read these stories too often. I have told you about Baldr, haven’t I?”
“I know he died. Loki killed him, right?”
“Well, that’s not exactly what happened. He was young. Not anywhere near as young as you. But young. And a bit stupid.” Wotan smiled ruefully. “They’d been drinking. We’d all been drinking. You know he was supposed to be invulnerable right? Freyja, his mother, had all sorts of spells and charms of all kinds over him. He was, maybe a little bit spoiled? So you could fire an arrow at him,” and Wotan mimed bending a bow and loosing an arrow, “and it would bounce off. We decided it was funny. I’m not sure why, you never know what will seem hilarious when you’re shitfaced.” Despite himself, Skwisgaar smiled.
“Anyway,” the god continued, “I can still remember him standing there, shouting, ‘Fire away! Fire away! Right here!’” And he pounded his own chest, right over his heart. “’I’m immortal! Nothing shall harm me! Nothing!’ And of course, something could harm him. They’d forgotten to lay in a charm for mistletoe. Or, that was the story. I’m sure if you’d thrown half a dozen things at him, you might have hurt him or killed him. You can’t set up a charm against everything in the world, can you?”
“I suppose no one is safe,” Skwisgaar said, trying his drink. “But what’s life without risk?”
“Well, I guess that’s a good point. I guess you might have to decide whether the risk is worth it.”
“You want to say what’s really on your mind, Father?”
“Maybe it’s not my place…” the king began.
“No. It isn’t.”
“Skwisgaar. Shiva is an old friend. I know him well. Perhaps too well. I know he has a certain measure of tolerance. But, only a certain measure.”
“I’ll remember that,” Skwisgaar said. He rose. “Thanks for the whiskey.”
“Aw, c’mon, pleeeeeeease?” she was whining. They had returned to Valhalla, and, after a bit of a pause at the doorway when she insisted he extinguish his flaming sword and some threats of bodily harm were exchanged, they had proceeded into the building and now walked the vast corridors.
“Raziel, it is extremely rude to keep bumming cigarettes when you don’t even smoke.” He was, in truth, still more than slightly miffed about having to put out his sword.
“I showed you the arcane secrets of the flaming sword!”
“OK. If you will just fucking shut up.” He sighed irritably and took out his pack of Marlboros. He knocked out two of them, and, while she watched rapturously, put them both in his mouth simultaneously and lit them. He then grudgingly handed over one to a besotted looking angel.
“You tell anybody I did that then so help me….” But she had already wandered away. “Why doesn’t anybody ever fucking listen to me?” She was standing in a doorway. She motioned him over.
Wotan sat alone, sleeping wolves snoring at his feet. He had a book opened on his lap, but he wasn’t reading it. There was a glass of Scotch, untouched, sitting on an end table. He was staring into the fire.
“That book is stories about Baldr,” she whispered. The angels regarded the god for a long moment, and then Sariel nodded at her to follow him.
Wotan looked up at them. He picked up the book. “I’ve read so many stories about him. There have been many written. None of them…. But none of them are quite right.”
“There’s one I like. It’s probably not right either.” Sariel went to the bookshelves and spent a bit of time considering. He finally went up on tiptoe to grab an older book off a high shelf. He walked back to where Raziel and Wotan were sitting. He noticed she held one of his large hands entwined in her smaller ones.
Wotan took the book from Sariel. “Oh, yes, this is one of my favorites. Shall I read?” Raziel nodded. Sariel made himself comfortable on one of the couches, and they listened for a time to a story about a young man who had died a very long time ago.
The next day dawned bright and early.
Too fucking bright and early for Nathan Explosion.
That douche bag Skwisgaar hadn’t even pretended like he was gonna go. And they were supposed to be after rock demons today, which sounded so totally metal and awesome.
And Shiva’s really cute girlfriend hadn’t shown up either. It was weird, after she’d arrived, he didn’t remember seeing her much, despite Charles kind of blowing a gasket over the whole thing. Speaking of which, the angels had decided to show up this morning babbling a mile a minute in their gay angel language about something. And then Shiva and the elephant dude arrived and it was apparent they were all four obsessing over something having to do with their swords or something, like when fucking Skwisgaar got talking about his guitar pickups and wouldn’t stop.
Fucking Skwisgaar.
Raziel was wearing the weirdest hunting outfit he’d ever seen: she had on a tie and a little bowler hat, like she thought she was going to have tea and crumpets in fucking London or something instead of going out looking for demons.
But then Hon and Kwahu had shown up, so at least there would be some kind of normal people to hang with on the ride. It turned out none of them had ever seen these stone demons before. So, while they rode, Nathan talked about the cool fire troll he’d killed, and they told him about ogres, which was evidently what you had to deal with in the Southwest.
“The asshole kept ducking!” Nathan remembered of the fire troll.
“So what did you do, Nathan dude?” Hon laughed.
“I yelled at it to FUCKING KEEP STILL.”
“You did what? No way.”
“WAY!”
Nathan noticed Kwahu and Hon had slowed, so he looked ahead. Raziel had pulled her mount back and was signaling them to stop. The man and the two Kachinas dismounted, and followed her quietly up the path. Not for the first time, Nathan was not quite certain what he was supposed to be looking at, though everyone else seemed to know. They were at the mouth of a canyon bounded by very steep rocky sides. At one side, the cliff seemed to jut directly from the canyon floor, but the other canyon wall was piled with what looked like a rockslide. Shiva and Ganesh had dismounted. Shiva stood, swords ready, at the mouth of the canyon, while Ganesh crept along the sheer wall.
“So, like, what’s that bug dude up to?” Hon asked Nathan, his bear eyes inquisitive.
“I dunno. I thought you guys knew!” Nathan whispered.
“Ten bucks says bug dude totally stabs elephant dude by mistake,” Kwahu said, scowling an eagle scowl. “Look how many fucking arms that guy has! How does he even keep track?”
Inside the canyon, Shiva and Ganesh exchanged some signals, and then Ganesh darted over to the rockslide and gave it a good sturdy elephant kick.
The rockslide stood up. It did not seem terribly pleased at being disturbed. It teetered threateningly towards Ganesh, but his father screamed “I am Shiva the Destroyer!” and then the rock demon whipped around, faster than seemed possible, and Ganesh had a job of avoiding getting smashed by the rocky tail.
Shiva waited, motionless, while the monster overran him. He dodged one rocky fist, and skillfully got inside its punching radius. Then there were several quick flashes of steel as several of Shiva’s limbs moved with lethal quickness, and the beast was down. Ganesh ran back over and inspected part of the fallen body, and Raziel had also somehow appeared atop another piece of the downed stone demon. She and Ganesh nodded to one another, and Shiva raised his swords in victory.
“Well met, friend Shiva! That was today’s first blood!” Wotan announced.
“I didn’t see any blood,” Nathan said.
“That’s why Raziel and Ganesh were inspecting the body,” Ofdensen, who’d been standing nearby, explained. “It’s difficult to tell when these things are dead. Because it’s difficult to tell when they’re alive. You’ll stay back, right?”
“Yeah, don’t freak out,” Nathan grumbled.
“Seriously, homeboy, you need to mellow,” Hon scolded Ofdensen. The manager rolled his eyes and went to talk with Raziel and Shiva, who were still evidently discussing the kill.
“So,” said Nathan, “you can’t see these fucking things, and you can’t even tell when they’re dead?”
“Heavy shit, huh?” Hon laughed.
They finally gathered together and continued down the trail, but didn’t spot any of the boulder demons for a while. Wotan stopped the party to send Huginn ahead to spot. Nathan, who had been putting away his share of the beer, decided this would be a decent time to answer the call of nature.
“Don’t go wandering off to far,” Hon told him, waving a beer. “That’s not a good way to get smashed.”
Nathan laughed and walked through a screen of trees and relieved himself in back of a boulder.
He was about to meander back when the boulder stood up.
Oh, shit.
Nathan backed up. “Uh, Hon? Old buddy? Are you around?”
The thing took a step forwards, towards Nathan. He kept his head enough to figure sound attracted the things, so yelling for help didn’t seem like a good strategy.
Trouble was, he didn’t exactly have in mind an alternative.
There was a flash of fire. And the demon fell, efficiently slashed into two neat pieces.
Ofdensen was standing behind it, holding a flaming sword in his left hand. He looked really weird. He was … smiling.
“SEE? I told you I could get it down in one stroke!”
He was talking to Raziel, who frowned, jumped on top of the ex-demon, and skeptically walked up and down the body pieces.
“Uh, is it dead?” Nathan ventured, hoping desperately that his heart would eventually slow down again.
“Hum? Yeah.” Raziel pointed with her own sword. “See? He got it right through the heart. Sometimes they’ll have two, but you can hear the heartbeat.” She jumped off the demon carcass and dug into her pocket. She extracted an American one-dollar bill. “Well, you were right,” she said, handing off the dollar to Ofdensen, who snatched it away with an air or triumph. “I gotta go tell Shiva. He’s not gonna believe this.”
“Dude?” Ofdensen looked up. Nathan was now standing beside him, looking down at the demon corpse. Ofdensen’s smile faded. “Are you right handed or left handed?”
“I am right handed, Nathan,” Ofdensen told him.
“And you did this left handed?”
“Yes, Nathan, I am currently using my left hand because my right hand is burned.” He held up his bandaged hand, and steeled himself, waiting for the inevitable crack.
“Yeah, uh,” said Nathan. “Hey. That was kind of not lame.” Ofdensen scowled, not quite certain how to respond. “Uh, and what’s up with the….” And he pointed to his head. “On that Raziel chick?”
“Oh, that hat? I’m pretty sure she is currently wearing a reproduction of the riding habit from Dark Victory.”
“Dark what?”
“Dark- It’s a Bette Davis movie.”
“Bette Davis? The scary chick?”
“Scary chick?”
“Yeah, you know, that movie with the chick in the wheelchair?”
“Oh, yeah. Huh. I guess that one was pretty scary.”
“See I told you!” Raziel was saying. Shiva was now officiously inspecting the damage, Ganesh hovering just over his shoulder.
“Ganesha,” the blue god began, and said something to his son in Hindi.
“Yes, he struck from the back,” Raziel told him. Shiva looked sharply at her, annoyed at being overheard. Angels tend to have an ear for languages, and Raziel, as it happened, was especially gifted in that regard.
“Shiva does not think it is possible to affect a similar lethal blow in a frontal attack,” the blue god insisted, folding both pairs of arms in a determined fashion.
“Why the hell not?” Ofdensen demanded.
“Obviously, the element of surprise,” said Shiva, holding up the finger of one hand, “the attacks of the claws,” holding up another finger of another hand, “the tusks,” and another finger of another hand.
“The back has the tail! It would be…. It would be easier from the front.” Ofdensen stated. Raziel actually arched a skeptical Bette Davis eyebrow at him.
"Shiva expresses his skepticism," sniffed the god, snapping some of his fingers.
"Next demon. One stroke. From the front."
"You will make this the matter of a wager?"
“I insist,” Ofdensen said, and the two men moved off, bickering.
“Uh, left handed?” Nathan asked. “Isn’t that…”
“Potentially suicidal hubris?” Raziel suggested.
“Uh, yeah, that’s exactly what I was gonna say.”
Wotan had decided it was a good time to stop for lunch. Ofdensen walked through the forest alone, a trail of furious smoke marking his path. He reflected that he might enjoy these outings far more if they found a way to eliminate the whole intervals where they were forced to actually hunt. His sour mood probably wasn’t much improved by the realization that Shiva had goaded him into a wager that even he himself thought a bit foolish.
He looked up when he heard a small commotion up ahead. Wotan had evidently grabbed the riding crop that was part of Raziel’s ridiculous riding ensemble, and she was jumping at it while he merrily played keep away. It already looked rather clear where this little game would end, so Ofdensen made sure to very noisily clear his throat as he approached them.
“Um. Have you guys seen Nathan around?” he asked.
Raziel looked like she was actually considering this. “Oh, I think he’s off over there, with the Kachinas,” she said, pointing. Wotan grinned and dangled the riding crop over her head, and she unsuccessfully snatched at it again.
“We’re going for a walk,” Wotan announced.
“We are? Oh, yes, we’re going for a walk.” Raziel quickly agreed.
“Uh-huh,” Ofdensen said.
“There’s a lovely view up by the cliff side. We’ll be back.” And with that, the king turned and walked off, Raziel trotting behind and occasionally making unsuccessful grabs at the crop. Ofdensen thought, but didn’t say, lovely view of what exactly? He did notice the king managed to give her a rather ungentlemanly little whack with the riding crop as they departed. Well, he reflected, Wotan was definitely not the first man to think Raziel might benefit from a smack on the backside, though he personally was pessimistic of this course of action having any positive effect at this point.
He proceeded along the path in the direction Raziel had indicated, though he was not enthusiastic about encountering the Kachinas again. As it turned out, Nathan was sitting alone. He saw Ofdensen and handed him a beer from a cooler, and the two men drank in companionable silence for a bit.
"Where are your friends?"
"Uh. I think they're off doing more of that stuff they gave me yesterday. I'm not sure I'm completely down from that stuff."
Ofdensen smiled. He didn't ask what the stuff was, but if it was enough to make Nathan think twice, he decided he didn't want to know.
"You don't like ''em?" Nathan asked.
"I don't dislike them, Nathan. It's just, as they said, at one point, many years ago, the Legion showed up and started slaughtering them. No one is quite sure why. But, New World gods don't tend to trust angels a whole lot."
"You didn't work for the Legion guys anymore?"
"No, I did not."
"But if you did...?"
"Would I have participated? I don't know. At the time I left, Raziel and I had begun to question many of their decisions. But, I genuinely can't say."
"You would just go kill people?"
"Well, they weren't people, they were gods, but, yes. That's what we did." He shrugged.
"And those Legion guys are now mad at us?"
"Uh-huh."
"Great."
"Yeah."
"What did we do, anyway" Nathan asked.
"Wish I knew. Uriah, the guy Raziel killed, was probably insane. I'm not actually sure Michael has all his marbles."
"So. Insane guys are mad at us."
“Yep.” Ofdensen set his beer down for a moment and lit another cigarette. “Seems to be a problem with supernaturals. Insanity. Maybe it’s the power.” He shrugged again.
“Is that what’s wrong with fucking Skwisgaar?”
Ofdensen laughed before he could catch himself. “Uh. Where is Skwisgaar today, anyway?”
“Haven’t seen the douche bag much this time. He’s been acting weird anyway. And I haven’t see that cute chick, either.”
“That cute…? Oh, Parvati?” Ofdensen watched his cigarette smoke curl. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen Parvati much. He wondered why she hadn’t accompanied Shiva today. According to Raziel, she was an enthusiastic hunter.
Oh. FUCK.
Gods and angels sometimes possessed very unusual powers. One of Raziel’s lesser powers was being able to snore quite enthusiastically while sleeping on her stomach. She was doing so now. The sun was bright and warm, and she had dozed off lying against Wotan’s chest. Consequently, she didn’t hear it the first time her name was called. The second time she roused, a kind of dopey smile on her face. She pushed herself up on her forearms and noticed with puzzlement that Wotan was still very much asleep. She looked around, bleary and a bit confused, and then noticed the ash from a cigarette glowing from the nearby woods.
“Shit,” she breathed. She carefully disentangled herself from her Norse god, and then snatched up a handful of her clothes.
“What do you want?” she angrily whispered to him as she tried to remember with limited success how to button her blouse.
Ofdensen pushed down his glasses with a fingertip, peering over them, doing an absolutely spot-on imitation of Raziel tipping her sunglasses. “I thought you preferred to stay clothed in public?” he grinned.
She tried to return one of his scowls, but did a rather lesser job of it. “What?” she repeated.
His smile faded somewhat. “Skwisgaar,” he said. She looked back at Wotan, and then beckoned him to follow her out of hearing distance..
She found a large rock and sat down, still attempting with limited success to make her shirt buttons cooperate. “I wanted to say something,” she said. “But, I’m also trying to stay out of it. Him and Skwisgaar,” she said, nodding back towards where Wotan lay asleep. “The kid fucking hates me. So, I just let them deal with each other.”
“I don’t think Skwisgaar hates you. He’s sort of that way.”
“Maybe. Wotan thinks he’s Baldr come back. He’s not.”
“Skwisgaar is … his own person,” Ofdensen tried diplomatically. “Anyway, I need to know how long my lead guitarist has to live.”
She snorted and appeared to give up on her blouse, instead simply wrapping the sides tighter around herself. “I honestly don’t know. Shiva and Parvati have … an arrangement. Like a lot of the older gods. But they’re also definitely still together. Which makes it complicated.”
“Could you ask her?”
“We’re friends, but not that kind of friends. We talk about fashion and knitting and stabbing demons. You know, girlie stuff? I’ve never really asked about her relationships because frankly I don’t wanna know!” She sighed. “But, yeah, when he’s in a temper, Shiva has dealt harshly with certain individuals in the past.”
Ofdensen laughed ruefully. “You just have to look at Ganesh to remember that one.”
“Ganesh!” she said. “You know, I could ask him.”
“Ganesh?”
“Heh. Ganesh knows all. You didn’t think Shiva was the one actually running the Eastern Kingdom, did you? Ganesh is their…. Ganesh is their Charles Ofdensen!”
He frowned at her. She so rarely used his human name, it sounded odd. He thought about Ganesh. Serious, intelligent, understated, beleaguered…. Jesus, she was right. “Can you talk to him?”
“Yeah. He might even be able to do something about it. Cut off Mommy’s allowance or something.”
“Really?”
“Hee. You really oughta have a drink with that guy some time.”
Huginn the raven returned with some news of a demon sighting, and the party at length was gathered back together on the trail again. It wasn’t long before they found it. A river had carved out a rocky canyon. And some of the rocks on the opposite side were apparently in an agitated mood, stalking up and down the bank.
"Whatever you do, make sure Nathan doesn't fucking die?" Ofdensen whispered to Raziel. She nodded and went over to stand near the singer.
“Don’t worry,” she told Nathan, patting his arm. “There’s enough gods here, whatever happens, we can probably get the pieces of him stuck back together.”
“We’ve tried that before,” Nathan told her. “It doesn’t work very well!”
Ofdensen found a relatively shallow place in the rapids and cautiously forded the stream. He quietly ignited his sword, and when he seemed pleased with the effect, he whacked the blade on a nearby pile of rocks to attract the beast’s attention. It turned and charged. It seemed a lot faster on its feet than the other rock trolls they’d confronted that day, perhaps because it had had a chance to warm up. Regardless, Ofdensen waited until it seemed fatally too late, dodged some rocky claws and then executed the fiery cut through the agitated demon with swift perfection, proving to all present swordsmen’s satisfaction that this constituted a valid frontal attack strategy against a rock demon.
Unfortunately, by this point, the rocks on which he had pounded his sword to attract the beast’s attention had themselves woken up. Attracted by the commotion upstream, the second beast was set on attack. Despite several cries of “Watch out,” Ofdensen didn’t manage to duck quite in time, and got a good raking across his back from one set of rocky claws. He fell forward, dropping the sword as he did.
Nathan started forward, not exactly sure what he intended to do, but found himself blocked by Lady Raziel's sword arm. He glanced at her, and the small angel shot him a surprisingly fierce warning glare.
Still on the ground, Ofdensen lunged forward and grabbed the sword, and managed to roll away a split second before a rocky foot stomped him on. He scrambled to his feet, and reignited the sword, this time pushing the power so crazy high that white hot flame literally arced from the blade. He raised the superheated sword at the charging rock beast. The confused rock creature momentarily froze in its tracks.
Taking his chance, he leapt at it. He hit it, hard. It blew apart.
Ganesh was already in middle of the stream, fording over, and Raziel appeared atop the still smoking remains. Nathan blinked and did a double take. He hadn’t even noticed she wasn’t still standing in front of him. After a period of silent inspection, they both nodded to Lord Shiva, who had followed them to the other bank. Shiva snapped imperiously at Ganesh, who dug something out of a pocket and handed it to Shiva. Shiva unfolded a crisp American one dollar bill, approached Ofdensen, and, with a bow, presented it formally to him. Ofdensen, bleeding and looking rather the worse for wear, snatched the bill, grinning a quite mad grin.
Nathan swallowed hard. What was that Ofdensen had just told him about supernatural dudes all being insane?
He sort of wanted to be on the couch in the living room at Mordhaus eating chips and yelling at Pickles to change the fucking channel.
He noticed that Hon and Kwahu were exchanging money as well, with a couple of Wotan’s soldiers. It looked like substantially more than one dollar.
“Did you dudes bet on him downing it in one?” Nathan asked.
“No way, dude. We were betting on whether he was gonna kill his fool angel self,” Hon laughed.
Nathan was silent. “You’re…. You’re fucking kidding me.”
Kwahu snickered. “Hey. We bet on him to live,” Hon said, flashing the money.
Nathan shook his head. Gods were a bunch of douche bags.
He wandered over to where an extremely annoyed-looking Ofdensen was very reluctantly letting Ganesh apply some herbs to the demon gashes in his back.
“We’re not sure whether or not those things are venomous. It’s better to be safe than sorry!” Raziel was saying.
“You better not fucking turn me into a goddam toad,” he growled.
“You might have a better temper as a toad,” Raziel suggested.
“I might have to replace your back with elephant skin,” Ganesh laughed.
“That sounds like damn fine skin to me!” Raziel said.
“Remind me why you are even here, Raziel?” Ofdensen demanded.
“To keep up your spirits!”
“I just downed two demons. I AM IN FUCKING FINE SPIRITS THANK YOU VERY FUCKING MUCH.” And so saying, he fine-spiritedly snatched his shirt back from Raziel.
“Hand,” Ganesh ordered. Ofdensen reluctantly offered up his right hand.
“He said he wants a hoof,” Raziel supplied.
“A hoof would be possible,” Ganesh laughed.
“Raziel-!”
“Whoa. Could you do that?” Nathan asked. “A hoof would actually be kinda cool. Or a CLAW.”
“A claw would be quite becoming!” Raziel agreed.
“Or like a big hook?” Nathan noted.
“How about a tentacle?” Raziel ventured.
“RAZIEL!”
“I’m already done, by the way,” Ganesh said. Ofdensen stopped yelling to regard his freshly re-bandaged hand. He opened and closed it experimentally. “In future, you ought consult me when you have any further magical injuries. The hand will be completely healed by sundown. The back might take another day. DO NOT SCRATCH! Or I shall be displeased.” Ganesh gave Ofdensen a surprisingly stern elephant scowl and snapped closed his medical pack.
“You can’t give him anything for the temper, can you?” Raziel asked.
“Unfortunately, no. You might try meditation.”
The little angel chick had dragged away Nathan Explosion. No, really dragged him away. Nathan was a bit weirded out, as she really couldn’t have been much taller than like five-two, but here he had been trying to ask Ofdensen a simple question about going after that rock demon thing and she put a tiny hand on his elbow and it was sort of like being hit by a truck. A tiny, sort of hot truck. But, a truck.
"So, the story is, Bette Davis is a very stylish human who's off riding a horse, but then she falls off. And. Then there's Humphrey Bogart! And then, she changes her outfit to something really cute, and she meets George Brent, who's even more appealing than Humphrey Bogart! And then she's dying, so she changes her outfits a couple more times, and then she marries George Brent, not Ronald Reagan, who I really think had an overrated sense of style, and then she gets a beautifully lighted death scene in the cutest bedroom set." Raziel's posed dramatically to try and capture the dying Davis.
"Huh," said Nathan.
"But, you MUST tell me about this Baby Jane movie!"
"Oh, yeah. Well, this one chick runs over the other chick with a car. And then there's this old house, and the one chick is in a wheelchair and she's gotten really creepy and there's the other chick too and she's even scarier. And then she serves her sister a dead rat for lunch and kills the maid and she's totally dancing on the beach where the other scary chick is dead because she was the one who was driving all along!"
"Wow, what a twist! This sounds like an intriguing movie."
"Yeah, I dunno if you'd like it, there's no cute chicks."
"Yes, but it has a certain gothic appeal."
"Hey, Raz, you know those Indian dudes?" Nathan confided. They had wandered away from the others a little distance by this point.
"The Kachinas? Yeah?"
“I think they're kinda dicks."
"Why do you think that?"
"When Charles killed the demons? They were betting on it."
"We were all wagering on it," Raziel laughed.
Nathan brushed her hand from his elbow, and she released him. "They were betting on whether he'd live or die."
Raziel arched an eyebrow. "Did they bet on him to live, or die?"
"Live?"
"Well, that's actually not too bad." She had started distractedly feinting with her sword.
Nathan was silent for a long moment. "You people.... You god dudes..... Are you all sick or something?"
"Nathan. Angels killed their guys."
"But you didn't do it. I mean, you said you weren't even here."
"I didn't do anything to stop it,” she said ruefully.
“Don’t you people, you know, just get over stuff?”
“Well, it was all pretty recent. I mean, for us. Seriously, Nathan, I’m surprised Wotan even talked Kwahu and Hon into showing up, with us here.” She shrugged. “We’re kind of horrible.”
“When that rock thing was gonna crush him, you guys all just fucking stood there.”
She nodded. “Yeah, you’re a human, I guess it would look odd to you.”
“Odd? I think you guys are fucked up!”
“OK, for us, if we’d jumped in to do something, it would have been a great insult. Like…. What’s that word you guys like to us? It would mean we think he’s a dildo!”
Nathan laughed. Just a little bit. But, he sort of couldn’t help himself.
“I’m trying to think of how to explain this,” she said. “You are all famous musicians. If you were playing a song, and someone else jumped upon the stage….”
“I’d fucking kick their ass off!” Nathan fumed. She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, but usually when I’m on stage, I don’t have a fucking demon trying to kill me.”
“Usually?”
“Eh, yeah, I guess you need to see one of our concerts some time.”
Then she smiled a not horrible at all smile and said, “Now, we really ought to catch up on classic movies.”
“What?” Nathan looked around. “It’s just, frankly, old movies are kinda gay.”
“Yes, some are very gay and happy! And some are romantic! And stylish! Have you see Now, Voyager?”
“Nah.”
“Oh, it’s a wonderful movie! Bette Davis is very sad and has never plucked her eyebrows. BUT! Then she goes to an insane asylum with Claude Rains and plays tennis. And before you know it, she’s wearing the most STUNNING hat, and Paul Henreid is lighting her cigarettes! TWO AT A TIME!”
Ofdensen appeared in his office. He’d been too busy to dream his way to Valhalla this time.
Pickles, he was exasperated to note, was already sitting there.
“So, dood,” the drummer merrily began. “Have ya t’ought any more about hanging wit’ me an’ da strippers?”
Ofdensen sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Pickles, I am extremely busy this week. We have a concert to put on.”
“Den next week?”
“All right. All right. Next week.”
“What?”
“I said all right. After the concert. All right.”
“Next week?”
“Yes, next week, but only if you get the fuck out of my office now.”
Pickles rose. “OK….”
“Now!”
“Next week?”
“Not one more word!”
Of course Pickles had turn around one more time at the door of the office. But before he could speak, he was slammed back against the door, his head yanked back by the braids.
“Why ask for the moon? We have the fucking stars.”
“Wha-“ Pickles began, but was stifled by Ofdensen’s mouth covering his, the taste of whiskey and cigarettes, and Pickles was trying to get his hands into the other man’s clothes to tear them off as efficiently as possible, but then the door wasn’t there against his back any more, and he was stumbling back in to the hallway.
“Now get the fuck outta my office!”
And the door was slammed.
“OK, dood, didn’t hafta slam da door,” Pickles muttered at the closed door. But then the grin was back, and he was off considering the pressing issue of big-titted stripper procurement.
Nathan Explosion clicked the TV remote in his bedroom and watched the screen for a time in baffled silence.
“What’s this?”
He looked up and cringed. One of the cute chicks from last night had evidently woken up and had crawled to the edge of the bed, peering over his shoulder.
“Er,” Nathan began. “It’s sort of a Bette Davis movie some weird chick told me about…” He frowned. The cute chick had crawled off the bed and was sitting beside him now, at the foot of the bed, looking at the screen. He shrugged and hit PLAY. They watched for a while. The Bette Davis chick was wearing some weird hat, and now this suave asshole was lighting her cigarettes. Damn, those people fucking smoked a lot. Didn’t they know about DEATH back in those black and white days?
Nathan looked over in surprise. The cute chick was now gripping his hand and was sort of all crying and stuff.
Whoa.
Nathan put an arm around the cute chick, and they continued to watch some hat-wearing dead people smoke cigarettes.