Sons and Daughters (Mythklok, Chapter 61)
Aug. 4th, 2011 06:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: Sons and Daughters (Mythklok, Chapter 61)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary:
Warnings:
Notes: Notes after the jump.
I'm going sort backstory crazy just lately, so this one has more Ganesh and some Charles as well.
Mythklok started life as a Metalocalypse AU. Then I added in a bunch of not-so-original OCs, begged, borrowed and outright stolen from half-remembered bits of various myths and legends. It's now sorta morphed into a mutant monster.
Last time: Raziel's mom was making trouble in Dreamtime. Everyone's back to reality now, and Nathan has his Cool Ranch Doritos, but it looks like we haven't seen the last of the Goddess. Also, we had a bit of How Ganesh Got His Name (hint: there was some pachyderm involvement)
Valhalla, many years ago....
"Shiva! How are you, you blue sonofabitch?" Wotan blustered as the traveling party arrived at the gates of Valhalla.
"Shiva abides, friend Wotan,” the blue god responded, gracefully dismounting.
"Still riding that fucking bull?"
"Nandi is the best mount in all of hunting!"
"And you brought the boys! Splendid!" A small boy glared up arrogantly at Wotan, and another, smaller, slightly pot-bellied little boy held back, clinging to his father's hand.
The smaller boy wore the head of a young elephant.
“My sons have all come out,” grinned Wotan, gesturing to a tow-headed menagerie standing off to the side.
"Skanda! Run and play now!" Shiva urged. The larger boy threw a puzzled look back to his little brother, who stood by Shiva. Ganesh watched the boys run off, laughing.
"Ganesh! It's good to see you again!" Ganesh cast intelligent brown elephant eyes up at the god. Wotan was a large man, nearly as large as his Uncle Brahma. But Ganesh was not intimidated by him. He stepped forward and held out his arms. Wotan picked him up and held him high.
“We have something for you! A present. Would you like to see?”
Ganesh's eyes were wide. Although he could speak, he did not say anything, but silently nodded. Something for him? He had no idea what it could be. Wotan carried him into the grand halls of Valhalla, and into one of the smaller rooms. He set him down in front of a low table. There was a box on the tabletop, about as big as a hatbox. Although Ganesh was very small, he knew what a hatbox was, as his mother liked to wear fine clothes, and often adorned herself with lovely headdresses.
“Can you guess what's inside?” asked Wotan.
Ganesh, who was not used to being addressed in this informal manner by an adult, shook his head solemnly.
“Will you help me open it?” Ganesh nodded enthusiastically to this. A grownup who asked him questions, and needed his help? This was already an amazing day. He put his hand out, and together with Wotan, swung out the door at the front of the box.
Ganesh gasped.
“Do you like it, eh?” Wotan asked. “My friend Mimir helped me with this! This is something for you, when you're out roughhousing with the boys, or when you need to visit the human world. Things like that.”
Ganesh put his little hands on the edge of the table as Wotan brought out the item. It was the head of a small boy, someone about as big as Ganesh. The eyes were closed, but it looked so realistic, as if they could open up at any moment.
“The boy will need help with the magic!” Shiva said. “He will not be able to perform the change.”
“Yes, I can probably bring Mimir-” Wotan started. But then he stopped dead. Wotan had lived a very long time, and seen a lot of things, but what he saw completely amazed him. Ganesh had quietly pulled off his elephant head, and was very carefully setting it down on the table. And then, as the two adults watched in stunned silence, he solemnly picked up the boy's head, and placed it down upon his own neck.
They eyes blinked open. Intelligent brown eyes.
“Well, willya look at that!” said Wotan. “That's one clever little bastard!” he said, giving Shiva a whack on the back. Shiva cringed, partially at the slap, but also partly at the word, “bastard.”
“Does that fit all right, son?” asked Wotan.
Ganesh tried moving his head back and forth. He nodded up at the big god.
“All right. We'll need to put that one away carefully,” Wotan noted, pointing at the elephant head. He helped Ganesh place it back in the box, and then closed the door. “You've got some of your magic in there, so you'll need to take care. You can take it out for special occasions.” Ganesh nodded up.
“Ganesha! Do you have something to say to Wotan?” Shiva added.
“Thank you Unka Wotan,” Ganesh whispered.
“No need to thank me! Now, you go find your brother, and your father and I will join you shortly!”
Ganesh turned and rushed out of the room. But he slowed up as soon as he was out of sight of the adults. He wasn't in a big hurry to find his brother, truth be told. And the world was so strange! He could still hear, even without his elephant ears, and smell, even without his trunk. But it was damned strange not to have trunk. He put a hand up to feel his nose. It felt like a little nubbin!
And he could still see the powers. Ganesh was small, but he was smart enough to know that not everyone saw as he did. His brother couldn't – he knew that at least. He saw light and shadow and all the colors, but he also saw something beyond colors: the magic that radiated from all living beings. His mother and father had a lot of magic. So did Uncle Wotan, although the quality was quite different.
Oddly, his brother had a very weak field. It was thin and patchy. Wotan's sons had a variety of fields. You could see Thor had a very strong aura. And Baldr practically radiated the stuff. It was glorious.
But there was now Skanda, scruffy aura and all, standing there, glaring at him, amidst a gaggle of Wotan's sons. Ganesh hadn't dawdled enough, he thought with sorrow.
“Whoa!” said Vali. “Is that new?”
“That's from our dad!” declared Baldr.
Skanda continued to glower. “You're still a freak, Chubs” he told Ganesh.
“Skanda, don't be IMPOSSIBLE!” lectured Baldr. Skanda glared at him, but did not answer.
“Does it come off if you shake it too hard?” Vali asked.
Ganesh grinned and, as a demonstration, violently shook his head no.
“Come along, boys!” boomed Wotan as he and Shiva appeared. “We need to get you saddled up!”
The boys cheered, and there was a general small stampede in the direction of the stables.
Ganesh tried to join the crowd, but found himself instead tripped, and on his face. “Your BOYFRIEND is not always gonna be around to protect you, Chubs,” Skanda snarled at him.
Ganesh blinked up at him, regarding the thin, weak aura. He felt something. He was too small to quite understand it, but it was a lot like pity.
Skanda looked nonplussed for a brief moment – he had been hoping for tears, at least – but then turned and ran off with the other boys.
Ganesh dusted himself off and followed along. The hunting party was already saddled and ready.
“Wanna ride with me today, Ganesh?” He looked up to see Baldr, resplendent with his brilliant aura, already astride his horse. Ganesh smiled softly and reached up a hand, and swiftly, he was mounted behind the splendid god.
He was too small to quite comprehend it, but the feeling was a lot like love.
The present day....
“Is he going with you?”
“If you're doing magic with Elegba, oh hell yes.”
Ganesh smiled at the put-down and watched Sariel stoop down to heft their son as if he were a sack of potatoes. Ganesh had to agree: Elias was too young for conjuration at present. Not that this hadn't kept the boy from attempting his own magic. And succeeding, quite spectacularly in some cases. There was currently a ban for it, for both their son and the twins, until everyone could figure out how to teach them the difference between good magic and bad.
Ganesh wasn't completely certain he understood the distinction himself.
“You wanna go to the 'Haus today?” Sariel was asking.
“Da howse!” Elias agreed, wiggling as he hung over Sariel's shoulder. Ganesh tried to imagine what that ridiculous monstrosity of a castle must look like to a small boy. Although it had been many centuries since he himself had been a small boy, he found he could still imagine the wonder if the endless corridors and many crazy accoutrements. “Wunky Nate-Nate?” asked Elias.
“Yes, your Uncle Nathan will be there,” Sariel assured him. Elias currently favored Nathan over the other band members, possibly because Nathan appeared to honestly enjoy spending time with the boy. Ganesh had grown to suspect that Nathan also enjoyed spending time with Sariel, but the both of them were too ridiculous to admit anything so sentimental as a friendship. He considered arranging a hunt in the near future at Uncle Wotan's. That was an accepted manly bonding experience. He wondered if Elias was still too young, and his thoughts drifted to his owns hunts up at Valhalla, when he was a small boy...
“OK, where the hell are you?” It was Sariel.
Ganesh snapped back to the present. “Oh, sorry, just thinking. Maybe Uncle could organize a hunt? Nathan and your boys might like that.”
“Hey, yeah. You wanna go visit Wotan and ride horsies?” he asked Elias.
“Yeah, da horsies an ride an Yabanyeem and dey big!” Elias threw his arms wide to convey the vastness that was, presumably, a horse, and not his cousins Abby and Liam. His cousins, Ganesh reflected, loomed just as large in the boy's life as Nathan Explosion. If their recent vacation had been any evidence, Elias didn't consider any matter finished until it had been conveyed in great detail to Abby and Liam. It had been a bit of fun stopping every night to draw them pictures of the events of his day. Although it was more thand a little humbling to realize their son considered a dining experience at Dimmu Burger every bit as important as a view of the Grand Canyon at sunset or a visit to the National Gallery.
“You'll be careful?” Sariel scolded. Ganesh's smile widened. The angel was not only addressing him like a stern father, but now tugging him down by the collar that he might kiss his forehead goodbye. Ganesh occasionally felt a twinge of jealousy towards Sariel: he seemed to slip so easily into the demands of parenthood. Sariel joked that it stemmed from dealing with the men-children in his band for so long, but Ganesh wondered if there wasn't an element of truth to it.
“I will be careful, my dears. Oh, and, Sariel?”
“Yeah?”
“Oughtn't you put on some shoes before you go?”
The angel looked down at his feet. He wiggled his toes while Elias giggled and pointed.
“Oh. Yeah. Kinda got outta the habit.”
As it turned out, Charles didn't even make it to his office inside Mordhaus. Nathan was waiting outside door, looking more than a little fidgety.
"So. You gotta walk. Is that OK?" Charles asked.
"Sure. Why not?" said Nathan.
Charles set down Elias. The boy laughed, and then took off like a shot.
"Wow!" commented Nathan.
"Yeah, remember how he went from saying words to talking in paragraphs? He went straight from standing up to running like that.”
“Should we let him get so far ahead?" Nathan wondered as the boy neared a corner.
"No. Wait and see."
Suddenly, as if yanked by an invisible string, the boy halted. He looked around, seemingly confused. And then, spotting Charles and Nathan, made a beeline back to them, where he stood a moment, until he reassured himself he was indeed being followed by responsible adults.
And then he turned tail and ran off again.
“Boon! Garden!” shouted Charles.
“Godden!” Elias shouted taking a turn.
“Whoa. He really gets around on those little legs.”
“Yeah, it's great. When we want him to sleep at night, he's down in seconds. He's so fucking tired out from all the running.”
“But, doesn't he still have wings? Or, did they fall off?”
“Naw, they didn't fall off Nathan. I dunno. Raziel's kids are doing the same thing. They learned to walk, and now they're running everywhere.”
“Are they STUPID or something?”
“Maybe. I asked Ganesh, and he says his theory is we're all born with all the potential energy we're ever gonna use, and kids have so much, they gotta run it off.”
Nathan face took up a skeptical look. “He's totally bullshitting, isn't he?”
“Yup.”
“So how was your VACATION?”
“Oh, it was good, thanks. What we needed.”
“Uh-huh.”
“If you've never seen Ganesh order at the Dimmu Burger drive thru, it's an experience in itself.”
“You had a good time?”
“Well, other than a couple of douche bags. What are you gonna do?”
“Douche bags?”
“Well....” Charles paused. It seemed petty, but.... “There's a couple of people. They see me with Boon, they assume he's adopted.”
“Well, he is adopted. Uh. Sort of.”
“Sort of. It's just....” Charles paused, and then blurted, “Why the hell don't any of my fucking relatives look like me? I mean, my dad doesn't look like me. My kid doesn't look like me.”
“Ha. Your kid looks JUST LIKE YOU.”
“Actually he doesn't.”
“Naw, lemme show you. BOOOOON!” Nathan bellowed. The little boy halted, and came scampering back to Uncle Nathan, where he stood, holding his arms to be held.
Instead, Nathan went down on one knee, to somewhat closer to Elias's height. “You know what happened when you were gone?” Elias shook his head. “The pirates from GARDEN OF SOUND came and threatened to TAKE ALL OUR PIE!”
Elias' happy expression melted to one of open-mouthed surprise, and then to a toddler's best approximation of fiery vengeance.
“But it's OK!” Nathan assured him, hefting him high. “Because we beat them back with PEANUT BUTTER AND JELLY SQUIRT GUNS!”
Elias grinned, and then, replaced on the floor, went skittering off again.
“See, he looks just like you.”
Charles' face formed an expression that was indeed remarkably similar to the one just displayed by his offspring. “You mean, when he's pissed off?”
“Yeah!”
“Hmpf.” Charles began walking again. “So, what did you wanna meet about?” They had just reached the threshold of the main entrance.
“The new ALBUM.”
“There's a new album?” Charles tried very hard not to roll his eyes. “Well, that's good news.”
“We've got the track where you can play your violin...”
“Where I...? What? No. No! Absolutely not.”
“Why not?” They were walking through the gardens, passing hooded gardeners trimming topiary grown into the shape of Facebones. As they passed, one gardener cut off the other gardener's head with his hedge trimmer. The headless Klokateer slumped, blood geysering from his neck, while the other man, who was obliviously listening to headphones, kept on merrily trimming.
“Boon! Don't you touch that head!”
“Squishie?” shouted the boy.
“Yeah, Klokateer go squishie! I've told you Nathan, I don't perform.”
“BUT THIS IS DETHKLOK! This is your band!”
“I just.... No, Nathan. The answer is no. Look, we could get you the best session musicians....”
“I don't wanna session musician! I'm the leader. I want you.”
“Why are you being so fucking insistent?”
Nathan regarded Charles shrewdly for a moment. “Well, if you don't care about band....” he finally sighed.
“What? Of course I care about the band!”
“Not that you ever listen to our concerts....”
“I've told you before about that! I wanna listen! I really wanna listen to you guys. I'm just doing too much other stuff.”
“So you probably won't even bother to come down listen to our track?”
“Of course I'll listen to the track.”
“Great. This afternoon. The recording studio.”
“All right. All right.”
“And Charles?”
“What?”
“Bring your violin,” Nathan grinned.
Charles glowered. “Boon!” he shouted. “C'mon! And, don't stop and touch those intestines!”
“Squishie?” asked the child.
“Yeah, squishie. Jesus, we really gotta do more safety lectures for the goddam gardeners.”
“What are you doing now? You want us to watch the kid?”
“That would.... That would actually be really nice, Nathan. I gotta answer some fan mail for a while.”
“Fan mail?”
“For Corazon de Azul,” Charles sighed as they walked back towards Mordhaus's main entrance.
“Wait. I thought that was....”
“Yeah, me too. But Hypnos says it's all messed up. Remember how I had all those extra arms?”
“Yeah, dude, that was AWESOME!”
“I swear, I could use them after I got back here. But then the next day, it was all gone.”
“And the third eye?”
“Third eye is gone too.”
“DAMN!”
“Anyway, Hypnos is tryin' to get me to come back as a guest star.”
“A GUEST STAR ON CORAZON DE AZUL?” Nathan exclaimed, planting himself on the ground and starting to hyperventilate. “Oh, fuck, Charles, can you get us on too? You gotta do this, man, it's Corazon de AZUL!”
“That.... That may actually be a good idea.” Charles considered. “Maybe I can convince her to take you guys instead.”
“C'mon Boon,” called Nathan. “Wanna play NINJA GHOST BOMB?”
“Yeah, dhost bom!” Elias agreed. “An play an Bick?”
“Yeah, we can see if Uncle Pickles wants to play,” Nathan told him as he led him away.
Charles sighed. Pickles. Another responsibility he was putting off.
“Sire?” It was one of his administrative Klokateers. He frowned at the man. Number three one four one five, he recalled. As was a bit unusual for their fanatical fans, he seemed fairly competent, which was why Charles had snagged the dude to run interference on his visitors. He wondered why he was acting so tentative.
“There's a woman waiting at your office. Um, she insists on seeing you.”
“Who? Does she have an appointment?” Charles asked, annoyed.
“Sire. I really think you need to see this one,” said 31415.
Charles frowned and followed the hooded secretary to his waiting room. He sensed something wrong even before he saw her. She looked cheerful enough: blonde, almost certainly thanks to a bleach job, and thirty-something. She had a body that looked to be the result of many hours on the stairmaster plus a certain number of visits to a decent cosmetic surgeon. She turned when she saw him enter, eyeing him with blue contact lenses. His mind ticked through the possibilities. Publicist? Paternity suit?
“Charles!” she said, springing up and offering a well-manicured hand. “It's so good to see you again!”
“Uh. Yes?” he asked, taking her hand.
“Don't you recognize me? I'm Ashleigh!” she chirped.
“Yeah?” Charles' heart skipped a beat.
“Ashleigh Ofdensen, silly! Your daughter!”
“Oh. Fucking Christ,” said Charles.
Charles sniffed the air. “Is your hair … burnt?”
Ganesh grinned and fingered his hair. “Probably. Something, er, didn't quite work as Elegba and I meant it. Hello you!” he added, hefting Elias as the toddler ran up to him.
“Dada! An Dada an dotta!”
“What, dear?” Ganesh asked the boy.
“Long story,” Charles answered for him. “My, uh, ex-wife?”
'Yes? This is the woman for whom you originally built our suite?”
“Uh, yeah, that would be the one.”
Ganesh waited in silence for a moment. “I take it that she has something to do with the emergency you called me here for?”
“Uh, yeah. So. Her daughter showed up today.”
“Showed up here? At Mordhaus?”
Charles nodded glumly. “I had her escorted to my office. Could you come in there with me now?”
“Are you certain?” asked Ganesh. 'You don't want to-”
“I am not gonna be in a room alone with her!” Charles suddenly snapped. “You're coming in with me!”
“All right,” Ganesh soothed. “Lead on.” Ganesh squinted at Charles' aura. Usually it was fairly subdued when he was in his human guise. Unless he was especially agitated. Today, it was exploding all over the place. His eyes still appeared green, so it hadn't gotten completely out of control yet.
Ganesh cast a glance at the young woman in the guest chair. From her attire and state of surgical enhancements, he took her to be a human, probably a resident of a populous city on the American west or east coast.
Charles positioned himself behind his desk. He glowered. “What do you want from me, Ashleigh?”
“I just want to get to know my father,” she said innocently.
“I'm not your father. We've established that beyond reasonable doubt.”
“Well, maybe you're not my birth father, but does that really matter?”
“How the fuck did you go through all that money so fast?” Charles demanded.
“I don't want your money, Daddy.”
“Do NOT call me that." Ganesh caught the flash, the glint of silver. "Then what the fuck do you want?”
“Charles,” said Ganesh, as Elias wriggled in his lap. He noted with a slight smile that, behind his desk, Charles had, perhaps unconsciously, slipped off his shoes and twisted up into the lotus position.
Ashleigh frowned, and then looked at Ganesh. “Hi. I'm Ashleigh,” she smiled at him. A Pan Am smile that did not reach her eyes. Or perhaps it was the botox treatment, Ganesh reflected. “That's L-E-I-G-H, not L-E-Y,” she added.
“Ganesh. G-A-N-E-S-H.”
“My husband,” added Charles.
“Oh, I have two daddies? Cool!”
“You don't have two daddies! You don't have ANY daddies!”
“Can you tell us,” Ganesh urged, “perhaps, what influenced your decision to initiate a reunion at this particular point?”
“Well, I saw the picture, of course,” she blinked. “You're handsomer in person, by the way,” she gushed.
“Why, thank you,” said Ganesh politely.
“And then my mom and I saw Charles on Nick Ibsen. Like everybody.”
“Mmm-hmm,” said Ganesh. “So you are seeking … reconciliation?”
“Yeah! Reconciliation! And I thought since Charles was coming out about everything else, he's want to tell my story.”
“WHAT story?” Charles grumbled. “How your mother tried to bankrupt me? Twice?”
Ganesh flashed Charles a warning look. “So, you are seeking a public recognition...?”
“Yes, that's it! I just want what any girl wants,” she related, appearing to be looking into a nonexistent television camera. “To get to know my father!”
“Then, Ashleigh,” Charles sighed, “can you tell me why ... you didn't just contact your father.”
“He's still doing ten to twenty,” Ashleigh chirped.
Charles and Ganesh exchanged a glance. “Uh. Tax evasion?” Charles asked.
“Well, no, it was the under-aged boys. This time.”
This seemed to throw even Ganesh for a loop. “Er. I think it's this one's naptime,” he said, indicating Elias.
“Is this my brother?” Ashleigh asked.
“Uh, no. No, it is not,” said Charles, as Ganesh put a protective arm around Elias. Charles hit a button on his desk, and the office was soon occupied by some rather large security personnel. “Why don't you escort Miss … uh … Ashleigh to a guest quarters. Please make her comfortable.” As two of the Klokateers were escorting her out, Charles whispered to the third, “Do NOT let her leave her room unattended.”
He dropped heavily back in the chair behind his desk, while Ganesh hugged Elias. The Hindu god still looked a bit nonplussed.
“Charles-”
“Ganesh. You gotta tell me your impression.”
“My impression? That's a little complicated-”
“Just, what did you see? Is she human?”
Ganesh looked quizzical, but said, “Er, yes, thirty-ish human woman. Quite a fan of cosmetic surgery, but that isn't uncommon in some quarters. A bit of a pathological narcissist, but that isn't either.”
“But, human? What did your woo-woo vision say?”
“My 'woo woo vision' showed not a whole hell of a lot of magic. In fact, probably less than in most humans.”
At this, Charles sat back and appeared thoughtful.
“It does speak to something that she went to the trouble of changing her surname to your human name,” Ganesh proposed.
"She could change her name to Rockso, that wouldn't make her nose turn red!” Charles snapped. He was silent again for a moment.
“Sariel?”
“Yeah?”
Ganesh sat Elias down at his feet ant stood up. “I need to go. But I should say, I don't mean to pry. And I don't wish to rehash the past. But it would perhaps aid me to help you in this situation … if I knew more?”
“You're right. You're absolutely right.” Charles stared at Elias for a time. “OK. All right. I don't wanna keep repeating myself on this. Because it's stupid, annoying crap. And I've got other shit to do. Look, come here tonight, I'll get Raziel, and we'll go through it.”
“What the fuck happened to YOUR SHOES?” Nathan inquired.
Charles looked down in puzzlement at his stockinged feet. “I'm actually not completely sure. It's probably Ganesh.”
“Ganesh ams tooks your shoe?” Skwisgaar chuckled.
“No. He, uh, just always goes around bare-footed. I must've picked up the habit.”
“Yoo wanna listen too da track, dood?” Pickles asked. He sat behind the mixing desk, looking a bit uncomfortable. Charles reflected that he probably shouldn't have mentioned Ganesh. Another thing to solve. And he had to put the guys off this madcap idea that he was going to play on their fucking album. He toyed with the idea of reverse psychology, going ahead with it, and then just leaving it to Nathan to press the delete button. But, there was always the chance....
“Sariel!” That did it. Charles looked at Nathan, more than a bit startled to hear his angel name. “You're supposed to be BUSY. You gonna look at your fucking socks, or listen to our fucking track?”
“Fucking track,” grumbled Charles, waving at Pickles to begin.
And so it did.
It was good.
It was really good.
Pickles and Nathan traded vocals, which always created a powerful dynamic. It was just a demo, but the rawness contributed to the sound. And then the guitar break Skwisgaar had probably gone ahead and recorded both tracks, as the second guitar didn't sound quite like Toki.
Then Pickles' voice came back, singing something, very high and haunting. Charles leaned over to hear, and smiled. Pickles was singing the violin track, "violinviolinviolinviolin...."
The music faded. Nathan was leaning over the mixing board, a triumphant look on his face. He now pointed to Charles' hand. "YOU WERE FINGERING!"
Charles stared too at his errant left hand. It was true, it had been plucking out the chords.
"Uh. Was not," he rejoindered, a bit irritably.
"No, you ams clearly beens caughts, finger-handed," Skwisgaar chuckled.
"Dada an pways?" Elias, who had been quietly playing on the floor, suddenly had his little hands up on the mixing board.
'Yeah, you're Dad is gonna PLAY ON THE ALBUM!” Nathan announced, picking him up. “See? Now you have to do it for YOUR LITTLE CHILD!” Elias grinned. He was confused, as he often was at silly adult behavior, but he liked being picked up.
'You cannot use HIM!” Charles scolded.
“Sure I can. You totally would.”
“Look, I gotta go. Gimme my kid.” Chalres grabbed Elias and headed for the door.
“Find your shoes. And START PRACTICING!” Nathan called after him.
“Why?” Charles called back. “None of you guys bother!”
“Hey,” said Skwisgaar. “If hims ams not practices, dat ams means hims ams plays?”
“Oh, yeah, because we never practice when we plan to play! Good thinking, Skwisgaar.”
Raziel had already made herself at home in Charles' office.
"Booooooo!" squealed the cousins, running up to Elias.
"Yab! Yeem!" squealed Elias when Charles let him down.
And then Abby stomped her tiny foot. And a small light on the top of her shoe blinked.
Elias gawped in wonder.
Not to be outdone, Abby's brother, Liam, jumped in the air. As he returned to earth, his shoes twinkled like tiny Christmas trees.
"DADA!" cried Elias. "Da shoesies!" He pointed dumbly at the sheer brilliance of it all.
"Raziel! Did you magick your brats' shoes?"
She grinned and tipped down her sunglasses. "Nah. DreamMart."
Charles now felt his trouser leg being pulled by a grubby little hand. "Dada! An Yabnyeen, an da shoesies! An wite!" His cousins, as if to stir up things, were both doing little jigs, as their magical shoes lit up like Broadway.
"You did this expressly to make my life a living hell, didn't you, Raziel.”
Raziel's smile was brighter than her offspring's footwear. “Serves you right for alerting my kids to the wonders of 'frenchie fries.' I have the best cooks in the universe, but spend half my life lately in in the gods damned Dimmu Burger drive through!”
But then she rummaged around in her purse, and at length brought out a small shoebox that was, nevertheless, oddly larger than the interior of the purse itself seemed to be. "Don't say I never do anything for you," she said, handing it to Charles, who immediately crouched down to open it for his teary eyed son. Elias' dark eyes opened wide as windowpanes, as if he had just been presented with the holy grail itself. He immediately sprang off to present his prize to his justly impressed cousins, and the three immediately formed an ad hoc committee in charge of assuring Elias was appropriately shod.
"Do those kids know which shoe goes to which foot?"
"With remarkable 50% accuracy." Raziel tipped her sunglasses lower. “So. You've looked better.”
“Yeah. Thanks Raziel.”
“What's the big triple emergency you wouldn't discuss over the phone?”
Charles suddenly looked very tired. “Her. My ex?”
“WHAT? Where?”
“OK, Raziel. You don't need that sword.”
“Oh fuck yes I do!” she said, holding it high.
“Anyway, it's not her. It's her daughter. Or, 'my' daughter.”
“What?”
“She's here.”
“YOU LET ASHLEIGH INTO MORDHAUS?”
“She's under guard. Heavy guard. Anyway, I think she means no harm.”
“Of course she means harm.”
“Raziel, you never like any of the people I date.”
“That's not true! I adore Ganesh! Well, unless he turns into an ass. And then it's ELEPHANT GRAVEYARD!”
“That's why I want everyone here tonight. I was thinking, maybe....”
Raziel took off her sunglasses.
Very nearby, a conversation was going on, in the odd language of toddler Angelic.
“This footwear is remarkable. Truly this is a special magic!” Elias marveled.
“Yes, these are splendid enchanted shoes,” Abby told him.
“I almost no longer miss flying,” Liam sighed.
“You know we much engage in this means of locomotion!” Abby reminded him.
“Yes, this is preferred method by which the big angels move about,” Elias agreed.
“We should do as the big angels do!” Abby added.
“Sometimes the ways of the big angels are strange,” said Liam.
“What is the occasion for your visit today, Honored Liam and Abigail?” inquired Elias.
“Our presence was requested by Honored Uncle William and Honored Uncle Samael,” Abby explained.
“They will capture our singing voices in recorded form,” said Liam, now running in little circles.
“Honored Uncle William and Honored Uncle Samael are splendid guardians!” Elias noted, running after Liam.
“Yes, they always have much interesting weaponry to discover!” Abby agreed, sticking out a foot to trip her brother. He in turn brought down Elias, who grabbed Abby too, and all three lay in a giggling heap.
'What are you three up to?” asked Raziel. “Silly things.”
“Little Brother! Are you there?”
“Go away.”
“Come on. Get up.” Raziel looked around the nearly empty apartment, arms folded, her immense earrings creating their own gravitational field as they swung from lobes.
“Why?” came a muffled voice.
“You've sulked enough.”
“I haven't sulked anywhere near enough! I have a lot more sulking to do!”
Raziel picked up the nearly empty vodka bottle from the carpet and gave it a smell. “Nope. Enough. She's not worth any more.”
“Isn't that for me to decide?” grumbled Sariel, poking his head up over the back of the couch, silvery eyes sliding over Raziel.
“Sariel! Will you please pull yourself together! You're out of Court Form!”
“I'm Thomas! Thomas Jeffers!” he slurred, clambering over the back to sit down on the threadbare couch. “At least use my right name.”
“You've used that one long enough, haven't you? Time to start over, get a new one. Don't you even have a coffee table in this place?” she asked, holding out the vodka bottle.
“She took EVERYTHING, Raziel! Everything,” he sighed. “And then her lawyer bent me over and went up my ass for everything else.” He snatched the bottle from her.
“I thought you liked it up the ass,” Raziel chuckled, sitting down beside him.
“Not that way.”
“Hey, you said her lawyer did this?”
“Yeah,” grumbled Sariel, looking sadly at the nearly empty vodka bottle. He tipped it up to drink, only to have it snatched away by Raziel. “Hey, that's mine!”
“Eyes! Court Form! NOW, Little Brother!” Raziel ordered. “I'm not going to talk to you if you're going to continue being rude!”
“Who said I wanted anyone to talk to me?” Sariel glared, but set his eyes to green.
“And put on some pants, for Christ's sake.”
“At least I didn't go out in my underwear!”
“Madonna,” said Raziel, tugging on one lace fingerless glove. “She's currently the most fashionable human in the world, in case you didn't know!”
“You're trying to look like a first century Nazarene? And how the hell long is that dye job gonna last?”
“It's not a dye job, it's a bleach job!” said Raziel, primping her newly blond hair.
“Whatever. You're just gonna ruin it when you True Form.”
“Yeah, Sariel, the next time I gotta turn into a Seraphic warrior on the goddam dance floor, I'll worry about that.”
“Don't you have anything better to do than go to goddam human discos?”
“As a matter of fact, yeah. I gotta scrape my idiot Little Brother off the barroom floor.”
“This isn't a barroom! This is my apartment.”
“You're right, it's not clean enough to be a bar. Anyway. I was just thinking.”
“That's always a bad idea!”
“A lawyer. It's not a bad idea.”
“What's not a bad idea?”
“Human lawyers are rich, powerful, conniving, all the stuff you love. That's what we'll do: we'll send you to law school.”
“What, just like that?”
“Uh-huh!” she said. She waved her hand, and was holding a packet of application forms. “Let's see,” she said, crossing fish-netted legs. “Georgetown sounds good, they're snappy dressers, and I was out dancing with a Harvard guy and he was an ass. You need a university record, and something called an LSAT? All rightie, you had a 3.9 grade point average, and you were an ... ancient civilizations major!” She grinned.
“You can't just make that shit up.”
“Sure I can. With a minor in religious studies! Hahahaha....”
“Why don't you just send me to fucking college? Do it right?”
“Hmpf! Humans use college to learn to drink and fuck. You already have that down. OK. Your test scores are in the 99th percentile. We need some activities to distinguish you. You were on the debate team – that sounds legal – and,” she cast her eyes around the room. They came to rest on a sword propped carelessly in a corner. “You were a star on the … fencing team!”
"You can't do this to me, Raziel," muttered Sariel, snatching ineffectively at the vodka bottle.
"I can and I will. While you're just sitting there, do something useful, and pick out a new human name to use on these forms."
"I thought she loved me, Raziel," he muttered, clicking on the television.
"She was a soulless harridan incapable of the emotion."
"And, I thought I loved her," he whispered.
"What?"
"Nothing. Why won't anything come in on this piece of shit?"
"Why don't you have cable? All the humans have it now! There's MTV!"
"Cable costs money. And money is what my ex-wife made off with. Oh, great! This is the best movie!"
"Oh, Sariel, we are not watching that! It's so dreary and confusing, and the costuming is mediocre at best."
"This is a cinematic classic."
"See if anyone is playing something happy! Like Singing in the Rain!"
"OK, I have a name! I have a name! Charles Foster...."
"No!"
"What?"
"No more of your fictional characters! It's too obvious! You're really lucky you haven't been caught out yet. Oh,” she said, looking at him. “Don't look like that. All right, all right. You may use the Charles part, that almost sounds like your Name.”
“Hey, I got an idea!” he said, suddenly making for the closet and grabbing a cardboard box.
“I thought she didn't leave you any worldly possessions?”
“She didn't. This was in the back of the closet when I moved in.”
“You've been playing solitaire Scrabble?” Raziel asked as Sariel spread alphabet tiles out on the floor.
“We will let FATE determine my new name!” he vowed.
“OK, but no cheating,” she said, kneeling down opposite him.
“YOU'RE telling me not to cheat? Oh, that's rich.”
“Whatever you get, you have to stick with it. That's the rule.”
“How do you make the rules?”
“The best dressed person makes the rules! That's how humans do it, since you've decided you're one of them.”
Charles glowered. Then, closing his eyes, he grabbed up some tiles in his left hand, and then spread them with his right.
“What did you get? What did you get?”
“My new human name is … Ofdensen?”
"Is that one F, or two?"
“That wasn't how it happened,” Charles grumbled. “That wasn't how it happened at all!”
“No?” said Nathan.
“For one thing, it wasn't vodka! I'm sure it was whiskey!”
“Vodka,” insisted Raziel. “Russian vodka.”
“Ewwww,” said Nathan.
“But I never expected to see her again,” Raziel commented.
“I thought she was BURIED IN THE BACK YARD!” Nathan enthused.
“I hoped she was buried in the back yard,” Raziel commented. “With a stake through the heart.”
Charles sat perched on the couch in his suite, looking pinched and miserable. Ganesh, who sat beside him, picked up the untouched martini in front of him and offered it to him. “Doctor's orders,” he said gently.
Charles glowered, plucked out the olive, and then downed the drink in one gulp. He then sat frowning at the olive, twisting the toothpick in his fingers. “She wasn't that bad, Raziel.” he grumbled.
“Yes. She was.”
“You don't have to like everyone I date.”
Raziel leaned forward on her chair. “She had the soul of one hundred percent pure evil.”
Charles glared.
“Dude, you gonna fucking tell us what happened or what?” Nathan demanded.
"This is all I know, Sariel," Raziel told him.
“Look, you guys.... You wouldn't understand.”
“Try us,” Raziel said.
“YOU especially wouldn't understand. You get dumped on your ass by someone. They just up and leave. And then, it's later. Maybe years later. And, you're doing well. You look good. You're rich. You're just walking around. And.... And there they are.”
“Mary Beth Neidermeyer,” said Nathan.
“What?” said Charles.
“She BROKE MY HEART in high school,” Nathan rumbled. “She wanted to go out with the quarterback instead of me. FUCKING CHEERLEADER ASSHOLE! And then I was in a Monolith record store on Sunset, and I was a FUCKING ROCK STAR, and there she was, checking out some KENNY FUCKING G CDS.”
“What happened?” asked Raziel.
“Eh. We ended up back here. And then the next morning I gave her a T shirt. And a Hot Topic gift certificate.”
“Well, that was nice.”
“It was a PLANET PISS T shirt. And then I kicked her ass out.”
“Hee,” said Raziel.
“Well, anyway, we were building Mordhaus,” said Charles. “I think Nathan remembers.”
“Oh, yeah, it took FOR FUCKING EVER,” Nathan moaned.
“So, uh, this is our new meeting room.”
“That's good,” Nathan rumbled, “because WE NEED A FUCKING BAND MEETING.”
“Well,” said Charles, taking a seat at the head of the long table, “Here you go.”
“We ams needs to have a meetings about da meetings rooms, so we can meets!” Skwisgaar said definitively, not missing a fingering on his Gibson as he slouched into another chair.
“Well, uh, this is the meeting room, Skwisgaar.”
“Dis ams da meeting room?”
“Yes. This is our new meeting room.”
“Wait!” snapped Murderface. “Thisch isch a meeting?”
“Uh, yes. That is why I called you guys into the meeting room,” Charles tried.
“I waschn't informed this would be a meeting!' Murderface huffed.
“What, ah, did you expect to take place, IN THE MEETING ROOM, William?” Charles asked.
“Doods, am I late?” asked Pickles, who had just shown up.
“You could have worn PANTS,” Nathan grumbled.
“Didn't wanna miss da meetin'!” Pickles said, flopping down in the chair next to Charles.
“Thisch isch not a meeting! I am not adequately prepared,” Murderface insisted.
“How the fuck do you prepare for a meeting anyway MURDERFACE?” demanded Nathan.
“For one exschample, I muscht read the minutesch.”
“We have minutes?” Nathan asked Charles.
“Uh no. No we don't, Nathan.”
“Thisch isch why I am not prepared!” Murderface vowed primly.
Somewhat later, having been unable to coax, cajole or threaten the band into discussing hiring a new rhythm guitarist, Charles stood in the hallway and watched for a moment as the musicians wandered back to their temporary quarters. Personal spaces had been a migraine-inducing bone of contention: Nathan had drawn up and then shredded plans for his DethBedroom at least sixteen times. That Charles could count. He had had absolutely no energy nor interest in fact in sketching out any plans for his own apartment, which had not endeared him to the architects.
“Sir?”
He turned to the uniformed assistant. Uniforms, he reflected, another bone of contention. It had been hell to talk Nathan out of the real suits of armor, but they were just too damned impractical. Charles tried not to smile, but he liked this one, suited up like a Civil War era messenger. It had been Murderface's idea, which meant it would inevitably go down in flames. “Yeah?” Charles asked, eager for a distraction.
“You have a visitor. She's not in the logs, but she seems terribly insistent.”
“Oh. Gotta name?”
“She says her name is Jeffers. Mrs. Jeffers.”
A chill traveled down to the base of Charles' spine. He accompanied the assistant down to where his new office had just received a fresh coat of paint.
It was her. He struggled to control his breathing. She was sitting in the waiting area next to a teenaged girl. The girl, a pretty brunette, hovered over some kind of handheld gaming device.
“It's been a long time,” she said, rising.
“Yes,” he said.
“This is Ashleigh,” she said, waving her hand. Like a trained poodle, Ashleigh was instantly up, smile plastered on her lower face, shoulders squared, hips swiveled sideways, feet planted demurely together. It struck Charles that she looked rather like she needed to be wearing a pink pageant banner.
“Ashleigh was Miss Pre-Teen Broward County,” her mother purred.
“Uh. Congratulations, Ashleigh.”
“L-E-I-G-H, not L-E-Y,” she informed him.
“Uh, yeah, I'll try not to make that mistake. Uh, you wanna come into my office?” he offered. “It's not quite done yet, but we can talk.” With another gesture from her mother, Ashleigh collapsed back into a waiting room chair.
They entered the office. The smell of fresh paint hung in the air. Charles pushed the door so it was open a crack. He pulled a tarp off his desk and chair, and then did the same for a guest chair.
“You're looking well,” said Charles, diplomatically.
“You look just the same as I remember, Tom,” she said, taking a seat. Her eyes burrowed into him.
“Well, thanks. I'm uh, going by Charles now. Uh, professionally. Just so you'll know.”
“Yes, I know. You're now telling people you're name is Ofdensen?”
“I legally changed my name. There were some things in my past, as you might realize, that I was attempting to leave in the past.”
“You look exactly the same as the Tom I knew. I mean,” she said, leaning forward significantly, “exactly the same. Unchanged. From – what was it? - sixteen years ago?”
“Uh. Seventeen.”
“I always wondered,” she said, now eyeing the office. “Someone who's out on the golf course as much as you. But you look as if you've never been outdoors.”
“I told you, I'm, uh, allergic to the sun.”
“I wondered. When I saw the newscasts. You're in the background of the photos. You stay in the background of the photos. How much of that is on purpose?”
Charles straightened his tie. “I'm the manager. Not the band. Not all of us are such narcissists we have to be the center of attention.”
“Oh, such a cut.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “But what I'd like to know is, Charles, who were you before you were Tom?”
“What exactly do you mean?”
She opened her purse. She extracted a paper file, and slipped it onto his desk.
“What is this?”
“I was intrigued. So I hired some investigators.” She flipped open the file. On the very top was a picture, sepia-toned. It looked to be from the 1930s. It was a music store. And someone standing out front, proud, arms crossed. It may have been the owner.
“You might want to read the article,” she urged.
“A newspaper clipping? I hope you didn't pay too much.”
“It's about a music store owner in New Mexico who mysteriously disappeared.”
“It looks Depression-era. He probably went bankrupt and tried to sneak out on creditors.”
“He was doing well.”
“Bully for him.”
“Did you see the man's name?”
“No,” said Charles, stubbornly keeping his gaze locked on hers.
“Heathcliffe Lockwood?”
“What the hell does this have to do with me,” Charles demanded, shutting the folder.
"I was born in 1951. Charles."
"1947. But we'll let that one pass."
"Your first recordings, from your company...."
"Correction. Your company. Oh, but it's not a company any more, is it?"
"...were from that year. I always wondered why, if you were two decades older than me..."
"I've never said that I'm two decades older than you. You must be mistaken."
She sat back, her smile like a cat toying with a mouse. She waved her hand vaguely in the direction of Mordhaus. “Do they know?”
“Do they know what?”
Here eyes narrowed, going in for the kill. “That's you're not human?”
Charles got up from behind the desk. He walked to the office door. He very quietly shut the door. Then he walked back to his desk and sat down.
“What EXACTLY do you want?”
“Ashleigh needs to know her father.”
“Then why don't you go ask her father?"
"There have been some.... Unforeseen issues."
"He wanted a prenup? He's smarter than me,” Charles said, steepling his hands.
"This isn't about him," she stated. "It's about you. It's about us."
"Us? There is no us."
"It's not too late to start over."
"You've gotten off to a great start. Blackmail's always a good ice-breaker.”
"I know what you want. I can give you what you want."
Charles leaned forward. “Oh yeah? And what is that?”
"To be a man. Just a normal man. With a wife. With a family."
Charles narrowed his eyes.
“Smooth move, Pinocchio,” grumbled Raziel.
“I'm not finished yet,” Charles told her.
“Would you like to take a rest?” Ganesh asked.
“No! I wanna get this over with!”
He had finally just given it over to her, designing the suite.
It was sort of nice, actually. No, to be honest, it was very nice. He spent his days splitting his time between marshaling four squalling and squabbling little princes with impossible, contradictory demands, and running interference on an ever growing list of designers and contractors who were all over time and over budget, sometimes by orders of magnitude.
And then he would have some moments, in the evenings, with a quiet drink, and someone who would ask, what do you think? What do you like? What do you want?
She had changed. He had changed. They had both changed.
Maybe it would work. Maybe this time it would work.
“It's lovely. You really did a good job,” he marveled, sitting down on the couch, eyeing the suite. It was so like their evenings in his office. It seemed set apart, in a different place entirely.
She handed him a glass and sat beside him. “As I said. I can give you what you want.”
He leaned over. She met his eyes.
They kissed.
“EWWWWWW!”
“Raziel!”
“Can't you skip this part?”
“I dunno,” said Nathan. “What was she wearing?”
“Perhaps?” said Ganesh. “We could let Sariel finish?”
“It's almost over,” Charles sighed.
“Sariel?” said Raziel quietly. “Are you OK?”
There were so many things he wanted to say.
But he never had time to say them.
“Ashleigh,” she said, rising.
“Oh, uh, Ashleigh,” said Charles. He stood as well, now a bit flustered.
“No, dear Tom,” she said, her hand ruffling his hair. “It's all right. Come here, dear,” she beckoned to Ashleigh.
Ashleigh came across the room. She came close. And then she came too close.
Charles took a step back.
“Ashleigh. Stop.” He extended an arm, a single finger on Ashleigh's shoulder. “What the fuck?” he asked her mother.
“It's too late for me. We missed our opportunity. But Ashleigh is ready.”
“Uh. Ready?” No.
“Think of it. Your children. Immortals.”
“What.” No. She can't mean this.
“You've hidden yourself away too long. You don't see! They'll worship you! They'll worship us. As gods!”
“No.” Out loud. The hope escaping, finally.
“All those years! Hiding from me, you're wife! What you are! You need to face what you are!”
And then? Then he grew very still.
“Ashleigh?” asked Charles. “Go outside. Now.” She shrugged, hooking back into her earphones as she left.
Charles pressed the door very gently closed behind the girl.
And then he turned to face her.
But it wasn't Charles. And it wasn't Tom.
And now she was the one who was breathing hard.
There was something else in the room. Something she had been longing for. But....
“Do you want to know what I am? Look at me! LOOK AT ME.” He threw off his glasses.
She shuddered. His eyes. They were made of metal. And they seemed to be boring through her.
She couldn't look away.
“Here is what is going to happen.” The voice seemed to be coming from her own head.
“I am going to call some assistants. They will escort you and Ashleigh to a room. Before you leave the room, you will agree on an amount of money. And then NEVER. You and your daughter will NEVER show your faces here again, never contact me, never interact with my band. I don't want to hear a fucking thing about you, or the kid, ever, ever again. Is that understood.”
She gasped. The gaze. She realized with a start that she had wet herself.
“But,” she managed through tears, “What if I-”
He leaned in close. Nearly nose to nose. She finally turned away, lowering her eyes.
“They will NEVER find the body,” he whispered.
She nearly jumped out of her skin as he opened the door. And then there were men, large men, whisking her off....
Charles' glasses were off, sitting on the coffee table. He held his head in his hands.
He felt a small hand on his shoulder.
Raziel was sitting beside him. She leaned over and kissed him on his forehead. “I gotta go tuck in my brats,” she said softly. And then she wasn't there any more.
There was a silence. Ganesh rose, walked over to the bar, and shook up a pitcher of martinis, which he then poured out for the three of them still in the room.
Nathan downed his in one.
“Bitch from HELL, dude," he commented.
“No,” said Charles. “She was … just human.”
“Just a lousy human.”
"A sort of a featherbedder, I suppose," Ganesh said.
"I don't like that word," Charles snapped.
"Sariel. I've been called worse. Much, much worse. And it is only a word."
"That's...." Said Nathan.
"Beings who like to have sexual relations with angels," Ganesh supplied.
"Oh, that's what that means!"
"You've heard it, Nathan?" Charles asked irritably.
"Eh," said Nathan. "People fuck for weird reasons. Because they're rich or they play a fucking guitar."
"Still," said Ganesh. "I would call Charle's ex-wife a bit out of the ordinary."
"Would you have had awesome little guys like Boon?" Nathan asked. "I mean, she was weird and all. But Boon is awesome and he does cool shit. I mean, it wouldn't be all bad, would it?"
Charles smiled wistfully. "Probably, they wouldn't be like Boon, Nathan. Our magic is too much for humans. They would have been deformed. Like the Nephilim."
"But Skwisgaar...."
"He is part god. It works very differently with us," Ganesh explained. "Very unpredictable. The beings that result from unions of gods and humans are usually healthy. They are often in fact blessed with long lives. But sometimes like Skwisgaar, they have a lot of magic, and sometimes not very much, and sometimes....." He trailed off.
"What?" asked Charles.
"I just thought of something. But, it's no matter. Anyway," he said, standing up, "I had wanted to show you a bit of magic Elegba and myself have been working on. We should go get Boon I think...."
"I can grab him!" Nathan offered.
"Yes, that would be good! Then I can perhaps do a practice run before he arrives!"
"A practice run of what exactly?"
"THAT would spoil the surprise. All right, are you prepared?” he asked.
“Uh. I guess so."
“So," said Ganesh. And then, just like that, he was wearing his elephant head.
“Wow,” said Charles, who had jumped up in surprise. "That's amazing!"
"A bit of transubstantiation," tutted Ganesh, modestly flapping his ears.
“That can't have been an easy spell. But, uh, you did the one with the broken tusk?”
“Yes, that was the only flaw,” Ganesh sighed an elephant sigh, pulling the other bit of his tusk out of his pocket. “This was the sole head I had left, as you'll recall. But, I feel it is a small price to pay. Perhaps a reminder of the incident would serve me well?”
“Should I grab Boon from Nathan?"
“Well, yes, you might want to stay with him, in case he has trouble understanding! It might take some time to introduce him to the concept, weeks or even months....”
There was a scream from the doorway. Elias had broken out his small wings, and was literally flying at his father.
“LELEFUN!” he screamed, coming to rest in a very surprised Ganesh's arms.
“Er,” said Ganesh.
“Whoa!” said Nathan from the open doorway. “I forgot how AWESOME that head was.”
“An Lelefun an Dada,” Elias babbled. Ganesh poked him with a trunk, and he giggled.
"Does it come off if you shake your head too fast?" asked Nathan.
"No, it's stuck on pretty good. I used Liquid Nails," he said, winking at Charles.
"I still say you could glue that tusk!" Charles told him.
"Toki's got model glue!" Nathan announced.
“Well,” said Ganesh, tickling Elias, “I believe this is going well so far.”
“Daddy, I want to-”
They all turned at the woman's voice.
Ashleigh was standing in the doorway, frozen, her jaw on the floor.
The shriek was unholy, really a match to anything Nathan Explosion had ever recorded. And she was gone, off like a shot.
“Yeah, this is going GREAT!” agreed Charles.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary:
Warnings:
Notes: Notes after the jump.
I'm going sort backstory crazy just lately, so this one has more Ganesh and some Charles as well.
Mythklok started life as a Metalocalypse AU. Then I added in a bunch of not-so-original OCs, begged, borrowed and outright stolen from half-remembered bits of various myths and legends. It's now sorta morphed into a mutant monster.
Last time: Raziel's mom was making trouble in Dreamtime. Everyone's back to reality now, and Nathan has his Cool Ranch Doritos, but it looks like we haven't seen the last of the Goddess. Also, we had a bit of How Ganesh Got His Name (hint: there was some pachyderm involvement)
Valhalla, many years ago....
"Shiva! How are you, you blue sonofabitch?" Wotan blustered as the traveling party arrived at the gates of Valhalla.
"Shiva abides, friend Wotan,” the blue god responded, gracefully dismounting.
"Still riding that fucking bull?"
"Nandi is the best mount in all of hunting!"
"And you brought the boys! Splendid!" A small boy glared up arrogantly at Wotan, and another, smaller, slightly pot-bellied little boy held back, clinging to his father's hand.
The smaller boy wore the head of a young elephant.
“My sons have all come out,” grinned Wotan, gesturing to a tow-headed menagerie standing off to the side.
"Skanda! Run and play now!" Shiva urged. The larger boy threw a puzzled look back to his little brother, who stood by Shiva. Ganesh watched the boys run off, laughing.
"Ganesh! It's good to see you again!" Ganesh cast intelligent brown elephant eyes up at the god. Wotan was a large man, nearly as large as his Uncle Brahma. But Ganesh was not intimidated by him. He stepped forward and held out his arms. Wotan picked him up and held him high.
“We have something for you! A present. Would you like to see?”
Ganesh's eyes were wide. Although he could speak, he did not say anything, but silently nodded. Something for him? He had no idea what it could be. Wotan carried him into the grand halls of Valhalla, and into one of the smaller rooms. He set him down in front of a low table. There was a box on the tabletop, about as big as a hatbox. Although Ganesh was very small, he knew what a hatbox was, as his mother liked to wear fine clothes, and often adorned herself with lovely headdresses.
“Can you guess what's inside?” asked Wotan.
Ganesh, who was not used to being addressed in this informal manner by an adult, shook his head solemnly.
“Will you help me open it?” Ganesh nodded enthusiastically to this. A grownup who asked him questions, and needed his help? This was already an amazing day. He put his hand out, and together with Wotan, swung out the door at the front of the box.
Ganesh gasped.
“Do you like it, eh?” Wotan asked. “My friend Mimir helped me with this! This is something for you, when you're out roughhousing with the boys, or when you need to visit the human world. Things like that.”
Ganesh put his little hands on the edge of the table as Wotan brought out the item. It was the head of a small boy, someone about as big as Ganesh. The eyes were closed, but it looked so realistic, as if they could open up at any moment.
“The boy will need help with the magic!” Shiva said. “He will not be able to perform the change.”
“Yes, I can probably bring Mimir-” Wotan started. But then he stopped dead. Wotan had lived a very long time, and seen a lot of things, but what he saw completely amazed him. Ganesh had quietly pulled off his elephant head, and was very carefully setting it down on the table. And then, as the two adults watched in stunned silence, he solemnly picked up the boy's head, and placed it down upon his own neck.
They eyes blinked open. Intelligent brown eyes.
“Well, willya look at that!” said Wotan. “That's one clever little bastard!” he said, giving Shiva a whack on the back. Shiva cringed, partially at the slap, but also partly at the word, “bastard.”
“Does that fit all right, son?” asked Wotan.
Ganesh tried moving his head back and forth. He nodded up at the big god.
“All right. We'll need to put that one away carefully,” Wotan noted, pointing at the elephant head. He helped Ganesh place it back in the box, and then closed the door. “You've got some of your magic in there, so you'll need to take care. You can take it out for special occasions.” Ganesh nodded up.
“Ganesha! Do you have something to say to Wotan?” Shiva added.
“Thank you Unka Wotan,” Ganesh whispered.
“No need to thank me! Now, you go find your brother, and your father and I will join you shortly!”
Ganesh turned and rushed out of the room. But he slowed up as soon as he was out of sight of the adults. He wasn't in a big hurry to find his brother, truth be told. And the world was so strange! He could still hear, even without his elephant ears, and smell, even without his trunk. But it was damned strange not to have trunk. He put a hand up to feel his nose. It felt like a little nubbin!
And he could still see the powers. Ganesh was small, but he was smart enough to know that not everyone saw as he did. His brother couldn't – he knew that at least. He saw light and shadow and all the colors, but he also saw something beyond colors: the magic that radiated from all living beings. His mother and father had a lot of magic. So did Uncle Wotan, although the quality was quite different.
Oddly, his brother had a very weak field. It was thin and patchy. Wotan's sons had a variety of fields. You could see Thor had a very strong aura. And Baldr practically radiated the stuff. It was glorious.
But there was now Skanda, scruffy aura and all, standing there, glaring at him, amidst a gaggle of Wotan's sons. Ganesh hadn't dawdled enough, he thought with sorrow.
“Whoa!” said Vali. “Is that new?”
“That's from our dad!” declared Baldr.
Skanda continued to glower. “You're still a freak, Chubs” he told Ganesh.
“Skanda, don't be IMPOSSIBLE!” lectured Baldr. Skanda glared at him, but did not answer.
“Does it come off if you shake it too hard?” Vali asked.
Ganesh grinned and, as a demonstration, violently shook his head no.
“Come along, boys!” boomed Wotan as he and Shiva appeared. “We need to get you saddled up!”
The boys cheered, and there was a general small stampede in the direction of the stables.
Ganesh tried to join the crowd, but found himself instead tripped, and on his face. “Your BOYFRIEND is not always gonna be around to protect you, Chubs,” Skanda snarled at him.
Ganesh blinked up at him, regarding the thin, weak aura. He felt something. He was too small to quite understand it, but it was a lot like pity.
Skanda looked nonplussed for a brief moment – he had been hoping for tears, at least – but then turned and ran off with the other boys.
Ganesh dusted himself off and followed along. The hunting party was already saddled and ready.
“Wanna ride with me today, Ganesh?” He looked up to see Baldr, resplendent with his brilliant aura, already astride his horse. Ganesh smiled softly and reached up a hand, and swiftly, he was mounted behind the splendid god.
He was too small to quite comprehend it, but the feeling was a lot like love.
The present day....
“Is he going with you?”
“If you're doing magic with Elegba, oh hell yes.”
Ganesh smiled at the put-down and watched Sariel stoop down to heft their son as if he were a sack of potatoes. Ganesh had to agree: Elias was too young for conjuration at present. Not that this hadn't kept the boy from attempting his own magic. And succeeding, quite spectacularly in some cases. There was currently a ban for it, for both their son and the twins, until everyone could figure out how to teach them the difference between good magic and bad.
Ganesh wasn't completely certain he understood the distinction himself.
“You wanna go to the 'Haus today?” Sariel was asking.
“Da howse!” Elias agreed, wiggling as he hung over Sariel's shoulder. Ganesh tried to imagine what that ridiculous monstrosity of a castle must look like to a small boy. Although it had been many centuries since he himself had been a small boy, he found he could still imagine the wonder if the endless corridors and many crazy accoutrements. “Wunky Nate-Nate?” asked Elias.
“Yes, your Uncle Nathan will be there,” Sariel assured him. Elias currently favored Nathan over the other band members, possibly because Nathan appeared to honestly enjoy spending time with the boy. Ganesh had grown to suspect that Nathan also enjoyed spending time with Sariel, but the both of them were too ridiculous to admit anything so sentimental as a friendship. He considered arranging a hunt in the near future at Uncle Wotan's. That was an accepted manly bonding experience. He wondered if Elias was still too young, and his thoughts drifted to his owns hunts up at Valhalla, when he was a small boy...
“OK, where the hell are you?” It was Sariel.
Ganesh snapped back to the present. “Oh, sorry, just thinking. Maybe Uncle could organize a hunt? Nathan and your boys might like that.”
“Hey, yeah. You wanna go visit Wotan and ride horsies?” he asked Elias.
“Yeah, da horsies an ride an Yabanyeem and dey big!” Elias threw his arms wide to convey the vastness that was, presumably, a horse, and not his cousins Abby and Liam. His cousins, Ganesh reflected, loomed just as large in the boy's life as Nathan Explosion. If their recent vacation had been any evidence, Elias didn't consider any matter finished until it had been conveyed in great detail to Abby and Liam. It had been a bit of fun stopping every night to draw them pictures of the events of his day. Although it was more thand a little humbling to realize their son considered a dining experience at Dimmu Burger every bit as important as a view of the Grand Canyon at sunset or a visit to the National Gallery.
“You'll be careful?” Sariel scolded. Ganesh's smile widened. The angel was not only addressing him like a stern father, but now tugging him down by the collar that he might kiss his forehead goodbye. Ganesh occasionally felt a twinge of jealousy towards Sariel: he seemed to slip so easily into the demands of parenthood. Sariel joked that it stemmed from dealing with the men-children in his band for so long, but Ganesh wondered if there wasn't an element of truth to it.
“I will be careful, my dears. Oh, and, Sariel?”
“Yeah?”
“Oughtn't you put on some shoes before you go?”
The angel looked down at his feet. He wiggled his toes while Elias giggled and pointed.
“Oh. Yeah. Kinda got outta the habit.”
As it turned out, Charles didn't even make it to his office inside Mordhaus. Nathan was waiting outside door, looking more than a little fidgety.
"So. You gotta walk. Is that OK?" Charles asked.
"Sure. Why not?" said Nathan.
Charles set down Elias. The boy laughed, and then took off like a shot.
"Wow!" commented Nathan.
"Yeah, remember how he went from saying words to talking in paragraphs? He went straight from standing up to running like that.”
“Should we let him get so far ahead?" Nathan wondered as the boy neared a corner.
"No. Wait and see."
Suddenly, as if yanked by an invisible string, the boy halted. He looked around, seemingly confused. And then, spotting Charles and Nathan, made a beeline back to them, where he stood a moment, until he reassured himself he was indeed being followed by responsible adults.
And then he turned tail and ran off again.
“Boon! Garden!” shouted Charles.
“Godden!” Elias shouted taking a turn.
“Whoa. He really gets around on those little legs.”
“Yeah, it's great. When we want him to sleep at night, he's down in seconds. He's so fucking tired out from all the running.”
“But, doesn't he still have wings? Or, did they fall off?”
“Naw, they didn't fall off Nathan. I dunno. Raziel's kids are doing the same thing. They learned to walk, and now they're running everywhere.”
“Are they STUPID or something?”
“Maybe. I asked Ganesh, and he says his theory is we're all born with all the potential energy we're ever gonna use, and kids have so much, they gotta run it off.”
Nathan face took up a skeptical look. “He's totally bullshitting, isn't he?”
“Yup.”
“So how was your VACATION?”
“Oh, it was good, thanks. What we needed.”
“Uh-huh.”
“If you've never seen Ganesh order at the Dimmu Burger drive thru, it's an experience in itself.”
“You had a good time?”
“Well, other than a couple of douche bags. What are you gonna do?”
“Douche bags?”
“Well....” Charles paused. It seemed petty, but.... “There's a couple of people. They see me with Boon, they assume he's adopted.”
“Well, he is adopted. Uh. Sort of.”
“Sort of. It's just....” Charles paused, and then blurted, “Why the hell don't any of my fucking relatives look like me? I mean, my dad doesn't look like me. My kid doesn't look like me.”
“Ha. Your kid looks JUST LIKE YOU.”
“Actually he doesn't.”
“Naw, lemme show you. BOOOOON!” Nathan bellowed. The little boy halted, and came scampering back to Uncle Nathan, where he stood, holding his arms to be held.
Instead, Nathan went down on one knee, to somewhat closer to Elias's height. “You know what happened when you were gone?” Elias shook his head. “The pirates from GARDEN OF SOUND came and threatened to TAKE ALL OUR PIE!”
Elias' happy expression melted to one of open-mouthed surprise, and then to a toddler's best approximation of fiery vengeance.
“But it's OK!” Nathan assured him, hefting him high. “Because we beat them back with PEANUT BUTTER AND JELLY SQUIRT GUNS!”
Elias grinned, and then, replaced on the floor, went skittering off again.
“See, he looks just like you.”
Charles' face formed an expression that was indeed remarkably similar to the one just displayed by his offspring. “You mean, when he's pissed off?”
“Yeah!”
“Hmpf.” Charles began walking again. “So, what did you wanna meet about?” They had just reached the threshold of the main entrance.
“The new ALBUM.”
“There's a new album?” Charles tried very hard not to roll his eyes. “Well, that's good news.”
“We've got the track where you can play your violin...”
“Where I...? What? No. No! Absolutely not.”
“Why not?” They were walking through the gardens, passing hooded gardeners trimming topiary grown into the shape of Facebones. As they passed, one gardener cut off the other gardener's head with his hedge trimmer. The headless Klokateer slumped, blood geysering from his neck, while the other man, who was obliviously listening to headphones, kept on merrily trimming.
“Boon! Don't you touch that head!”
“Squishie?” shouted the boy.
“Yeah, Klokateer go squishie! I've told you Nathan, I don't perform.”
“BUT THIS IS DETHKLOK! This is your band!”
“I just.... No, Nathan. The answer is no. Look, we could get you the best session musicians....”
“I don't wanna session musician! I'm the leader. I want you.”
“Why are you being so fucking insistent?”
Nathan regarded Charles shrewdly for a moment. “Well, if you don't care about band....” he finally sighed.
“What? Of course I care about the band!”
“Not that you ever listen to our concerts....”
“I've told you before about that! I wanna listen! I really wanna listen to you guys. I'm just doing too much other stuff.”
“So you probably won't even bother to come down listen to our track?”
“Of course I'll listen to the track.”
“Great. This afternoon. The recording studio.”
“All right. All right.”
“And Charles?”
“What?”
“Bring your violin,” Nathan grinned.
Charles glowered. “Boon!” he shouted. “C'mon! And, don't stop and touch those intestines!”
“Squishie?” asked the child.
“Yeah, squishie. Jesus, we really gotta do more safety lectures for the goddam gardeners.”
“What are you doing now? You want us to watch the kid?”
“That would.... That would actually be really nice, Nathan. I gotta answer some fan mail for a while.”
“Fan mail?”
“For Corazon de Azul,” Charles sighed as they walked back towards Mordhaus's main entrance.
“Wait. I thought that was....”
“Yeah, me too. But Hypnos says it's all messed up. Remember how I had all those extra arms?”
“Yeah, dude, that was AWESOME!”
“I swear, I could use them after I got back here. But then the next day, it was all gone.”
“And the third eye?”
“Third eye is gone too.”
“DAMN!”
“Anyway, Hypnos is tryin' to get me to come back as a guest star.”
“A GUEST STAR ON CORAZON DE AZUL?” Nathan exclaimed, planting himself on the ground and starting to hyperventilate. “Oh, fuck, Charles, can you get us on too? You gotta do this, man, it's Corazon de AZUL!”
“That.... That may actually be a good idea.” Charles considered. “Maybe I can convince her to take you guys instead.”
“C'mon Boon,” called Nathan. “Wanna play NINJA GHOST BOMB?”
“Yeah, dhost bom!” Elias agreed. “An play an Bick?”
“Yeah, we can see if Uncle Pickles wants to play,” Nathan told him as he led him away.
Charles sighed. Pickles. Another responsibility he was putting off.
“Sire?” It was one of his administrative Klokateers. He frowned at the man. Number three one four one five, he recalled. As was a bit unusual for their fanatical fans, he seemed fairly competent, which was why Charles had snagged the dude to run interference on his visitors. He wondered why he was acting so tentative.
“There's a woman waiting at your office. Um, she insists on seeing you.”
“Who? Does she have an appointment?” Charles asked, annoyed.
“Sire. I really think you need to see this one,” said 31415.
Charles frowned and followed the hooded secretary to his waiting room. He sensed something wrong even before he saw her. She looked cheerful enough: blonde, almost certainly thanks to a bleach job, and thirty-something. She had a body that looked to be the result of many hours on the stairmaster plus a certain number of visits to a decent cosmetic surgeon. She turned when she saw him enter, eyeing him with blue contact lenses. His mind ticked through the possibilities. Publicist? Paternity suit?
“Charles!” she said, springing up and offering a well-manicured hand. “It's so good to see you again!”
“Uh. Yes?” he asked, taking her hand.
“Don't you recognize me? I'm Ashleigh!” she chirped.
“Yeah?” Charles' heart skipped a beat.
“Ashleigh Ofdensen, silly! Your daughter!”
“Oh. Fucking Christ,” said Charles.
Charles sniffed the air. “Is your hair … burnt?”
Ganesh grinned and fingered his hair. “Probably. Something, er, didn't quite work as Elegba and I meant it. Hello you!” he added, hefting Elias as the toddler ran up to him.
“Dada! An Dada an dotta!”
“What, dear?” Ganesh asked the boy.
“Long story,” Charles answered for him. “My, uh, ex-wife?”
'Yes? This is the woman for whom you originally built our suite?”
“Uh, yeah, that would be the one.”
Ganesh waited in silence for a moment. “I take it that she has something to do with the emergency you called me here for?”
“Uh, yeah. So. Her daughter showed up today.”
“Showed up here? At Mordhaus?”
Charles nodded glumly. “I had her escorted to my office. Could you come in there with me now?”
“Are you certain?” asked Ganesh. 'You don't want to-”
“I am not gonna be in a room alone with her!” Charles suddenly snapped. “You're coming in with me!”
“All right,” Ganesh soothed. “Lead on.” Ganesh squinted at Charles' aura. Usually it was fairly subdued when he was in his human guise. Unless he was especially agitated. Today, it was exploding all over the place. His eyes still appeared green, so it hadn't gotten completely out of control yet.
Ganesh cast a glance at the young woman in the guest chair. From her attire and state of surgical enhancements, he took her to be a human, probably a resident of a populous city on the American west or east coast.
Charles positioned himself behind his desk. He glowered. “What do you want from me, Ashleigh?”
“I just want to get to know my father,” she said innocently.
“I'm not your father. We've established that beyond reasonable doubt.”
“Well, maybe you're not my birth father, but does that really matter?”
“How the fuck did you go through all that money so fast?” Charles demanded.
“I don't want your money, Daddy.”
“Do NOT call me that." Ganesh caught the flash, the glint of silver. "Then what the fuck do you want?”
“Charles,” said Ganesh, as Elias wriggled in his lap. He noted with a slight smile that, behind his desk, Charles had, perhaps unconsciously, slipped off his shoes and twisted up into the lotus position.
Ashleigh frowned, and then looked at Ganesh. “Hi. I'm Ashleigh,” she smiled at him. A Pan Am smile that did not reach her eyes. Or perhaps it was the botox treatment, Ganesh reflected. “That's L-E-I-G-H, not L-E-Y,” she added.
“Ganesh. G-A-N-E-S-H.”
“My husband,” added Charles.
“Oh, I have two daddies? Cool!”
“You don't have two daddies! You don't have ANY daddies!”
“Can you tell us,” Ganesh urged, “perhaps, what influenced your decision to initiate a reunion at this particular point?”
“Well, I saw the picture, of course,” she blinked. “You're handsomer in person, by the way,” she gushed.
“Why, thank you,” said Ganesh politely.
“And then my mom and I saw Charles on Nick Ibsen. Like everybody.”
“Mmm-hmm,” said Ganesh. “So you are seeking … reconciliation?”
“Yeah! Reconciliation! And I thought since Charles was coming out about everything else, he's want to tell my story.”
“WHAT story?” Charles grumbled. “How your mother tried to bankrupt me? Twice?”
Ganesh flashed Charles a warning look. “So, you are seeking a public recognition...?”
“Yes, that's it! I just want what any girl wants,” she related, appearing to be looking into a nonexistent television camera. “To get to know my father!”
“Then, Ashleigh,” Charles sighed, “can you tell me why ... you didn't just contact your father.”
“He's still doing ten to twenty,” Ashleigh chirped.
Charles and Ganesh exchanged a glance. “Uh. Tax evasion?” Charles asked.
“Well, no, it was the under-aged boys. This time.”
This seemed to throw even Ganesh for a loop. “Er. I think it's this one's naptime,” he said, indicating Elias.
“Is this my brother?” Ashleigh asked.
“Uh, no. No, it is not,” said Charles, as Ganesh put a protective arm around Elias. Charles hit a button on his desk, and the office was soon occupied by some rather large security personnel. “Why don't you escort Miss … uh … Ashleigh to a guest quarters. Please make her comfortable.” As two of the Klokateers were escorting her out, Charles whispered to the third, “Do NOT let her leave her room unattended.”
He dropped heavily back in the chair behind his desk, while Ganesh hugged Elias. The Hindu god still looked a bit nonplussed.
“Charles-”
“Ganesh. You gotta tell me your impression.”
“My impression? That's a little complicated-”
“Just, what did you see? Is she human?”
Ganesh looked quizzical, but said, “Er, yes, thirty-ish human woman. Quite a fan of cosmetic surgery, but that isn't uncommon in some quarters. A bit of a pathological narcissist, but that isn't either.”
“But, human? What did your woo-woo vision say?”
“My 'woo woo vision' showed not a whole hell of a lot of magic. In fact, probably less than in most humans.”
At this, Charles sat back and appeared thoughtful.
“It does speak to something that she went to the trouble of changing her surname to your human name,” Ganesh proposed.
"She could change her name to Rockso, that wouldn't make her nose turn red!” Charles snapped. He was silent again for a moment.
“Sariel?”
“Yeah?”
Ganesh sat Elias down at his feet ant stood up. “I need to go. But I should say, I don't mean to pry. And I don't wish to rehash the past. But it would perhaps aid me to help you in this situation … if I knew more?”
“You're right. You're absolutely right.” Charles stared at Elias for a time. “OK. All right. I don't wanna keep repeating myself on this. Because it's stupid, annoying crap. And I've got other shit to do. Look, come here tonight, I'll get Raziel, and we'll go through it.”
“What the fuck happened to YOUR SHOES?” Nathan inquired.
Charles looked down in puzzlement at his stockinged feet. “I'm actually not completely sure. It's probably Ganesh.”
“Ganesh ams tooks your shoe?” Skwisgaar chuckled.
“No. He, uh, just always goes around bare-footed. I must've picked up the habit.”
“Yoo wanna listen too da track, dood?” Pickles asked. He sat behind the mixing desk, looking a bit uncomfortable. Charles reflected that he probably shouldn't have mentioned Ganesh. Another thing to solve. And he had to put the guys off this madcap idea that he was going to play on their fucking album. He toyed with the idea of reverse psychology, going ahead with it, and then just leaving it to Nathan to press the delete button. But, there was always the chance....
“Sariel!” That did it. Charles looked at Nathan, more than a bit startled to hear his angel name. “You're supposed to be BUSY. You gonna look at your fucking socks, or listen to our fucking track?”
“Fucking track,” grumbled Charles, waving at Pickles to begin.
And so it did.
It was good.
It was really good.
Pickles and Nathan traded vocals, which always created a powerful dynamic. It was just a demo, but the rawness contributed to the sound. And then the guitar break Skwisgaar had probably gone ahead and recorded both tracks, as the second guitar didn't sound quite like Toki.
Then Pickles' voice came back, singing something, very high and haunting. Charles leaned over to hear, and smiled. Pickles was singing the violin track, "violinviolinviolinviolin...."
The music faded. Nathan was leaning over the mixing board, a triumphant look on his face. He now pointed to Charles' hand. "YOU WERE FINGERING!"
Charles stared too at his errant left hand. It was true, it had been plucking out the chords.
"Uh. Was not," he rejoindered, a bit irritably.
"No, you ams clearly beens caughts, finger-handed," Skwisgaar chuckled.
"Dada an pways?" Elias, who had been quietly playing on the floor, suddenly had his little hands up on the mixing board.
'Yeah, you're Dad is gonna PLAY ON THE ALBUM!” Nathan announced, picking him up. “See? Now you have to do it for YOUR LITTLE CHILD!” Elias grinned. He was confused, as he often was at silly adult behavior, but he liked being picked up.
'You cannot use HIM!” Charles scolded.
“Sure I can. You totally would.”
“Look, I gotta go. Gimme my kid.” Chalres grabbed Elias and headed for the door.
“Find your shoes. And START PRACTICING!” Nathan called after him.
“Why?” Charles called back. “None of you guys bother!”
“Hey,” said Skwisgaar. “If hims ams not practices, dat ams means hims ams plays?”
“Oh, yeah, because we never practice when we plan to play! Good thinking, Skwisgaar.”
Raziel had already made herself at home in Charles' office.
"Booooooo!" squealed the cousins, running up to Elias.
"Yab! Yeem!" squealed Elias when Charles let him down.
And then Abby stomped her tiny foot. And a small light on the top of her shoe blinked.
Elias gawped in wonder.
Not to be outdone, Abby's brother, Liam, jumped in the air. As he returned to earth, his shoes twinkled like tiny Christmas trees.
"DADA!" cried Elias. "Da shoesies!" He pointed dumbly at the sheer brilliance of it all.
"Raziel! Did you magick your brats' shoes?"
She grinned and tipped down her sunglasses. "Nah. DreamMart."
Charles now felt his trouser leg being pulled by a grubby little hand. "Dada! An Yabnyeen, an da shoesies! An wite!" His cousins, as if to stir up things, were both doing little jigs, as their magical shoes lit up like Broadway.
"You did this expressly to make my life a living hell, didn't you, Raziel.”
Raziel's smile was brighter than her offspring's footwear. “Serves you right for alerting my kids to the wonders of 'frenchie fries.' I have the best cooks in the universe, but spend half my life lately in in the gods damned Dimmu Burger drive through!”
But then she rummaged around in her purse, and at length brought out a small shoebox that was, nevertheless, oddly larger than the interior of the purse itself seemed to be. "Don't say I never do anything for you," she said, handing it to Charles, who immediately crouched down to open it for his teary eyed son. Elias' dark eyes opened wide as windowpanes, as if he had just been presented with the holy grail itself. He immediately sprang off to present his prize to his justly impressed cousins, and the three immediately formed an ad hoc committee in charge of assuring Elias was appropriately shod.
"Do those kids know which shoe goes to which foot?"
"With remarkable 50% accuracy." Raziel tipped her sunglasses lower. “So. You've looked better.”
“Yeah. Thanks Raziel.”
“What's the big triple emergency you wouldn't discuss over the phone?”
Charles suddenly looked very tired. “Her. My ex?”
“WHAT? Where?”
“OK, Raziel. You don't need that sword.”
“Oh fuck yes I do!” she said, holding it high.
“Anyway, it's not her. It's her daughter. Or, 'my' daughter.”
“What?”
“She's here.”
“YOU LET ASHLEIGH INTO MORDHAUS?”
“She's under guard. Heavy guard. Anyway, I think she means no harm.”
“Of course she means harm.”
“Raziel, you never like any of the people I date.”
“That's not true! I adore Ganesh! Well, unless he turns into an ass. And then it's ELEPHANT GRAVEYARD!”
“That's why I want everyone here tonight. I was thinking, maybe....”
Raziel took off her sunglasses.
Very nearby, a conversation was going on, in the odd language of toddler Angelic.
“This footwear is remarkable. Truly this is a special magic!” Elias marveled.
“Yes, these are splendid enchanted shoes,” Abby told him.
“I almost no longer miss flying,” Liam sighed.
“You know we much engage in this means of locomotion!” Abby reminded him.
“Yes, this is preferred method by which the big angels move about,” Elias agreed.
“We should do as the big angels do!” Abby added.
“Sometimes the ways of the big angels are strange,” said Liam.
“What is the occasion for your visit today, Honored Liam and Abigail?” inquired Elias.
“Our presence was requested by Honored Uncle William and Honored Uncle Samael,” Abby explained.
“They will capture our singing voices in recorded form,” said Liam, now running in little circles.
“Honored Uncle William and Honored Uncle Samael are splendid guardians!” Elias noted, running after Liam.
“Yes, they always have much interesting weaponry to discover!” Abby agreed, sticking out a foot to trip her brother. He in turn brought down Elias, who grabbed Abby too, and all three lay in a giggling heap.
'What are you three up to?” asked Raziel. “Silly things.”
“Little Brother! Are you there?”
“Go away.”
“Come on. Get up.” Raziel looked around the nearly empty apartment, arms folded, her immense earrings creating their own gravitational field as they swung from lobes.
“Why?” came a muffled voice.
“You've sulked enough.”
“I haven't sulked anywhere near enough! I have a lot more sulking to do!”
Raziel picked up the nearly empty vodka bottle from the carpet and gave it a smell. “Nope. Enough. She's not worth any more.”
“Isn't that for me to decide?” grumbled Sariel, poking his head up over the back of the couch, silvery eyes sliding over Raziel.
“Sariel! Will you please pull yourself together! You're out of Court Form!”
“I'm Thomas! Thomas Jeffers!” he slurred, clambering over the back to sit down on the threadbare couch. “At least use my right name.”
“You've used that one long enough, haven't you? Time to start over, get a new one. Don't you even have a coffee table in this place?” she asked, holding out the vodka bottle.
“She took EVERYTHING, Raziel! Everything,” he sighed. “And then her lawyer bent me over and went up my ass for everything else.” He snatched the bottle from her.
“I thought you liked it up the ass,” Raziel chuckled, sitting down beside him.
“Not that way.”
“Hey, you said her lawyer did this?”
“Yeah,” grumbled Sariel, looking sadly at the nearly empty vodka bottle. He tipped it up to drink, only to have it snatched away by Raziel. “Hey, that's mine!”
“Eyes! Court Form! NOW, Little Brother!” Raziel ordered. “I'm not going to talk to you if you're going to continue being rude!”
“Who said I wanted anyone to talk to me?” Sariel glared, but set his eyes to green.
“And put on some pants, for Christ's sake.”
“At least I didn't go out in my underwear!”
“Madonna,” said Raziel, tugging on one lace fingerless glove. “She's currently the most fashionable human in the world, in case you didn't know!”
“You're trying to look like a first century Nazarene? And how the hell long is that dye job gonna last?”
“It's not a dye job, it's a bleach job!” said Raziel, primping her newly blond hair.
“Whatever. You're just gonna ruin it when you True Form.”
“Yeah, Sariel, the next time I gotta turn into a Seraphic warrior on the goddam dance floor, I'll worry about that.”
“Don't you have anything better to do than go to goddam human discos?”
“As a matter of fact, yeah. I gotta scrape my idiot Little Brother off the barroom floor.”
“This isn't a barroom! This is my apartment.”
“You're right, it's not clean enough to be a bar. Anyway. I was just thinking.”
“That's always a bad idea!”
“A lawyer. It's not a bad idea.”
“What's not a bad idea?”
“Human lawyers are rich, powerful, conniving, all the stuff you love. That's what we'll do: we'll send you to law school.”
“What, just like that?”
“Uh-huh!” she said. She waved her hand, and was holding a packet of application forms. “Let's see,” she said, crossing fish-netted legs. “Georgetown sounds good, they're snappy dressers, and I was out dancing with a Harvard guy and he was an ass. You need a university record, and something called an LSAT? All rightie, you had a 3.9 grade point average, and you were an ... ancient civilizations major!” She grinned.
“You can't just make that shit up.”
“Sure I can. With a minor in religious studies! Hahahaha....”
“Why don't you just send me to fucking college? Do it right?”
“Hmpf! Humans use college to learn to drink and fuck. You already have that down. OK. Your test scores are in the 99th percentile. We need some activities to distinguish you. You were on the debate team – that sounds legal – and,” she cast her eyes around the room. They came to rest on a sword propped carelessly in a corner. “You were a star on the … fencing team!”
"You can't do this to me, Raziel," muttered Sariel, snatching ineffectively at the vodka bottle.
"I can and I will. While you're just sitting there, do something useful, and pick out a new human name to use on these forms."
"I thought she loved me, Raziel," he muttered, clicking on the television.
"She was a soulless harridan incapable of the emotion."
"And, I thought I loved her," he whispered.
"What?"
"Nothing. Why won't anything come in on this piece of shit?"
"Why don't you have cable? All the humans have it now! There's MTV!"
"Cable costs money. And money is what my ex-wife made off with. Oh, great! This is the best movie!"
"Oh, Sariel, we are not watching that! It's so dreary and confusing, and the costuming is mediocre at best."
"This is a cinematic classic."
"See if anyone is playing something happy! Like Singing in the Rain!"
"OK, I have a name! I have a name! Charles Foster...."
"No!"
"What?"
"No more of your fictional characters! It's too obvious! You're really lucky you haven't been caught out yet. Oh,” she said, looking at him. “Don't look like that. All right, all right. You may use the Charles part, that almost sounds like your Name.”
“Hey, I got an idea!” he said, suddenly making for the closet and grabbing a cardboard box.
“I thought she didn't leave you any worldly possessions?”
“She didn't. This was in the back of the closet when I moved in.”
“You've been playing solitaire Scrabble?” Raziel asked as Sariel spread alphabet tiles out on the floor.
“We will let FATE determine my new name!” he vowed.
“OK, but no cheating,” she said, kneeling down opposite him.
“YOU'RE telling me not to cheat? Oh, that's rich.”
“Whatever you get, you have to stick with it. That's the rule.”
“How do you make the rules?”
“The best dressed person makes the rules! That's how humans do it, since you've decided you're one of them.”
Charles glowered. Then, closing his eyes, he grabbed up some tiles in his left hand, and then spread them with his right.
“What did you get? What did you get?”
“My new human name is … Ofdensen?”
"Is that one F, or two?"
“That wasn't how it happened,” Charles grumbled. “That wasn't how it happened at all!”
“No?” said Nathan.
“For one thing, it wasn't vodka! I'm sure it was whiskey!”
“Vodka,” insisted Raziel. “Russian vodka.”
“Ewwww,” said Nathan.
“But I never expected to see her again,” Raziel commented.
“I thought she was BURIED IN THE BACK YARD!” Nathan enthused.
“I hoped she was buried in the back yard,” Raziel commented. “With a stake through the heart.”
Charles sat perched on the couch in his suite, looking pinched and miserable. Ganesh, who sat beside him, picked up the untouched martini in front of him and offered it to him. “Doctor's orders,” he said gently.
Charles glowered, plucked out the olive, and then downed the drink in one gulp. He then sat frowning at the olive, twisting the toothpick in his fingers. “She wasn't that bad, Raziel.” he grumbled.
“Yes. She was.”
“You don't have to like everyone I date.”
Raziel leaned forward on her chair. “She had the soul of one hundred percent pure evil.”
Charles glared.
“Dude, you gonna fucking tell us what happened or what?” Nathan demanded.
"This is all I know, Sariel," Raziel told him.
“Look, you guys.... You wouldn't understand.”
“Try us,” Raziel said.
“YOU especially wouldn't understand. You get dumped on your ass by someone. They just up and leave. And then, it's later. Maybe years later. And, you're doing well. You look good. You're rich. You're just walking around. And.... And there they are.”
“Mary Beth Neidermeyer,” said Nathan.
“What?” said Charles.
“She BROKE MY HEART in high school,” Nathan rumbled. “She wanted to go out with the quarterback instead of me. FUCKING CHEERLEADER ASSHOLE! And then I was in a Monolith record store on Sunset, and I was a FUCKING ROCK STAR, and there she was, checking out some KENNY FUCKING G CDS.”
“What happened?” asked Raziel.
“Eh. We ended up back here. And then the next morning I gave her a T shirt. And a Hot Topic gift certificate.”
“Well, that was nice.”
“It was a PLANET PISS T shirt. And then I kicked her ass out.”
“Hee,” said Raziel.
“Well, anyway, we were building Mordhaus,” said Charles. “I think Nathan remembers.”
“Oh, yeah, it took FOR FUCKING EVER,” Nathan moaned.
“So, uh, this is our new meeting room.”
“That's good,” Nathan rumbled, “because WE NEED A FUCKING BAND MEETING.”
“Well,” said Charles, taking a seat at the head of the long table, “Here you go.”
“We ams needs to have a meetings about da meetings rooms, so we can meets!” Skwisgaar said definitively, not missing a fingering on his Gibson as he slouched into another chair.
“Well, uh, this is the meeting room, Skwisgaar.”
“Dis ams da meeting room?”
“Yes. This is our new meeting room.”
“Wait!” snapped Murderface. “Thisch isch a meeting?”
“Uh, yes. That is why I called you guys into the meeting room,” Charles tried.
“I waschn't informed this would be a meeting!' Murderface huffed.
“What, ah, did you expect to take place, IN THE MEETING ROOM, William?” Charles asked.
“Doods, am I late?” asked Pickles, who had just shown up.
“You could have worn PANTS,” Nathan grumbled.
“Didn't wanna miss da meetin'!” Pickles said, flopping down in the chair next to Charles.
“Thisch isch not a meeting! I am not adequately prepared,” Murderface insisted.
“How the fuck do you prepare for a meeting anyway MURDERFACE?” demanded Nathan.
“For one exschample, I muscht read the minutesch.”
“We have minutes?” Nathan asked Charles.
“Uh no. No we don't, Nathan.”
“Thisch isch why I am not prepared!” Murderface vowed primly.
Somewhat later, having been unable to coax, cajole or threaten the band into discussing hiring a new rhythm guitarist, Charles stood in the hallway and watched for a moment as the musicians wandered back to their temporary quarters. Personal spaces had been a migraine-inducing bone of contention: Nathan had drawn up and then shredded plans for his DethBedroom at least sixteen times. That Charles could count. He had had absolutely no energy nor interest in fact in sketching out any plans for his own apartment, which had not endeared him to the architects.
“Sir?”
He turned to the uniformed assistant. Uniforms, he reflected, another bone of contention. It had been hell to talk Nathan out of the real suits of armor, but they were just too damned impractical. Charles tried not to smile, but he liked this one, suited up like a Civil War era messenger. It had been Murderface's idea, which meant it would inevitably go down in flames. “Yeah?” Charles asked, eager for a distraction.
“You have a visitor. She's not in the logs, but she seems terribly insistent.”
“Oh. Gotta name?”
“She says her name is Jeffers. Mrs. Jeffers.”
A chill traveled down to the base of Charles' spine. He accompanied the assistant down to where his new office had just received a fresh coat of paint.
It was her. He struggled to control his breathing. She was sitting in the waiting area next to a teenaged girl. The girl, a pretty brunette, hovered over some kind of handheld gaming device.
“It's been a long time,” she said, rising.
“Yes,” he said.
“This is Ashleigh,” she said, waving her hand. Like a trained poodle, Ashleigh was instantly up, smile plastered on her lower face, shoulders squared, hips swiveled sideways, feet planted demurely together. It struck Charles that she looked rather like she needed to be wearing a pink pageant banner.
“Ashleigh was Miss Pre-Teen Broward County,” her mother purred.
“Uh. Congratulations, Ashleigh.”
“L-E-I-G-H, not L-E-Y,” she informed him.
“Uh, yeah, I'll try not to make that mistake. Uh, you wanna come into my office?” he offered. “It's not quite done yet, but we can talk.” With another gesture from her mother, Ashleigh collapsed back into a waiting room chair.
They entered the office. The smell of fresh paint hung in the air. Charles pushed the door so it was open a crack. He pulled a tarp off his desk and chair, and then did the same for a guest chair.
“You're looking well,” said Charles, diplomatically.
“You look just the same as I remember, Tom,” she said, taking a seat. Her eyes burrowed into him.
“Well, thanks. I'm uh, going by Charles now. Uh, professionally. Just so you'll know.”
“Yes, I know. You're now telling people you're name is Ofdensen?”
“I legally changed my name. There were some things in my past, as you might realize, that I was attempting to leave in the past.”
“You look exactly the same as the Tom I knew. I mean,” she said, leaning forward significantly, “exactly the same. Unchanged. From – what was it? - sixteen years ago?”
“Uh. Seventeen.”
“I always wondered,” she said, now eyeing the office. “Someone who's out on the golf course as much as you. But you look as if you've never been outdoors.”
“I told you, I'm, uh, allergic to the sun.”
“I wondered. When I saw the newscasts. You're in the background of the photos. You stay in the background of the photos. How much of that is on purpose?”
Charles straightened his tie. “I'm the manager. Not the band. Not all of us are such narcissists we have to be the center of attention.”
“Oh, such a cut.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “But what I'd like to know is, Charles, who were you before you were Tom?”
“What exactly do you mean?”
She opened her purse. She extracted a paper file, and slipped it onto his desk.
“What is this?”
“I was intrigued. So I hired some investigators.” She flipped open the file. On the very top was a picture, sepia-toned. It looked to be from the 1930s. It was a music store. And someone standing out front, proud, arms crossed. It may have been the owner.
“You might want to read the article,” she urged.
“A newspaper clipping? I hope you didn't pay too much.”
“It's about a music store owner in New Mexico who mysteriously disappeared.”
“It looks Depression-era. He probably went bankrupt and tried to sneak out on creditors.”
“He was doing well.”
“Bully for him.”
“Did you see the man's name?”
“No,” said Charles, stubbornly keeping his gaze locked on hers.
“Heathcliffe Lockwood?”
“What the hell does this have to do with me,” Charles demanded, shutting the folder.
"I was born in 1951. Charles."
"1947. But we'll let that one pass."
"Your first recordings, from your company...."
"Correction. Your company. Oh, but it's not a company any more, is it?"
"...were from that year. I always wondered why, if you were two decades older than me..."
"I've never said that I'm two decades older than you. You must be mistaken."
She sat back, her smile like a cat toying with a mouse. She waved her hand vaguely in the direction of Mordhaus. “Do they know?”
“Do they know what?”
Here eyes narrowed, going in for the kill. “That's you're not human?”
Charles got up from behind the desk. He walked to the office door. He very quietly shut the door. Then he walked back to his desk and sat down.
“What EXACTLY do you want?”
“Ashleigh needs to know her father.”
“Then why don't you go ask her father?"
"There have been some.... Unforeseen issues."
"He wanted a prenup? He's smarter than me,” Charles said, steepling his hands.
"This isn't about him," she stated. "It's about you. It's about us."
"Us? There is no us."
"It's not too late to start over."
"You've gotten off to a great start. Blackmail's always a good ice-breaker.”
"I know what you want. I can give you what you want."
Charles leaned forward. “Oh yeah? And what is that?”
"To be a man. Just a normal man. With a wife. With a family."
Charles narrowed his eyes.
“Smooth move, Pinocchio,” grumbled Raziel.
“I'm not finished yet,” Charles told her.
“Would you like to take a rest?” Ganesh asked.
“No! I wanna get this over with!”
He had finally just given it over to her, designing the suite.
It was sort of nice, actually. No, to be honest, it was very nice. He spent his days splitting his time between marshaling four squalling and squabbling little princes with impossible, contradictory demands, and running interference on an ever growing list of designers and contractors who were all over time and over budget, sometimes by orders of magnitude.
And then he would have some moments, in the evenings, with a quiet drink, and someone who would ask, what do you think? What do you like? What do you want?
She had changed. He had changed. They had both changed.
Maybe it would work. Maybe this time it would work.
“It's lovely. You really did a good job,” he marveled, sitting down on the couch, eyeing the suite. It was so like their evenings in his office. It seemed set apart, in a different place entirely.
She handed him a glass and sat beside him. “As I said. I can give you what you want.”
He leaned over. She met his eyes.
They kissed.
“EWWWWWW!”
“Raziel!”
“Can't you skip this part?”
“I dunno,” said Nathan. “What was she wearing?”
“Perhaps?” said Ganesh. “We could let Sariel finish?”
“It's almost over,” Charles sighed.
“Sariel?” said Raziel quietly. “Are you OK?”
There were so many things he wanted to say.
But he never had time to say them.
“Ashleigh,” she said, rising.
“Oh, uh, Ashleigh,” said Charles. He stood as well, now a bit flustered.
“No, dear Tom,” she said, her hand ruffling his hair. “It's all right. Come here, dear,” she beckoned to Ashleigh.
Ashleigh came across the room. She came close. And then she came too close.
Charles took a step back.
“Ashleigh. Stop.” He extended an arm, a single finger on Ashleigh's shoulder. “What the fuck?” he asked her mother.
“It's too late for me. We missed our opportunity. But Ashleigh is ready.”
“Uh. Ready?” No.
“Think of it. Your children. Immortals.”
“What.” No. She can't mean this.
“You've hidden yourself away too long. You don't see! They'll worship you! They'll worship us. As gods!”
“No.” Out loud. The hope escaping, finally.
“All those years! Hiding from me, you're wife! What you are! You need to face what you are!”
And then? Then he grew very still.
“Ashleigh?” asked Charles. “Go outside. Now.” She shrugged, hooking back into her earphones as she left.
Charles pressed the door very gently closed behind the girl.
And then he turned to face her.
But it wasn't Charles. And it wasn't Tom.
And now she was the one who was breathing hard.
There was something else in the room. Something she had been longing for. But....
“Do you want to know what I am? Look at me! LOOK AT ME.” He threw off his glasses.
She shuddered. His eyes. They were made of metal. And they seemed to be boring through her.
She couldn't look away.
“Here is what is going to happen.” The voice seemed to be coming from her own head.
“I am going to call some assistants. They will escort you and Ashleigh to a room. Before you leave the room, you will agree on an amount of money. And then NEVER. You and your daughter will NEVER show your faces here again, never contact me, never interact with my band. I don't want to hear a fucking thing about you, or the kid, ever, ever again. Is that understood.”
She gasped. The gaze. She realized with a start that she had wet herself.
“But,” she managed through tears, “What if I-”
He leaned in close. Nearly nose to nose. She finally turned away, lowering her eyes.
“They will NEVER find the body,” he whispered.
She nearly jumped out of her skin as he opened the door. And then there were men, large men, whisking her off....
Charles' glasses were off, sitting on the coffee table. He held his head in his hands.
He felt a small hand on his shoulder.
Raziel was sitting beside him. She leaned over and kissed him on his forehead. “I gotta go tuck in my brats,” she said softly. And then she wasn't there any more.
There was a silence. Ganesh rose, walked over to the bar, and shook up a pitcher of martinis, which he then poured out for the three of them still in the room.
Nathan downed his in one.
“Bitch from HELL, dude," he commented.
“No,” said Charles. “She was … just human.”
“Just a lousy human.”
"A sort of a featherbedder, I suppose," Ganesh said.
"I don't like that word," Charles snapped.
"Sariel. I've been called worse. Much, much worse. And it is only a word."
"That's...." Said Nathan.
"Beings who like to have sexual relations with angels," Ganesh supplied.
"Oh, that's what that means!"
"You've heard it, Nathan?" Charles asked irritably.
"Eh," said Nathan. "People fuck for weird reasons. Because they're rich or they play a fucking guitar."
"Still," said Ganesh. "I would call Charle's ex-wife a bit out of the ordinary."
"Would you have had awesome little guys like Boon?" Nathan asked. "I mean, she was weird and all. But Boon is awesome and he does cool shit. I mean, it wouldn't be all bad, would it?"
Charles smiled wistfully. "Probably, they wouldn't be like Boon, Nathan. Our magic is too much for humans. They would have been deformed. Like the Nephilim."
"But Skwisgaar...."
"He is part god. It works very differently with us," Ganesh explained. "Very unpredictable. The beings that result from unions of gods and humans are usually healthy. They are often in fact blessed with long lives. But sometimes like Skwisgaar, they have a lot of magic, and sometimes not very much, and sometimes....." He trailed off.
"What?" asked Charles.
"I just thought of something. But, it's no matter. Anyway," he said, standing up, "I had wanted to show you a bit of magic Elegba and myself have been working on. We should go get Boon I think...."
"I can grab him!" Nathan offered.
"Yes, that would be good! Then I can perhaps do a practice run before he arrives!"
"A practice run of what exactly?"
"THAT would spoil the surprise. All right, are you prepared?” he asked.
“Uh. I guess so."
“So," said Ganesh. And then, just like that, he was wearing his elephant head.
“Wow,” said Charles, who had jumped up in surprise. "That's amazing!"
"A bit of transubstantiation," tutted Ganesh, modestly flapping his ears.
“That can't have been an easy spell. But, uh, you did the one with the broken tusk?”
“Yes, that was the only flaw,” Ganesh sighed an elephant sigh, pulling the other bit of his tusk out of his pocket. “This was the sole head I had left, as you'll recall. But, I feel it is a small price to pay. Perhaps a reminder of the incident would serve me well?”
“Should I grab Boon from Nathan?"
“Well, yes, you might want to stay with him, in case he has trouble understanding! It might take some time to introduce him to the concept, weeks or even months....”
There was a scream from the doorway. Elias had broken out his small wings, and was literally flying at his father.
“LELEFUN!” he screamed, coming to rest in a very surprised Ganesh's arms.
“Er,” said Ganesh.
“Whoa!” said Nathan from the open doorway. “I forgot how AWESOME that head was.”
“An Lelefun an Dada,” Elias babbled. Ganesh poked him with a trunk, and he giggled.
"Does it come off if you shake your head too fast?" asked Nathan.
"No, it's stuck on pretty good. I used Liquid Nails," he said, winking at Charles.
"I still say you could glue that tusk!" Charles told him.
"Toki's got model glue!" Nathan announced.
“Well,” said Ganesh, tickling Elias, “I believe this is going well so far.”
“Daddy, I want to-”
They all turned at the woman's voice.
Ashleigh was standing in the doorway, frozen, her jaw on the floor.
The shriek was unholy, really a match to anything Nathan Explosion had ever recorded. And she was gone, off like a shot.
“Yeah, this is going GREAT!” agreed Charles.
