Changeling (Mythklok, Chapter 83)
Jan. 19th, 2012 11:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: Changeling (Mythklok, Chapter 83)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A mysterious mystery, plus dealings in Purgatory
Warnings: There's a reference to sex and naked angels, but nothing in the story this time. Sahry.
Notes: Notes after the jump.
Mythklok: it’s not just a job, it’s an adventure!
So, last time we spun around the Imperial City and got annoyed by Ganesh’s Uncle Vishnu (who’s not quite as annoying as Dr. Rockso, but comes pretty close). Charles was disconcerted to learn that while he was away Pickles’ horrible parents decided to kidnap and deprogram their son. For whatever reason, the drummer decided to willingly go along with their scheme.
By the way, I introduce a new OC in this one (yeah, another one – no wonder no one bothers with my crap any more). Sushi was the one who first told me about her, although this is my take on her.
BTW, if you haven't read the last couple of chapters, the ending DEFINITELY won't make any sense.
Coppers Crawl Carpathians Castle.
Charles shuddered. Why was he making up newspaper headlines?
Head down, he continued walking, Ganesh's hand lightly but firmly on his shoulder. Usually, Charles disdained casual body contact like this, but this morning he found it somehow comforting.
They reached the yellow police tape. "We are his legal team," Ganesh blithely lied to the cop in attendance, giving him a small, tidy blast of love god persuasion as well as his most charming smile. Charles ducked under the tape without waiting for a reply - look confident, he told himself.
"Uh. Yeah," stammered the cop.
"He is in the main building, I suppose?" asked Ganesh. Charles silently goggled at his husband. Ganesh, you cheeky bastard, are you actually asking the cop for directions? he thought.
"Yes, sir, right up there."
"Why, thank you so kindly, officer," breezed Ganesh, once again grabbing Charles' shoulder and pushing on.
"I love you," said Charles, when they had gotten a small distance away.
"I know," Ganesh chuckled softly, squeezing the shoulder.
They passed an ambulance parked in the driveway, red light flashing. Both men paused as attendants carefully wheeled out a stretcher. A sheet was draped over the body on the stretcher, completely covering up the face.
The body appeared to be female.
After the ambulance attendants had passed, Charles and Ganesh walked up the stairs to the arched entryway, passing through the front door, which was open. Charles stood in the entryway, regarding the knights in armor, standing guard. Whoever described this place as "Creepy Carpathians" had never been to Mordhaus, he decided.
"This way, I think," said Ganesh, pointing up the grand staircase. Charles followed the long-legged Hindu god up the staircase and then down a hallway to the room he seemed to recall was the master bedroom.
There was a rather large, rather no-nonsense-appearing member of the Los Angeles Police Department stationed just outside the door.
"We require a moment of privacy with our client," Ganesh crispy informed the officer of the peace.
"Who are you?" barked the policeman.
"I am his personal physician," attested Ganesh, holding up a medical case he had not been carrying a moment earlier, "and this is his attorney," he continued, indicating Charles, who stood silently nearby. Charles could literally feel Ganesh now notching up his appeal. It was a tricky business, as Ganesh had explained it before. You had to give them enough to do what you wanted, but not enough for anyone, say, actually screaming and fainting.
As for the unfortunate cop, he looked as if he had just been struck between the eyes with a mallet. "Uhhhh. Yeah," he slurred, opening the door.
"Now, remember. Privacy!" scolded Ganesh as he pushed Charles into the room in front of him.
"Privacy. Yeah."
"It's like using the Force," Charles muttered to Ganesh, who laughed softly as he quietly shut the door.
“It does tend to work better on the weak-minded, now that you mention it,” agreed Ganesh.
Both men were brought up silent, however, as they turned their attentions now to the room's sole occupant.
"Sarry. Baby,” he said weakly.
"Dick!" said Charles, hastening over. He, stopped, looking to Ganesh. "How much time we got?" he whispered.
"I would give it ten minutes perhaps. The utility of my charm is limited. It is after all a murder investigation."
Charles frowned, and both men moved closer to Dick Knubbler, who sat in the middle of a very large, very rumpled bed, staring into space. Ganesh sat down on the edge of the bed and began to shine lights and take pulses and do other doctor-y things.
"Dick," said Charles. And then he was brought up short. "Are you OK?" he finally asked.
"It wasn't her," said Dick, eyes red-rimmed.
"I'm sorry?" said Charles.
"It wasn't her! It wasn't really Lavona!" said Dick. Ganesh was glancing over at Charles, mouthing the word, "What?"
"Dick. You need to be careful what you say, and to whom, OK? Can you do that?"
Knubbler nodded, bunching the sheets up under his thin neck. "Yeah, Sarry. I can do that."
"OK."
"It wasn't Lavona! They sent someone else! I could tell."
"Er. Who was it exactly? If it wasn't Lavona?" asked Ganesh.
Dick Knubbler motioned them nearer. "A changeling," he confided.
"A changeling?" asked Charles.
"But I could tell, yeah! You can't fool Dick Knubbler, baby, yeah! I've been in this business forever. So I shot it. Right between the eyes," related Knubbler, pointing an imaginary handgun right between his own robot eyes.
Charles and Ganesh exchanged another puzzled glance.
"All rightie," said Ganesh.
"OK, Dick, we need to keep the changeling thing between us for now, OK? All right?" Charles told him.
"Yeah, baby?" asked Dick.
"Because ... uh, we don't know who might be working for, uh, them, do we?"
"Oh, yes," agreed Ganesh. "Anyone could potentially be one of, er, them."
"Oh, gotcha, Sarry baby! Yeah, we'll keep it under the hat, yeah. The proverbial hat."
"Good. Well, we gotta go now. We're gonna work on getting you an attorney. Until then, mum's the word, right?"
“I'm mum, Sarry baby! Consider the lip zipped!”
“OK,” said Charles, rising to leave.
“And Lavona!”
Charles and Ganesh froze, exchanging a pained glance.
“You gotta find her, Sarry baby, yeah! Find where they've taken her! She's got a career ahead of her, baby! Yeah.”
“Uh. Yeah, Dick. We'll get right on that,” said Charles sadly.
"He's crackers, right?" asked Charles as he and Ganesh exited the mansion through a back door.
"Well," said Ganesh. "Crackers. Interesting expression. You know, the entymology...."
"GANESH."
"I am not certain,” said the god sadly.
Charles paused. They were now in Carpathians Castle's lush back yard, standing beside the guitar-shaped swimming pool, and safely away from the camera trucks that had started rolling up in front. "Changelings? Really? Aren't they trolls who kidnap babies?"
"Well, not necessarily. There are other entities...."
"You're fucking with me."
"Not at present,” declared Ganesh. He appeared thoughtful. “This is beyond my knowledge. I believe a consultation will be in order.”
“A consultation. Where?”
“Close to home,” answered Ganesh.
“OK, well, I gotta get back to a meeting,” said Charles.
The two beings looked carefully around to see if they were observed, and then they were there no more.
Charles had taken the glasses completely off and set them on his desk, and then he had begun massaging his temples, desperately hoping that the last twenty minutes had all been some kind of aural hallucination.
And then he recalled to whom he was speaking, and, with sinking heart, he sighed and put his glasses back on.
When he and Ganesh had been standing in that bedroom in the lonely mansion, exactly two beings came to mind that he dreaded having to confront about the situation: by coincidence, the two men who were now seated in his office. He wasn't entire certain what to expect: crying, shouting, perhaps a quarrel (as they represented murderer and victim), but it was most certainly, something he was obliged to deal with himself, given his personal, professional and magical relationship to the two parties. It wasn't something he could easily justify slough off to Ganesh, even though his husband was much better suited temperamentally to this kind of stuff.
He just had never expected....
“Let me get this straight…” he began. “You wanna do – WHAT?” He couldn’t help it, his voice suddenly shot up an octave.
“A DEATH METAL TUPPERWARE PARTY,” intoned Nathan Explosion, who was rather good at intoning stuff.
“Becausshe schaving your produsche is very metal,” added William Murderface.
“Nathan,” said Charles.
“Yeah?”
“William,” said Charles.
“WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT USCH?” wailed Murderface.
“Can you please help me to understand what brought you to this, uh, juncture?” asked Charles, knowing that mere reason and logic were not match for death metal musicians.
“Becausche it’sch brutal?” asked Murderface.
“Well, actually, some of the groupies were talking about it, and, you know, you’ve been telling us, well, I mean, Ganesh has been telling us, but it’s kind of like you telling us, only he’s not you because he’s taller and better looking and also he’s Indian and you’re not, at least I don’t think you come from India because of the wings thing, but anyway, Ganesh is always telling us we should get in touch with our FEMININE SIDES, because it’s positive and shit and also I think it makes it easier to talk girls into doing freaky stuff if you can, you know, TALK THEIR LANGUAGE-“
“There will be cupcakesch!” Murderface interrupted, as if he could hold this news in not a second longer.
“Hold it, MURDERFACE,” grumbled Nathan. “I thought we agreed we were gonna do GIRLS NIGHT IN and not HELLO CUPCAKES?”
“OK, Nathan?” Charles interjected. “Tell ya what. This sounds like a very good plan.”
“It does? I mean, it does,” said Nathan.
“So here’s what you’re gonna do. I want you to get Toki and Skwisgaar-“
“NOOOOOOOO!” grumbled Nathan, his protests rattling the windows.
“Yes. You guys unfortunately only represent 40% of the band, so we don’t have a quorum.”
“A what?” asked Murderface.
“We haven’t hired any of them, yet,” Nathan whispered. “We were just gonna invite the groupies. Because we can get them for FREE.”
“No, Nathan, a quorum…. Well, anyway, I got a lot of stuff on my plate right now, so I’m designating you leader of this thing. Like I said, you get Toki and Skwisgaar and get at least one of them to agree to a plan….”
“Can I call a BAND MEETING?” asked Nathan.
“Yeah, that would be a good thing to do.”
“Can I sit in YOUR CHAIR?” Nathan asked.
“Well, that sounds good, you are the chairman.”
“Why doesch Nathan get your chair,” sulked Murderface.
“Well, because, you William, you need to be, uh, the, uh, managing director!”
“Oh. Schweet.”
“So, you need to sit by Nathan’s side, and, uh, take care of management responsibilities, while, uh, Nathan chairs, because he's, uh, in the chair,” Charles explained quickly, hoping that this was as incomprehensible and vague to his musicians as it was to himself.
“Uh, yeah,” said Nathan, with just a touch of uncertainty.
“All right, well,” said Charles rising, “It sounds like I’m leaving this project in good hands. I gotta go, but I’ll check back with you soon.” And then before anyone else could speak, he had departed.
Nathan and Murderface sat in their chairs for a long moment.
“You think we can alscho use his offische?”
Nathan looked at him. “Dibs on the liquor cabinet!” he shouted, as both men lunged for the desk.
“You know, this vegetarian pizza is not half bad! It's got artichoke hearts!” Charles, now in shirtsleeves, helped himself to another piece.
“So, you got everything sorted with the band?” asked Ganesh.
“Yeah. They’ll probably down a couple bottles of my good Scotch, but at least they’ll be occupied for a few hours.”
“Now, dear, just try a little piece,” Ganesh was urging their son, who seemed uncharacteristically resistant.
“No! Fistix!” said Elias, giving the pizza a fisheye.
“Fish sticks are not a foodstuff!” argued Ganesh patiently.
“Eatin da fistix wike Wunky Bick!” insisted the boy.
Ganesh glanced over to Charles who looked momentarily pained. Ganesh went back to Elias' plate, cutting the small slice into two smaller slices. “Just a tiny bit....”
“Well, there's your problem, right there!” said Charles, gesturing with his own slice.
“Excuse me?”
“You're cutting it all up! That's no way to eat pizza!” insisted Charles.
“Sariel, dearest, the point is to get the nutrition into the child. Not to smear it upon his face!”
“You can't eat these pathetic pizza pie bits!” said Charles, grabbing Elias' plate and setting it aside.
“Bisa BIE?” asked Elias, now intrigued.
Ganesh began to say something, but apparently thought the better of it.
“Yeah, pizza pie. This is angel food! Here ya go,” said Charles, placing a full slice before Elias. “You gotta eat like Daddy. Now, ya fold it up,” he explained, skillfully folding the wide end so the slice was bisected down the middle. Elias, using two hands, made a very clumsy imitation. “Great! An' den you ea' id, see?” Charles continued, his mouth now full of melted mozarella. Elias crammed his own admittedly rather floppy slice towards the general vicinity of his mouth. As Ganesh had predicted, there was a substantial portion that adhered to his lower face rather than going into his mouth. However, he did manage to get at least the very tip into this mouth, which he now chewed thoughtfully.
“Hrm,” said Ganesh, now applying a napkin to the worst of the damage. “So, the rule is, you American types have to eat the slice without any further cutting?”
“Nope,” chewed Charles. “No knives. Not allowed.”
Elias nodded in solemn agreement. “No nibe, Baap!”
“But!” insisted Ganesh, narrowing his eyes. “The pizza was sliced beforehand!”
“Yes, that is indeed correct,” agreed Charles.
Ganesh held the pizza box, a look of triumph on his pace. “So, are there any specifications as to the size of the original slice?”
“Well. No. Not that I've heard.” Ganesh was already up, rifling through drawers. He returned to the table with a pizza cutter, and swiftly applied it to the pie.
“All rightie,” said Ganesh, holding up a newly sliced, toddler-sized piece. “Let us attempt this again!” Elias regarded the small slice with deep suspicion for a moment, but then wadded it in his small hand, where this time it behaved quite a bit more like Charles' slice had. He grinned, and this time managed to introduce a good 90 percent of it into his oral cavity.
“Well,” said Charles. “I think it's bending the rules a little bit.”
“We are lawyers. We are reinterpreting the rules!” explained Ganesh.
“Yeah, that's true.” Charles regarded his happily chewing son. “Should we get him cleaned up so we can talk to your consultants?”
“There is no hurry. It will be a short journey.”
Had the dungeons always been quite so … zebra striped, Charles wondered. He touched the wall, feeling the soft, flocked wallpaper.
“You are not regretting our decision to turn these environs over to a contractor, are you Sariel?” grinned Ganesh. “Because, as I have demonstrated to you, we have reaped substantial cost savings!”
Charles frowned. Actually, it had been a brilliant idea. But he wasn't certain he was quite used to Ganesh so blithely referring to Mordhaus as something they mutually governed.
“I just think....” Charles began. “We maybe need to make sure nobody gets down here during Fan Days. I don't know if it's all that brutal any more.”
“I rather think zombie hoards are quite brutal,” grinned Ganesh, as a member of the undead shuffled down the corridor.
Charles nodded. That was one advantage over Klokateers: you couldn't kill the undead.
“Oh, here we are,” said Ganesh as they walked into a cell. Two beings were sitting at the table, apparently having a pleasant chat and … pouring tea?
“Oi! Shhhh!”
Ganesh and Charles both cringed, and turned to face at the hooded figure who had just crept up in back of them.
“Uh, Chango?” whispered Charles.
“Yeah, Sariel mate!” said the vodouisant, peeking out from under a puce executioner’s hood.
“You know, you don't have to wear that hood. That wasn't part of the contract.”
“Oi, but it looks so becomin' in this color!”
“My Klokateers didn't usually, uh, wear that item with a leopard print spandex jumpsuit,” Charles observed.
“Really, guv'nor?”
“But it looks, ah, fierce on you?” Charles concluded lamely.
“Oi! Gotta look fierce for the interrogations, don't I?” said Chango, striking a particularly fierce pose.
“Are you fellows performing an interrogation this morning, Chango?” inquired Ganesh.
“Oh, no, mates! This is a torture! Can't you tell?” Chango wagged a finger towards the cell. “Mahster Orula's got some extra tepid tea this mornin'! Should get 'em right where we want 'em.”
“Well, how charming,” commented Ganesh.
“Did you blokes come down to make some observations?”
“No, actually. We require a consultation with Orula,” said Ganesh.
“Oh, a consultation? A consultation! How terrifically extraordinary!” exclaimed Orula, who was now also suddenly standing amongst the crowd.
“Uhhhh. So, was that a successful interrogation, Chango?” Charles asked.
“Riotously so,” agreed Orula, settling his bright cape around his shoulders. “He agreed that this cape looks more stylish in the maroon.”
“Oh, no, mahster!” pleaded Chango.
“Well, yes, it is vexing in the extreme to face, but this shade just fails to show off my complexion,” reasoned Orula, rubbing a dusky brown cheek.
“Uh, yeah, that's great Orula,” groused Charles.
“And, also, he has been uploading unreleased Dethklok torrents to the Smuggler's Cove website.”
“WHAT?”
“Some servants at your acquaintance, Dick Knubbler's, residence, were apparently secreting out tapes,” said Orula.
“Shit.”
“Dick Knubbler is actually the reason we wished to speak to you,” said Ganesh.
“Oi! Is it the Carpathians Castle Murder Mystery Drama?” inquired Chango, excitedly holding up a tabloid newspaper, The Metal Tattler and Glad Rag.
“Yes,” said Ganesh. “Apparently, Dick claims that Lavona was not, er, herself.”
“Well, celebrity can turn your head!” said Chango, thumbing through the tabloid.
“Unfortunate but true,” sniffed Orula.
“I mean, quite literally,” said Ganesh.
Chango and Orula exchanged a glance. A serious glance.
“Dick claims she was someone else,” said Charles, his interest now piqued. “That someone had switched her.”
“Aswang?” Orula asked Chango.
“Oi. That would explain some things, wouldn't it?”
“What's an Aswang?” asked Charles.
“It is a sort of witch, I believe. Is that not so Orula?” said Ganesh.
“Yes. Southeastern Asian origin,” said Orula. “There are some similarities to our craft.”
“I had heard of them during my travels to Southeast Asia,” Ganesh said. “Long ago.”
“You know who'd be the expert here, mate?” asked Chango.
“Chango means you ought consult your father,” Orula told Charles.
“Papa?” asked Charles. “Wait. So you think Dick might be telling the truth?”
“Yes. It's difficult to explain to a novice, but during recent conversations with your honored guests we have divined evidence of what one might scientifically term, ‘bad juju’ at the Knubbler residence,” explained Orula, gesturing towards the dungeons.
Charles was silent for a time seeming to think. “Thanks, Orula.”
“You won't stop and have a spot of torture tea?” inquired the priest.
“Uh, maybe later? Ganesh and I have stuff to do. But thanks.” And with that Charles left, Ganesh behind him.
“So,” Charles asked, once they were out of earshot, “there's actually such a thing as bad juju?”
“Well, yes,” said Ganesh. “But, if I might be so bold, dear, between us two, you are the Ifa priest.”
“Well, yeah, but I mostly like the cutting up stuff and smoking cigars part.”
“Yes, I did glean that. Well, be that as it may, I think I visit to San Serriffe might be in order.”
“Wanna work on your tan,” grinned Charles.
“My tan, as you know, is already quite perfect, thank you,” sniffed Ganesh.
“So, the reason I CALLED THIS MEETING-”
“Acschually, that isch not quite true,” corrected Murderface. “I called thisch meeting asch well, in my role asch managing director.”
“Yeah, but I'm chair!” protested Nathan. “That's why I'm in, you know, THE CHAIR!”
“Juscht becausche you are occupying Ofdenschen'sch chair doesch not make you sole authority!”
“Charles doesn't have a guy sitting there FUCKING CONTRADICTING HIM!” roared Nathan.
“No, he ams gots da five guys coouter dicksing hims!” chimed in Toki.
“You ams counter my dicks, Tokis,” sniffed Skwisgaar.
“Shuts up, Skiwsgaar,” said Toki.
“Stops shutsing me up, Tokis,” countered Skwisgaaro.
“You two both SHUT UP,” ordered Nathan.
Toki and Skwisgaar now both glared at the singer. “You ams nots da bosses of us!” Toki told him, folding his arms in a decisive manner.
Nathan glowered. “Look you guys we gotta stop FUCKING AROUND and plan our AWESOME TUPPERWARE PARTY.” He sat back, nodding decisively.
“Schtupper wares parties?” asked Toki.
“Tucker Fare,” grumbled Skwisgaar. “Ams. Not. Brutals.”
“It ams not brutals, Nat'ans!” echoed Toki.
“WHAT! Toki you are the LAST PERSON to decide what is and what isn't BRUTAL, especially when you're sitting there EMBROIDERING!”
“Ams not emballderating. Ams tatting!” corrected Toki.
“You ams titsing?” inquired Skwisgaar, who was now mildly interested in what lace had to do with mamary glands.
“Guysch!” interjected Murderface. “There'sch gonna be girlsch!”
“Girls wheres? At dat Titsing?” asked Skwisgaar.
“AT THE TUPPERWARE PARTY!” explained Nathan.
“Beautiful goils?” said Toki.
“Pffft,” said Skwisgaar. “I ams gots womens. I ams gots like fifties of dems in my rooms right now! An' maybes some mores in da hallways!”
“And cupcakesch,” continued Murderface.
“Wait, we didn't agree on the CUPCAKES,” cautioned Nathan.
“Waits, what kinds of cupscocks?” inquired Skwisgaar.
“What kind do you want, bro? We got ALL KINDSCH,” promised Murderface.
“Wit' da pinks frostingles?” asked Skwisgaar. “Ands da springkles?”
“I ams likes da sproinkles!” agreed Toki. “I ams votes for da cupscocks!”
“Wait I didn't put it UP FOR A VOTE YET!” complained Nathan.
“It ams beens moved and secondsed,” concluded Skwisgaar.
“Gotta keep up, bro,” Murderface warned Nathan.
Nathan narrowed his eyes. “Being CHAIR SUCKS,” he moaned.
“Cupscosks!” sang Toki.
“Yeah, whatever Toki. Eh.”
“PAPA!” squealed Elias, leaping into Papa Jacque’s outstretched arms.
“How’s my little Ogoun?” asked the Ifa, puffing with pride. “Charles! You need to bring this one to visit more often! It’s been too motherfucking long!”
“Things have been busy, Papa,” Charles explained. “But, yeah,” he admitted, returning Jacque’s sunny grin. He noticed, after just moments of San Seriffe’s sunny splendor and Jacque’s ebullience, his mood has already cheered.
Jacque noticed the small creature now yipping around his ankles.
“And what the fuck is this?” asked Jacque. “You got my boy a rat?”
“That is a Yule gift from Lady Raziel and Lord Wotan, a dire wolf,” said Ganesh.
“Mugga-Toad!” said Elias, pointing excitedly to his puppy.
Jacque carefully placed eElias down and frowned at the wolf. He picked it up and looked at it closely. It cheerfully licked his face. “You’ve got an old soul, don’t you?” he wondered. “Very old soul. Wotan picked him out, did he?” he asked, setting the dog down again.
“He sent Raziel, actually,” said Charles. He shrugged. “She’s Boon’s Naming sponsor.”
“Lady Raziel,” said Jacque. “That one’s got more talents than she knows what to do with.”
“And she spends her time buying shoes,” laughed Charles.
“Maybe that’s the better for all of us,” mused Jacque. “Anyway, you boys in the mood for a steak?”
“Oh hell yes,” grinned Charles.
“You still munching on sawdust there, Ganesh?” asked Jacque as he led them into his seaside palace.
“I assume, as you currently live on an island, that you might have access to seafood?” sighed Ganesh.
“Seafood? Anything you want! We’ll have cook stir up a nice bouillabaisse, would you like that?” he asked Elias.
“Boowee base?” asked the boy.
“Uh-huh! We’ll eat like kings!”
As it happened, Jacque was good as his word, so some time later, the men gathered around a table on a seaside patio, patting very filled bellies and taking yet another refill of rum.
Ganesh, who had unbuttoned his shirt and taken a seat on the sunny side of the table in order to enhance his already perfect tan, rubbed his stomach and accepted a light of one of Jacque’s cigars, even though he did not normally partake in such things.
“So, I understand you wanted my consultation on something?” asked Jacque, lighting up his own cigar.
Charles, who had been lost in speculation about the perfect excuse to retire to their guest room so he could get the shirt the rest of the way off Ganesh, suddenly looked up. “Uhhhhh,” he said.
“A friend of ours has been accused of murder,” Ganesh told Jacque, lazily brushing a hand over his abdomen in a way that did nothing to clear Charles’ state of distraction.
“Oh, then he’ll be needing a lawyer!” said Jacque.
“Well, that is one matter….” Ganesh began.
“We’ll call your cousin,” said Jacque, whipping out a cell phone.
“I have a cousin?” said Charles.
“Why wouldn’t you have cousins?” laughed Ganesh.
“Cool,” said Charles, helping himself to another shot of rum, and speculating as to whether his cousins were huggers.
“Zulie!” Jacque told the phone. “This is Jacque. I don’t care if you’re in the middle of a girlfriend. I don’t care if you’re in the middle of TWO girlfriends. Well, then have them entertain each other. We’ve got a murder! Yeah, I said murder. I know, exactly your shot of rum, girl.” Jacque grinned and hung up.
“I have a cousin who’s a lawyer?” asked Charles, who may just have had a shot or two too many of Jacque’s rum to quite master logic.
“And where is this poooor, unjustly accused man?”
Charles turned to take in the woman with the quite marvelous, sonorous voice who had just suddenly appeared in their midst. She looked African, or perhaps Afro-Caribbean in origin. She was large, perhaps almost as tall as Ganesh, and had two very deep scars running down her face. She wore a large, bejeweled dagger in her belt.
“The angels cry out at this grave miscarriage of justice!” she declaimed, pointing to the sky.
“Actually,” commented Ganesh, “He is guilty.”
“Well, they’re always guilty, aren’t they?” she replied. “Erzulie D’en Tort,” she said. “At your service.”
“Zulie, this is my son, Charles,” said Papa Jacque, pronouncing it, as he inevitably did, “Sharl,” “My son-in-law, Shri Ganesha, and their boy, Sen Michel.”
“Oooo,” said Erzulie, immediately focusing on Elias. “This is the little one I’ve heard so much about!”
“Yeah, of course not me,” grumbled Charles.
“Am BOONIE, an, an, am DIS MANY!” Elias told her, holding up to fingers.
“Well, aren’t you a little doll,” she chuckled, ruffing his hair.
“No, nawt dollie! Wod o’ da Dance, an Tector o’ da Eart!” he explained.
“His cousin plays with dolls,” Charles explained. “I don’t think he has a very high opinion of ‘em.”
“Hmmmmm,” said Erzulie, now donning a pair of fancy reading glasses that were dangling on a chain around her neck and studying Charles closely. “You sure this is your boy, Jacque? Doesn’t look a blessed thing like.”
“Oh, I’m sure. Show ‘em your thing, boy!” urged Jacque.
“Papa. Like I’ve told you before, going True Form isn’t a party trick,” Charles sighed, though he nonetheless began to remove his shirt and tie.
“True Form?” asked Erzulie. “HOLY SAINTS ALIVE!” she exclaimed when Charles had transformed to his winged form. “A metal angel!”
“Uh, yeah,” sighed Charles.
“He is most definitely your doing, Papa Jacque,” opined Erzulie. “I need you for my next court case, boy! I can imagine the reaction of the jury if I have a real angel crying out when I do that line!”
Charles ruffled his wings in irritation and sat back down, grabbing his rum.
Erzulie continued staring at him, and then approached, reaching out a hand. She very softly touched his cheek, rubbing a finger up and down his temple.”
“Yeah,” said Charles. “I usually use magic to cover that one up.”
“That is your scar dear, earned in bravery. You should never cover it up,” Erzulie told him. Charles didn’t reply, but may have blushed.
“The situation, Mme D’en Tort…” Ganesh began.
“Erzulie it is, we are family,” she told him, seating herself as Papa Jacque indicated a chair and waved to a servant.
“The situation, Erzulie,” said Ganesh, “is that our friend, Dick Knubbler, has been accused of murdering a house guest, Miss Lavona Succuboso,”
“Knifing?” asked Erzulie as a servant poured her rum.
“Gunshot.”
“Oh! A human?”
“No, in fact, but he is a fan of handguns. He has confessed to us, however, he claims that it was not Miss Succuboso.”
Erzulie shot Papa Jacque a glance as he lit her cigar. “Then who was it?” she asked, sitting back and taking a long puff.
“He says it was some kinda changeling?” said Charles. “I dunno, Chango and Orula had a name for it….”
“Aswang,” supplied Ganesh. “That was their guess as to the perpetrator.”
“Chango and Orula?” laughed Erzulie. “Those two old frauds.”
“We might have a witch on the loose, Zulie,” said Jacque.
“Oh, perhaps not,” admitted Ganesh.
“This Dick Knubbler character, is he rich?” inquired Erzulie.
“Fucking wealthy,” said Charles.
“Then he is an innocent man, unjustly mired by scurrilous accusations!” she thundered.
“So sure, huh?” asked Charles.
“Pays for my pro bono,” explained Erzulie, chomping her cigar.
“Another do gooder in the family!” said Charles.
“You are a charitable man, Charles?” asked Erzulie suspiciously.
“Oh, fuck no,” said Charles, waving his own cigar at his husband. “Ganesh is in charge of all the karma shit.”
“I do what I can,” said Ganesh modestly.
“You could do what you can for me some time,” offered Erzulie.
“I flattered dear lady, but I don't often favor the charms of females, as appealing as they may be.”
“Plus, he's fucking MARRIED to an angel of vengeance,” said Charles.
“That too,” laughed Ganesh.
“I don't like men either, but you're pretty as all hell,” said Erzulie.
“Oh hell yes, he's one pretty motherfucker,” agreed Jacque. “I've told these two bastards I need more grandchildren out of 'em, but this one is all I've gotten so far.” Elias blinked, a bit bewildered.
“I've told you, we've got our work cut out for us just dealing with Boon, Papa” said Charles. “I don't have a clue how Raziel deals with two of 'em.”
“Queen Raziel?” asked Erzulie.
“Well, yeah, I guess that's her formal title,” agreed Charles.
“You oughta meet her, Zulie,” urged Jacque.
Erzulie seemed to consider her cigar. “I haven't made it a practice to much mix with angels in recent centuries.”
“You're mixing with them now!” said Charles, stifling a burp. “Oh no! Angel cooties!”
Ganesh stared at Charles in astonishment, and then burst out laughing. “Dear, have you had quite enough rum?” he asked.
“I was just thinking I might need a nap,” said Charles, who wove unsteadily to his feet and stretched out his wings in a tremendous flap that set some of the table ware scattering.
“That might be a good idea,” Ganesh agreed.
“And you need a nap,” he told Ganesh, yanking him up after him.
“All rightie,” Ganesh agreed. “Jacque, will you be all right watching Elias for a short time?”
“Or a long time,” said Charles, who was already marching off with Ganesh.
“We'll be fine!” Jacque laughed after them. “It's the angel blood,” he told Erzulie. “Can't handle the good stuff,” he said, pouring out another shot of rum for them both.
“I know he is your kin, Jacque,” said Erzulie. “But can we trust him?”
“I haven't a fucking clue, Zulie. I love him like nothing I've loved since my Tzaphy. This one too. I don't really give a good god damn if I can't trust him.”
“You always led with your heart, you big oaf,” Erzulie laughed. Her laugh was quite beautiful, like music playing.
“It's the only way,” said Jacque.
Ganesh lay on the bed, not sleeping, but not discontent. He listened smilingly to Sariel's snore, loud even for the angel. Still in his silver winged form, he was lying splayed out all over the place, wings and limbs everywhere. Although neither of the two men ever seemed to quite express the thought to one another, Sariel and Jacque clearly rather adored one another. At some point, Ganesh had ceased trying to pick apart the relationship, concluding only that love was perhaps the greatest of the mysteries.
Sariel's Dethphone was squalling up a storm again. Curious, Ganesh picked it up and walked out to the patio.
“Yes, hello, this is Ganesh. He can't come to the phone right now, is there something I can help- Skwisgaar? Cups cocks? You mean cupcakes? Toki has eaten a lot of cupcakes. A lot? Oh, my, yes, yes, sixteen dozen is a lot. Well, yes, I like sprinkles myself. And you can't get him down. Well, that's weird, is Nathan there? Nathan is there? That is highly interesting! Well, yes, I know I know. Let me think.” Ganesh cast a glance over at the snoring Sariel.
“I have a hunch. A hunch? Like a theory. Anyway, Skwisgaar, are you listening? Angels are sensitive to things like alcohol or sweets. Well, I think maybe his blood sugar is a bit high after all those cupcakes. Blood sugar- No, no do NOT use leaches, he needs protein! Protein. Like cheese or... He likes herring very much, correct? Yes, have Jean Pierre send up some herring. See if that tempts him down, and make sure he eats it. Uh-huh. And, call me back in say, twenty minutes? All rightie? Yes, you're welcome.”
Ganesh clicked off the phone. Well, definitely one of his more interesting medical consultations, he thought. He returned to the bed, where Sariel was slightly stirring.
“'samadder?” Sariel grumbled.
“Oh, just a little of the usual tomfoolery at Mordhaus,” Ganesh assured him.
Sariel sleepily stretched out a wing, and Ganesh gratefully slipped inside, and soon had been eased off to a very pleasant place.
“Twelve million dollars for a Tupperware party?” Charles asked.
“Part of it was for the DAMAGES,” explained Nathan.
“Legal coschtsch,” added Murderface.
Both men looked contrite.
“Well, sounds good. You boys did a good job,” said Charles, tossing the invoices on his desk.
“Did the fans enjoy themselves?” he asked.
“Yeah! And, they bought at least THIRTY ONE DOLLARS worth of TUPPERWARE!”
“Well, that's quite an achievement,” noted Charles.
“And, we got you thisch!” said Murderface, holding up a small plastic container.
“Well, will ya look at that? A slice of pie? Is this for me, gentlemen?” asked an appreciative Charles.
“Yeah,” said Nathan, “and it should STILL BE FRESH!”
“Isn't that nice,” said Charles appreciatively. “So, is there anything else?”
“Uh. No?” said Nathan.
“Very well then,” said Charles.
Nathan and Murderface looked at each other, and then hustled towards the doorway, briefly getting in a tangle as they both tried to exit at the same time.
Ganesh quite suddenly appeared sitting in the guest chair, watching them as well.
“How's Toki?”
“No worse for wear,” Ganesh told him. “He might do with a visit to a dentist. Why are you sighing, Sariel?”
“Been there, done that,” said Charles, clicking a remote. A viewing screen rose up, tuned to a news channel.
“My client is a POOR UNFORTUNATE VICTIM! A VICTIM! Falsely slandered with these baseless accusations,” came a sonorous voice.
“Am I incorrect, or did they not actually find Dick standing over Lavona, holding a smoking pistol?” asked Ganesh.
“Yeah, but as Erzulie explained, he's rich,” said Charles, who hit the mute button as he was suddenly distracted by his Dethphone.
“And your father is conducting his own investigations?”
Charles nodded, one ear to the phone. “Hey, yeah Raziel, we were watching too. You wanna go where? When? Well, yeah I guess I can get off, but what is this-?” Charles looked at the phone, and then at Ganesh, confused. “She hung up.”
“Where does she wish you to go?” asked Ganesh.
“Ganesch?”
The Hindu god was in a thoughtful mood when he left Sariel in his office, so he did not see William Murderface waiting in the hallway.
“Yes, my friend,” said Ganesh, a genuine smile on his face. William had been one of the first members of Dethklok Ganesh had gotten to know well, and he genuinely liked the man. William was what one might call rather eccentric, but Ganesh came from what one might call an eccentric family.
And there was a genuine warmth to the demon. Ganesh, of course, hadn't officially learned of William's origins until quite recently, but it was difficult to hide one's magical aura from Ganesh. Although he shared many of his family's preconceptions regarding demons, Ganesh was a curious creature, and tended to let that side of himself take the lead.
Ganesh clapped the bassist on the shoulder and they began to walk the corridors.
“How isch Dick? How did he scheem?”
“I cannot lie to you and tell you he seemed well. He appeared in pain, emotional and physical. He did seem to quite genuinely believe he is not a murderer.”
William visibly cringed at the last word. “That wound? From the angelsch? It schtill hurtsch him.”
“Does it? I am sorry to hear that. He would not let me tend to him. These magical wounds are sometimes tricky to deal with. You know, some of Sariel's scars which I have tended to, they are many millennia old.”
William nodded. “I got a new body with thisch deal. I haven't had to deal with that schit for a while.”
'Yes, that was fortunate. Starting over,” commented Ganesh.
“Well, I woulda wisched for schomething a little more schapely, obviouschly,” said William, rubbing his ample stomach.
“You might try my workout! You know I was quite rotund as a child,” said Ganesh, knowing quite well the musician both reviled physical exercise as he adored his beer. Draugar weren't necessarily lazy, but lived quiet, sedentary lives, guarding their barrows.
William seemed to be thinking along the same lines. He shook his head, and said, “Schome would think I murdered my parentsch. My human parentsch.”
“Do you believe that is true?” asked Ganesh.
William, obviously surprised by the question, stopped walking and stood, seeming to be actually thinking. Hard.
“I don't think scho. My dad was kind of a nut. He mighta come unglued when William died. The real William.”
“Yes, that is true,” said Ganesh. “My people believe in such things. Fate.”
“It wasch hisch fate,” said William. And then, with a solemn nod to Ganesh, he was off, walking silently and alone down the corridor. Ganesh thought he could almost hear the soft flap of leathery wings accompanying him.
Charles felt like he was on the way to the library, all wrapped up in an overcoat and scarf.
“Wantie Was!” yelled Elias, dropping his father's hand and pattering over to greet the little angel, his puppy yipping at his feet.
“How's my favorite?” she asked, grinning and hefting the boy. Charles was struck by how big his kid had grown: you could really see it in comparison to little Raziel.
“NO MUMMY!” her twins hollered, left down at her feet, raven-haired Abby and redheaded Liam, both gazing up, but not that far up.
“We da fave-rit!” protested Liam.
“Nooooo!” said Raziel. “You're horrible!”
“NAWT HOWWIBLE!” they wailed.
“You're horrible, and Boon is best!” she told them.
“Raziel, you're gonna traumatize your kids,” warned Charles.
“Do these two look traumatized?” she grinned, setting down Elias. Charles looked to her giggling toddlers, now greeting their cousin. No, he had to admit, they looked happy as hell.
Which, by coincidence, was where they were headed.
“You ready?” Raziel asked Charles. He nodded.
“I'm still not quite sure what this is about?” he told her.
“You guys be good?” Raziel asked the twins, who now had a number of wolves pattering around them, adding to the general chaos.
“NOOOOOOO!” they promised as she kissed them on top of their heads.
“Come on now you lot, time's a wasting!” Wotan boomed from up on the porch. And without another thought, the kids and wolves turned and charged up to the Norse god. He gave a wave, and followed the menagerie all inside.
Raziel already had Charles' elbow, and was chattering about something. He set his brain to neutral, and let her go ahead and tug him through time and space. “Oh. Papa says hi,” he told her at last.
“It's been too long: we have to invite your Papa up. Does he seem settled in San Serriffe?”
“Like he owns the place. Of course, that's my Papa.” Charles pulled something out of his coat pocket.
“Erzulie D'en Tort?” asked Raziel, reading the business card.
“Yeah. She's actually a cousin of mine. I guess she wants to meet?”
“Oh, that's cool! I saw her on TV!”
“She's representing Dick Knubbler in … this business.”
“How's William taking that?”
Charles shrugged. “Not well. I'm just trying to keep him busy.”
They had arrived at the mall. The purgatory mall. Quite despite himself, Charles smiled. Even though the human winter holidays had passed up on the earth's surface, there was always what seemed a Yuletide atmosphere down here these days. A lot of cheerful, busy people hurried past, but yet more tarried to listen to the musicians stationed in various areas.
“Father!” called Raziel as Phanuel strode up to meet them. He quickly kissed Raziel on her cheeks and then stuck out a hand for Charles.
“A great pleasure, as always, Honored Sariel,” said Phanuel.
“Likewise,” agreed Charles. “Look, I don't wanna be rude, but I've got a lot going on up at the surface, so would one of you guys like to fill me on on what I'm doing down here?
Phanuel and Raziel exchanged a mysterious glance. “I sincerely apologize for the secrecy, but I think it will be readily apparent why this was something … closely held,” the Seraph told him.
“OK. This what?” asked Charles, who was running a bit short on patience.
“Believe me, this will be best shown and not explained. Come, it will only take a moment.” So, with Raziel's death grip on his elbow once again, Charles let himself now be dragged across Purgatory. He smiled again as they passed a musicians' shop. He almost asked to stop for a while, but decided to see first whatever the fuck Raziel and Phanuel thought was so damned important.
“Ya know, Phanuel, I realize this would be a big favor, but my musician, Toki – I think he misses having Engelbert around.”
“Send him down,” said Phanuel.
“That's nice of you to offer, Phanuel, but you know the, uh, mischief my boys can get into....”
“Dear Sariel, I am the Lord of Hell!” chuckled Phanuel, actually breaking into a small smile.
“Maybe, but this is Dethklok,” sighed Charles.
“My offer stands. Send him down, and perhaps his friend, the Odinsson, Skwisgaar.”
“They don't always get along so great.”
“We might have them play. It would be marvelous!”
And it would keep the two of them busy. Charles had to admit, it wasn't a bad idea.
He looked up just then, to yet another sound he never expected to hear in Purgatory: laughing children. The storefront just ahead looked something like a nursery school, with bright colored walls and toys strewn everywhere. Raziel had dropped his arm and somehow gotten ahead on those short legs and impossible shoes.
“As I have told you before, my dear, you are not allowed to take ANY of them home,” said Phanuel, as Raziel had already picked up one curly-haired girl, and was holding hands of another small boy.
“Awwww!” she said.
“Hell has child car now?” asked Charles.
“This is actually a quite special section of my domain,” Phanuel explained. “Very small children, under the age of eight, will not have been able to complete their tasks on earth.”
Charles considered for a moment. “You can reincarnate their souls?”
“Precisely. It is, sadly, a very small portion of my domain, but these are very old laws, and ones our colleague, Lucifer, for some reason chose to ignore.”
“Lord Brahma doesn't mind you getting into his business?”
“I have actually consulted with him on this matter,” said Phanuel. “It is always a pleasure to talk to a fellow gardener.”
“Interesting,” said Charles.
“But this is not the specific issue for which you have been invited today. Kindly remain here for a moment, and I will go and find her.”
“Uh. Her who?” asked Charles, but Phanuel was already stalking off. Charles sighed and turned to where Raziel was on the floor playing with some new fans.
“Raziel, that is not the way you play LEGO!” scolded Charles.
“What? It makes a pretty bracelet!” argued Raziel, snapping her jewelry onto an appreciative small girl soul.
“Look at the box! It's supposed to be a giant squid attacking a submarine!” reasoned Charles, who wished now he had brought along Elias to prove his point.
'You need to use your imagination, Sariel!”
“There is a right way and a wrong way to play LEGO!” insisted Charles, who was now down on his hands and knees, madly snapping together blocks. “See? You've used part of the bow!”
“Well, why don't you make a catamaran instead of a submarine?” asked Raziel.
“It's supposed to be a submarine! Look at the box!” said Charles, waving a half-completed vessel at her.
“Hmpf,” hmpf-ed Raziel.
“Here we are,” said Phanuel, who had just come up behind Charles.
Charles turned and looked up.
And froze.
“Mr. Warriner?”
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A mysterious mystery, plus dealings in Purgatory
Warnings: There's a reference to sex and naked angels, but nothing in the story this time. Sahry.
Notes: Notes after the jump.
Mythklok: it’s not just a job, it’s an adventure!
So, last time we spun around the Imperial City and got annoyed by Ganesh’s Uncle Vishnu (who’s not quite as annoying as Dr. Rockso, but comes pretty close). Charles was disconcerted to learn that while he was away Pickles’ horrible parents decided to kidnap and deprogram their son. For whatever reason, the drummer decided to willingly go along with their scheme.
By the way, I introduce a new OC in this one (yeah, another one – no wonder no one bothers with my crap any more). Sushi was the one who first told me about her, although this is my take on her.
BTW, if you haven't read the last couple of chapters, the ending DEFINITELY won't make any sense.
Coppers Crawl Carpathians Castle.
Charles shuddered. Why was he making up newspaper headlines?
Head down, he continued walking, Ganesh's hand lightly but firmly on his shoulder. Usually, Charles disdained casual body contact like this, but this morning he found it somehow comforting.
They reached the yellow police tape. "We are his legal team," Ganesh blithely lied to the cop in attendance, giving him a small, tidy blast of love god persuasion as well as his most charming smile. Charles ducked under the tape without waiting for a reply - look confident, he told himself.
"Uh. Yeah," stammered the cop.
"He is in the main building, I suppose?" asked Ganesh. Charles silently goggled at his husband. Ganesh, you cheeky bastard, are you actually asking the cop for directions? he thought.
"Yes, sir, right up there."
"Why, thank you so kindly, officer," breezed Ganesh, once again grabbing Charles' shoulder and pushing on.
"I love you," said Charles, when they had gotten a small distance away.
"I know," Ganesh chuckled softly, squeezing the shoulder.
They passed an ambulance parked in the driveway, red light flashing. Both men paused as attendants carefully wheeled out a stretcher. A sheet was draped over the body on the stretcher, completely covering up the face.
The body appeared to be female.
After the ambulance attendants had passed, Charles and Ganesh walked up the stairs to the arched entryway, passing through the front door, which was open. Charles stood in the entryway, regarding the knights in armor, standing guard. Whoever described this place as "Creepy Carpathians" had never been to Mordhaus, he decided.
"This way, I think," said Ganesh, pointing up the grand staircase. Charles followed the long-legged Hindu god up the staircase and then down a hallway to the room he seemed to recall was the master bedroom.
There was a rather large, rather no-nonsense-appearing member of the Los Angeles Police Department stationed just outside the door.
"We require a moment of privacy with our client," Ganesh crispy informed the officer of the peace.
"Who are you?" barked the policeman.
"I am his personal physician," attested Ganesh, holding up a medical case he had not been carrying a moment earlier, "and this is his attorney," he continued, indicating Charles, who stood silently nearby. Charles could literally feel Ganesh now notching up his appeal. It was a tricky business, as Ganesh had explained it before. You had to give them enough to do what you wanted, but not enough for anyone, say, actually screaming and fainting.
As for the unfortunate cop, he looked as if he had just been struck between the eyes with a mallet. "Uhhhh. Yeah," he slurred, opening the door.
"Now, remember. Privacy!" scolded Ganesh as he pushed Charles into the room in front of him.
"Privacy. Yeah."
"It's like using the Force," Charles muttered to Ganesh, who laughed softly as he quietly shut the door.
“It does tend to work better on the weak-minded, now that you mention it,” agreed Ganesh.
Both men were brought up silent, however, as they turned their attentions now to the room's sole occupant.
"Sarry. Baby,” he said weakly.
"Dick!" said Charles, hastening over. He, stopped, looking to Ganesh. "How much time we got?" he whispered.
"I would give it ten minutes perhaps. The utility of my charm is limited. It is after all a murder investigation."
Charles frowned, and both men moved closer to Dick Knubbler, who sat in the middle of a very large, very rumpled bed, staring into space. Ganesh sat down on the edge of the bed and began to shine lights and take pulses and do other doctor-y things.
"Dick," said Charles. And then he was brought up short. "Are you OK?" he finally asked.
"It wasn't her," said Dick, eyes red-rimmed.
"I'm sorry?" said Charles.
"It wasn't her! It wasn't really Lavona!" said Dick. Ganesh was glancing over at Charles, mouthing the word, "What?"
"Dick. You need to be careful what you say, and to whom, OK? Can you do that?"
Knubbler nodded, bunching the sheets up under his thin neck. "Yeah, Sarry. I can do that."
"OK."
"It wasn't Lavona! They sent someone else! I could tell."
"Er. Who was it exactly? If it wasn't Lavona?" asked Ganesh.
Dick Knubbler motioned them nearer. "A changeling," he confided.
"A changeling?" asked Charles.
"But I could tell, yeah! You can't fool Dick Knubbler, baby, yeah! I've been in this business forever. So I shot it. Right between the eyes," related Knubbler, pointing an imaginary handgun right between his own robot eyes.
Charles and Ganesh exchanged another puzzled glance.
"All rightie," said Ganesh.
"OK, Dick, we need to keep the changeling thing between us for now, OK? All right?" Charles told him.
"Yeah, baby?" asked Dick.
"Because ... uh, we don't know who might be working for, uh, them, do we?"
"Oh, yes," agreed Ganesh. "Anyone could potentially be one of, er, them."
"Oh, gotcha, Sarry baby! Yeah, we'll keep it under the hat, yeah. The proverbial hat."
"Good. Well, we gotta go now. We're gonna work on getting you an attorney. Until then, mum's the word, right?"
“I'm mum, Sarry baby! Consider the lip zipped!”
“OK,” said Charles, rising to leave.
“And Lavona!”
Charles and Ganesh froze, exchanging a pained glance.
“You gotta find her, Sarry baby, yeah! Find where they've taken her! She's got a career ahead of her, baby! Yeah.”
“Uh. Yeah, Dick. We'll get right on that,” said Charles sadly.
"He's crackers, right?" asked Charles as he and Ganesh exited the mansion through a back door.
"Well," said Ganesh. "Crackers. Interesting expression. You know, the entymology...."
"GANESH."
"I am not certain,” said the god sadly.
Charles paused. They were now in Carpathians Castle's lush back yard, standing beside the guitar-shaped swimming pool, and safely away from the camera trucks that had started rolling up in front. "Changelings? Really? Aren't they trolls who kidnap babies?"
"Well, not necessarily. There are other entities...."
"You're fucking with me."
"Not at present,” declared Ganesh. He appeared thoughtful. “This is beyond my knowledge. I believe a consultation will be in order.”
“A consultation. Where?”
“Close to home,” answered Ganesh.
“OK, well, I gotta get back to a meeting,” said Charles.
The two beings looked carefully around to see if they were observed, and then they were there no more.
Charles had taken the glasses completely off and set them on his desk, and then he had begun massaging his temples, desperately hoping that the last twenty minutes had all been some kind of aural hallucination.
And then he recalled to whom he was speaking, and, with sinking heart, he sighed and put his glasses back on.
When he and Ganesh had been standing in that bedroom in the lonely mansion, exactly two beings came to mind that he dreaded having to confront about the situation: by coincidence, the two men who were now seated in his office. He wasn't entire certain what to expect: crying, shouting, perhaps a quarrel (as they represented murderer and victim), but it was most certainly, something he was obliged to deal with himself, given his personal, professional and magical relationship to the two parties. It wasn't something he could easily justify slough off to Ganesh, even though his husband was much better suited temperamentally to this kind of stuff.
He just had never expected....
“Let me get this straight…” he began. “You wanna do – WHAT?” He couldn’t help it, his voice suddenly shot up an octave.
“A DEATH METAL TUPPERWARE PARTY,” intoned Nathan Explosion, who was rather good at intoning stuff.
“Becausshe schaving your produsche is very metal,” added William Murderface.
“Nathan,” said Charles.
“Yeah?”
“William,” said Charles.
“WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT USCH?” wailed Murderface.
“Can you please help me to understand what brought you to this, uh, juncture?” asked Charles, knowing that mere reason and logic were not match for death metal musicians.
“Becausche it’sch brutal?” asked Murderface.
“Well, actually, some of the groupies were talking about it, and, you know, you’ve been telling us, well, I mean, Ganesh has been telling us, but it’s kind of like you telling us, only he’s not you because he’s taller and better looking and also he’s Indian and you’re not, at least I don’t think you come from India because of the wings thing, but anyway, Ganesh is always telling us we should get in touch with our FEMININE SIDES, because it’s positive and shit and also I think it makes it easier to talk girls into doing freaky stuff if you can, you know, TALK THEIR LANGUAGE-“
“There will be cupcakesch!” Murderface interrupted, as if he could hold this news in not a second longer.
“Hold it, MURDERFACE,” grumbled Nathan. “I thought we agreed we were gonna do GIRLS NIGHT IN and not HELLO CUPCAKES?”
“OK, Nathan?” Charles interjected. “Tell ya what. This sounds like a very good plan.”
“It does? I mean, it does,” said Nathan.
“So here’s what you’re gonna do. I want you to get Toki and Skwisgaar-“
“NOOOOOOOO!” grumbled Nathan, his protests rattling the windows.
“Yes. You guys unfortunately only represent 40% of the band, so we don’t have a quorum.”
“A what?” asked Murderface.
“We haven’t hired any of them, yet,” Nathan whispered. “We were just gonna invite the groupies. Because we can get them for FREE.”
“No, Nathan, a quorum…. Well, anyway, I got a lot of stuff on my plate right now, so I’m designating you leader of this thing. Like I said, you get Toki and Skwisgaar and get at least one of them to agree to a plan….”
“Can I call a BAND MEETING?” asked Nathan.
“Yeah, that would be a good thing to do.”
“Can I sit in YOUR CHAIR?” Nathan asked.
“Well, that sounds good, you are the chairman.”
“Why doesch Nathan get your chair,” sulked Murderface.
“Well, because, you William, you need to be, uh, the, uh, managing director!”
“Oh. Schweet.”
“So, you need to sit by Nathan’s side, and, uh, take care of management responsibilities, while, uh, Nathan chairs, because he's, uh, in the chair,” Charles explained quickly, hoping that this was as incomprehensible and vague to his musicians as it was to himself.
“Uh, yeah,” said Nathan, with just a touch of uncertainty.
“All right, well,” said Charles rising, “It sounds like I’m leaving this project in good hands. I gotta go, but I’ll check back with you soon.” And then before anyone else could speak, he had departed.
Nathan and Murderface sat in their chairs for a long moment.
“You think we can alscho use his offische?”
Nathan looked at him. “Dibs on the liquor cabinet!” he shouted, as both men lunged for the desk.
“You know, this vegetarian pizza is not half bad! It's got artichoke hearts!” Charles, now in shirtsleeves, helped himself to another piece.
“So, you got everything sorted with the band?” asked Ganesh.
“Yeah. They’ll probably down a couple bottles of my good Scotch, but at least they’ll be occupied for a few hours.”
“Now, dear, just try a little piece,” Ganesh was urging their son, who seemed uncharacteristically resistant.
“No! Fistix!” said Elias, giving the pizza a fisheye.
“Fish sticks are not a foodstuff!” argued Ganesh patiently.
“Eatin da fistix wike Wunky Bick!” insisted the boy.
Ganesh glanced over to Charles who looked momentarily pained. Ganesh went back to Elias' plate, cutting the small slice into two smaller slices. “Just a tiny bit....”
“Well, there's your problem, right there!” said Charles, gesturing with his own slice.
“Excuse me?”
“You're cutting it all up! That's no way to eat pizza!” insisted Charles.
“Sariel, dearest, the point is to get the nutrition into the child. Not to smear it upon his face!”
“You can't eat these pathetic pizza pie bits!” said Charles, grabbing Elias' plate and setting it aside.
“Bisa BIE?” asked Elias, now intrigued.
Ganesh began to say something, but apparently thought the better of it.
“Yeah, pizza pie. This is angel food! Here ya go,” said Charles, placing a full slice before Elias. “You gotta eat like Daddy. Now, ya fold it up,” he explained, skillfully folding the wide end so the slice was bisected down the middle. Elias, using two hands, made a very clumsy imitation. “Great! An' den you ea' id, see?” Charles continued, his mouth now full of melted mozarella. Elias crammed his own admittedly rather floppy slice towards the general vicinity of his mouth. As Ganesh had predicted, there was a substantial portion that adhered to his lower face rather than going into his mouth. However, he did manage to get at least the very tip into this mouth, which he now chewed thoughtfully.
“Hrm,” said Ganesh, now applying a napkin to the worst of the damage. “So, the rule is, you American types have to eat the slice without any further cutting?”
“Nope,” chewed Charles. “No knives. Not allowed.”
Elias nodded in solemn agreement. “No nibe, Baap!”
“But!” insisted Ganesh, narrowing his eyes. “The pizza was sliced beforehand!”
“Yes, that is indeed correct,” agreed Charles.
Ganesh held the pizza box, a look of triumph on his pace. “So, are there any specifications as to the size of the original slice?”
“Well. No. Not that I've heard.” Ganesh was already up, rifling through drawers. He returned to the table with a pizza cutter, and swiftly applied it to the pie.
“All rightie,” said Ganesh, holding up a newly sliced, toddler-sized piece. “Let us attempt this again!” Elias regarded the small slice with deep suspicion for a moment, but then wadded it in his small hand, where this time it behaved quite a bit more like Charles' slice had. He grinned, and this time managed to introduce a good 90 percent of it into his oral cavity.
“Well,” said Charles. “I think it's bending the rules a little bit.”
“We are lawyers. We are reinterpreting the rules!” explained Ganesh.
“Yeah, that's true.” Charles regarded his happily chewing son. “Should we get him cleaned up so we can talk to your consultants?”
“There is no hurry. It will be a short journey.”
Had the dungeons always been quite so … zebra striped, Charles wondered. He touched the wall, feeling the soft, flocked wallpaper.
“You are not regretting our decision to turn these environs over to a contractor, are you Sariel?” grinned Ganesh. “Because, as I have demonstrated to you, we have reaped substantial cost savings!”
Charles frowned. Actually, it had been a brilliant idea. But he wasn't certain he was quite used to Ganesh so blithely referring to Mordhaus as something they mutually governed.
“I just think....” Charles began. “We maybe need to make sure nobody gets down here during Fan Days. I don't know if it's all that brutal any more.”
“I rather think zombie hoards are quite brutal,” grinned Ganesh, as a member of the undead shuffled down the corridor.
Charles nodded. That was one advantage over Klokateers: you couldn't kill the undead.
“Oh, here we are,” said Ganesh as they walked into a cell. Two beings were sitting at the table, apparently having a pleasant chat and … pouring tea?
“Oi! Shhhh!”
Ganesh and Charles both cringed, and turned to face at the hooded figure who had just crept up in back of them.
“Uh, Chango?” whispered Charles.
“Yeah, Sariel mate!” said the vodouisant, peeking out from under a puce executioner’s hood.
“You know, you don't have to wear that hood. That wasn't part of the contract.”
“Oi, but it looks so becomin' in this color!”
“My Klokateers didn't usually, uh, wear that item with a leopard print spandex jumpsuit,” Charles observed.
“Really, guv'nor?”
“But it looks, ah, fierce on you?” Charles concluded lamely.
“Oi! Gotta look fierce for the interrogations, don't I?” said Chango, striking a particularly fierce pose.
“Are you fellows performing an interrogation this morning, Chango?” inquired Ganesh.
“Oh, no, mates! This is a torture! Can't you tell?” Chango wagged a finger towards the cell. “Mahster Orula's got some extra tepid tea this mornin'! Should get 'em right where we want 'em.”
“Well, how charming,” commented Ganesh.
“Did you blokes come down to make some observations?”
“No, actually. We require a consultation with Orula,” said Ganesh.
“Oh, a consultation? A consultation! How terrifically extraordinary!” exclaimed Orula, who was now also suddenly standing amongst the crowd.
“Uhhhh. So, was that a successful interrogation, Chango?” Charles asked.
“Riotously so,” agreed Orula, settling his bright cape around his shoulders. “He agreed that this cape looks more stylish in the maroon.”
“Oh, no, mahster!” pleaded Chango.
“Well, yes, it is vexing in the extreme to face, but this shade just fails to show off my complexion,” reasoned Orula, rubbing a dusky brown cheek.
“Uh, yeah, that's great Orula,” groused Charles.
“And, also, he has been uploading unreleased Dethklok torrents to the Smuggler's Cove website.”
“WHAT?”
“Some servants at your acquaintance, Dick Knubbler's, residence, were apparently secreting out tapes,” said Orula.
“Shit.”
“Dick Knubbler is actually the reason we wished to speak to you,” said Ganesh.
“Oi! Is it the Carpathians Castle Murder Mystery Drama?” inquired Chango, excitedly holding up a tabloid newspaper, The Metal Tattler and Glad Rag.
“Yes,” said Ganesh. “Apparently, Dick claims that Lavona was not, er, herself.”
“Well, celebrity can turn your head!” said Chango, thumbing through the tabloid.
“Unfortunate but true,” sniffed Orula.
“I mean, quite literally,” said Ganesh.
Chango and Orula exchanged a glance. A serious glance.
“Dick claims she was someone else,” said Charles, his interest now piqued. “That someone had switched her.”
“Aswang?” Orula asked Chango.
“Oi. That would explain some things, wouldn't it?”
“What's an Aswang?” asked Charles.
“It is a sort of witch, I believe. Is that not so Orula?” said Ganesh.
“Yes. Southeastern Asian origin,” said Orula. “There are some similarities to our craft.”
“I had heard of them during my travels to Southeast Asia,” Ganesh said. “Long ago.”
“You know who'd be the expert here, mate?” asked Chango.
“Chango means you ought consult your father,” Orula told Charles.
“Papa?” asked Charles. “Wait. So you think Dick might be telling the truth?”
“Yes. It's difficult to explain to a novice, but during recent conversations with your honored guests we have divined evidence of what one might scientifically term, ‘bad juju’ at the Knubbler residence,” explained Orula, gesturing towards the dungeons.
Charles was silent for a time seeming to think. “Thanks, Orula.”
“You won't stop and have a spot of torture tea?” inquired the priest.
“Uh, maybe later? Ganesh and I have stuff to do. But thanks.” And with that Charles left, Ganesh behind him.
“So,” Charles asked, once they were out of earshot, “there's actually such a thing as bad juju?”
“Well, yes,” said Ganesh. “But, if I might be so bold, dear, between us two, you are the Ifa priest.”
“Well, yeah, but I mostly like the cutting up stuff and smoking cigars part.”
“Yes, I did glean that. Well, be that as it may, I think I visit to San Serriffe might be in order.”
“Wanna work on your tan,” grinned Charles.
“My tan, as you know, is already quite perfect, thank you,” sniffed Ganesh.
“So, the reason I CALLED THIS MEETING-”
“Acschually, that isch not quite true,” corrected Murderface. “I called thisch meeting asch well, in my role asch managing director.”
“Yeah, but I'm chair!” protested Nathan. “That's why I'm in, you know, THE CHAIR!”
“Juscht becausche you are occupying Ofdenschen'sch chair doesch not make you sole authority!”
“Charles doesn't have a guy sitting there FUCKING CONTRADICTING HIM!” roared Nathan.
“No, he ams gots da five guys coouter dicksing hims!” chimed in Toki.
“You ams counter my dicks, Tokis,” sniffed Skwisgaar.
“Shuts up, Skiwsgaar,” said Toki.
“Stops shutsing me up, Tokis,” countered Skwisgaaro.
“You two both SHUT UP,” ordered Nathan.
Toki and Skwisgaar now both glared at the singer. “You ams nots da bosses of us!” Toki told him, folding his arms in a decisive manner.
Nathan glowered. “Look you guys we gotta stop FUCKING AROUND and plan our AWESOME TUPPERWARE PARTY.” He sat back, nodding decisively.
“Schtupper wares parties?” asked Toki.
“Tucker Fare,” grumbled Skwisgaar. “Ams. Not. Brutals.”
“It ams not brutals, Nat'ans!” echoed Toki.
“WHAT! Toki you are the LAST PERSON to decide what is and what isn't BRUTAL, especially when you're sitting there EMBROIDERING!”
“Ams not emballderating. Ams tatting!” corrected Toki.
“You ams titsing?” inquired Skwisgaar, who was now mildly interested in what lace had to do with mamary glands.
“Guysch!” interjected Murderface. “There'sch gonna be girlsch!”
“Girls wheres? At dat Titsing?” asked Skwisgaar.
“AT THE TUPPERWARE PARTY!” explained Nathan.
“Beautiful goils?” said Toki.
“Pffft,” said Skwisgaar. “I ams gots womens. I ams gots like fifties of dems in my rooms right now! An' maybes some mores in da hallways!”
“And cupcakesch,” continued Murderface.
“Wait, we didn't agree on the CUPCAKES,” cautioned Nathan.
“Waits, what kinds of cupscocks?” inquired Skwisgaar.
“What kind do you want, bro? We got ALL KINDSCH,” promised Murderface.
“Wit' da pinks frostingles?” asked Skwisgaar. “Ands da springkles?”
“I ams likes da sproinkles!” agreed Toki. “I ams votes for da cupscocks!”
“Wait I didn't put it UP FOR A VOTE YET!” complained Nathan.
“It ams beens moved and secondsed,” concluded Skwisgaar.
“Gotta keep up, bro,” Murderface warned Nathan.
Nathan narrowed his eyes. “Being CHAIR SUCKS,” he moaned.
“Cupscosks!” sang Toki.
“Yeah, whatever Toki. Eh.”
“PAPA!” squealed Elias, leaping into Papa Jacque’s outstretched arms.
“How’s my little Ogoun?” asked the Ifa, puffing with pride. “Charles! You need to bring this one to visit more often! It’s been too motherfucking long!”
“Things have been busy, Papa,” Charles explained. “But, yeah,” he admitted, returning Jacque’s sunny grin. He noticed, after just moments of San Seriffe’s sunny splendor and Jacque’s ebullience, his mood has already cheered.
Jacque noticed the small creature now yipping around his ankles.
“And what the fuck is this?” asked Jacque. “You got my boy a rat?”
“That is a Yule gift from Lady Raziel and Lord Wotan, a dire wolf,” said Ganesh.
“Mugga-Toad!” said Elias, pointing excitedly to his puppy.
Jacque carefully placed eElias down and frowned at the wolf. He picked it up and looked at it closely. It cheerfully licked his face. “You’ve got an old soul, don’t you?” he wondered. “Very old soul. Wotan picked him out, did he?” he asked, setting the dog down again.
“He sent Raziel, actually,” said Charles. He shrugged. “She’s Boon’s Naming sponsor.”
“Lady Raziel,” said Jacque. “That one’s got more talents than she knows what to do with.”
“And she spends her time buying shoes,” laughed Charles.
“Maybe that’s the better for all of us,” mused Jacque. “Anyway, you boys in the mood for a steak?”
“Oh hell yes,” grinned Charles.
“You still munching on sawdust there, Ganesh?” asked Jacque as he led them into his seaside palace.
“I assume, as you currently live on an island, that you might have access to seafood?” sighed Ganesh.
“Seafood? Anything you want! We’ll have cook stir up a nice bouillabaisse, would you like that?” he asked Elias.
“Boowee base?” asked the boy.
“Uh-huh! We’ll eat like kings!”
As it happened, Jacque was good as his word, so some time later, the men gathered around a table on a seaside patio, patting very filled bellies and taking yet another refill of rum.
Ganesh, who had unbuttoned his shirt and taken a seat on the sunny side of the table in order to enhance his already perfect tan, rubbed his stomach and accepted a light of one of Jacque’s cigars, even though he did not normally partake in such things.
“So, I understand you wanted my consultation on something?” asked Jacque, lighting up his own cigar.
Charles, who had been lost in speculation about the perfect excuse to retire to their guest room so he could get the shirt the rest of the way off Ganesh, suddenly looked up. “Uhhhhh,” he said.
“A friend of ours has been accused of murder,” Ganesh told Jacque, lazily brushing a hand over his abdomen in a way that did nothing to clear Charles’ state of distraction.
“Oh, then he’ll be needing a lawyer!” said Jacque.
“Well, that is one matter….” Ganesh began.
“We’ll call your cousin,” said Jacque, whipping out a cell phone.
“I have a cousin?” said Charles.
“Why wouldn’t you have cousins?” laughed Ganesh.
“Cool,” said Charles, helping himself to another shot of rum, and speculating as to whether his cousins were huggers.
“Zulie!” Jacque told the phone. “This is Jacque. I don’t care if you’re in the middle of a girlfriend. I don’t care if you’re in the middle of TWO girlfriends. Well, then have them entertain each other. We’ve got a murder! Yeah, I said murder. I know, exactly your shot of rum, girl.” Jacque grinned and hung up.
“I have a cousin who’s a lawyer?” asked Charles, who may just have had a shot or two too many of Jacque’s rum to quite master logic.
“And where is this poooor, unjustly accused man?”
Charles turned to take in the woman with the quite marvelous, sonorous voice who had just suddenly appeared in their midst. She looked African, or perhaps Afro-Caribbean in origin. She was large, perhaps almost as tall as Ganesh, and had two very deep scars running down her face. She wore a large, bejeweled dagger in her belt.
“The angels cry out at this grave miscarriage of justice!” she declaimed, pointing to the sky.
“Actually,” commented Ganesh, “He is guilty.”
“Well, they’re always guilty, aren’t they?” she replied. “Erzulie D’en Tort,” she said. “At your service.”
“Zulie, this is my son, Charles,” said Papa Jacque, pronouncing it, as he inevitably did, “Sharl,” “My son-in-law, Shri Ganesha, and their boy, Sen Michel.”
“Oooo,” said Erzulie, immediately focusing on Elias. “This is the little one I’ve heard so much about!”
“Yeah, of course not me,” grumbled Charles.
“Am BOONIE, an, an, am DIS MANY!” Elias told her, holding up to fingers.
“Well, aren’t you a little doll,” she chuckled, ruffing his hair.
“No, nawt dollie! Wod o’ da Dance, an Tector o’ da Eart!” he explained.
“His cousin plays with dolls,” Charles explained. “I don’t think he has a very high opinion of ‘em.”
“Hmmmmm,” said Erzulie, now donning a pair of fancy reading glasses that were dangling on a chain around her neck and studying Charles closely. “You sure this is your boy, Jacque? Doesn’t look a blessed thing like.”
“Oh, I’m sure. Show ‘em your thing, boy!” urged Jacque.
“Papa. Like I’ve told you before, going True Form isn’t a party trick,” Charles sighed, though he nonetheless began to remove his shirt and tie.
“True Form?” asked Erzulie. “HOLY SAINTS ALIVE!” she exclaimed when Charles had transformed to his winged form. “A metal angel!”
“Uh, yeah,” sighed Charles.
“He is most definitely your doing, Papa Jacque,” opined Erzulie. “I need you for my next court case, boy! I can imagine the reaction of the jury if I have a real angel crying out when I do that line!”
Charles ruffled his wings in irritation and sat back down, grabbing his rum.
Erzulie continued staring at him, and then approached, reaching out a hand. She very softly touched his cheek, rubbing a finger up and down his temple.”
“Yeah,” said Charles. “I usually use magic to cover that one up.”
“That is your scar dear, earned in bravery. You should never cover it up,” Erzulie told him. Charles didn’t reply, but may have blushed.
“The situation, Mme D’en Tort…” Ganesh began.
“Erzulie it is, we are family,” she told him, seating herself as Papa Jacque indicated a chair and waved to a servant.
“The situation, Erzulie,” said Ganesh, “is that our friend, Dick Knubbler, has been accused of murdering a house guest, Miss Lavona Succuboso,”
“Knifing?” asked Erzulie as a servant poured her rum.
“Gunshot.”
“Oh! A human?”
“No, in fact, but he is a fan of handguns. He has confessed to us, however, he claims that it was not Miss Succuboso.”
Erzulie shot Papa Jacque a glance as he lit her cigar. “Then who was it?” she asked, sitting back and taking a long puff.
“He says it was some kinda changeling?” said Charles. “I dunno, Chango and Orula had a name for it….”
“Aswang,” supplied Ganesh. “That was their guess as to the perpetrator.”
“Chango and Orula?” laughed Erzulie. “Those two old frauds.”
“We might have a witch on the loose, Zulie,” said Jacque.
“Oh, perhaps not,” admitted Ganesh.
“This Dick Knubbler character, is he rich?” inquired Erzulie.
“Fucking wealthy,” said Charles.
“Then he is an innocent man, unjustly mired by scurrilous accusations!” she thundered.
“So sure, huh?” asked Charles.
“Pays for my pro bono,” explained Erzulie, chomping her cigar.
“Another do gooder in the family!” said Charles.
“You are a charitable man, Charles?” asked Erzulie suspiciously.
“Oh, fuck no,” said Charles, waving his own cigar at his husband. “Ganesh is in charge of all the karma shit.”
“I do what I can,” said Ganesh modestly.
“You could do what you can for me some time,” offered Erzulie.
“I flattered dear lady, but I don't often favor the charms of females, as appealing as they may be.”
“Plus, he's fucking MARRIED to an angel of vengeance,” said Charles.
“That too,” laughed Ganesh.
“I don't like men either, but you're pretty as all hell,” said Erzulie.
“Oh hell yes, he's one pretty motherfucker,” agreed Jacque. “I've told these two bastards I need more grandchildren out of 'em, but this one is all I've gotten so far.” Elias blinked, a bit bewildered.
“I've told you, we've got our work cut out for us just dealing with Boon, Papa” said Charles. “I don't have a clue how Raziel deals with two of 'em.”
“Queen Raziel?” asked Erzulie.
“Well, yeah, I guess that's her formal title,” agreed Charles.
“You oughta meet her, Zulie,” urged Jacque.
Erzulie seemed to consider her cigar. “I haven't made it a practice to much mix with angels in recent centuries.”
“You're mixing with them now!” said Charles, stifling a burp. “Oh no! Angel cooties!”
Ganesh stared at Charles in astonishment, and then burst out laughing. “Dear, have you had quite enough rum?” he asked.
“I was just thinking I might need a nap,” said Charles, who wove unsteadily to his feet and stretched out his wings in a tremendous flap that set some of the table ware scattering.
“That might be a good idea,” Ganesh agreed.
“And you need a nap,” he told Ganesh, yanking him up after him.
“All rightie,” Ganesh agreed. “Jacque, will you be all right watching Elias for a short time?”
“Or a long time,” said Charles, who was already marching off with Ganesh.
“We'll be fine!” Jacque laughed after them. “It's the angel blood,” he told Erzulie. “Can't handle the good stuff,” he said, pouring out another shot of rum for them both.
“I know he is your kin, Jacque,” said Erzulie. “But can we trust him?”
“I haven't a fucking clue, Zulie. I love him like nothing I've loved since my Tzaphy. This one too. I don't really give a good god damn if I can't trust him.”
“You always led with your heart, you big oaf,” Erzulie laughed. Her laugh was quite beautiful, like music playing.
“It's the only way,” said Jacque.
Ganesh lay on the bed, not sleeping, but not discontent. He listened smilingly to Sariel's snore, loud even for the angel. Still in his silver winged form, he was lying splayed out all over the place, wings and limbs everywhere. Although neither of the two men ever seemed to quite express the thought to one another, Sariel and Jacque clearly rather adored one another. At some point, Ganesh had ceased trying to pick apart the relationship, concluding only that love was perhaps the greatest of the mysteries.
Sariel's Dethphone was squalling up a storm again. Curious, Ganesh picked it up and walked out to the patio.
“Yes, hello, this is Ganesh. He can't come to the phone right now, is there something I can help- Skwisgaar? Cups cocks? You mean cupcakes? Toki has eaten a lot of cupcakes. A lot? Oh, my, yes, yes, sixteen dozen is a lot. Well, yes, I like sprinkles myself. And you can't get him down. Well, that's weird, is Nathan there? Nathan is there? That is highly interesting! Well, yes, I know I know. Let me think.” Ganesh cast a glance over at the snoring Sariel.
“I have a hunch. A hunch? Like a theory. Anyway, Skwisgaar, are you listening? Angels are sensitive to things like alcohol or sweets. Well, I think maybe his blood sugar is a bit high after all those cupcakes. Blood sugar- No, no do NOT use leaches, he needs protein! Protein. Like cheese or... He likes herring very much, correct? Yes, have Jean Pierre send up some herring. See if that tempts him down, and make sure he eats it. Uh-huh. And, call me back in say, twenty minutes? All rightie? Yes, you're welcome.”
Ganesh clicked off the phone. Well, definitely one of his more interesting medical consultations, he thought. He returned to the bed, where Sariel was slightly stirring.
“'samadder?” Sariel grumbled.
“Oh, just a little of the usual tomfoolery at Mordhaus,” Ganesh assured him.
Sariel sleepily stretched out a wing, and Ganesh gratefully slipped inside, and soon had been eased off to a very pleasant place.
“Twelve million dollars for a Tupperware party?” Charles asked.
“Part of it was for the DAMAGES,” explained Nathan.
“Legal coschtsch,” added Murderface.
Both men looked contrite.
“Well, sounds good. You boys did a good job,” said Charles, tossing the invoices on his desk.
“Did the fans enjoy themselves?” he asked.
“Yeah! And, they bought at least THIRTY ONE DOLLARS worth of TUPPERWARE!”
“Well, that's quite an achievement,” noted Charles.
“And, we got you thisch!” said Murderface, holding up a small plastic container.
“Well, will ya look at that? A slice of pie? Is this for me, gentlemen?” asked an appreciative Charles.
“Yeah,” said Nathan, “and it should STILL BE FRESH!”
“Isn't that nice,” said Charles appreciatively. “So, is there anything else?”
“Uh. No?” said Nathan.
“Very well then,” said Charles.
Nathan and Murderface looked at each other, and then hustled towards the doorway, briefly getting in a tangle as they both tried to exit at the same time.
Ganesh quite suddenly appeared sitting in the guest chair, watching them as well.
“How's Toki?”
“No worse for wear,” Ganesh told him. “He might do with a visit to a dentist. Why are you sighing, Sariel?”
“Been there, done that,” said Charles, clicking a remote. A viewing screen rose up, tuned to a news channel.
“My client is a POOR UNFORTUNATE VICTIM! A VICTIM! Falsely slandered with these baseless accusations,” came a sonorous voice.
“Am I incorrect, or did they not actually find Dick standing over Lavona, holding a smoking pistol?” asked Ganesh.
“Yeah, but as Erzulie explained, he's rich,” said Charles, who hit the mute button as he was suddenly distracted by his Dethphone.
“And your father is conducting his own investigations?”
Charles nodded, one ear to the phone. “Hey, yeah Raziel, we were watching too. You wanna go where? When? Well, yeah I guess I can get off, but what is this-?” Charles looked at the phone, and then at Ganesh, confused. “She hung up.”
“Where does she wish you to go?” asked Ganesh.
“Ganesch?”
The Hindu god was in a thoughtful mood when he left Sariel in his office, so he did not see William Murderface waiting in the hallway.
“Yes, my friend,” said Ganesh, a genuine smile on his face. William had been one of the first members of Dethklok Ganesh had gotten to know well, and he genuinely liked the man. William was what one might call rather eccentric, but Ganesh came from what one might call an eccentric family.
And there was a genuine warmth to the demon. Ganesh, of course, hadn't officially learned of William's origins until quite recently, but it was difficult to hide one's magical aura from Ganesh. Although he shared many of his family's preconceptions regarding demons, Ganesh was a curious creature, and tended to let that side of himself take the lead.
Ganesh clapped the bassist on the shoulder and they began to walk the corridors.
“How isch Dick? How did he scheem?”
“I cannot lie to you and tell you he seemed well. He appeared in pain, emotional and physical. He did seem to quite genuinely believe he is not a murderer.”
William visibly cringed at the last word. “That wound? From the angelsch? It schtill hurtsch him.”
“Does it? I am sorry to hear that. He would not let me tend to him. These magical wounds are sometimes tricky to deal with. You know, some of Sariel's scars which I have tended to, they are many millennia old.”
William nodded. “I got a new body with thisch deal. I haven't had to deal with that schit for a while.”
'Yes, that was fortunate. Starting over,” commented Ganesh.
“Well, I woulda wisched for schomething a little more schapely, obviouschly,” said William, rubbing his ample stomach.
“You might try my workout! You know I was quite rotund as a child,” said Ganesh, knowing quite well the musician both reviled physical exercise as he adored his beer. Draugar weren't necessarily lazy, but lived quiet, sedentary lives, guarding their barrows.
William seemed to be thinking along the same lines. He shook his head, and said, “Schome would think I murdered my parentsch. My human parentsch.”
“Do you believe that is true?” asked Ganesh.
William, obviously surprised by the question, stopped walking and stood, seeming to be actually thinking. Hard.
“I don't think scho. My dad was kind of a nut. He mighta come unglued when William died. The real William.”
“Yes, that is true,” said Ganesh. “My people believe in such things. Fate.”
“It wasch hisch fate,” said William. And then, with a solemn nod to Ganesh, he was off, walking silently and alone down the corridor. Ganesh thought he could almost hear the soft flap of leathery wings accompanying him.
Charles felt like he was on the way to the library, all wrapped up in an overcoat and scarf.
“Wantie Was!” yelled Elias, dropping his father's hand and pattering over to greet the little angel, his puppy yipping at his feet.
“How's my favorite?” she asked, grinning and hefting the boy. Charles was struck by how big his kid had grown: you could really see it in comparison to little Raziel.
“NO MUMMY!” her twins hollered, left down at her feet, raven-haired Abby and redheaded Liam, both gazing up, but not that far up.
“We da fave-rit!” protested Liam.
“Nooooo!” said Raziel. “You're horrible!”
“NAWT HOWWIBLE!” they wailed.
“You're horrible, and Boon is best!” she told them.
“Raziel, you're gonna traumatize your kids,” warned Charles.
“Do these two look traumatized?” she grinned, setting down Elias. Charles looked to her giggling toddlers, now greeting their cousin. No, he had to admit, they looked happy as hell.
Which, by coincidence, was where they were headed.
“You ready?” Raziel asked Charles. He nodded.
“I'm still not quite sure what this is about?” he told her.
“You guys be good?” Raziel asked the twins, who now had a number of wolves pattering around them, adding to the general chaos.
“NOOOOOOO!” they promised as she kissed them on top of their heads.
“Come on now you lot, time's a wasting!” Wotan boomed from up on the porch. And without another thought, the kids and wolves turned and charged up to the Norse god. He gave a wave, and followed the menagerie all inside.
Raziel already had Charles' elbow, and was chattering about something. He set his brain to neutral, and let her go ahead and tug him through time and space. “Oh. Papa says hi,” he told her at last.
“It's been too long: we have to invite your Papa up. Does he seem settled in San Serriffe?”
“Like he owns the place. Of course, that's my Papa.” Charles pulled something out of his coat pocket.
“Erzulie D'en Tort?” asked Raziel, reading the business card.
“Yeah. She's actually a cousin of mine. I guess she wants to meet?”
“Oh, that's cool! I saw her on TV!”
“She's representing Dick Knubbler in … this business.”
“How's William taking that?”
Charles shrugged. “Not well. I'm just trying to keep him busy.”
They had arrived at the mall. The purgatory mall. Quite despite himself, Charles smiled. Even though the human winter holidays had passed up on the earth's surface, there was always what seemed a Yuletide atmosphere down here these days. A lot of cheerful, busy people hurried past, but yet more tarried to listen to the musicians stationed in various areas.
“Father!” called Raziel as Phanuel strode up to meet them. He quickly kissed Raziel on her cheeks and then stuck out a hand for Charles.
“A great pleasure, as always, Honored Sariel,” said Phanuel.
“Likewise,” agreed Charles. “Look, I don't wanna be rude, but I've got a lot going on up at the surface, so would one of you guys like to fill me on on what I'm doing down here?
Phanuel and Raziel exchanged a mysterious glance. “I sincerely apologize for the secrecy, but I think it will be readily apparent why this was something … closely held,” the Seraph told him.
“OK. This what?” asked Charles, who was running a bit short on patience.
“Believe me, this will be best shown and not explained. Come, it will only take a moment.” So, with Raziel's death grip on his elbow once again, Charles let himself now be dragged across Purgatory. He smiled again as they passed a musicians' shop. He almost asked to stop for a while, but decided to see first whatever the fuck Raziel and Phanuel thought was so damned important.
“Ya know, Phanuel, I realize this would be a big favor, but my musician, Toki – I think he misses having Engelbert around.”
“Send him down,” said Phanuel.
“That's nice of you to offer, Phanuel, but you know the, uh, mischief my boys can get into....”
“Dear Sariel, I am the Lord of Hell!” chuckled Phanuel, actually breaking into a small smile.
“Maybe, but this is Dethklok,” sighed Charles.
“My offer stands. Send him down, and perhaps his friend, the Odinsson, Skwisgaar.”
“They don't always get along so great.”
“We might have them play. It would be marvelous!”
And it would keep the two of them busy. Charles had to admit, it wasn't a bad idea.
He looked up just then, to yet another sound he never expected to hear in Purgatory: laughing children. The storefront just ahead looked something like a nursery school, with bright colored walls and toys strewn everywhere. Raziel had dropped his arm and somehow gotten ahead on those short legs and impossible shoes.
“As I have told you before, my dear, you are not allowed to take ANY of them home,” said Phanuel, as Raziel had already picked up one curly-haired girl, and was holding hands of another small boy.
“Awwww!” she said.
“Hell has child car now?” asked Charles.
“This is actually a quite special section of my domain,” Phanuel explained. “Very small children, under the age of eight, will not have been able to complete their tasks on earth.”
Charles considered for a moment. “You can reincarnate their souls?”
“Precisely. It is, sadly, a very small portion of my domain, but these are very old laws, and ones our colleague, Lucifer, for some reason chose to ignore.”
“Lord Brahma doesn't mind you getting into his business?”
“I have actually consulted with him on this matter,” said Phanuel. “It is always a pleasure to talk to a fellow gardener.”
“Interesting,” said Charles.
“But this is not the specific issue for which you have been invited today. Kindly remain here for a moment, and I will go and find her.”
“Uh. Her who?” asked Charles, but Phanuel was already stalking off. Charles sighed and turned to where Raziel was on the floor playing with some new fans.
“Raziel, that is not the way you play LEGO!” scolded Charles.
“What? It makes a pretty bracelet!” argued Raziel, snapping her jewelry onto an appreciative small girl soul.
“Look at the box! It's supposed to be a giant squid attacking a submarine!” reasoned Charles, who wished now he had brought along Elias to prove his point.
'You need to use your imagination, Sariel!”
“There is a right way and a wrong way to play LEGO!” insisted Charles, who was now down on his hands and knees, madly snapping together blocks. “See? You've used part of the bow!”
“Well, why don't you make a catamaran instead of a submarine?” asked Raziel.
“It's supposed to be a submarine! Look at the box!” said Charles, waving a half-completed vessel at her.
“Hmpf,” hmpf-ed Raziel.
“Here we are,” said Phanuel, who had just come up behind Charles.
Charles turned and looked up.
And froze.
“Mr. Warriner?”
