The Dead Girl (Mythklok, Chapter 84)
Jan. 25th, 2012 06:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: The Dead Girl (Mythklok, Chapter 84)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Strange encounters in Purgatory and elsewhere.
Warnings: Nothing much
Notes: Notes after the jump.
Mythklok: breakfast of champions!
So, last time It was MURDER! Or was it? Maybe it was voodoo. Or worse! Charles and Ganesh went to hire a defense attorney (even though both characters are supposed to be, you know, lawyers), while the boys contemplated food storage solutions and unbalanced their blood sugar binging on cupscocks. And as we left off, Charles encountered someone quite unexpected down in Purgatory.
“Mr. Warriner?”
Charles was staring dumbly at her, having no memory of how he had come to stand up. He remained stupidly holding a half-completed LEGO submarine.
“I mean, um, Mr. Ofdensen? I guess?” Anna corrected.
“Uh. Charles is fine,” he told her. “Or people also call me Sariel.”
“I'm Raziel!” said the angel, stepping forward and holding out a well-manicured hand. “But you can call me Raz!”
“Oh. Um. Hi, Raz,” said Anna, taking her offered hand.
“You requested a spot of, er, Red Zinger I believe?” asked Phanuel politely, indicating a servant with a teapot.
“Oh, yeah, thanks Mr. Phanuel!” said Anna brightly.
Anna's soul said, actually, thought Charles. It wasn't her. But it was.
“You may refer to me as Phanuel, my dear,” the grey angel assured the girl. “Or you might more properly say, Honored Phanuel. If you wish a more formal relationship.”
“All right. Honored Phanuel,” said Anna, nervously pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, slight question in her voice.
“Let us all make ourselves comfortable,” said Phanuel, indicating a small table set for a formal tea service. Anna and Raziel sat down as chairs were silently pulled out for them. Charles, after casting a glare at Raziel, which she blithely ignored, tossed the LEGO figure aside and irritably seated himself.
Anna sipped some tea and smiled shyly, and Raziel began nibbling on a tea cake.
“I must be off for a moment. Why don't you begin by telling all assembled. The story. Of how you came to be here?” Phanuel prompted.
“Oh, I already told Mr. Phanuel – I mean, Honored Phanuel,” said Anna, looking pained. She found the sugar bowl, and occupied herself for a moment by plunking sugar cubes into her tea. “Uh, I just woke up here. And it kind of sucked. No, it totally sucked.” She looked at Charles and Raziel, sighing deeply. “I don't mean, you know, the afterlife thing. I mean, that was a surprise. Um. But I had to work in a music shop! I was a clerk! Just.... I was gonna work forever I RETAIL! I was going to college and everything.”
“So what happened, sweetie?” inquired Raziel, curling her legs underneath her to give her access to another tea cake.
“Oh! Mister- I mean, Honored Phanuel came around! And he started asking us what we wanted to to. And I said, you know, I had wanted to work with kids, even though I knew it was idiotic, but he was like, no, and I'm just.... Like, I'm here now,” she concluded, waving her hands at the day care.
“So,” said Charles, who felt he ought to say something, “You like working here all right?”
“Oh, it's pretty cool! We watch the kids and try and figure out what they're interested in. And then, I guess, it's great! They get another chance. They figure out a place for them, and they actually get to go back up, you know....” she said, pointing upwards. “I guess if they're little, their tasks aren't completed? Or something? Though, I dunno,” she said, going back to her tea, “I didn't really think I had gotten the chance to complete anything.” She shook her head. “I mean, I couldn't even drink yet. I mean, legally.”
Charles cringed and looked at his untouched cup of tea.
“But, anyway, that Mister- Honored Phanuel guys is, you know, pretty cool,” commented Anna.
“He's my father!” grinned Raziel.
“Oh,” said Anna, suddenly bringing her attention around to Raziel. “Uh, so, like, how does this work? Is he Lucifer, or what?”
“Naw, we got rid of Lucifer. He was a douche,” said Raziel.
Anna flashed a glance at Charles who nodded. “Uh, but he's like an angel?” she asked.
“Yup!” said Raziel. “And I'm an angel, and Sariel is an angel!”
“So, you guys are related to each other?” asked Anna.
“Sure!” said Raziel. “Phanuel is a grandfather! I have two kids at home! Wanna see?” She was already taking out her cell phone and scootching her chair closer to Anna. “That's Liam. And that's Abigail.”
“Oh. She looks like you,” said Anna, who sounded slightly confused.
Raziel beamed with pride. “And there's Wotan with the kids....”
“Wait, Wotan? You mean Odin thunder god guy?” asked Anna.
“Thor really does thunder, but it's a common mistake.”
Anna frowned. “But Wotan? He actually … exists too?”
“Heehee. He's my husband, silly!” giggled Raziel, tapping Anna on the knee. Anna cast a confused glance at Charles who nodded. “And here's the kids with my nephew, Boon! That's Sariel's boy!” said Raziel, pointing to Charles.
“You have a little boy?” Anna asked Charles.
“Yeah. I have a son now,” Charles told her.
“Wait, you're-” said Anna, now thinking it through. “Wait, are you the sister Mr. War- Charles was always talking about?”
“Really? He was ALWAYS talking about me?” grinned Raziel.
“Not ALWAYS,” grumbled Charles.
“We’ve always been really close,” bragged Raziel. “Well, except for those centuries when he wasn’t speaking to me. But that’s all in the past!”
“Look, Anna. Has anyone told you the reason you're here? I mean, the reason you … died?”
Anna shook her head. “The music store? I think it collapsed. Like a gas leak or something?”
“There was a man.... Not really a man-”
“Ah, here we are!” bustled Phanuel. “I am afraid I shall have to call an end to today's meeting, as Anna is needed back at her duties.”
“Oh, yeah, sure!” said Anna, who had already risen.
“You two will come down again soon I assume?” Phanuel asked pleasantly.
“Yeah, I definitely wanna bring the kids!” grinned Raziel, who had also stood up.
“Little one,” Phanuel warned with much mock sternness, “there will be a count of children in your company when you depart!”
“Awww, father,” said Raziel taking his arm and wandering off a few paces.
“Anna,” said Charles, who was also rising. The girl turned. He drew nearer, closing the distance between them, but then stopped short. “If you need anything.... Or even if you don't need anything.... Ever....” He stood awkwardly for a moment, and then thoughtlessly reached over and pushed a strand of her hair out of her face behind her ear.
And quite suddenly, Charles was the recipient of an enthusiastic hug.
“I’m OK. I think. I mean. If I think of something. I’ll tell Honored Phanuel. OK?” she said, beaming at him in a quite frightful manner.
“Uh. Yeah,” muttered Charles as Anna turned and departed back towards the day care.
“Come on, lazy butt. We gotta get back,” said Raziel, who was once again digging her sharp little fingernails into Charles’ arm. Seeming struck dumb, he let himself once again be hustled through the nether world, and did not seem to come back to himself until they had arrived back at Valhalla.
And then….
“Raziel!” snapped Charles, angrily throwing off her small hand. “What have you done? Why didn’t you…. Why didn’t you warn me?”
“Oh, I couldn’t have warned you, Sariel,” said Raziel, throwing off her hat and flopping down on a couch. She started to remove her gloves. “You know how terrible that idiot Lucifer was at record keeping! My father had the devil’s own time. Devil’s time, ha,” she chuckled, smiling.
“You think this is funny?” he whispered.
“Sariel! Quit being dramatic.”
“Quit being-? You heartless … bitch!”
“Yeah, I told them you’d react this way. Look, put down your terrible flaming sword for a minute and listen,” she lectured, waving a finger at him. “I assume you want Pickles, back, yeah?”
“I want-? What?” Charles stared at her a long moment, eyes narrowing in fury. “Wotan. Is this your husband’s fucking plot? Because, I want nothing to do with it?”
“It was actually my suggestion, Sariel.”
Charles whirled around at the sound of Ganesh’s soft voice. He and Wotan had just come into the sitting room.
“You should listen to this one,” Wotan nodded, striding over to a cupboard.
“I am so sorry, my love,” said Ganesh. “This is … a delicate matter.”
“Yeah, it is delicate, Ganesh. I KILLED THAT GIRL. And don’t give me your bullshit about fate. Haven’t I done enough to her?”
“A great wrong has been done to Anna,” Ganesh agreed. “But I think we may be able to … finesse it.”
“Finesse it? She’s dead. She’s fucking away in fucking purgatory.”
“I dunno, it seems pretty cheery down there now actually,” offered Raziel.
“Raz!” warned Wotan, who now carried a decanter and an armful of glasses. “You’re not helping.
“My father does a good job!” insisted Raziel.
“Yeah, he runs an adorable fucking prison,” snapped Sariel.
“Prison?” said Raziel.
“WINGS DOWN!” thundered Wotan. “You two, quit acting like spoiled Seraphim!” he told Raziel.
“Hmpf,” said Raziel.
Charles slumped down on a couch opposite Raziel and put his head in his hands.
“Sariel. I have spoken at length with my Uncle Brahma about this matter,” said Ganesh softly as he sat down next to Charles.
“What does Brahma have to do with this?”
“Sadly, nothing. If it were in our domain, things might be different.”
“Different?” said Charles, looking up. He laughed bitterly. “Yeah, you guys would lose her paperwork for 50 years.”
“And then,” said Ganesh, “she might perhaps be granted a new incarnation.”
Charles studied Ganesh for a moment. “But you just said it’s not you guys’ business.”
“True,” said Wotan, handing over a glass of amber Scotch to Charles. “We’re messing with powers we don’t quite understand. A new one for us!”
Charles frowned at the liquor, and then downed it in one go, the liquid creating a satisfying burning in his throat. He reached out the glass for another shot. When Wotan had refilled him, he sat back. “Consider yourself lucky you stock the world’s best Scotch, Wotan. All right. Start talking.”
“There are two relevant factors,” Ganesh explained. “The first, as you are aware, is that Anna has been dealt a great wrong. She is, however, as yet not fully aware of this fact. The second is that she departed with her task unfulfilled. That is how she ended up in Purgatory. She has, therefore, the key necessary ingredients for what one might call a restless spirit.”
“And our Ganesh thinks he can conjure her spirit back,” said Wotan.
“Elegba and I, we have some voodoo incantations…” Ganesh began.
“What, a fucking zombie?” asked Charles.
“Well, no,” Ganesh told him. “There is, for one thing, no body.” Charles winced.
“A ghost!” piped up Raziel.
“What, with the rattling chains and shit?” grumbled Charles, who had had terrible luck with restless spirits.
“Yes, precisely,” said Ganesh. “And that may confer upon us a twofold benefit: one proximal and more selfish, the other unfortunately more nebulous, but I believe, worth consideration.”
“Why would she be better off as a ghost than working in Purgatory? At least she’s safe down there.”
“Well, first off, considering the beings who currently oppose us, it would be clearly to our advantage to have an untraceable agent.”
“You gave us this idea, son,” said Wotan. “Checking up on them, when they thought you were dead?”
“I am not liking this,” said Charles. “I don’t like this at all.”
“The important thing is,” Ganesh urged, “if Elegba and I are successful in raising her spirit from Purgatory, we may be able to find her way to Uncle’s garden.”
“So,” asked Charles suspiciously, “you raise her, and then Brahma takes over.”
“Er,” said Ganesh.
“Yeah, I thought so,” grumbled Charles, tossing back more liquor.
“Brahma thinks she’d have to show her worth. Prove her mettle!” said Wotan.
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” said Raziel. “She has a noble spirit.”
“Raziel, you talked to her about your fucking kids for five minutes. What the hell do you know?”
“I know you need to give her the chance to avenge her own death!” said Raziel.
“Yes, Sariel, that is the last important point,” said Ganesh. “If we leave her as she is, in ignorance of all this, I cannot call her. We would need to tell her.”
“You’d need to tell her, son,” said Wotan.
“Don’t you “son” me, Wotan! I’m not one of your half-wits!” said Charles. “I got an answer: NO!”
“WHAT!” fumed Raziel, who had also leapt to her feet.
“Raz,” muttered Wotan, tugging the little angel back down. “Sariel, I’m not gonna accept that answer. You go and you think about it.
“I don’t need to think about it!” Charles declared.
“Sariel,” said Ganesh.
“Fuck off,” grumbled Charles, and he was there no more. Ganesh shrugged at Wotan, who nodded at him, and then he too was there no more.
“That went well!” sang Raziel.
“Raz!” said Wotan, laughing despite himself and giving her a very un-kingly pat on the rump.
“What the fuck is GOING ON, Ganesh?” demanded Nathan as he and the Hindu god watched Charles seethe off down the hall. “I haven’t seen him this pissed off since we accidentally destroyed Cincinnati.”
“Cincinnati?” asked Ganesh, watching Charles disappear around a corner.
“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!”
Ganesh glanced over to Nathan. “Er, Sariel is currently feeling a bit cross with me.”
“He gets angry with you too?”
Trying not to smile, Ganesh turned to face Nathan. “We, yes, certainly. On occasion. It is nothing you need-”
“Did he YELL?”
“Rather a lot, I'm afraid,” Ganesh admitted.
“Come on!” said Nathan, suddenly yanking on Ganesh's arm. “Oh, wait,” said Nathan, now abruptly reversing direction. “We gotta go by your room. YOU CAN'T BE NAKED.”
“Er,” said Ganesh, now completely confused.
“Oh, this is actually quite nice,” he commented not so very much later, as he sat in the living room hot tub with Nathan. A silent Klokateer had put a martini in his hand almost before he had sat down. A very dry martini. Yes, it was quite nice here.
“This is how we deal with the AWESOME WEIGHT OF CELEBRITY,” Nathan explained.
“You ams dealings wit' da stresses, Ganoshes?” inquired Skwisgaar, who had just shown up with Toki.
“Well, er-”
“Charles YELLED AT HIM!” noted Nathan as the Scandanavians splashed into the tub.
“Ja, he ams does dat.”
“Well, not really at me-” Ganesh began.
“Ams you breaks up nows?” worried Toki.
“Pffft. We ams froms da brokens homes. Well, I ams deals wit' dat befores....” said Skwisgaar resignedly.
“No no no no no!” said Ganesh. “Sariel and I have an issue, and we shall work it through-”
“What kinds of swissues?” wondered Toki. “Ams da sexes?”
“Yeah, it always gets down to THAT,” nodded Nathan.
Ganesh coughed, trying not to choke to death on his martini. “Aw, dat ams OK,” Skwisgaar counseled, helpfully patting him on the back.
“What'sch wrong?” asked Murderface from the edge of the tub.
“Charles and Ganoshes ams divorcgings!” wailed Toki.
“Well, I knew it wouldn't lascht,” reasoned Murderface, splashing loudly into the tub.
“So, who gets custody?” wondered Nathan. “Can we come hang with you on weekends? Will you TAKE US TO THE ZOO?”
“I ams likes da pandas!” volunteered Toki.
“Ja, Ganoshe ams our weekends dads,” sighed Skwisgaar.
“Boys!” laughed Ganesh, who had just regained his breath. “We are NOT separating! This is related to a matter during the time when he left you.”
Ganesh looked around: the band mates had suddenly quieted, the only noise now was the soft bubbling of the hot tub.
“Is he going away again?” Nathan finally asked.
“No. No, he is definitely not.”
“Did he ams miss us?” Toki finally asked.
“He missed you all terribly,” said Ganesh, smiling. “And I truly believe he will never do anything of the like again.” As the band members actually looked thoughtful, he continued, “This relates to some, er, unfinished business. It still troubles him, as you no doubt witnessed. And we are endeavoring to work things out. Now, I need to let Sariel fill you in on details, as he feels it is necessary.”
“Scho….” Said Murderface finally.
“Yes William?”
“If you’re not divorsching, that meansch you’ll schtill be schtaying in the schuite?”
“No, William, you may not have our suite of rooms,” chuckled Ganesh.
“DAMN!” said Nathan. “They have a really AWESOME balcony.”
Charles smelled the cigar smoke before he reached his office. “A visitor for you, sire,” noted Klokateer 31415, who sat at the reception desk. “I apologize that she is not on the schedule, but I thought her importance warranted it.”
“Right as usual, Pie,” nodded Charles, entering.
“Sharl,” said Erzulie D'en Tort, who politely stood up. “That most attractive young man at the outer office said it would be all right for me to await inside,” she said.
“No problem, Erzulie, really,” said Charles shaking her hand. “We're all really grateful you could take this on.”
“I shall make this short, as I reckon you are a busy individual,” she said, gracefully easing her bulk back into the chair.
She must have been almost as big as Nathan, but moved as easily as a dancer. She probably is a dancer, Charles thought. Everyone dances except us angels. We only dance on the head of fucking pin. “Go ahead,” he said.
“We had not yet made financial arrangements, although I know your reputation enough to trust you on this matter, I thought it best to initiate discussions at the earliest possible time.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry! To be frank, I have no fucking clue as to the state of Dick's affairs, though I did ask Ganesh and some of my accountants to go through it. We'll take care of payment, so I'm the one to talk to.”
“Marvelous. I have a charitable trust set up, you might arrange finances to go directly to them.”
“Lemme guess: women and babies?”
“You will do good, like it or not,” grinned Erzulie.
“No, that's fine, Ganesh is always nagging me....” Charles trailed off.
Erzulie frowned but did not comment. “That Knubbler is one eccentric bastard.”
“He's fucking nuts,” Charles agreed. “Why he's always worked so well with us, I think.”
“I like him. Makes things interesting.”
“We're really glad to have your services. Ganesh has done some defense work....”
“Ah, but your lovely husband defends innocent men,” said Erzulie.
Charles nodded. “But, still.... I honestly don't think he did it. I mean, I don't think he thinks he did it.”
“Have you been to the residence, then?”
“Carpathians? Yeah. First thing. Before the press showed up.”
Erzulie nodded, exhaling cigar smoke. “The place reeks of mischief.”
Charles steepled his hands. “Anything specific you could tell me?”
Erzulie shook her head. “Unfortunately, that is not my specialty. But you mentioned those old queens, Chango and Orula are currently on your payroll? As well as every other supernatural being in the world,” she chuckled.
“I have considered that. Those two are a bit … showy sometimes,” said Charles.
“Or you might send over that husband of yours. I understand Elegba has been filling that pretty head with some of our trade?”
Charles laughed despite himself. “Erzulie, Ganesh is actually a smart guy.”
“Impossible. No one would fit a smart head with that fine an ass. It could set me straight. No mean feat!”
Charles shook his head. “I'll take what you've said into consideration. Is there anything else you require?”
“If you have any especially pretty legal assistants over here. Of course, with your standard uniform, I suppose it would be difficult to tell.”
“Well, it's not our Legal, but I think some of the Klokateers in the Female Online Division might need a distraction.”
“That would be splendid,” said Erzulie, gracefully rising and once more extending a hand.
“Like I said, tell us if you need anything. Anything,” Charles repeated.
“I will be in touch, my dear Sharl,” she promised, and then was there no more, leaving only the fragrance of cigar smoke and tropical flowers.
Charles checked his Vacheron Constantin and sighed. A band meeting was the last thing he needed right now, but probably better to head them off in the meeting room than to have them all invade his office, which inevitably happened when they feared he had forgotten them. He somewhat reluctantly trudged out of the office and down the corridor to the meeting room. They were all assembled there already, though they must have recently been in the hot tub, as a couple of them hadn’t bothered to get dressed, and were sitting, still dripping, wearing only large white towels.
“Uh, Nathan, is there any particular reason why Toki has that?” asked Charles, eyeing the rather large claw hammer the guitarist was currently wielding.
“Dis ams my gravel! We ams goings by da Rabbert’s Rules of Mordor!” Toki explained.
“Yeah, it’s no wonder we never get anything done at these meetings,” agreed Nathan. “THERE ARE RULES! I’ve read them. If you’re gonna have a meeting things have to be MOVED AND SECONDED and shit like that.”
“You guys wanna conduct the meeting by Robert’s Rules of Order?” asked Charles, raising an eyebrow. “OK. Fine by me. So, what did you want to talk to me about?”
“Song topics!” said Nathan.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“We ams needs to know about what ams proportionates,” supplied Skwisgaar, adjusting his towel and continuing to noodle on his guitar. As the guitar was dripping, Charles assumed it had gone into the hot tub as well.
“What’s appropriate? For death metal?” asked Charles. “Look, you guys know I try not to interfere with the artistic side of matters.”
“We can’t sing about SATAN any more!” explained Nathan.
“Becasche he wasche kind of a dousche,” added Murderface, pulling his towel up over his belly, which stubbornly flopped back over the towel once again.
“Satan was an AWFUL DOUCHE,” agreed Nathan.
“An’ da new dude ams Raziel’s dad!” whispered Toki.
“An’ it ams actuallies pretty nice down dere,” said Skwisgaar. “I ams boughts da nice guitar, and dey plays da tasteful music.”
“Ja, ams pretty taste-ical!”
“Look, maybe I’m not understanding here,” said Charles, who knew damned well he wasn’t understanding what could not be understood by a mere immortal brain, “but why can’t you guys just go back to whatever it was you were singing about before….”
“You don’t even KNOW?” grumbled Nathan.
“Nobodies ams much undetstangles your singsing,” sighed Skwisgaar.
“Well, that’s true,” allowed Nathan.
“Intestines and mermaids and ice cream cones,” said Charles.
“WRONG!” said Nathan. “I TABLE THAT MOTION!” And suddenly, Toki was whacking the table like crazy with the claw hammer.
“What?” asked Charles.
“The ice cream cone one was Pickles,” snorted Nathan over the pounding. “But, yeah, I guess the other stuff is correct.”
“Toki, would you mind stopping that?” asked Charles, holding his sensitive ears.
“Nathans ams tabled your motion!” giggled the Norwegian.
“Toki, dat ams annoyingses,” Skwisgaar told him.
“But we ams runs da meetings by da Rules of Mordor!” protested Toki, who did cease with the hammering. “Dat’s what we ams agreed!”
“So is Sauron behind this?” sighed Charles.
“What?” asked Murderface, as the band turned to stare at Charles. “I don’t get it.”
Charles sighed, but noticed that Skwisgaar was covering a laugh by pretending to cough. “I will fetch a Hobbit to explain it to you, William,” said Charles, which got Skwisgaar to openly snicker.
“What ams funnies, Skwisgaar?” demanded Toki.
“Toki, ams you not reads Härskarringen?” Skwisgaar asked.
“No! And you ams not reads it neither, because it ams not da geetar!”
“Ja, dat ams true, but I ams listened to da Rambled On songs,” Skwisgaar told him. “We ams stolens at least five numbers froms it in my bands Gangagar,” he added smugly, deftly fingering a very fake Zep riff.
“Look, guys, could we maybe table the discussion of possible past intellectual property violations and get on with concluding this meeting?” asked Charles, who hastily added, “Oh, crap,” as Toki began to once again enthusiastically pound on the woodwork.
“GIMME THAT!” yelled Nathan, grabbing up Toki’s claw hammer.
“Ams my gravel!” protested Toki.
“Here, Toki, why don’t you keep this?” sighed Charles, tossing the guitarist a staple remover.
“Wowee,” said Toki, clicking the staple remover. He tried it on his hand. “Ow, dis ams hurts.” He pinched his hand again. “Ow!” he said again. And then continued this for the remainder of the meeting.
“Did you bring schuffischient schtable removersch for everyone, Ofdenschen?” demanded Murderface.
“No. No I didn’t,” snapped Charles, whose boundless patience was nevertheless wearing thin. “Nathan, why can’t you simply write more songs pertaining to murder and blood and internal organs….”
“But that’s MISSING SOMETHING! My work demands AN EPISTEMOLOGY! We write about ETERNAL VERITIES. As well as homicidal mermaids and all that other shit.”
“Well, that’s very interesting, Nathan,” said Charles, who, quite despite himself, was now feeling genuinely interested. “I wasn’t aware you felt that way….”
“Death metal screams in anguish at YOUR IMMORTAL SOUL,” intoned Nathan, now warming to the topic.
Charles paused. Something about the way Nathan said it. “What did you say?” he asked.
“YOUR IMMORTAL SOUL,” said Nathan, now putting a bit more umpf into it. “We talk to your immortal soul. About guts an ice cream cones.”
Charles stared at him for a moment, and then, without a word, rose and departed the meeting room.
“HEY!” shouted Nathan. “I didn't CLOSE THE MEETING!”
Toki snatched away the gavel and cheerily bonked it on the table. Nathan glared at him.
Charles walked rapidly down the hall, head down, and seemingly lost in thought. He did not say a word to anyone until he reached the door of his quarters.
The suite was dark, the only illumination a small reading lamp.
“Ganesh?”
“Yes?”
Ganesh was sprawled out on the couch, halfway pretending to be reading a book, untouched drink sitting on the coffee table in front of him.
Charles crossed his arms. “Were you trying to fuck with my karma again?”
Ganesh closed his book. He touched the glass of Scotch, but didn't pick it up. At last he looked up at Charles, brown eyes lost in shadow.
He nodded.
Charles walked over and sat down on the couch, leaning his back against Ganesh's legs. “All right,” he said.
“This coil is transitory. It is illusory. When my time is up, as it inevitably shall be, and it is my part to pass on....” said Ganesh sadly. “I could not think to be at peace, were my spirit not with yours.”
“Well, that's nice,” said Charles. “But you know, for one thing, I like being alive, and I think I'm going to go ahead with it for a while. We've gotta raise the kid for one thing: I don't think immortal spirits are very good at letting you get into their lap or wiping off mozzarella. And I'm pretty sure after all the trouble I'll wanna see the grandkids, and probably their kids, because I'm an asshole that way. Plus, I have to stay around to deal with keeping my FUCKING IDIOT BAND out of trouble,” he added.
“Sariel, I realize that. But judgment does come to us all. And the passing.... It matters, where you go, and who you see. Anna's case just reinforces that for me.”
“When you're Fallen.... Well, you just don't see things like that.”
“I can appreciate that.”
Charles kicked off his shoes. He reached over and picked up the glass of Scotch. He crossed his legs, leaning back into Ganesh's legs, looking at the dark liquid. “I guess, when I first got here, I thought I'd pass some years on earth, and then flame out somehow. But then it was more years, and more years.”
“It passes, without you realizing,” Ganesh noted.
“I didn't know if I was digging myself in deeper or what. I think I didn't give a shit,” said Charles, sipping the whiskey now. “With Our Father, you just don't know, from one day to the next. I spent aeons trying to figure out the bastard.”
“When you died, during our dream, you went to Brahma's garden. And you have passed up there by chance on other occasions.”
“Well, that was a dream, and other times, I was just fucking high. But, yeah.” Ganesh held out a hand, and Charles offered over the whiskey glass. “Look, let's face it, the time I had to go without you, after you died that time, I didn't do very well myself on my own.”
“As I have told you, I discussed Anna's case with Uncle. I cannot recall ever having such a deep nor wide-ranging discussion with him. As you know, he has a unique perspective.”
“Yeah, because he's the only one.”
“Which is perhaps for the best,” sighed Ganesh, downing the whiskey. “I apologize for being presumptive, but I did ask about.... About you.”
“Huh. What did Brahma say?” asked Charles, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ganesh was gathering himself. It seemed an eternity. “It is exactly the situation you despise, I fear, a raft of if’s and but’s,” Ganesh finally told him.
Charles found himself unable to speak, to move, to breathe.
“Is everything all right, dear?” asked Ganesh.
“There’s an if?” answered Charles. “For me?”
Ganesh’s knee was now in motion, rubbing slowly up and down Charles’ back, just between the shoulder blades.
“There is an if, my love. There is a maybe. For you. For us.”
Charles now found himself genuinely unable to speak.
“I am so terribly sorry I can offer you nothing more,” Ganesh said.
“You gimme a single ray of light. After so many centuries. After….” Charles removed his eyeglasses, carefully setting them down on the coffee table. He wiped his eyes on a sleeve. He reached over to accept the glass Ganesh had just poured for him, and downed the shot in one, the burning flowing down his throat, warming him.
And then he was on his feet, and before he even realized what he was doing, the glass was hurled across the living room, into the dark fireplace, where it shattered, creating a million tiny slivers, which glinted, weakly but definitely, in the light of a single lamp.
Ganesh, who had sat up in surprise, was looking at him.
“I still need to think,” Charles told him. “About Anna. I can’t do this for me. I won’t do this for me.”
“I understand,” said Ganesh. “I understand completely.”
“OK, Raziel, you wanna fight?”
“Sure!”
“I’ll duel you. For the girl’s soul.”
Charles had found Raziel curled up in the same sitting room in Valhalla, reading a book and scratching a gigantic wolf behind the ears.
“Cool!” said Raziel, who had already jumped up drawn a weapon.
“Here’s how it works: if I win, I’ll let Ganesh conjure her soul up here. If you win, she stays in Purgatory.”
“WHAT?” bellowed Raziel.
“What’s wrong?”
She was glowering at him. “I can’t let you win! That would be dishonorable!” she bitched.
“Who says you let me win?” grinned Charles.
“Oh, you know damned well you could never defeat me.”
“Maybe when we were both angels. But we’re stuck down here. And now I’m an Ifa priest, and you’re just a lazy queen with a big mouth.”
Raziel raised an eyebrow. She relaxed out of her stance. “Oh. You’re trying to make me mad.”
“It’s working.”
“It is! You know,” she said, “you are one fucked up little angel, Sariel.” She wore a dark grin.
“I am. So, you wanna fuck up your living room, or should we find some place else?”
“Yeah, I suppose Wotan would be after me if I slice the upholstery again. Let’s go outside to the scary druid place.”
She meant a circle of standing stones, not too far from the main building. Since no vegetation grew in the circle, it had been the place she had chosen to tutor Sariel on use of the flaming sword. The standing stone he had sliced through during practice still lay on its side. They both stood a while in admiration.
“That was a good clean slice!” said Raziel, going back into her en garde posture. “You ready?”
“Oh hell yes.”
And then they were everywhere, and everything, fighting, the duel far too quick for any human eyes, and most probably too fast for any but the most superior supernatural swordsman.
Raziel had not gotten lazy. If anything, she had gotten more deliberate, more deadly.
Charles had the advantage - which did not happen often for him - of being taller, with a longer reach. And he hadn’t sparred often with Raziel since his Ifa initiation, which had granted him some additional magic.
On the other hand, a skillful opponent had always had one effect on Raziel: it made her fight harder. She truly seemed to be an extension of her sword. It was breathtaking, if damned frustrating to counter.
For those who have only seen duels that take place in motion pictures, sword fights, in the real world, are often disappointing to watch. There are usually a limited amount of blows – sometimes merely just one – and then, death or dismemberment follows for the unlucky opponent. But this match seemed to go on throughout the hours, through the afternoon, for days, for weeks, until there was nothing else around them, nothing but two angels, set on vengeance.
And then it was over, Charles on the ground, Raziel’s blade at his neck. And a silence, as he listened to his own gasping breath.
Raziel was puffing too. “SHIT!” she exclaimed, extending an arm to help Charles up.
“You beat me,” he told her.
“I’m like that fucking scorpion in Ganesh’s story! Shit!”
“It’s OK. Raziel,” said Charles, dusting himself off, making quite certain all his limbs were intact. “I’m going to tell her. I’m going to tell Anna.”
Raziel wiped sweat from her forehead with a sleeve. “Wait, you’re going to what? Then what the fuck was this about?” she asked, waving her sword.
He shrugged. “You are a lot of things. But you’re definitely not the scorpion. For one thing, you would’ve warned the turtle right off you’d sting him.”
“Yeah, that’s true. And then I probably would have yelled at him to swim the fuck faster, so we’d reach the other shore before the poison hit. But wait, what the fuck are we talking about?”
“There’s a reason I imagined talking to you, back when I was investigating Uriah. You never tell me what I wanna hear. You tell me what I need to hear. Even if I act like an ass about it. For a century or two.”
She blinked, head tilted. “Is that a compliment or something?”
“It might actually be.”
“Huh.” She casually tossed her sword in the air, where it disappeared to somewhere. “You want some pie or something.”
“You got some pie?”
“We could probably dig some up.”
Pickles sat back and lit up a cigarette. He smiled as the smoke gently burned his lungs, enjoying the sunlight. Even though he had been smoking various substances since he had been a kid, he had never been a big fan of tobacco cigarettes. It seemed a big waste, for one thing. All that inhalation, and maybe you’d get a jumpy.
He had tried cigarettes, of course. He had tried just about everything. Back in the day, when Dethklok had just been starting out, he would sometimes bum one of Charles’ Marlboros. There they’d be, tangled in sheets at some motel, having just fucked the everloving daylights out of each other, and Charles now rapidly settling back into that funny, quiet funk that always seemed to choke him off.
Charles had been such a fucking cipher in those days. Oh, god, it was amazing. That was the trouble with being a bright kid like Pickles: you spent most of your time bored as fuck, boring school, boring parents, boring friends, boring town. He spent a lot of his life slowing down his restless mind, cloaking it in a nice, muzzy haze. He always knew all the answers before they were asked. And people? They were just boring.
But Charles? Where did he come from? Where was he going? Where the hell had he learned to give a blow job like that, because, Jesus.
And so it had continued, off and on and off and on again. Until Ganesh. Though he wasn’t really the problem. Well, not directly. He was a smart enough guy, but just too fucking straightforward to really be that interesting. No disrespect to the guy: he obviously loved Charles, even with all the fucked-uped-ness. And he adored the kid. Well, really, how could you not like the kid? Pickles had tried his hardest to hate the kid, thrown all of his anger and jealousy that way, and he still couldn’t help but like the kid.
And anyway, it wasn’t the kid. It was what the kid and what Ganesh were doing to Charles. His Charles. His gloriously twisted Charles. They were straightening him out. It was just little things, but you could see. Charles would stick a Band-Aid on the kid’s knee, and suddenly his weird tic about being touched seemed to fall away. All the mysteries, all the secrets: everything Pickles had thought he could spend a lifetime poking with a pointed stick – so all if it was just down to hugging a fucking toddler?
Well, that kind of sucked.
And he was beginning to understand the cigarette thing, too. It wasn’t really about the cigarette. It was about creating this little island of time and space to yourself. He had excused himself, and no one at all had objected. You need a cigarette, you need a cigarette, and nowadays all those idiots were convinced a single puff would give them instant cancer. He was all alone in a space guarded not by masked men, but toxic fumes and stupidity.
“You got anudder?”
Pickles looked up. Well, he was almost alone. She had started following him out on his smoke breaks sometimes. He politely offered one from the pack and a light.
Funny, you weren’t supposed to look sexy with a cigarette any more, but she managed to pull it off. But the really funny thing was, back inside, back in the group, under the wan neon lights, she looked like nothing special. But hand her a Camel, and there she was, sweeping back her slick black hair so you could see that glorious widow’s peak, crossing her legs, exhaling the thin stream of smoke.
“Dot vas a stoopid session,” she groused, eyes flashing.
“I’m gettin’ somethin’ out of it,” Pickles allowed.
“I am me,” she told him. “I vill belief vat I vant to belief!”
“Eh. It don’t upset me.”
“Really?”
“Look, take it from me. I done dese rehab sessions before. Yoo smile an’ act like yoo give a feck. An’ den eventually, dey let yoo out.”
“I t’ought you vere tellink me you vere gleanink new insights?”
“It don’t hurt. Like my friend Ganesh says….” Pickles paused. “Well, you prolly don’t wanna know. An’ we’re usually high when we discuss dat philosophical shit anyways.”
She was frowning at him. “Vhy are you here? You do not haff to be.”
“An yoo doo?”
She seemed uncertain, just for a moment. “Dey haff explained it to me. It is for my own protection, dey say.”
“Protection? From whoo?” he laughed. He was up, grinding out the spent cigarette with a tennis shoe now.
“Dat iss a gut question,” she said.
Pickles inclined his head, and, with a seeming regret, she tapped out her cigarette, and accompanied him back inside the nondescript concrete building.
She was staring at him in wonder.
“So, uh,” said Charles. “This is.... I wanted to show you what I really look like.”
“Wow.”
Anna had shyly stuck out a hand, and then, probably thinking the better of it, dropped her arm.
Charles stuck out a wing tip. “Go on. It's all right.”
She reached out again, this time gently caressing his feathers.
“God,” she said, now withdrawing the hand again. “You must have thought I was such an idiot! I mean, reading that book, and telling you about God....”
“I thought you were pretty sharp, actually. You're not far off. I know Him. He's sort of a jerk.”
She blinked as he unconsciously rattled his wings in irritation at his own mention of the Creator. Maybe this hadn't been the best idea after all? No, he needed to be absolutely straight with her now. Now more than ever.
“I should probably tell you a little bit more about that. I'm an angel. But I was kicked out. So I've been down on earth a long, long time. Longer than you can imagine.” He indicated one of the couches, and she sat down. Raziel always told him he tended to get ruffled less when he sat down. He didn't want any distractions, like inadvertently frightening the shit out of the poor girl. So he sat in the chair opposite her.
Phanuel had given them a nice little spot. It looked a bit like one of Wotan’s sitting rooms, come to think of it, after Raziel had been set loose to redecorate Valhalla. Raziel. You really couldn’t avoid her.
The one difference was down here there weren’t any windows looking out on the extensive lands.
“You were kicked out? Like a Fallen angel?” Anna asked. “Like in The Inferno? I mean, no offense! I had to read it for a class.”
“Yeah, that's a version of it. I'm not Lucifer. And I'm not a demon. But there are other guys like me who are down here, some of us because we were exiled, and some of us, like Raziel, because she chooses to be here.”
“Is she really married to Odin?”
Charles laughed. “Yeah, she is. Maybe we could.... OK, I'm getting ahead of myself. I need to explain something really important to you. And it's not easy for me, because I don't understand all of it myself. But I really need to you listen and understand all this. OK?”
Anna nodded, looking, as she often did these days, sweetly confused. Charles remembered how young she had been.
“There's another guy – another angel. He's been an enemy of mine for.... Well, since before I could remember. He actually stole my memories at one point. Raziel's too. So my memory is patchy about some stuff. He's very powerful. And we think he's gotten even more powerful.”
“He sounds scary.”
“Yes. He is scary. He's a scary guy. And just before I had supposedly died on earth – before Charles Ofdensen died – this guy showed up. At my home. I was scared that something bad was going to happen....” Wait, don't dumb it down, Charles thought. “He's done some pretty terrible things to me over the years. And I was afraid he was going to harm my boys – I mean, Dethklok.”
“You really manage a band? I mean, even though you're like, an angel?”
“Yeah, I have a job. Can't just float around on fluffy clouds all day.”
Anna laughed. “Sorry!”
“Naw, that's OK. I realize this must all sound pretty weird.”
“But why do I need to hear about the bad guy?” She had grabbed a throw pillow and was clutching it to her stomach.
“I was in your town trying to poke around and figure out what he was up to. The military base.”
“Oh! Nelda and I! We made you that costume!”
“Yeah. You did.”
“We didn't think it was really for cosplay,” Anna confessed, narrowing her eyes.
“Yeah, I'm not a very good liar, I guess,” Charles admitted. He scowled at her. “Uh, should I ask what you girls thought it was actually for?”
Anna had turned beet red. “Nelda sorta thought it was for some sex thing.”
To his own surprise, Charles found himself laughing. “OK. All right,” he said. “Just don’t tell Ganesh about that.”
“Ganesh?”
“You’ll meet him. It’s OK. But you need to hear this part. The bad guy? His angel name is Uriah. I guess he’s been going by the human name Selatcia or Salactia. I found out he’s planning something big, although I’m not sure what. But the key thing is, he recognized me. I think it was the violin – the Stradivarius, do you remember that?”
“Yeah! You said it was fake?”
“It was. And I think he knew I would be able to tell. I used to make violins. Another thing that happened a long time ago. I….” He looked up at her, and realized he was stalling. “He recognized me. Uriah knew I was in town, knew I worked at that music store.”
Anna let out a small gasp. “The explosion?” she asked, eyes wide. “You think that was him?”
“I am so sorry,” said Charles. “If I had any idea you were in danger – anybody was in danger….”
“What happened to him?” Anna demanded. “Uriah, or whatever?”
“Well, he’s still around….”
“Are you going to get him?”
Charles found that his wings were flapping. “I want to,” he said, trying to steady himself. “We want to. We think you can help. That’s what we’re here to talk about.”
“What can I do? When do I start?”
“OK. OK. You’ll need to think this through….”
“Think? I’ve been down here for years thinking!” she said, tossing away the throw pillow. “I’m through! He killed me! I had shit to do! I was gonna graduate college and do stuff! He’s a fucking murderer! We’ll…. We’ll kick his ass!” She was still sitting, but nearly jumping off the couch.
“Wow. Raziel was right about you,” said Charles.
“Raziel? What did she say about me?”
“She said you’d wanna do it. So, I need to explain a little about what you’d be doing. It’s a little weird.”
Ganesh was singing to himself.
He had a nice voice, and Charles usually liked hearing him (well, when he didn’t call in the backup dancers). But it was a little strange for a couple reasons. For one, he was singing a little Bollywood number about himself, about how Ganesh was the path of fire. It was quite catchy, but did gods always sing devotional hymns to themselves?
And then there was the pentagram. And the rooster blood. It seemed to warrant one of Nathan’s dirges, and not a cheery trance number.
“And you’re sure you’re not gonna blow up Mordhaus with this?” Charles fretted.
“Do not you worry your little head, my dear,” Ganesh breezed, pausing a brief moment to give Charles a smooch on the top of his head. Like Raziel and a twin or something. Charles decided he should probably STFU and let Ganesh concentrate. “And how are we doing?” he inquired of their real child.
“An put da candowse Baap!” Elias reported, as there were now candles spread throughout the room.
“Splendid!” said Ganesh. “You did well, my apprentice!”
“An Boon id da good pwentice!” the boy agreed.
“You really need all those candles?” Charles asked, completely forgetting his instructions to himself.
“Well, no, but they make a lovely scent!” laughed Ganesh. “Now, you sit up on Daddy's lap until we're done!” he told Elias, who scrambled up to sit with Charles. Ganesh winked at him, and with a small flourish, pointed his finger and swept an arm around the room, thus lighting all the candles.
“Oooo!” said Elias.
“Show off,” laughed Charles.
Ganesh now raised a mirror. Charles kept quiet, expecting some kind of impressive incantation.
“Anna, we're all here. Please feel free to make your appearance in our realm.”
“Wait, that's all?” asked Charles.
“Shhh!” hushed Ganesh, setting the mirror down on a table.
“We shoulda brought Nathan,” Charles whispered.
After casting a frown at Charles, Ganesh stood back, waiting.
And then....
The smell of ozone.
“Whoa! Cool!”
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Strange encounters in Purgatory and elsewhere.
Warnings: Nothing much
Notes: Notes after the jump.
Mythklok: breakfast of champions!
So, last time It was MURDER! Or was it? Maybe it was voodoo. Or worse! Charles and Ganesh went to hire a defense attorney (even though both characters are supposed to be, you know, lawyers), while the boys contemplated food storage solutions and unbalanced their blood sugar binging on cupscocks. And as we left off, Charles encountered someone quite unexpected down in Purgatory.
“Mr. Warriner?”
Charles was staring dumbly at her, having no memory of how he had come to stand up. He remained stupidly holding a half-completed LEGO submarine.
“I mean, um, Mr. Ofdensen? I guess?” Anna corrected.
“Uh. Charles is fine,” he told her. “Or people also call me Sariel.”
“I'm Raziel!” said the angel, stepping forward and holding out a well-manicured hand. “But you can call me Raz!”
“Oh. Um. Hi, Raz,” said Anna, taking her offered hand.
“You requested a spot of, er, Red Zinger I believe?” asked Phanuel politely, indicating a servant with a teapot.
“Oh, yeah, thanks Mr. Phanuel!” said Anna brightly.
Anna's soul said, actually, thought Charles. It wasn't her. But it was.
“You may refer to me as Phanuel, my dear,” the grey angel assured the girl. “Or you might more properly say, Honored Phanuel. If you wish a more formal relationship.”
“All right. Honored Phanuel,” said Anna, nervously pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, slight question in her voice.
“Let us all make ourselves comfortable,” said Phanuel, indicating a small table set for a formal tea service. Anna and Raziel sat down as chairs were silently pulled out for them. Charles, after casting a glare at Raziel, which she blithely ignored, tossed the LEGO figure aside and irritably seated himself.
Anna sipped some tea and smiled shyly, and Raziel began nibbling on a tea cake.
“I must be off for a moment. Why don't you begin by telling all assembled. The story. Of how you came to be here?” Phanuel prompted.
“Oh, I already told Mr. Phanuel – I mean, Honored Phanuel,” said Anna, looking pained. She found the sugar bowl, and occupied herself for a moment by plunking sugar cubes into her tea. “Uh, I just woke up here. And it kind of sucked. No, it totally sucked.” She looked at Charles and Raziel, sighing deeply. “I don't mean, you know, the afterlife thing. I mean, that was a surprise. Um. But I had to work in a music shop! I was a clerk! Just.... I was gonna work forever I RETAIL! I was going to college and everything.”
“So what happened, sweetie?” inquired Raziel, curling her legs underneath her to give her access to another tea cake.
“Oh! Mister- I mean, Honored Phanuel came around! And he started asking us what we wanted to to. And I said, you know, I had wanted to work with kids, even though I knew it was idiotic, but he was like, no, and I'm just.... Like, I'm here now,” she concluded, waving her hands at the day care.
“So,” said Charles, who felt he ought to say something, “You like working here all right?”
“Oh, it's pretty cool! We watch the kids and try and figure out what they're interested in. And then, I guess, it's great! They get another chance. They figure out a place for them, and they actually get to go back up, you know....” she said, pointing upwards. “I guess if they're little, their tasks aren't completed? Or something? Though, I dunno,” she said, going back to her tea, “I didn't really think I had gotten the chance to complete anything.” She shook her head. “I mean, I couldn't even drink yet. I mean, legally.”
Charles cringed and looked at his untouched cup of tea.
“But, anyway, that Mister- Honored Phanuel guys is, you know, pretty cool,” commented Anna.
“He's my father!” grinned Raziel.
“Oh,” said Anna, suddenly bringing her attention around to Raziel. “Uh, so, like, how does this work? Is he Lucifer, or what?”
“Naw, we got rid of Lucifer. He was a douche,” said Raziel.
Anna flashed a glance at Charles who nodded. “Uh, but he's like an angel?” she asked.
“Yup!” said Raziel. “And I'm an angel, and Sariel is an angel!”
“So, you guys are related to each other?” asked Anna.
“Sure!” said Raziel. “Phanuel is a grandfather! I have two kids at home! Wanna see?” She was already taking out her cell phone and scootching her chair closer to Anna. “That's Liam. And that's Abigail.”
“Oh. She looks like you,” said Anna, who sounded slightly confused.
Raziel beamed with pride. “And there's Wotan with the kids....”
“Wait, Wotan? You mean Odin thunder god guy?” asked Anna.
“Thor really does thunder, but it's a common mistake.”
Anna frowned. “But Wotan? He actually … exists too?”
“Heehee. He's my husband, silly!” giggled Raziel, tapping Anna on the knee. Anna cast a confused glance at Charles who nodded. “And here's the kids with my nephew, Boon! That's Sariel's boy!” said Raziel, pointing to Charles.
“You have a little boy?” Anna asked Charles.
“Yeah. I have a son now,” Charles told her.
“Wait, you're-” said Anna, now thinking it through. “Wait, are you the sister Mr. War- Charles was always talking about?”
“Really? He was ALWAYS talking about me?” grinned Raziel.
“Not ALWAYS,” grumbled Charles.
“We’ve always been really close,” bragged Raziel. “Well, except for those centuries when he wasn’t speaking to me. But that’s all in the past!”
“Look, Anna. Has anyone told you the reason you're here? I mean, the reason you … died?”
Anna shook her head. “The music store? I think it collapsed. Like a gas leak or something?”
“There was a man.... Not really a man-”
“Ah, here we are!” bustled Phanuel. “I am afraid I shall have to call an end to today's meeting, as Anna is needed back at her duties.”
“Oh, yeah, sure!” said Anna, who had already risen.
“You two will come down again soon I assume?” Phanuel asked pleasantly.
“Yeah, I definitely wanna bring the kids!” grinned Raziel, who had also stood up.
“Little one,” Phanuel warned with much mock sternness, “there will be a count of children in your company when you depart!”
“Awww, father,” said Raziel taking his arm and wandering off a few paces.
“Anna,” said Charles, who was also rising. The girl turned. He drew nearer, closing the distance between them, but then stopped short. “If you need anything.... Or even if you don't need anything.... Ever....” He stood awkwardly for a moment, and then thoughtlessly reached over and pushed a strand of her hair out of her face behind her ear.
And quite suddenly, Charles was the recipient of an enthusiastic hug.
“I’m OK. I think. I mean. If I think of something. I’ll tell Honored Phanuel. OK?” she said, beaming at him in a quite frightful manner.
“Uh. Yeah,” muttered Charles as Anna turned and departed back towards the day care.
“Come on, lazy butt. We gotta get back,” said Raziel, who was once again digging her sharp little fingernails into Charles’ arm. Seeming struck dumb, he let himself once again be hustled through the nether world, and did not seem to come back to himself until they had arrived back at Valhalla.
And then….
“Raziel!” snapped Charles, angrily throwing off her small hand. “What have you done? Why didn’t you…. Why didn’t you warn me?”
“Oh, I couldn’t have warned you, Sariel,” said Raziel, throwing off her hat and flopping down on a couch. She started to remove her gloves. “You know how terrible that idiot Lucifer was at record keeping! My father had the devil’s own time. Devil’s time, ha,” she chuckled, smiling.
“You think this is funny?” he whispered.
“Sariel! Quit being dramatic.”
“Quit being-? You heartless … bitch!”
“Yeah, I told them you’d react this way. Look, put down your terrible flaming sword for a minute and listen,” she lectured, waving a finger at him. “I assume you want Pickles, back, yeah?”
“I want-? What?” Charles stared at her a long moment, eyes narrowing in fury. “Wotan. Is this your husband’s fucking plot? Because, I want nothing to do with it?”
“It was actually my suggestion, Sariel.”
Charles whirled around at the sound of Ganesh’s soft voice. He and Wotan had just come into the sitting room.
“You should listen to this one,” Wotan nodded, striding over to a cupboard.
“I am so sorry, my love,” said Ganesh. “This is … a delicate matter.”
“Yeah, it is delicate, Ganesh. I KILLED THAT GIRL. And don’t give me your bullshit about fate. Haven’t I done enough to her?”
“A great wrong has been done to Anna,” Ganesh agreed. “But I think we may be able to … finesse it.”
“Finesse it? She’s dead. She’s fucking away in fucking purgatory.”
“I dunno, it seems pretty cheery down there now actually,” offered Raziel.
“Raz!” warned Wotan, who now carried a decanter and an armful of glasses. “You’re not helping.
“My father does a good job!” insisted Raziel.
“Yeah, he runs an adorable fucking prison,” snapped Sariel.
“Prison?” said Raziel.
“WINGS DOWN!” thundered Wotan. “You two, quit acting like spoiled Seraphim!” he told Raziel.
“Hmpf,” said Raziel.
Charles slumped down on a couch opposite Raziel and put his head in his hands.
“Sariel. I have spoken at length with my Uncle Brahma about this matter,” said Ganesh softly as he sat down next to Charles.
“What does Brahma have to do with this?”
“Sadly, nothing. If it were in our domain, things might be different.”
“Different?” said Charles, looking up. He laughed bitterly. “Yeah, you guys would lose her paperwork for 50 years.”
“And then,” said Ganesh, “she might perhaps be granted a new incarnation.”
Charles studied Ganesh for a moment. “But you just said it’s not you guys’ business.”
“True,” said Wotan, handing over a glass of amber Scotch to Charles. “We’re messing with powers we don’t quite understand. A new one for us!”
Charles frowned at the liquor, and then downed it in one go, the liquid creating a satisfying burning in his throat. He reached out the glass for another shot. When Wotan had refilled him, he sat back. “Consider yourself lucky you stock the world’s best Scotch, Wotan. All right. Start talking.”
“There are two relevant factors,” Ganesh explained. “The first, as you are aware, is that Anna has been dealt a great wrong. She is, however, as yet not fully aware of this fact. The second is that she departed with her task unfulfilled. That is how she ended up in Purgatory. She has, therefore, the key necessary ingredients for what one might call a restless spirit.”
“And our Ganesh thinks he can conjure her spirit back,” said Wotan.
“Elegba and I, we have some voodoo incantations…” Ganesh began.
“What, a fucking zombie?” asked Charles.
“Well, no,” Ganesh told him. “There is, for one thing, no body.” Charles winced.
“A ghost!” piped up Raziel.
“What, with the rattling chains and shit?” grumbled Charles, who had had terrible luck with restless spirits.
“Yes, precisely,” said Ganesh. “And that may confer upon us a twofold benefit: one proximal and more selfish, the other unfortunately more nebulous, but I believe, worth consideration.”
“Why would she be better off as a ghost than working in Purgatory? At least she’s safe down there.”
“Well, first off, considering the beings who currently oppose us, it would be clearly to our advantage to have an untraceable agent.”
“You gave us this idea, son,” said Wotan. “Checking up on them, when they thought you were dead?”
“I am not liking this,” said Charles. “I don’t like this at all.”
“The important thing is,” Ganesh urged, “if Elegba and I are successful in raising her spirit from Purgatory, we may be able to find her way to Uncle’s garden.”
“So,” asked Charles suspiciously, “you raise her, and then Brahma takes over.”
“Er,” said Ganesh.
“Yeah, I thought so,” grumbled Charles, tossing back more liquor.
“Brahma thinks she’d have to show her worth. Prove her mettle!” said Wotan.
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” said Raziel. “She has a noble spirit.”
“Raziel, you talked to her about your fucking kids for five minutes. What the hell do you know?”
“I know you need to give her the chance to avenge her own death!” said Raziel.
“Yes, Sariel, that is the last important point,” said Ganesh. “If we leave her as she is, in ignorance of all this, I cannot call her. We would need to tell her.”
“You’d need to tell her, son,” said Wotan.
“Don’t you “son” me, Wotan! I’m not one of your half-wits!” said Charles. “I got an answer: NO!”
“WHAT!” fumed Raziel, who had also leapt to her feet.
“Raz,” muttered Wotan, tugging the little angel back down. “Sariel, I’m not gonna accept that answer. You go and you think about it.
“I don’t need to think about it!” Charles declared.
“Sariel,” said Ganesh.
“Fuck off,” grumbled Charles, and he was there no more. Ganesh shrugged at Wotan, who nodded at him, and then he too was there no more.
“That went well!” sang Raziel.
“Raz!” said Wotan, laughing despite himself and giving her a very un-kingly pat on the rump.
“What the fuck is GOING ON, Ganesh?” demanded Nathan as he and the Hindu god watched Charles seethe off down the hall. “I haven’t seen him this pissed off since we accidentally destroyed Cincinnati.”
“Cincinnati?” asked Ganesh, watching Charles disappear around a corner.
“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!”
Ganesh glanced over to Nathan. “Er, Sariel is currently feeling a bit cross with me.”
“He gets angry with you too?”
Trying not to smile, Ganesh turned to face Nathan. “We, yes, certainly. On occasion. It is nothing you need-”
“Did he YELL?”
“Rather a lot, I'm afraid,” Ganesh admitted.
“Come on!” said Nathan, suddenly yanking on Ganesh's arm. “Oh, wait,” said Nathan, now abruptly reversing direction. “We gotta go by your room. YOU CAN'T BE NAKED.”
“Er,” said Ganesh, now completely confused.
“Oh, this is actually quite nice,” he commented not so very much later, as he sat in the living room hot tub with Nathan. A silent Klokateer had put a martini in his hand almost before he had sat down. A very dry martini. Yes, it was quite nice here.
“This is how we deal with the AWESOME WEIGHT OF CELEBRITY,” Nathan explained.
“You ams dealings wit' da stresses, Ganoshes?” inquired Skwisgaar, who had just shown up with Toki.
“Well, er-”
“Charles YELLED AT HIM!” noted Nathan as the Scandanavians splashed into the tub.
“Ja, he ams does dat.”
“Well, not really at me-” Ganesh began.
“Ams you breaks up nows?” worried Toki.
“Pffft. We ams froms da brokens homes. Well, I ams deals wit' dat befores....” said Skwisgaar resignedly.
“No no no no no!” said Ganesh. “Sariel and I have an issue, and we shall work it through-”
“What kinds of swissues?” wondered Toki. “Ams da sexes?”
“Yeah, it always gets down to THAT,” nodded Nathan.
Ganesh coughed, trying not to choke to death on his martini. “Aw, dat ams OK,” Skwisgaar counseled, helpfully patting him on the back.
“What'sch wrong?” asked Murderface from the edge of the tub.
“Charles and Ganoshes ams divorcgings!” wailed Toki.
“Well, I knew it wouldn't lascht,” reasoned Murderface, splashing loudly into the tub.
“So, who gets custody?” wondered Nathan. “Can we come hang with you on weekends? Will you TAKE US TO THE ZOO?”
“I ams likes da pandas!” volunteered Toki.
“Ja, Ganoshe ams our weekends dads,” sighed Skwisgaar.
“Boys!” laughed Ganesh, who had just regained his breath. “We are NOT separating! This is related to a matter during the time when he left you.”
Ganesh looked around: the band mates had suddenly quieted, the only noise now was the soft bubbling of the hot tub.
“Is he going away again?” Nathan finally asked.
“No. No, he is definitely not.”
“Did he ams miss us?” Toki finally asked.
“He missed you all terribly,” said Ganesh, smiling. “And I truly believe he will never do anything of the like again.” As the band members actually looked thoughtful, he continued, “This relates to some, er, unfinished business. It still troubles him, as you no doubt witnessed. And we are endeavoring to work things out. Now, I need to let Sariel fill you in on details, as he feels it is necessary.”
“Scho….” Said Murderface finally.
“Yes William?”
“If you’re not divorsching, that meansch you’ll schtill be schtaying in the schuite?”
“No, William, you may not have our suite of rooms,” chuckled Ganesh.
“DAMN!” said Nathan. “They have a really AWESOME balcony.”
Charles smelled the cigar smoke before he reached his office. “A visitor for you, sire,” noted Klokateer 31415, who sat at the reception desk. “I apologize that she is not on the schedule, but I thought her importance warranted it.”
“Right as usual, Pie,” nodded Charles, entering.
“Sharl,” said Erzulie D'en Tort, who politely stood up. “That most attractive young man at the outer office said it would be all right for me to await inside,” she said.
“No problem, Erzulie, really,” said Charles shaking her hand. “We're all really grateful you could take this on.”
“I shall make this short, as I reckon you are a busy individual,” she said, gracefully easing her bulk back into the chair.
She must have been almost as big as Nathan, but moved as easily as a dancer. She probably is a dancer, Charles thought. Everyone dances except us angels. We only dance on the head of fucking pin. “Go ahead,” he said.
“We had not yet made financial arrangements, although I know your reputation enough to trust you on this matter, I thought it best to initiate discussions at the earliest possible time.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry! To be frank, I have no fucking clue as to the state of Dick's affairs, though I did ask Ganesh and some of my accountants to go through it. We'll take care of payment, so I'm the one to talk to.”
“Marvelous. I have a charitable trust set up, you might arrange finances to go directly to them.”
“Lemme guess: women and babies?”
“You will do good, like it or not,” grinned Erzulie.
“No, that's fine, Ganesh is always nagging me....” Charles trailed off.
Erzulie frowned but did not comment. “That Knubbler is one eccentric bastard.”
“He's fucking nuts,” Charles agreed. “Why he's always worked so well with us, I think.”
“I like him. Makes things interesting.”
“We're really glad to have your services. Ganesh has done some defense work....”
“Ah, but your lovely husband defends innocent men,” said Erzulie.
Charles nodded. “But, still.... I honestly don't think he did it. I mean, I don't think he thinks he did it.”
“Have you been to the residence, then?”
“Carpathians? Yeah. First thing. Before the press showed up.”
Erzulie nodded, exhaling cigar smoke. “The place reeks of mischief.”
Charles steepled his hands. “Anything specific you could tell me?”
Erzulie shook her head. “Unfortunately, that is not my specialty. But you mentioned those old queens, Chango and Orula are currently on your payroll? As well as every other supernatural being in the world,” she chuckled.
“I have considered that. Those two are a bit … showy sometimes,” said Charles.
“Or you might send over that husband of yours. I understand Elegba has been filling that pretty head with some of our trade?”
Charles laughed despite himself. “Erzulie, Ganesh is actually a smart guy.”
“Impossible. No one would fit a smart head with that fine an ass. It could set me straight. No mean feat!”
Charles shook his head. “I'll take what you've said into consideration. Is there anything else you require?”
“If you have any especially pretty legal assistants over here. Of course, with your standard uniform, I suppose it would be difficult to tell.”
“Well, it's not our Legal, but I think some of the Klokateers in the Female Online Division might need a distraction.”
“That would be splendid,” said Erzulie, gracefully rising and once more extending a hand.
“Like I said, tell us if you need anything. Anything,” Charles repeated.
“I will be in touch, my dear Sharl,” she promised, and then was there no more, leaving only the fragrance of cigar smoke and tropical flowers.
Charles checked his Vacheron Constantin and sighed. A band meeting was the last thing he needed right now, but probably better to head them off in the meeting room than to have them all invade his office, which inevitably happened when they feared he had forgotten them. He somewhat reluctantly trudged out of the office and down the corridor to the meeting room. They were all assembled there already, though they must have recently been in the hot tub, as a couple of them hadn’t bothered to get dressed, and were sitting, still dripping, wearing only large white towels.
“Uh, Nathan, is there any particular reason why Toki has that?” asked Charles, eyeing the rather large claw hammer the guitarist was currently wielding.
“Dis ams my gravel! We ams goings by da Rabbert’s Rules of Mordor!” Toki explained.
“Yeah, it’s no wonder we never get anything done at these meetings,” agreed Nathan. “THERE ARE RULES! I’ve read them. If you’re gonna have a meeting things have to be MOVED AND SECONDED and shit like that.”
“You guys wanna conduct the meeting by Robert’s Rules of Order?” asked Charles, raising an eyebrow. “OK. Fine by me. So, what did you want to talk to me about?”
“Song topics!” said Nathan.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“We ams needs to know about what ams proportionates,” supplied Skwisgaar, adjusting his towel and continuing to noodle on his guitar. As the guitar was dripping, Charles assumed it had gone into the hot tub as well.
“What’s appropriate? For death metal?” asked Charles. “Look, you guys know I try not to interfere with the artistic side of matters.”
“We can’t sing about SATAN any more!” explained Nathan.
“Becasche he wasche kind of a dousche,” added Murderface, pulling his towel up over his belly, which stubbornly flopped back over the towel once again.
“Satan was an AWFUL DOUCHE,” agreed Nathan.
“An’ da new dude ams Raziel’s dad!” whispered Toki.
“An’ it ams actuallies pretty nice down dere,” said Skwisgaar. “I ams boughts da nice guitar, and dey plays da tasteful music.”
“Ja, ams pretty taste-ical!”
“Look, maybe I’m not understanding here,” said Charles, who knew damned well he wasn’t understanding what could not be understood by a mere immortal brain, “but why can’t you guys just go back to whatever it was you were singing about before….”
“You don’t even KNOW?” grumbled Nathan.
“Nobodies ams much undetstangles your singsing,” sighed Skwisgaar.
“Well, that’s true,” allowed Nathan.
“Intestines and mermaids and ice cream cones,” said Charles.
“WRONG!” said Nathan. “I TABLE THAT MOTION!” And suddenly, Toki was whacking the table like crazy with the claw hammer.
“What?” asked Charles.
“The ice cream cone one was Pickles,” snorted Nathan over the pounding. “But, yeah, I guess the other stuff is correct.”
“Toki, would you mind stopping that?” asked Charles, holding his sensitive ears.
“Nathans ams tabled your motion!” giggled the Norwegian.
“Toki, dat ams annoyingses,” Skwisgaar told him.
“But we ams runs da meetings by da Rules of Mordor!” protested Toki, who did cease with the hammering. “Dat’s what we ams agreed!”
“So is Sauron behind this?” sighed Charles.
“What?” asked Murderface, as the band turned to stare at Charles. “I don’t get it.”
Charles sighed, but noticed that Skwisgaar was covering a laugh by pretending to cough. “I will fetch a Hobbit to explain it to you, William,” said Charles, which got Skwisgaar to openly snicker.
“What ams funnies, Skwisgaar?” demanded Toki.
“Toki, ams you not reads Härskarringen?” Skwisgaar asked.
“No! And you ams not reads it neither, because it ams not da geetar!”
“Ja, dat ams true, but I ams listened to da Rambled On songs,” Skwisgaar told him. “We ams stolens at least five numbers froms it in my bands Gangagar,” he added smugly, deftly fingering a very fake Zep riff.
“Look, guys, could we maybe table the discussion of possible past intellectual property violations and get on with concluding this meeting?” asked Charles, who hastily added, “Oh, crap,” as Toki began to once again enthusiastically pound on the woodwork.
“GIMME THAT!” yelled Nathan, grabbing up Toki’s claw hammer.
“Ams my gravel!” protested Toki.
“Here, Toki, why don’t you keep this?” sighed Charles, tossing the guitarist a staple remover.
“Wowee,” said Toki, clicking the staple remover. He tried it on his hand. “Ow, dis ams hurts.” He pinched his hand again. “Ow!” he said again. And then continued this for the remainder of the meeting.
“Did you bring schuffischient schtable removersch for everyone, Ofdenschen?” demanded Murderface.
“No. No I didn’t,” snapped Charles, whose boundless patience was nevertheless wearing thin. “Nathan, why can’t you simply write more songs pertaining to murder and blood and internal organs….”
“But that’s MISSING SOMETHING! My work demands AN EPISTEMOLOGY! We write about ETERNAL VERITIES. As well as homicidal mermaids and all that other shit.”
“Well, that’s very interesting, Nathan,” said Charles, who, quite despite himself, was now feeling genuinely interested. “I wasn’t aware you felt that way….”
“Death metal screams in anguish at YOUR IMMORTAL SOUL,” intoned Nathan, now warming to the topic.
Charles paused. Something about the way Nathan said it. “What did you say?” he asked.
“YOUR IMMORTAL SOUL,” said Nathan, now putting a bit more umpf into it. “We talk to your immortal soul. About guts an ice cream cones.”
Charles stared at him for a moment, and then, without a word, rose and departed the meeting room.
“HEY!” shouted Nathan. “I didn't CLOSE THE MEETING!”
Toki snatched away the gavel and cheerily bonked it on the table. Nathan glared at him.
Charles walked rapidly down the hall, head down, and seemingly lost in thought. He did not say a word to anyone until he reached the door of his quarters.
The suite was dark, the only illumination a small reading lamp.
“Ganesh?”
“Yes?”
Ganesh was sprawled out on the couch, halfway pretending to be reading a book, untouched drink sitting on the coffee table in front of him.
Charles crossed his arms. “Were you trying to fuck with my karma again?”
Ganesh closed his book. He touched the glass of Scotch, but didn't pick it up. At last he looked up at Charles, brown eyes lost in shadow.
He nodded.
Charles walked over and sat down on the couch, leaning his back against Ganesh's legs. “All right,” he said.
“This coil is transitory. It is illusory. When my time is up, as it inevitably shall be, and it is my part to pass on....” said Ganesh sadly. “I could not think to be at peace, were my spirit not with yours.”
“Well, that's nice,” said Charles. “But you know, for one thing, I like being alive, and I think I'm going to go ahead with it for a while. We've gotta raise the kid for one thing: I don't think immortal spirits are very good at letting you get into their lap or wiping off mozzarella. And I'm pretty sure after all the trouble I'll wanna see the grandkids, and probably their kids, because I'm an asshole that way. Plus, I have to stay around to deal with keeping my FUCKING IDIOT BAND out of trouble,” he added.
“Sariel, I realize that. But judgment does come to us all. And the passing.... It matters, where you go, and who you see. Anna's case just reinforces that for me.”
“When you're Fallen.... Well, you just don't see things like that.”
“I can appreciate that.”
Charles kicked off his shoes. He reached over and picked up the glass of Scotch. He crossed his legs, leaning back into Ganesh's legs, looking at the dark liquid. “I guess, when I first got here, I thought I'd pass some years on earth, and then flame out somehow. But then it was more years, and more years.”
“It passes, without you realizing,” Ganesh noted.
“I didn't know if I was digging myself in deeper or what. I think I didn't give a shit,” said Charles, sipping the whiskey now. “With Our Father, you just don't know, from one day to the next. I spent aeons trying to figure out the bastard.”
“When you died, during our dream, you went to Brahma's garden. And you have passed up there by chance on other occasions.”
“Well, that was a dream, and other times, I was just fucking high. But, yeah.” Ganesh held out a hand, and Charles offered over the whiskey glass. “Look, let's face it, the time I had to go without you, after you died that time, I didn't do very well myself on my own.”
“As I have told you, I discussed Anna's case with Uncle. I cannot recall ever having such a deep nor wide-ranging discussion with him. As you know, he has a unique perspective.”
“Yeah, because he's the only one.”
“Which is perhaps for the best,” sighed Ganesh, downing the whiskey. “I apologize for being presumptive, but I did ask about.... About you.”
“Huh. What did Brahma say?” asked Charles, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ganesh was gathering himself. It seemed an eternity. “It is exactly the situation you despise, I fear, a raft of if’s and but’s,” Ganesh finally told him.
Charles found himself unable to speak, to move, to breathe.
“Is everything all right, dear?” asked Ganesh.
“There’s an if?” answered Charles. “For me?”
Ganesh’s knee was now in motion, rubbing slowly up and down Charles’ back, just between the shoulder blades.
“There is an if, my love. There is a maybe. For you. For us.”
Charles now found himself genuinely unable to speak.
“I am so terribly sorry I can offer you nothing more,” Ganesh said.
“You gimme a single ray of light. After so many centuries. After….” Charles removed his eyeglasses, carefully setting them down on the coffee table. He wiped his eyes on a sleeve. He reached over to accept the glass Ganesh had just poured for him, and downed the shot in one, the burning flowing down his throat, warming him.
And then he was on his feet, and before he even realized what he was doing, the glass was hurled across the living room, into the dark fireplace, where it shattered, creating a million tiny slivers, which glinted, weakly but definitely, in the light of a single lamp.
Ganesh, who had sat up in surprise, was looking at him.
“I still need to think,” Charles told him. “About Anna. I can’t do this for me. I won’t do this for me.”
“I understand,” said Ganesh. “I understand completely.”
“OK, Raziel, you wanna fight?”
“Sure!”
“I’ll duel you. For the girl’s soul.”
Charles had found Raziel curled up in the same sitting room in Valhalla, reading a book and scratching a gigantic wolf behind the ears.
“Cool!” said Raziel, who had already jumped up drawn a weapon.
“Here’s how it works: if I win, I’ll let Ganesh conjure her soul up here. If you win, she stays in Purgatory.”
“WHAT?” bellowed Raziel.
“What’s wrong?”
She was glowering at him. “I can’t let you win! That would be dishonorable!” she bitched.
“Who says you let me win?” grinned Charles.
“Oh, you know damned well you could never defeat me.”
“Maybe when we were both angels. But we’re stuck down here. And now I’m an Ifa priest, and you’re just a lazy queen with a big mouth.”
Raziel raised an eyebrow. She relaxed out of her stance. “Oh. You’re trying to make me mad.”
“It’s working.”
“It is! You know,” she said, “you are one fucked up little angel, Sariel.” She wore a dark grin.
“I am. So, you wanna fuck up your living room, or should we find some place else?”
“Yeah, I suppose Wotan would be after me if I slice the upholstery again. Let’s go outside to the scary druid place.”
She meant a circle of standing stones, not too far from the main building. Since no vegetation grew in the circle, it had been the place she had chosen to tutor Sariel on use of the flaming sword. The standing stone he had sliced through during practice still lay on its side. They both stood a while in admiration.
“That was a good clean slice!” said Raziel, going back into her en garde posture. “You ready?”
“Oh hell yes.”
And then they were everywhere, and everything, fighting, the duel far too quick for any human eyes, and most probably too fast for any but the most superior supernatural swordsman.
Raziel had not gotten lazy. If anything, she had gotten more deliberate, more deadly.
Charles had the advantage - which did not happen often for him - of being taller, with a longer reach. And he hadn’t sparred often with Raziel since his Ifa initiation, which had granted him some additional magic.
On the other hand, a skillful opponent had always had one effect on Raziel: it made her fight harder. She truly seemed to be an extension of her sword. It was breathtaking, if damned frustrating to counter.
For those who have only seen duels that take place in motion pictures, sword fights, in the real world, are often disappointing to watch. There are usually a limited amount of blows – sometimes merely just one – and then, death or dismemberment follows for the unlucky opponent. But this match seemed to go on throughout the hours, through the afternoon, for days, for weeks, until there was nothing else around them, nothing but two angels, set on vengeance.
And then it was over, Charles on the ground, Raziel’s blade at his neck. And a silence, as he listened to his own gasping breath.
Raziel was puffing too. “SHIT!” she exclaimed, extending an arm to help Charles up.
“You beat me,” he told her.
“I’m like that fucking scorpion in Ganesh’s story! Shit!”
“It’s OK. Raziel,” said Charles, dusting himself off, making quite certain all his limbs were intact. “I’m going to tell her. I’m going to tell Anna.”
Raziel wiped sweat from her forehead with a sleeve. “Wait, you’re going to what? Then what the fuck was this about?” she asked, waving her sword.
He shrugged. “You are a lot of things. But you’re definitely not the scorpion. For one thing, you would’ve warned the turtle right off you’d sting him.”
“Yeah, that’s true. And then I probably would have yelled at him to swim the fuck faster, so we’d reach the other shore before the poison hit. But wait, what the fuck are we talking about?”
“There’s a reason I imagined talking to you, back when I was investigating Uriah. You never tell me what I wanna hear. You tell me what I need to hear. Even if I act like an ass about it. For a century or two.”
She blinked, head tilted. “Is that a compliment or something?”
“It might actually be.”
“Huh.” She casually tossed her sword in the air, where it disappeared to somewhere. “You want some pie or something.”
“You got some pie?”
“We could probably dig some up.”
Pickles sat back and lit up a cigarette. He smiled as the smoke gently burned his lungs, enjoying the sunlight. Even though he had been smoking various substances since he had been a kid, he had never been a big fan of tobacco cigarettes. It seemed a big waste, for one thing. All that inhalation, and maybe you’d get a jumpy.
He had tried cigarettes, of course. He had tried just about everything. Back in the day, when Dethklok had just been starting out, he would sometimes bum one of Charles’ Marlboros. There they’d be, tangled in sheets at some motel, having just fucked the everloving daylights out of each other, and Charles now rapidly settling back into that funny, quiet funk that always seemed to choke him off.
Charles had been such a fucking cipher in those days. Oh, god, it was amazing. That was the trouble with being a bright kid like Pickles: you spent most of your time bored as fuck, boring school, boring parents, boring friends, boring town. He spent a lot of his life slowing down his restless mind, cloaking it in a nice, muzzy haze. He always knew all the answers before they were asked. And people? They were just boring.
But Charles? Where did he come from? Where was he going? Where the hell had he learned to give a blow job like that, because, Jesus.
And so it had continued, off and on and off and on again. Until Ganesh. Though he wasn’t really the problem. Well, not directly. He was a smart enough guy, but just too fucking straightforward to really be that interesting. No disrespect to the guy: he obviously loved Charles, even with all the fucked-uped-ness. And he adored the kid. Well, really, how could you not like the kid? Pickles had tried his hardest to hate the kid, thrown all of his anger and jealousy that way, and he still couldn’t help but like the kid.
And anyway, it wasn’t the kid. It was what the kid and what Ganesh were doing to Charles. His Charles. His gloriously twisted Charles. They were straightening him out. It was just little things, but you could see. Charles would stick a Band-Aid on the kid’s knee, and suddenly his weird tic about being touched seemed to fall away. All the mysteries, all the secrets: everything Pickles had thought he could spend a lifetime poking with a pointed stick – so all if it was just down to hugging a fucking toddler?
Well, that kind of sucked.
And he was beginning to understand the cigarette thing, too. It wasn’t really about the cigarette. It was about creating this little island of time and space to yourself. He had excused himself, and no one at all had objected. You need a cigarette, you need a cigarette, and nowadays all those idiots were convinced a single puff would give them instant cancer. He was all alone in a space guarded not by masked men, but toxic fumes and stupidity.
“You got anudder?”
Pickles looked up. Well, he was almost alone. She had started following him out on his smoke breaks sometimes. He politely offered one from the pack and a light.
Funny, you weren’t supposed to look sexy with a cigarette any more, but she managed to pull it off. But the really funny thing was, back inside, back in the group, under the wan neon lights, she looked like nothing special. But hand her a Camel, and there she was, sweeping back her slick black hair so you could see that glorious widow’s peak, crossing her legs, exhaling the thin stream of smoke.
“Dot vas a stoopid session,” she groused, eyes flashing.
“I’m gettin’ somethin’ out of it,” Pickles allowed.
“I am me,” she told him. “I vill belief vat I vant to belief!”
“Eh. It don’t upset me.”
“Really?”
“Look, take it from me. I done dese rehab sessions before. Yoo smile an’ act like yoo give a feck. An’ den eventually, dey let yoo out.”
“I t’ought you vere tellink me you vere gleanink new insights?”
“It don’t hurt. Like my friend Ganesh says….” Pickles paused. “Well, you prolly don’t wanna know. An’ we’re usually high when we discuss dat philosophical shit anyways.”
She was frowning at him. “Vhy are you here? You do not haff to be.”
“An yoo doo?”
She seemed uncertain, just for a moment. “Dey haff explained it to me. It is for my own protection, dey say.”
“Protection? From whoo?” he laughed. He was up, grinding out the spent cigarette with a tennis shoe now.
“Dat iss a gut question,” she said.
Pickles inclined his head, and, with a seeming regret, she tapped out her cigarette, and accompanied him back inside the nondescript concrete building.
She was staring at him in wonder.
“So, uh,” said Charles. “This is.... I wanted to show you what I really look like.”
“Wow.”
Anna had shyly stuck out a hand, and then, probably thinking the better of it, dropped her arm.
Charles stuck out a wing tip. “Go on. It's all right.”
She reached out again, this time gently caressing his feathers.
“God,” she said, now withdrawing the hand again. “You must have thought I was such an idiot! I mean, reading that book, and telling you about God....”
“I thought you were pretty sharp, actually. You're not far off. I know Him. He's sort of a jerk.”
She blinked as he unconsciously rattled his wings in irritation at his own mention of the Creator. Maybe this hadn't been the best idea after all? No, he needed to be absolutely straight with her now. Now more than ever.
“I should probably tell you a little bit more about that. I'm an angel. But I was kicked out. So I've been down on earth a long, long time. Longer than you can imagine.” He indicated one of the couches, and she sat down. Raziel always told him he tended to get ruffled less when he sat down. He didn't want any distractions, like inadvertently frightening the shit out of the poor girl. So he sat in the chair opposite her.
Phanuel had given them a nice little spot. It looked a bit like one of Wotan’s sitting rooms, come to think of it, after Raziel had been set loose to redecorate Valhalla. Raziel. You really couldn’t avoid her.
The one difference was down here there weren’t any windows looking out on the extensive lands.
“You were kicked out? Like a Fallen angel?” Anna asked. “Like in The Inferno? I mean, no offense! I had to read it for a class.”
“Yeah, that's a version of it. I'm not Lucifer. And I'm not a demon. But there are other guys like me who are down here, some of us because we were exiled, and some of us, like Raziel, because she chooses to be here.”
“Is she really married to Odin?”
Charles laughed. “Yeah, she is. Maybe we could.... OK, I'm getting ahead of myself. I need to explain something really important to you. And it's not easy for me, because I don't understand all of it myself. But I really need to you listen and understand all this. OK?”
Anna nodded, looking, as she often did these days, sweetly confused. Charles remembered how young she had been.
“There's another guy – another angel. He's been an enemy of mine for.... Well, since before I could remember. He actually stole my memories at one point. Raziel's too. So my memory is patchy about some stuff. He's very powerful. And we think he's gotten even more powerful.”
“He sounds scary.”
“Yes. He is scary. He's a scary guy. And just before I had supposedly died on earth – before Charles Ofdensen died – this guy showed up. At my home. I was scared that something bad was going to happen....” Wait, don't dumb it down, Charles thought. “He's done some pretty terrible things to me over the years. And I was afraid he was going to harm my boys – I mean, Dethklok.”
“You really manage a band? I mean, even though you're like, an angel?”
“Yeah, I have a job. Can't just float around on fluffy clouds all day.”
Anna laughed. “Sorry!”
“Naw, that's OK. I realize this must all sound pretty weird.”
“But why do I need to hear about the bad guy?” She had grabbed a throw pillow and was clutching it to her stomach.
“I was in your town trying to poke around and figure out what he was up to. The military base.”
“Oh! Nelda and I! We made you that costume!”
“Yeah. You did.”
“We didn't think it was really for cosplay,” Anna confessed, narrowing her eyes.
“Yeah, I'm not a very good liar, I guess,” Charles admitted. He scowled at her. “Uh, should I ask what you girls thought it was actually for?”
Anna had turned beet red. “Nelda sorta thought it was for some sex thing.”
To his own surprise, Charles found himself laughing. “OK. All right,” he said. “Just don’t tell Ganesh about that.”
“Ganesh?”
“You’ll meet him. It’s OK. But you need to hear this part. The bad guy? His angel name is Uriah. I guess he’s been going by the human name Selatcia or Salactia. I found out he’s planning something big, although I’m not sure what. But the key thing is, he recognized me. I think it was the violin – the Stradivarius, do you remember that?”
“Yeah! You said it was fake?”
“It was. And I think he knew I would be able to tell. I used to make violins. Another thing that happened a long time ago. I….” He looked up at her, and realized he was stalling. “He recognized me. Uriah knew I was in town, knew I worked at that music store.”
Anna let out a small gasp. “The explosion?” she asked, eyes wide. “You think that was him?”
“I am so sorry,” said Charles. “If I had any idea you were in danger – anybody was in danger….”
“What happened to him?” Anna demanded. “Uriah, or whatever?”
“Well, he’s still around….”
“Are you going to get him?”
Charles found that his wings were flapping. “I want to,” he said, trying to steady himself. “We want to. We think you can help. That’s what we’re here to talk about.”
“What can I do? When do I start?”
“OK. OK. You’ll need to think this through….”
“Think? I’ve been down here for years thinking!” she said, tossing away the throw pillow. “I’m through! He killed me! I had shit to do! I was gonna graduate college and do stuff! He’s a fucking murderer! We’ll…. We’ll kick his ass!” She was still sitting, but nearly jumping off the couch.
“Wow. Raziel was right about you,” said Charles.
“Raziel? What did she say about me?”
“She said you’d wanna do it. So, I need to explain a little about what you’d be doing. It’s a little weird.”
Ganesh was singing to himself.
He had a nice voice, and Charles usually liked hearing him (well, when he didn’t call in the backup dancers). But it was a little strange for a couple reasons. For one, he was singing a little Bollywood number about himself, about how Ganesh was the path of fire. It was quite catchy, but did gods always sing devotional hymns to themselves?
And then there was the pentagram. And the rooster blood. It seemed to warrant one of Nathan’s dirges, and not a cheery trance number.
“And you’re sure you’re not gonna blow up Mordhaus with this?” Charles fretted.
“Do not you worry your little head, my dear,” Ganesh breezed, pausing a brief moment to give Charles a smooch on the top of his head. Like Raziel and a twin or something. Charles decided he should probably STFU and let Ganesh concentrate. “And how are we doing?” he inquired of their real child.
“An put da candowse Baap!” Elias reported, as there were now candles spread throughout the room.
“Splendid!” said Ganesh. “You did well, my apprentice!”
“An Boon id da good pwentice!” the boy agreed.
“You really need all those candles?” Charles asked, completely forgetting his instructions to himself.
“Well, no, but they make a lovely scent!” laughed Ganesh. “Now, you sit up on Daddy's lap until we're done!” he told Elias, who scrambled up to sit with Charles. Ganesh winked at him, and with a small flourish, pointed his finger and swept an arm around the room, thus lighting all the candles.
“Oooo!” said Elias.
“Show off,” laughed Charles.
Ganesh now raised a mirror. Charles kept quiet, expecting some kind of impressive incantation.
“Anna, we're all here. Please feel free to make your appearance in our realm.”
“Wait, that's all?” asked Charles.
“Shhh!” hushed Ganesh, setting the mirror down on a table.
“We shoulda brought Nathan,” Charles whispered.
After casting a frown at Charles, Ganesh stood back, waiting.
And then....
The smell of ozone.
“Whoa! Cool!”
