“Your dog?” repeated Syph thoughtfully. “In all of Heaven and Earth, there is nothing so embodied of unconditional love as that of our loyal canine companions.”
Scott perked up. “So you’ll do it? You’ll help me out?”
“I might.” Syph examined the crisp five-dollar bill in her hand. “It all depends on what you are willing to do for me.”
17
Teri and Phil weren’t happy to discover they were in the middle of an illegal holy war. They were even more upset to be informed of this by a pair of Divine Affairs agents on their front lawn.
A gray sedan, an ambulance, and a police cruiser were parked outside their house. Curious neighbors gawked from their own front porches or peeked out their windows. Neither Phil nor Teri was the kind to be overly concerned about their neighbors, but it was a hell of a commotion. Especially the sedan and the two Divine Affairs agents who came with it. Divine Affairs made people nervous, and rightfully so. Most gods played by the rules. But not every god. And the rogue gods were just as dangerous as in the history books. Even a little bit more so since the hubris of mortals only made these untamed gods more wrathful.
The agents operated in pairs, one mortal and one immortal. Agent Watson, the mortal, was a lanky man in standard Divine Affairs gray. The immortal agent was a muse named Agent Melody. Her suit was bright purple and her every gesture seemed as if it should have been set to music. Wagner would’ve been inspired to write a four-second symphony just by watching her remove a pen and paper from her coat pocket.
Phil was slightly more artistic than his wife. Just enough that being near Agent Melody, he found himself distracted, composing haikus in his head and having difficulty concentrating.
The ambulance sirens blared as it pulled away from the curb, taking the two failed assassins with it.
“How are they?” asked Teri.
Watson replied, “They seem to have suffered a total of five self-inflicted gunshot wounds. Also, one of them somehow managed to burn himself on your stove and got a corkscrew stuck up his nose.”
Neither Teri nor Phil could remember ever even buying a corkscrew.
“According to the paramedics,” said Melody, “none of the injuries should be fatal.”
“That’s good,” said Teri automatically, though she didn’t know why she cared about the health of two people who had tried to kill her. Even if they had failed miserably, they were still assassins.
“They mentioned something about Gorgax,” said Phil.
“Gorgoz,” corrected Watson. “According to our records this Gorgoz is a deity engaged in a holy war with your own registered god.”
“But that’s illegal,” said Teri.
“Yes, miss. Rest assured that we take these violations of Divine Treaty very seriously.”
“Are you currently engaged in polytheistic worship?” asked Watson.
“No,” said Phil. “We just have the one.”
“You do realize that it is deemed unlawful to follow a god without registering?”
Phil and Teri nodded.
“Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider your previous statement?” asked Melody.
“We only have one god,” said Phil.
“Can you explain the presence of an unregistered deity in your home then?”
They followed the agents’ gaze to Quick, who was talking to another pair of agents.
“Oh, that’s just Quick,” said Teri. “He’s not our god. He just sleeps on our couch.”
“He’s a friend of Lucky’s,” added Phil.
The agents exchanged an unreadable glance.
“It’s not a crime to let a god crash at our place,” said Teri, perhaps a bit too defensively. “We don’t follow him. We don’t offer him tribute.”
“According to Article Seventy-one of the Divine Affairs Treaty, offers of lodging qualify as tribute.”
“We didn’t offer it,” said Teri. “He just started doing it.”
“I see,” said Melody. “Would you like to file an official complaint then?”
Phil and Teri both had the same thought. They weren’t sure how they felt about Quick in their home, but they’d come to like him over the past few weeks. They didn’t want to get him into trouble, but they weren’t feeling very charitable toward gods in general.
“Maybe,” said Phil uneasily.
“Can we get back to this holy war thing?” asked Teri. “How does something like that still happen in this day and age? And why weren’t we told about it before we registered with Lucky?”
Watson’s cell phone rang. He walked away to answer it.
“It happens,” said Melody. “Though at this stage the holy wars are more underground, less obvious. More like holy guerrilla wars. Most gods play by the rules. But some can’t stomach having to live by rules at all. So they went underground, where they still find followers among the unscrupulous. As for your god… well… he has no legal obligation to inform you of this.”
“What kind of system doesn’t tell people they’re getting in the middle of a holy war?”
“It’s a complicated issue, miss,” replied the agent, “but Divine Affairs is not just for the protection of mortals. The gods have rights, too.”
“Including the right to lie?”
“Technically, it’s nondisclosure, miss. Would you appreciate having your dirty laundry posted to the public record?”
“My dirty laundry doesn’t get people killed.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you did agree to this, didn’t you? No one forced you into it.”
Teri fumed. “This is unbelievable. We’re almost killed, and you’re blaming us.”
“We see a lot of this, Mrs. Robinson. Perhaps you should’ve considered your decision more carefully.”
Teri shot her a glare, then looked to Phil to rise to her defense. But he didn’t disagree with the agent. And he didn’t see any benefit in arguing. This wasn’t the time to point fingers.
She stormed away, grumbling. Phil considered going after her, but it was probably better to let her cool off.
“If you would like to sever your relationship with your god,” said Melody, “we can start the paperwork. It can take a while, though, and there are penalties.”
Phil’s first reaction was to say yes to the offer. But the penalties part made him hesitate. The law didn’t just protect mortals from the capricious nature of the gods. It protected the gods from the fickle nature of mortals. There had to be stability, a reliable exchange of tribute and favor. He got all that. It wasn’t a perfect system, but it was the best they had. And even if it had its flaws, it had kept things in order. No longer did mortals have to fear seeing their city erupt in fire and brimstone just because a few of their mortals offended a powerful deity who didn’t understand subtlety. Now if your house blew up, you’d earned it. Or at least put yourself in the line of wrath, even if indirectly.
“No, it’s okay,” he said. “Maybe later. How long has this holy war been going on?”
“I’m sorry, but that’s-”
“Privileged information,” he said. “I got it.”
Watson returned. “Mr. Robinson, was there an incident in your office this Tuesday?”
“My boss had a heart attack.” The realization dawned on him slowly, but the agents gave him time.
“Wait. Oh my… it wasn’t an accident, was it?”
“We aren’t allowed to discuss pending investigations in detail.”
Phil shook his head. “Oh, come on. This isn’t right. We must have some rights. It’s bad enough our own god failed to mention we might get killed just for letting him sleep in our spare bedroom. Now you ask me about a mysterious death and don’t want to give me any information. How is that fair?”
Agent Melody shrugged. “A forensic team turned up a death rune written on his coffee mug. It was written in invisible ink. We’re lucky to have caught it.”
“Somebody killed him?”
“In a manner of speaking,” said Agent Melody. “We believe he was trying to kill you and that the attempt backfired. You were supposed to drink from the mug. He most likely planned to switch it out so that there would be no evidence, making it look like a coronary. Probably would have worked, too, if he hadn’t mixed up the cups. Lucky break for you, Mr. Robinson.”