“Some of us just figured it out sooner than others!” shouted Fujin, stripping half the grass off the lawn.
“It doesn’t have to go down like this,” said Ogbunabali.
“No, it doesn’t,” replied Gorgoz. “Join me. It’s time for us to rise up and show these-”
“Enough talk.” Thor hurled his hammer. It collided with Gorgoz, knocking him off his feet. The hammer swerved upward, carrying Gorgoz with it. It soared upward a mile, reversed, then came crashing to earth, all within the blink of an eye. Gorgoz was driven into the ground with a deafening thunderclap. The shock wave knocked several cars over. Underground pipes burst, spewing geysers into the air.
The gods advanced on the smoking crater in the front lawn.
“That was a little much, don’t you think?” asked Og.
“He wanted to do it the hard way,” said Thor.
The ground rumbled. Coughing, Gorgoz climbed up to the pit’s edge. Half of his teeth were missing, and he spit up a glob of black slime.
“Not bad, not bad. Nice to see you have a little fight left in you.
“Do yourself a favor and stay down, Gorg. I don’t relish beating the snot out of you.” Thor raised his hammer. “Maybe I relish it a little.”
He brought it down on Gorgoz’s skull. Or tried to. But Gorgoz caught Thor’s wrist. The gods struggled for a moment, and then, with a grin and a twist, Gorgoz forced Thor to his knees.
Gorgoz wrenched the hammer free, grabbed Thor by the throat, and with a whirl like a discus thrower, hurled the god of thunder into the atmosphere.
“I was aiming for Australia,” said Gorgoz, “but I think I overshot.”
He released the hammer quivering in his grasp. It shot into the sky, chasing after its owner.
Fujin opened his bag of winds. They swept Gorgoz in a screaming vortex, shredding his robes and freezing his flesh. The temperature dropped. Frost formed on everything, killing all the nearby plants. Gorgoz was pulled into Fujin’s bag. The lord of winds threw it down on the ground and started kicking it.
He stopped mid-kick as Ogbunabali watched with disapproval.
“It’s not fancy!” said Fujin. “But it gets the job done!”
The shadowy death god joined Fujin in a fresh round of kicks and punches. They kept at it until Gorgoz’s shouts died down. The bag still rustled and wriggled, but no more than was expected with the winds trapped inside.
“That was easier than I expected,” said Og.
“I knew he was all talk!” roared Fujin.
Gorgoz’s claw tore through the sack. He shredded it, freeing himself and the winds. They howled, slipping from Fujin’s efforts to recapture them. One picked up a car and smashed it into a house across the street. Another tore off the sidewalk and playfully set it down in a giant stack that promptly fell over onto several Affairs agents.
Fujin ran after the rogue zephyrs. He bellowed orders that the winds ignored as they worked their way down the street, wreaking gleeful havoc.
“Go ahead, Og,” said Gorgoz. “Take your shot.”
Ogbunabali stepped back. “No, thanks. I’m good.”
Gorgoz adjusted his robe and shook his head. “What’s happened to you? Mortals used to shit their pants at your name. I remember when you slaughtered whole villages just because you were bored.
“These mortals have robbed you of all your power, Og. I, on the other hand, have been supping on a steady diet of greed, avarice, cruelty, and human sacrifice.” Gorgoz chuckled. “I especially love the human sacrifice.”
Ogbunabali said, “You know that this can’t end well. You don’t think you can stand against the hosts of the heavens.”
“I did pretty well this time, didn’t I?”
“We underestimated you. It won’t happen again.”
“No.” Gorgoz chuckled. “It won’t.”
He walked back toward the house. When his back was to Ogbunabali, Og drew a scimitar of darkness from his own shadowy form.
Gorgoz didn’t bother to turn around. “I wouldn’t, if I were you.”
Og rethought his course of action. He set aside his weapon and checked on the agents.
“I trust I’ve made my point,” said Gorgoz to Teri, Phil, and Janet. “There is no one in this world or beyond who can stop me from destroying you. I’ll give you some time to think about it. But when next we meet, I’ll expect an answer.” He threw off his robe, revealing himself as a giant, spotted, skeletal dragon. He spread his skeletal wings and rose in the air.
“Be seeing you.”
With one powerful flap, he shot skyward. The air reverberated with a shrill scream. He was gone in an instant. His various beasts vanished in clouds of acrid smoke, leaving a stench behind.
Lucky’s projection rematerialized.
“Oh thank me, you kids are still okay,” he said. He took in the destruction around the neighborhood, the uprooted trees and mortals in disarray, the crater in the lawn and the broken street. A mischievous gust twirled an upended automobile like a top.
“Stop that right now and get back here!” shouted Fujin as he chased after it.
Teri, Phil, and Janet went back into the house and stood around the living room. No one said a word. They didn’t even look at each other. Phil gave Teri a hug, but it was a fragile, uncertain gesture.
22
Teri and Phil didn’t talk about it.
Janet left. They didn’t ask where she was going. They spoke with several agents. They couldn’t recall the details of the conversation other than some vague reassurances that Divine Affairs was “on top of the situation” and that everything “would be resolved shortly.” Then the agents left, too.
And Teri and Phil, very deliberately, didn’t talk about it. They didn’t talk about Lucky, still lost somewhere in the collective unconscious. They didn’t talk about the wreckage just outside their front door. They didn’t talk about Gorgoz’s offer. They exchanged maybe twenty words over the next few hours on no topic more uncomfortable than their favorite flavor of Hot Pockets. They were watching television when Phil finally dared to say something.
“We can’t take the offer,” he said.
“I know,” she replied.
Another twenty minutes passed without another uttered word. They even had the TV on mute. They watched the actors go about their business without really caring.
“We can’t take it,” Teri said.
“I know,” he agreed. He paused. “We can’t.”
This was how it went for another two hours. One of them would remark that they couldn’t take Gorgoz’s offer, and the other would agree. But there would be a pause between the first observation and the second. And it would be longer every time.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “This is all my fault.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s mine.”
“If I hadn’t brought it up in the first place…”
“Yes, but if I hadn’t changed my mind…”
“You’re right,” he said with a forced smile. “It is your fault.”
She wanted to laugh, but snorted. “And they say chivalry is dead.”
He kissed her forehead.
“We’re screwed, baby.”
“Yeah,” she said. “We’re screwed. We can’t take the offer.”
“No, we can’t. We can’t trust him to hold up his end of the deal. He even admitted it.”
“Even if he did,” said Teri, “I couldn’t live with myself. Any favor we’d get from him would’ve been paid for by someone else’s blood. Somewhere.”
The favor of Gorgoz didn’t come without a price. He was a god of death and chaos, and there had to be consequences to taking him on. Things they couldn’t conceive of. Gods were a deceptive bunch. Lucky had lied by omission, but at least he hadn’t been out to screw them. Not like Gorgoz most likely was.