“Yes, Master.”
He put his arm around Phil. “You’re shivering. Worthington, get him something to wear. One of those expensive robes you own should do.”
“Yes, Master. Shall I bring it to the basement?”
“I don’t know if you noticed it or not, but it kind of smells in there. Why don’t you do your lord and master a favor and spray some air freshener down there while Phil and I discuss things in the sitting room? We do have a sitting room, don’t we?”
“I assume.”
“We’ll find it.” Gorgoz led Phil away.
“Don’t mind Roger,” said Gorgoz. “He’s a bit of a douche bag. Like most of my followers. That’s why I’m so excited to have you on board. I was just going to eat you once you got here. Then I thought that would be too easy. Maybe I could abduct your lovely wife and devour her while you watched.”
“But you said-”
“I lie. I do it all the time. But at least I’m honest about it. It’s amazing that mortals still follow me. Shows just how idiotic they are. They only live a few measly decades, if they’re lucky, and yet most of them even screw up that meager portion of time.”
Gorgoz chuckled.
“This is what I like about you, Phil. I can be honest with you. It’s refreshing, really.”
They walked down several hallways. Gorgoz paused at each door, opening as they went.
“Do you know what a sitting room looks like?” he asked. “Do you think this is what it would look like?”
Phil shrugged, having never seen one either.
They walked a few minutes more before Gorgoz settled on a room. “I guess this is close enough.” The room was decorated with expensive furnishings. But every room had been so far. Several stuffed animal heads and an entire stuffed tiger, caught in mid-leap, were the only noticeable difference.
Phil had a seat at Gorgoz’s urging. The god fumbled around in his robe, producing a cell phone. He pushed a few buttons. He shouted into the cell.
“Worthington. We may or may not be in the sitting room. There’s a big stuffed moose head. Or is that a caribou? Phil, does that look like a caribou to you?”
“Moose.”
“We’re in the moose room,” replied Gorgoz. “Bring the clothing here and a beer. Are you hungry, Phil? Can I get you anything?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? Roger can make you a sandwich. He has this Dijon mustard that is just fabulous.” He pursed his lips and made a sucking sound. “Goes great on salami.”
“Thank you, I’m good.”
“I’ll take one,” said Gorgoz. “Y’know what? I think I’ll have him make two. Just in case.”
He placed his order with Worthington, then set the phone down, and sat across from Phil. Neither god nor mortal said anything for about a minute. Phil sat slouched in a large chair, covering his groin with his hands, and avoiding looking at Gorgoz.
“I don’t think you ended the call,” said Phil.
“I’m pretty sure I did,” replied Gorgoz.
“Did you press the END button?” asked Phil in an apologetic tone.
“Which one is that?”
“The one that has END printed on it.”
Gorgoz picked up the phone and snarled at it. “Worthington, are you still there?”
He put the phone to his ear, then glared at it.
“Yes, Lord, I’m here,” replied Worthington.
Philip tried to help, even miming the gesture. “You just have to flip it-”
“Piece of crap.” Gorgoz chucked the phone into his mouth, chewed it with a victorious grin, and swallowed. “I prefer the good ol’ days of scroll-bearing messenger. They were tastier.”
He chuckled, and his chuckle triggered some light nervous laughter from Phil.
“So what am I going to do with you?” asked Gorgoz.
Phil hesitated.
“I suppose I could corrupt you,” said the god. “That might be fun. I’ve never actually done that. My followers are usually corrupt by the time they come to me. So tell me, Phil, what would it take to turn you to the dark side?”
Phil pretended to contemplate the question.
“Every mortal has their price,” said Gorgoz. “I can give you anything. Pleasures beyond your wildest imagination.”
A pair of femalelike creatures rose up behind Gorgoz’s chair and slinked toward Phil. They were red with black spots and large blue eyes. One sat on his armrest and cupped his chin while the second walked behind Phil and massaged his shoulders. Though the women were scantily clad and well-proportioned, they weren’t really human enough to instill thoughts of lust in Phil. Their claws and hungry eyes didn’t help. And Gorgoz, leering like a twisted old man at a peep show, really killed the mood.
Gorgoz frowned. “What’s wrong, Phil? Don’t tell me you don’t like girls?” He leaned forward. “You’re not… like we used to say in the… of a Spartan persuasion?”
Phil shook his head as much as he dared. He feared if he moved too suddenly one of the demon concubines would slit his throat by instinct.
“Well, you must want something,” said Gorgoz. “Some twisted delight that you’ve never dared speak about.”
“Not really,” said Phil.
“There must be some enemy you want dead. Or some possession you covet.”
Phil thought about it. The only enemy he could think of was the god sitting right across from him. And the only possession he wanted was his old god-free life.
Gorgoz sighed. The women transformed into a pair of speckled boa constrictors. They slithered across Phil’s shoulders and lap.
“You think you’re a good person, don’t you, Phil?”
“I don’t know.” Phil hadn’t given it much thought up to this point.
“You aren’t. You’re simply unimaginative and frightened. Too stupid to know what you really want and too weak to take it even if you did know.”
One of the snakes curled around Phil’s neck. Gorgoz narrowed his bulbous eyes and spoke through clenched teeth.
“You disgust me. You and every mortal like you.”
Phil gasped as the serpent coiled tighter. He could breathe, but just barely. Gorgoz, his hideous face a blank, watched in silence as Phil choked for air as the snake slowly constricted.
The door opened, and Worthington entered with a robe and a tray of food. Gorgoz jumped to his feet and grabbed a sandwich. “About time, Roger. What kept you?”
“I couldn’t remember which was the moose room, Master.”
Gorgoz popped open a beer and took a bite of his sandwich. “Phil, you gotta try this mustard. It’s fantastic!”
He glanced over at Phil, who was just starting to turn blue.
“Whoops.”
The snakes transformed into spotted tarantulas and skittered away.
“How embarrassing,” said Gorgoz. “Hate to kill him before I’ve had more fun with him.”
“Indeed,” said Worthington.
Gorgoz threw a robe to the wheezing Phil.
“Are you a betting man?” asked the chaos god.
Phil shook his head. “Not really.”
“Well, dammit, Phil. What vices do you have? You’re not giving me much to work with. How about a small wager anyway? If I win, then someone dies. Not you, but someone precious to you. Your wife perhaps?”
“But-”
“Did I mention I’m a liar? But if you’re going to be such a prissy little spoilsport, I guess we could wager on your right arm. If you win, you keep it. If I win…”
He snapped his fingers at Worthington.
“Fetch our game of Mouse Trap and be quick about it. And bring some of that spicy mustard back with you.”
Gorgoz licked his lips.
“Just in case.”
25
The first thing Janet did was give Teri a hug.
“I’m so sorry, hon.”
“Why are we still here?” Syph asked Bonnie. “I thought we were just going to drop her off.”
“We’ll find a way to fix this,” said Janet.
“He’s probably already dead,” remarked Syph. “Or worse.”