She was followed by Marduk, a twenty-foot deity who just fell from the sky without any show other than the tremendous, earth-shaking thud of his landing.
“See?” said Lucky. “Unlike everyone else involved in this little fiasco, I had the good sense to call in a little backup. You’ve overextended yourself. Even the big guns of the heavens can’t ignore it any longer.”
“This is all you have?” Gorgoz laughed as he crackled with cosmic darkness. “It will take more than these three to stop me.”
“We know,” said Lucky with a smile.
The sky spit out several more deities. Chernobog, horned god of darkness, and Yongwang, dragon of the sea (wearing his seldom-used dragon form) floated downward. Lacambui, in all his divine plumpness, with a bucket of chicken in one hand and a blazing sword in the other, descended beside Nanook, astride an elephant-size polar bear. Jurupari, Pele, Izanami, Bobbi-Bobbi, and Kunapipi were right behind them.
“Am I supposed to be impressed? Frightened?” Gorgoz roared at the gods. “I will crush you all and cast you into-”
Lucky cleared his throat.
“We’re not done yet.”
The skies opened again, and a barrage of lesser deities spilled forth. Vesta, Fabulinus, and Ogma were among the most prominent of the obscure. But there were a dozen others among them. Gods of accounting, ichthyology, baking, bricklaying, and footwear. Goddesses of gambling, dreaming, agriculture, dowsing, and writing. Nearly every sphere of human endeavor was represented among the divine gathering. Except for the god of overkill. But his presence was hardly necessary.
Gorgoz’s eyes widened.
“Congrats, buddy,” said Lucky. “You’ve managed to do what no other force in all the universe has accomplished. You’ve united the heavens themselves. No squabbling, no bickering, no grabs for glory. We all agree on this one.”
Divine power surged in the assembled gods. The sky turned red, and the earth quaked.
Lucky lowered his sunglasses to the tip of his nose.
“You’ve got to go.”
The explosion of divine force was beyond any earthly measure. It could’ve easily split the planet in two and caused the sun to blink out of sheer embarrassment for its meager output. The destruction was only a portion of the power unleashed. Half the gods were there simply to contain the force and keep it from wreaking irreparable damage to the mortal sphere. It was mostly successful, though the city’s water did transmute to grape soda and every pregnant dog on Earth gave spontaneous birth to a litter of winged puppies. Jormungandr, the world serpent, stirred in the ocean’s depths, but a glance at his calendar informed him that Ragnarok wasn’t due for at least another two millennia, so he rolled over and went back to sleep.
Phil and Teri, encased in Lucky’s protective globe, shielded their eyes from the dazzling white light. The blast was completely silent, except for the far, far cry of Gorgoz.
It was over quickly.
Lucky dropped his shield. A crater was all that was left of Worthington’s estate. And Gorgoz sat at the very bottom, looking very, very small.
“Be right back, kids.”
Lucky floated to the bottom of the crater. Gorgoz, being only two inches tall, stripped of every ounce of power, glared.
“You cheated,” said Gorgoz in a squeaky voice.
Lucky plucked Gorgoz up by the scruff of the neck. “My mistake. I didn’t know there were rules.”
One of Hephaestus’s golden executives presented an adamantite cat carrier. Lucky chucked Gorgoz into it.
“Catch you later, Gorg.”
The golden woman and most of the gods ascended into the heavens without saying a word.
Lucky returned to Phil and Teri’s side. He winked at Zeus and Mut, the last two remaining divinities.
“Thanks for the help, guys.”
Zeus and Mut looked down on the mortals and their god.
“Yes, thank you,” said Phil.
Teri stepped forward. “Could I possibly trouble you for an autograph? It’s not for me. It’s for a friend of mine. She’s a big fan.”
Grinning, Zeus and Mut disappeared in a burst of light and a clap of thunder. Two autographed photos were left in their place.
“Wow,” said Teri. “She’ll love these.”
“Yeah, the big guys are always class acts,” said Lucky.
“Is that it?” asked Teri. “He’s gone? Gorgoz is gone?”
“There’s a place where they stick the troublemakers. Less said about it, the better. He might get time off for good behavior, but I wouldn’t count on it. Either way, he won’t be seeing the light of day for a few thousand years.”
“All you had to do this whole time was call in the gods?” asked Phil.
“You make it sound so easy. Have you ever tried to get two gods to agree on anything, much less a hundred?”
“So you just called in the cavalry?”
“It’s a little deus ex machina, I’ll grant you. But hey, who do you think invented that kind of thing?” Lucky made a show of wiping his hands. “Problem solved. Now, we can stand around and continue to debate the merits of my victory or we can get you guys home.”
Teri’s coupe rolled up. The windshield was cracked, the tires were melted, and the tailpipe spit out clouds of black smoke.
“Gotta hand it to Hephaestus,” said Lucky. “He sure makes a great car.”
The earth split open and a new god, one apparently pieced together from carpet scraps, emerged.
“Sorry, Kutkh,” said Lucky. “You missed all the action.”
“Ah, damn. He owed me money.”
Grumbling, Kutkh descended into the earth.
28
Though she was technically not among Syph’s followers, it took Bonnie several months to get rid of the goddess. The goddess herself didn’t bother Bonnie so much. It was the constant visits by heartbroken mortals that proved more annoying. She was sick of hearing them whine about their failed relationships. She realized that Syph would never be out of a job as long as she trafficked in emotional baggage and bad breakups. Syph realized that, too, and it was why the goddess was never going back to love. It was easier to exact vengeance, and Syph was a lazy, lazy goddess. She’d rather lounge around the apartment and exact vengeance than find a new temple and try to bring people together. It was a step up, though. At least now she wasn’t sitting around feeling sorry for herself. She was still ruining lives, but it was with a wider distribution and less damage on a per-mortal basis. It wasn’t strictly legal, but, unlike Gorgoz’s operation, it wasn’t likely to draw more than a written reprimand and a slap on the wrist from the heavens.
And it wasn’t Bonnie’s problem anymore. Even Syph couldn’t ignore an official order from the Court of Divine Affairs, one that Bonnie happily presented to the goddess in the middle of one of her consultations.
Syph read the order quietly. She cut short her session, promising to fill some poor schmuck’s car with toads, and showed the client the door.
“Bonnie, can’t we work something out?” asked Syph.
“Nope. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.”
Syph reread the order, then crumpled it.
Bonnie showed the goddess the door.
“You’ll miss me when I’m gone,” said Syph.
“I’ll get over it,” replied Bonnie as she slammed the door shut.
The ever-present chill in her apartment vanished. She’d been living with it so long, she’d stopped noticing. But now that it was gone, she felt cozy and warm and safe. Right now, the forces of the cosmos couldn’t give a damn about her happiness or misery. She was just a speck of dust in charge of her own life again. And that wasn’t such a bad place to be.
The phone rang. It was Walter. He apologized for breaking up with her and asked if she wanted to get together for dinner.
She told him no.
With Syph gone, Bonnie realized that she hadn’t ever really liked Walter. She’d just stayed with him because it’d been easier than breaking up. But now the breaking up was done, and she might as well take advantage of it. She went to the window, opened the curtains. The sky was gray, a combination of smog and clouds. But it was just the weather. It had nothing to do with her.