Divine Misfortune (2010) (23 page)

“Lucky is banana-and-chocolate soda,” explained Teri. “Or at least, he was supposed to be.”

“I hate metaphors,” said Janet.

“Too bad. Because you’re going to have to listen to this one.” Teri took the remaining five cans of soda and put them in front
of Janet. “This is what you do. Pop open a banana-and- chocolate soda. Sure. Why not? Maybe you’ll love it. Maybe not, but
hey, let’s give it a shot. What do you have to lose?”

“You’re losing me.”

“No interruptions, please.” Teri pushed the cans forward. “But here’s the thing. Maybe you kind of like the soda because it’s
new and different and at least you can say you had the experience. But, ultimately, you know that banana-and-chocolate soda
isn’t going to become your favorite soft drink. Even if you drink the entire six-pack, the odds you’ll ever buy another six-pack
are minuscule. And that’s assuming that they’ll even keep making the soda, which is highly unlikely also.

“Dating gods is just the same. It’s a new experience, good for a story and a chuckle. But you don’t plan on doing anything
more. And if by some chance you do develop some feelings, you know the god will take off before it gets serious.”

“Commitment issues? That’s your deep metaphorical insight? Hell, I could’ve told you that.”

“Ah, but here’s the catch,” said Teri. “Sometimes, even when you don’t mean to, even when you do your best to avoid it, you
end up liking the banana-and-chocolate soda. A lot. And the soda likes you back. A lot. And then, before you know it, even
when you didn’t want it, you find yourself looking forward to cracking open your favorite soda. And worrying about if they
ever stop making it.”

“Can we ditch the metaphor at this point?”

“Okay, but you know I’m right.”

Janet glowered. “Okay, so maybe you’re right. So what?”

“So… nothing. Just an observation. Just so you know, I think Lucky really does like you a lot. And not just in that divine-infatuation
way.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

Janet smiled, then frowned, then smiled. “Crap.”

“Welcome to a relationship,” said Teri. “Whether you like it or not.”

“You don’t have to be so happy about it.”

“Sorry. I just think it’s funny, that’s all.”

“So what am I supposed to do now? I’ve never really been in a… well, one of these things. Not even with a mortal.”

“Play it by ear,” said Teri. “That’s how everybody else does it.”

“And doesn’t that usually screw everything up?”

“Usually.”

Janet ran her fingers along her necklace and slouched. Crap.

Someone cleared his throat. It was Lucky. He stood on the table. Actually, he hovered a few inches over it, in a transparent
projected form.

“Help me, Obi-Wan. You’re my only hope.”

The hologram chuckled.

“Sorry, I just always wanted to do that. Just thought I’d check in. Quick and I are lost in the collective unconscious right
now. But we’ve got it figured out. A singing taco drew us a map on the back of a napkin.”

He cocked his head to one side and listened to a voice only he could hear.

“No, Quick, that’s not a turn. That’s just when the pen slipped. Remember?” He scratched his head and turned his attention
back toward Teri and Janet. “So it might take a while longer than anticipated, but we’ll get out eventually. Just hang in
there, kids. We’re on it. Quick says hi by the way.”

He started to fade.

“How long were you standing there?” asked Janet.

“Technically, I’m not standing here,” he replied. “I’m just projecting.”

“How long?”

“Not long.” He looked a little embarrassed, but that could’ve been her imagination.

The doorbell rang. Teri answered it.

“Hello,” said the stooped, withered old man. “Have you considered the value of changing your religion?”

“About once every three minutes,” she said.

“Close the door,” said Lucky’s projection. “Close it now, Teri.”

The man stuck his foot in the doorjamb, to keep her from getting the door shut. His shoes sizzled and burned with a sulfurous,
yellow smoke. He didn’t seem to mind. With one thin arm, he threw the door open, knocking Teri into Phil’s arms.

“You can’t enter here,” said Lucky. “This is my temple.”

Gorgoz’s mortal disguise cracked. He grinned, revealing crooked and misshapen teeth. He stepped across the threshold, and
immediately burst into flames. He took three more steps before collapsing in a heap of blackened bones.

“You have to get out of here,” said Lucky. “Right now.”

The skeleton raised his skull. “Oh, but we were just getting acquainted. What’s the rush?” He stood. By the time he was back
on his feet, his flesh and suit had re-formed. His liver spots had doubled in size, and his skin had turned a mottled puke
green. And his eyes were two bloodshot orbs. He still smoldered, but the rate of regeneration had equalized, evening things
out. The smell of burning flesh, along with his natural rotten-fish odor, was nauseating.

“I’m warning you,” said Lucky, “if you harm one hair on these mortals’ heads—”

“You’ll what? Hmmm. You’ll what? You’re not even here. And even if you were, you couldn’t stop me. Your favor is as worthless
as the rest of the pathetic gods, shackled by the rules and regulations you’ve surrendered to. So why don’t you do us all
a favor and shut up? I’m trying to have a civilized conversation here.”

The mortals eyed all the possible exits. Gorgoz snapped his fingers, and every door and window closed and locked. And for
that extra touch, he materialized various venomous serpents to guard them. Except for the front door, where he placed a two-headed
mutant beast, something between a bear and a shark. The malformed creature was awkward, more likely to roll over people trying
to exit than actually bite them. But that would have been just as fatal.

A cloud of buzzing locusts covered every window of the house, allowing just enough sunlight to keep the interior in shadowy
twilight.

“It’ll be okay,” said Lucky. “Everything will be okay.”

Gorgoz rolled his eyes. Considering the size of them, it was quite a feat. He waved his hand at Lucky. The projection faded
away.

“He won’t be bothering us for a while.” Gorgoz gestured toward the sofa. “Have a seat.”

The mortals hesitated.

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead by now. Well, probably not by now. But you’d be on your way to dead, and you’d know
it.” He tried to smile pleasantly, but it only came across as hungry and menacing, the best he could manage.

They sat. Gorgoz took a seat in the chair beside the sofa. His charred form blackened the upholstery. Claws had sprung from
his fingertips and a touch of slime dripped from his pores.

“Never really was very good at the mortal-disguise business.”

In a flash, he sat before them in his true form, a seven-foot-tall, lanky god wrapped in a tattered bathrobe.

“You’re probably wondering why you’re not dead yet.”

They nodded.

“Oh, sure. I could kill you right now. Allow your useless god to project and then slay you right in front of him. And yes,
it would be worth a laugh.”

He gazed dreamily into the distance and smiled wistfully.

“No, no. Everyone keeps insisting this is a more civilized age. And I can play along. Sure, I can. Rather than kill you, I’ve
decided to show you that even I can be… reasonable.”

He leaned forward and interlaced his fingers.

“How would you like to renounce your god and take me on as your new lord and master? Hmmm? Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

An awkward moment of silence filled the room.

“Oh, don’t all speak up all at once.” Gorgoz heaved a sigh. “I get it. You are all”—he made air quotes—
” nice
people. You’re not the kinds of mortals to normally sign up with a god of chaos and death. And normally, such as you are
beneath my notice. But I’m adaptable. And I want you to join my team.”

There was another quiet moment.

“Any questions?” asked Gorgoz. “Any questions at all? I promise I won’t bite your heads off.” He leaned back and studied his
claws. “I usually like to start with the limbs.”

Janet said, “Why us?”

“A fair question. And I’ll give you an honest answer. I’ve killed or had killed a few hundred of Lucky’s followers over the
centuries. And I could devour you all now, and it would amuse me. But I came upon an idea that would amuse me more. Why slay
you when I can steal you away?

“I know what you’re thinking. What’s the catch? What do you have to do to convince me of your sincerity? And here’s the best
part.” Gorgoz cleared his throat and smiled. “All I’m asking in return is absolutely nothing. That’s right. Not a drop of
spilled blood or a single dime. Not a prayer or an inconvenient, arbitrary behavioral inhibition. Not a single act of tribute.
You won’t have to do a thing different than how you’re living your life now and in return, you shall have my favor. Your enemies
shall perish. Wealth will fall into your laps. And every desire you could ever ask for will be yours until your weak mortal
bodies finally succumb to their inevitable frailty. And all you have to do is renounce your god and proclaim me as your new
lord.”

Gorgoz spread his hands, palms out, in a wide, welcoming gesture. His toothy grin was anything but reassuring.

“Oh, I know what’s going through your troubled mortal minds. How can you possibly trust me? To which I reply…”

He threw back his head and cackled.

“You can’t. I could be lying. I most probably am. This could all be some twisted game I’m playing where I’m just trying to
screw with Lucky by getting you to abandon him. Then I’ll devour you anyway because… well, I’d be lying if I didn’t say it
sounded like it would be worth a giggle. But all of that is hardly relevant. What should allow you to make this decision,
all you truly need to know, is that you don’t really have a choice. It’s the slim hope that I’ll keep my word versus the absolute
certainty that I will kill you if you refuse.”

A clap of thunder rattled the house.

“Ah, excellent. My demonstration has arrived. Come along. You must see this. I think you’ll find it enlightening.”

The locusts flew away. The vipers disappeared. And the shark/bear creature lumbered to one side as Gorgoz exited the front
door. Several Divine Affairs automobiles had blocked off the street. The agents stood at the ready. One of them shouted into
a megaphone.

“Gorgoz, you are instructed to surrender for disciplinary action.”

“I was hoping they’d be watching,” said Gorgoz with a smile.

Thick clouds roiled overhead. A bolt of lightning struck the front yard and a tall, broad-shouldered, redheaded god stood
in its wake.

“Thor,” remarked Gorgoz, “how long has it been?”

“Not nearly long enough,” replied Thor.

The clouds churned, swirling into a funnel that touched down beside the god of thunder. A red-faced deity with the face of
a leopard stepped from the howling winds. He carried a bag over his shoulder.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure,” said Gorgoz.

“Fujin!” When the deity spoke, a gale blasted from his lungs, stripping the leaves from a tree and then uprooting it. He covered
his mouth and winced. “Sorry!”

Fujin’s shadow stretched out from his feet and expanded to three dimensions. This god was a living darkness.

Gorgoz scowled. “Oh, Og, don’t tell me they tamed you, too?”

“Times have changed,” said Ogbunabali. “We’ve come to see that you finally change with them.”

“This is what it’s come to?” asked Gorgoz. “We’re not only allowing mortals to skitter about unchallenged, we’re even enforcing
their rules?”

“It’s not like that,” said Thor, unbuttoning his double-breasted suit. He pulled out his hammer, a massive weapon that crackled
with electricity. “We don’t boss the mortals around, and they don’t boss us. It’s a partnership. It always has been.”

“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!”