Divine Misfortune (2010) (28 page)

But, given that his old god wasn’t that reliable in the miracle department and his new god was why he needed a miracle at
all, Phil just hoped to end up dying as quickly and painlessly as possible while ensuring Teri stayed alive.

“Are you going to roll those dice anytime soon?” asked Gorgoz. “Or do I have to break out the sand timer again?”

Worthington entered the room. He offered Gorgoz a whole roasted turkey.

“Excuse the interruption, Master, but you have visitors. I think they’re here about… him.”

“Then by all means, Roger, let’s show them in.” Gorgoz rose, grabbed the turkey, and exited with Worthington. “We’ll be right
back, Phil.” He smiled and winked. “Don’t cheat now.”

Gorgoz greeted Quick and Syph at the front door. He had swapped out his crusty bathrobe for a clean smoking jacket. The sweatpants
ruined the look. And the whole roasted turkey in his right hand didn’t add anything.

He took a bite of the bird. It hadn’t been deboned, and that was made obvious by the crunch of bones and his open-mouthed
manner of chewing. Bits of flesh fell out of his jaws.

“Welcome to my temple.” He wiped his hand on his jacket, leaving a stain of grease. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had
visitors. Isn’t that right, Roger?”

He glanced around.

“I seem to have misplaced my First Disciple. Oh, well, I’m sure he’ll turn up. In the meantime, let me show you around.”

When Quick and Syph crossed the threshold, a wave of nausea hit them. This was the temple of Gorgoz. It’d been a while since
either had encountered such pure, malevolent will.

Quick was reminded of his younger days, when human civilization consisted of tiny tribes hiding in caves offering blood sacrifices
and scraps of food to appease the unknowable powers. Quick had been a part of that. It was the way it was done back then.
Looking back on it now, it just felt so immature and crude, a childish phase he’d grown out of.

Not every god had done the same. There were those who still yearned for the good old days, for the absolute fear and devotion
of terrified mortals. He wasn’t surprised to find Gorgoz was one of those types.

Gorgoz led them down halls, pointing out rooms. More accurately, he pointed to closed doors and the rooms that might be behind
them. “I think that’s the den. And I think this one is the bowling alley. I’m pretty sure we have a bowling alley anyway.”

He took another bite of turkey. “Syph, you look lovely by the way. What a pleasant surprise to see you again.” Gorgoz pointed
to another closed door. “Phil’s in there. All in one piece. For now. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go find my First Disciple.
He’s around here somewhere.”

Quick and Syph found Phil pacing the room. Quick performed a fast introduction.

“Where’s Lucky?” asked Phil.

“He’s not here,” said Quick.

“But he’s supposed to rescue me.”

Syph laughed.

“He’s not coming, is he?” said Phil.

“No, he’s not,” admitted Quick.

“That son of a—” Acceptance quelled his rage. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. He’s been lying to us from the beginning, covering
his own ass.”

“You renounced him,” said Syph.

“Only because he left me no other choice.”

Syph laughed again.

“You find this amusing?” he asked.

“Not particularly,” she replied.

“Yes, yes,” interrupted Quick. “We all have our issues. But right now, we don’t have long to come up with a game plan. So
why don’t we put aside our emotional baggage and try to figure a way to get you out of this situation.

“As I see it, you’re just one insignificant mortal. Gorgoz only cares about you because of this vendetta he has going with
Lucky. So, in a way, having Lucky abandon you is just about the only chance you have.”

“Wasn’t that considerate of him?” Phil sighed. “Do you really think you can talk him into letting me go?”

“Stranger things have happened,” replied Quick.

“But I wouldn’t count on it,” added Syph.

The door swung open, and Gorgoz and Worthington entered.

“Roger, this is Quetzalcoatl and Syph. Just a couple of used-up gods that don’t know when to call it quits. This is Roger,
my First Disciple. Say hello, Roger.”

“Hello.”

Gorgoz thrust his uneaten half-turkey into Worthington’s arms. “Hold that for a moment.”

“Yes, Lord.” Worthington stifled his annoyance at the stains of grease forming on his five-hundred-dollar shirt.

Gorgoz wiped his hand on his sweatpants. He threw an arm around Phil’s neck, squeezing a bit too tightly. Phil choked as Gorgoz
gave him a noogie with sharp knuckles, drawing a little blood. “Phil and I have been having a wonderful time.”

Just when Phil was starting to turn blue, Gorgoz released him.

Gorgoz said, “Well, well, well. I have to wonder what is so special about our friend Phil here? When Lucky gave him up so
easily I was beginning to think I’d overestimated this scrap of mortal flesh. Even thought about just letting him go. Never
actually tried being merciful before. Thought it might be worth a chuckle.”

A low laugh rolled out of his throat.

“But now you two show up, and I’m thinking perhaps I have something more valuable than I first realized. What’s your investment
in this, Quick? Seeking redemption? Do you think that intervening in the life of one worthless mortal can wash away the stain
of a fallen empire?”

Quick’s plumage wilted.

“And what about you, Syph? Why are you here?”

“I don’t honestly know,” she said.

“So you wouldn’t mind if I devoured our mortal friend right now?”

“Be my guest,” she said.

Gorgoz licked his lips. Phil stepped behind Quick.

“He’s just one mortal,” said Quetzalcoatl. “You’ve proven your point. You’ve won. Your power is greater than Lucky’s. What
would killing this poor speck accomplish?”

“What does letting him live accomplish? He’s just a speck. Why should his life or death matter to any of us? He’s not a king
or a president or a dragon-slaying hero. I might understand if this was Perseus or Gilgamesh. But this is Phil Robinson. Even
the name is unremarkable.” He pointed to Worthington. “Roger, go find a phone book. Tell me how many Phil Robinsons are listed
in it.”

“Yes, Master.”

Gorgoz stopped him from leaving.

“I was just kidding, Roger.”

“Very amusing, Master.”

“Get a load of this guy. And I thought Attila the Hun was a wet blanket.” Gorgoz slapped Worthington on the shoulder. “You
know I love you, buddy. Well, as much as I love any crumb of flesh that keeps me in tribute and chicken fingers.”

Gorgoz took back his turkey and sheared off another bite.

“Phil stays with me. Until I get bored with him. Or I’m looking for a change of pace from chicken fingers.”

Syph sighed. “All right, I’m still not really clear why I’m here, but I guess it has something to do with this mortal. Gorgie,
are you sure you wouldn’t change your mind? As a personal favor to me?”

She tried to smile coyly. But she was out of practice and failed miserably.

“I’d be very grateful.”

Gorgoz stifled a chortle.

“What?” she asked.

He burst out laughing.

“Oh, Quick. Please don’t tell me you brought her here to
persuade
me. That is priceless.”

“But you love me,” said Syph.

Gorgoz chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye. “Love is a bit of an overstatement. You were hot. I was horny.”

“But what about Lucky?” asked Quick. “I thought you hated him.”

“I do.”

Gorgoz’s huge eyes opened even wider.

“You don’t mean to tell me that Lucky thought that I was angry with him because of her?” He pointed to Syph. “Her?”

Syph smoldered.

“That’s absurd,” said Gorgoz. “I may be petty and vindictive, but even I know a fling is just a fling.”

Quick said, “Then why the hell do you hate Lucky?”

Gorgoz hesitated.

“Y’know, I can’t quite remember.” He laughed. “Isn’t that funny? I’m sure it was for a very good reason.”

Syph rose from her chair. “But you said you would fill the oceans with blood and cover the continents with bones. You promised
you’d destroy universes for me.”

“That was just pillow talk, baby.”

Phil sized up Gorgoz in all his physical and spiritual repulsiveness. Gods were more flexible when it came to sleeping around,
and Syph was no prize herself. But he still thought she could do better.

Gorgoz yawned. “I’m bored now. Roger, show our guests the door while Phil and I break out the checkers. I call red.”

Syph pounced on the god. She roared.

“You son of a bitch! I’ll see you chained to Atlas’s armpit and reduced to a pile of bleached, wasted flesh!”

Gorgoz blinked. “Wow. Now that’s the kind of goddess I can respect.”

She hurled him into the fireplace. Flame exploded. Brick crumbled. The moose head mounted above the mantel fell onto the pile
of rubble. She cracked her knuckles and narrowed her eyes.

“This could be bad,” said Quick.

The moose head rose with Gorgoz underneath it.

“Okay, okay. I guess I can throw you a mercy screw if it’ll cool you down.”

Syph, abandoning any divine subtlety, hurled herself into Gorgoz. They crashed through the wall and out of the room.

“Hell hath no fury…” observed Quick.

This wasn’t what he’d had in mind when bringing Syph, but a distraction was a distraction. The manor rattled with Syph and
Gorgoz’s howls. Worthington took advantage of the situation to bolt from the room.

“You better get out of here, Phil.”

“But what about you?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m not sure how long Syph and I can keep him occupied.”

“But—”

“Damn it, go!” Quick transformed into a ten-foot-tall golden warrior with blazing eyes and bloody tattoos. “I can take care
of myself.”

“Be careful.”

Quick nodded. “You, too.”

He walked toward the sounds of battle.

Gorgoz had transformed into his hideous primal form, that of a dark green giant with three heads and four legs. Syph, a burning,
pale goddess of rage, wrestled with the giant. She tore pieces of his flesh with her bare hands.

It was all so ridiculous, thought Quick. Direct conflict between immortals was little more than a cosmic pissing contest.
It was possible to win, to hurt a god so badly that it took him a few minutes to recover. But that was about it.

A few minutes might help Phil get away, though, so Quick tightened his grip on his onyx spear and waded into the fray.

The house shook with the fury of the gods. The structure wasn’t zoned for divine brawling. When Quick’s spear pierced Gorgoz’s
thigh, the dark god’s shriek burst the pipes, spewing scalding steam into the air. When Gorgoz snapped off the spear and smashed
Quick with the broken handle, a load-bearing wall cracked and a section of the roof collapsed. And when Syph bit Gorgoz in
a very sensitive place, the windows blew out. In the matter of a few seconds, the house was a death trap.

Phil navigated the deadly maze. He was nearly buried under a collapsing hallway, he almost fell into a bottomless pit, and
he dodged a miniature tornado as it tore its way across his path.

Phil didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t know the mansion’s layout and the chaos didn’t help any. He was just trying
to find a way out without getting killed.

He pushed through a cloud of smoke and collided with someone.

“Watch it, you idiot!” growled Worthington.

Each man waited for the other to make the first move. Phil put his hands up, closed them into fists, and then flinched when
he thought Worthington was going to attack. But he realized that Worthington was doing the exact same series of gestures.

A grand piano came crashing through a wall and nearly hit both men. They both decided, without saying a word, that they were
just a pair of mere mortals trying to survive. Worthington ran, and Phil, trusting Worthington knew the way around his own
crumbling house, followed.

They found the garage. The roof had collapsed, crushing the Mercedes and the Hummer. Worthington jumped into the Jag, and
Phil climbed into the passenger seat. The car started up, and Worthington peeled out of the garage just as it collapsed into
a pile of rubble.

There was a blinding flash and a sonic boom. A giant piece of flaming debris fell from the sky, landing directly in the Jag’s
path. Worthington jerked the wheel, losing control. The vehicle tore up his manicured lawn, flattening several bushes. He
slammed on the brakes. The Jag spun out, sideswiping a tree. He hit his head on the steering wheel, which rattled him.

Phil’s seat belt had prevented any serious injury. He had a few bruises, and his side hurt whenever he took a deep breath.
He climbed out of the vehicle on unsteady legs.

The flaming mound of debris thrashed about in a painful twitch. It was Quick, back in his rainbow serpent shape. He shrank,
writhing and groaning as the flames went out. Phil knelt beside the charred, withered god. He didn’t dare touch Quick, who
looked as if he might crumble into ash at any moment.

Quick raised his head and smiled painfully. “I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, yes, he’ll be fine,” said Gorgoz from behind Phil.

The god strode toward Phil. Gorgoz dragged Syph, bloody and battered, by the hair. The goddess had been beaten to a pulp.
Bruises and cuts covered every inch of her pale skin. Gorgoz wasn’t without his own wounds. Lacerations oozed putrid bile
and half his face had been torn away. Still, he was the only god walking at the moment.

“Sad, really. Are there no real powers left?” He tossed Syph away like a piece of refuse.

Quick rose. One of his wings broke off, and he winced. He slithered between Gorgoz and Phil.

“Do we really have to keep doing this?” asked Gorgoz. “Take a look at yourself. You’re no match for me. Maybe in your prime.”
He laughed. “No, let’s be honest. Not even then.

“Don’t you see? Quick, you’re a shadow of everything you once stood for. Oblivion and chaos are the only constant. The mortals
may deny it, but you should know better. We all should know better. And if I have to destroy every single man, woman, and
child on Earth to free us of their weakness, then so be it.” He leered at Phil. “And this one is just as good a start as any.”