E. Godz (14 page)

"Why are you smiling like that?" Teddy Tumtum asked, looking suspicious. "I've
never seen you smile that way. It's almost ... Machiavellian. You're up to something
more than a simple Lost Luggage spell. What is it?"

"Oh, nothing much." Peez said airily. "Just a two-for-the-price-of-one deal for my
darling baby brother. Not only will his check-in bag go wandering through the cosmos,
but every time he comes up against any kind of security checkpoint in his travels, he's
going to set it off like Krakatoa on a bad day."

"Why, you sly dog, you!" The bear was impressed. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"And he won't just set off mechanical screening devices," Peez went on, relishing
Teddy Tumtum's admiration. "It works on humans, too. When he tells the person at the
check-in counter that he packed his bags himself, they won't believe him. When he's
asked to step out of the boarding line for a spot search of his carry-on bag, they'll
examine it so closely they'll split the seams. Strip-search will become his middle name,
and by the end of his trip he'll be announcing his engagement to a pair of latex gloves!"
She cackled wildly.

"Oh, Peez." Teddy Tumtum sighed in bliss. "My little girl is growing up. You were
never this ruthless when you were a virgin."

Peez blushed. "That has nothing to do with it," she said.

"Maybe yes, maybe no. Could be that you always had the capacity for sheer, cold-
blooded skullduggery, but you've never really exploited your talent to the fullest until
now." The bear wiped away a nonexistent tear. "I'm so very proud of you."

It was the strangest thing: While waiting for her suitcase to appear, Peez was accosted
by a kindly little old man who decided that she looked just like his late sister, Beruria
Jane, who had done missionary work in China and came back home to Ohio with the
most fascinating collection of hand-carved ivory snuff bottles. There was one that looked
like a dragon. Was she aware that the Chinese used an entirely different zodiac system
than we did? They still had a dozen different signs, but instead of your fate depending on
which month you were born, it all relied on a rotating twelve-year cycle. Each of the
years was ruled by an animal, including the dragon, the horse, the ox, the rat, the monkey,
the tiger, the snake, the dog, the rooster, the rabbit, the pig, and what was the twelfth one
again?

She smiled and tried to be polite about it—he was such a dear, grandfatherly type—
but he kept droning on and on and on about that elusive twelfth animal. Then he let her
know that he had been born in the Year of the Rabbit, while Beruria Jane had been born
in the Year of the Dragon. Naturally this led him to explain the characteristics of people
born under those two signs, and which signs were compatible, and that his late wife had
been born in the Year of the Horse. He had forgotten whether that made the two of them
compatible or incompatible, but since she had been run over by a combine harvester on
their fifth anniversary they really had not had much opportunity to discover whether or
not they were compatible in the long run.

"And have you ever seen a combine harvester in action, my dear? Fascinating things,
really. Even in spite of their tendency to run over a person's wife now and then, they are
quite ingenious machines. It makes me proud to be an American, just thinking about
them. Even if the Industrial Revolution didn't get started over here, we Yankees sure as
shootin' knew how to make the most of it, I'll say. Although a body could come to believe
that the Industrial Revolution has generated more problems than solutions, especially if
you listen to the way Beruria Jane's boy, Kelvin, tells it. Not to speak ill of one's own
nephew, but if that boy wasn't a born Bolshevik, then God didn't make little green apples,
and I know for a fact that He did. Mighty tasty things, too, with enough sugar sprinkled
on 'em. There's not enough sugar in this world to take away the taste of that Kelvin's sour
attitude, though. Still, he's my dear, late sister Beruria Jane's only child, and children are
a blessing. Too bad my darling Lucy Kathleen and I were never so blessed—did I tell you
the peculiar way she died? It's not the sort of thing you hear tell of every day—but it was
the Lord's will, and what's more—"

The man was still bemoaning the fact that he and his prematurely harvested wife had
not had any children of their own—not even a Bolshevik to bless themselves with—when
Peez croaked out a desperate, " 'Scuse me, please, but I really have to go to the bathroom
right now," and fled for her life.

Alone in the stall, she leaned her throbbing head against the cool metal wall and
mumbled, "What did I do to deserve that?"

Meanwhile, Dov had just been asked to step into a side room and disrobe. He heard
the snap of a latex glove being donned and shuddered. What did I do to deserve this? he
wondered.

He was not alone. The spells that the warring siblings had unleashed upon each other
were fired off in haste, impulsively, and without filing an Environmental Impact
Statement beforehand. Innocent bystanders and passers-by in the general vicinity when
the spells were launched found themselves enduring weaker versions of the same ordeals
assailing Dov and Peez. Never had so many suitcases taken off for parts unknown, never
had so many bores and buttonholers decided that the total stranger who just happened to
be seated next to them on the plane needed to know their life stories.

As for that part of Peez's spell causing security systems to go berserk, the less said,
the better. Things were bad enough without vindictive magic mucking them up even
further.

Fortunately for the continued smooth running of L.A. International, the fallout effect
of the Godz siblings' spells had a very short half-life. Though the magic would continue
to dog its original targets until they realized they'd been hexed and wiped it away with a
counterspell, it did not continue to plague the truly innocent indefinitely. By the time
Dov's Seattle-bound flight was airborne, most of it had dissipated, and by the time Peez
arrived at the Serene Temple of Unfailing Lifescores, it had all vanished.

"Excuse me," Peez said, tapping the shoulder of the handsome young man who had
picked her up at the airport. "I thought we were going to meet the Reverend Everything at
the Serene Temple of Unfailing Lifescores."

"Yuh-huh," he replied with a smile as flashy as the world's largest cubic zirconia.
They were standing in front of the very building which Dov had left less than a day
before. The spires still glittered, the white stairs still gleamed, the neon lotus blossoms
still winked on and off, and the parking lot still teemed with Porsches, Mercedes, Carmen
Ghias, Alfa Romeos, and one lonesome Segway.

Only the name on the two-story sign in front had been changed to read Soulhaven
Retreat and Starchild Immersionarium.

"Well, I can read, you know," Peez said, tapping her foot and pointing at the telltale
sign. "And that does not say anything about serenity or temples or lifescores—whatever
the heck those are."

"Yuh?" The pretty man tilted his head in a fetching manner and held that pose as if
listening to the rapid-fire click-click-click of a distant camera shutter. Then at last he said,
"Oh," and nodded, holding that pose for a few more imaginary headshots.

This was not a satisfactory answer for Peez. "Look, if you don't want to ask
directions, I'll be glad to handle it. Better yet, never mind. I'll just give the Reverend
Everything a call, tell him where I am, and he can tell us how to reach the Temple."

She suited the action to the words at once, feeling that life (and her allotted time in
L.A.) was too short for her to await the mental processing that would elicit a confirming
yuh from her handsome nougat-brained escort. The E. Godz, Inc. records provided the
Reverend Everything's private cell phone number, and Peez was not afraid to use it.

"Hello, Reverend Everything? Peez Godz, here. I'm afraid that we've somehow
managed to get lost on our way from the airport to the Serene Temple of Unfailing— Oh,
really? ... You don't say ... Is that so? ... Yuh-huh, yuh-huh, yuh-huh, I see. I think."

A look of consternation came over her face. She squinted at the two-story-high sign
and nodded automatically, even though there was no way for the person on the other end
of that phone call to see her doing so.

Then again, perhaps there was.

Peez looked away from the sign and up to the westernmost spire of the

Retreat/Immersionarium. The Reverend Everything, a silvery cell phone in his hand,
gazed down at her cheerfully and waved.

Shortly thereafter, Peez found herself touring the temporarily empty sanctuary. There
had been some changes made, though she was not in a position to realize this. The
pseudo-Aztec trappings and all the jungly glory of the building's previous incarnation had
been swept away as if by magic. In place of the flowers, the vines, the fake jade throne,
and the rest of the package there was now a towering, clear-sided tank where a pair of
dolphins swam, splashed, and otherwise disported themselves.

"I am so very pleased to have you visit us, my dear Ms. Godz," the Reverend
Everything said as he steered Peez around the wide, carpeted deck encircling the top of
the dolphin tank. "I'm sure you're aware that your dear brother Dov was just here as well,
though he had to depart rather precipitously. That was a shame. You see, while we were
in the middle of our services, I was blessed to receive a revelation which told me that it
was time to change the spiritual focus of my flock. Naturally I put my loyal followers to
work upon making that vision a reality. Their labors are not yet complete, but we've
managed to get things arranged well enough for us to celebrate our inaugural services
within the hour. I do hope you won't have to rush off the way your brother did?"

"I, uh, really couldn't say," Peez replied, nervously eyeing the tank. She knew it was
silly, but she couldn't quite shake the feeling that one misspoken word, rather than one
misstep, could send her plunging into the depths.

The Reverend Everything smiled benevolently. In truth, he didn't seem capable of
smiling any other way. While Dov had amassed a whole wardrobe of smiles, keeping one
on tap for every possible eventuality, the Reverend Everything had discovered that
wondrous thing, the Little Black Dress smile, suitable for every occasion. It said,
variously:

1. Everything is all right.

2. Everything will be all right.

3. You are Beautiful.

4. You are Smart.

5. You are Loved.

6. You are Special.

7. You may prove to be useful to me.

8. You are Nuts, but I think I can still find some profitable use for you.

9. I hear you.

10. I'm listening.

11. I am really listening.

12. I am listening to you the way no one else in this nasty old world has ever listened
to you because I am the only one who recognizes your intrinsic worth, so you'd better get
with my program because if you don't, I'll drop you like a bad habit and you'll have to go
back to being an ordinary zhlub again.

13. I'm actually thinking about my tee-off time at the country club golf course, but
you're going to look like a rude idiot if you try to challenge me for not listening to what
you're saying because I am extremely good at faking an intelligent and insightful reply,
so don't try it.

14. I'm actually staring at your cleavage, but this is another case where you'd better
not try to challenge me on it because all I have to do is act shocked and hurt and then you
will look like a conceited idiot with severe personal problems that make you go around
accusing a Man of God of all sorts of naughtiness that is obviously all in your twisted
imagination. Don't try this either.

"My dear, I quite understand your reluctance to commit yourself," he said smoothly.
"I respect your businesspersonhood. I sense that it's telling you to take as much or as little
time as you feel we deserve. Your insightful wisdom is something we should all aspire to.
You didn't get to be the head of the E. Godz New York City office on the basis of your
family ties alone."

I didn't? Peez thought. Like hell, I didn't! Oh, this guy is good at telling people what
he thinks they want to hear! No spiritual movement ever went broke following that path.
No wonder he's one of our top contributors.

"Thank you," was all that she said.

It seemed to be enough for the Reverend. He turned that magical smile of his up a
notch and escorted her to a seashell-shaped chair at the rear of the deck, a place Peez
found herself thinking of as "center stage." Murmuring his excuses, he sidled over to a
three-panel screen to one side of her seat, leaving her to take in the dubious beauties of
the Retreat/Immersionarium without benefit of his commentary.

Peez seated herself beneath the garlands of green, blue and silver tinsel seaweed
festooning her pearly throne. She gazed out at an unblocked vista of the sanctuary and
saw that work was already well begun on decorating the walls and pews with similar
marine-themed glitz. Enmeshed in the ersatz seaweed were scatterings of greenish-white
plastic starfish. Peez glanced up at the electrical fixtures and spied the unmistakable
presence of black lights among the ordinary bulbs and fluorescents.

I'll bet dollars to dolphin treats that those starfish glow in the dark, she thought.

"Ms. Godz?" Reverend Everything's mellifluous voice brought her sharply out of her
speculations. "I'm not asking for any sort of a promise from you, but may I hope that
you'll share our services? It would be an honor for me. This will be the first time since
my transformational vision that our faithful will be sharing in the new path to being one
with the universe."

"I suppose I could—" she began. The sight of him stopped her words cold on her lips.

"Is something wrong?"

No, she thought. Nothing wrong at all. Not if you're used to seeing someone do a
quick-change routine from Wall Street Formal to Atlantis Casual every blessed day!

Broadway Merman, and no, she didn't mean Ethel: There was no other way to
describe the Reverend Everything's new look. Somehow, in the short time Peez had been
viewing the sanctuary's saltwater decor, he had stripped off his natty, cream-colored suit
in favor of a multicolored, spangled fishtail that a bathhouse era Bette Midler would have
rejected as too garish. His chest was bare, though he'd acquired a frosty green beard long
enough to obscure most of it.

"Ohhh," he said, nodding in sympathy for Peez's abrupt silence. His foot-high diadem
of shells and dried seahorses swayed gently. "I see what's bothering you. You've never
attended one of my services before. I do this sort of thing all the time."

He used his crystal trident to retrieve the cast-off suit and held it out for her
inspection. "It's a one-piece outfit with hidden Velcro closures. A lot like the sort of
rental clothing they use for the dear departed in funeral homes, in cases where the family
does not provide a, heh, going-away outfit; much easier to remove for reuse in that
critical post-viewing, pre-burial time slot. Now, was that the only thing upsetting you?"

"Y-y-yes. That and—and—" She didn't know quite how to say it and still consider
herself to be a lady, so she made vague motions at the Reverend's chest.

He looked down at himself in puzzlement, then chuckled. "Ah! It's the pasties, right?"
He pointed at the pair of iridescent plastic squids covering his nipples, two islands in a
Sargasso Sea of pepper-and-salt chest hair. Chuckling, he added, "I know they must seem
a trifle over-the-top for some tastes, but I felt that as the spiritual leader of a large and
loyal congregation, I owed it to the dignity of my calling to veil my vestigial mammaries
from sight. It must be the quest for enlightenment, not the humble guide, that claims their
attention. I would never want to distract my Seekers."

"Distract them? Distract them?!" Peez shrilled, rising to her feet. "You look like the
illegitimate gay offspring of Poseidon and Cher and you're worried about distracting the
congregation because you've got naked nipples?!"

Reverend Everything gaped at her. He wasn't the only one left stunned by her
outburst. Peez herself gasped, clamped both hands over her mouth, and collapsed back
into her chair, horrified at what she'd just done.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean that. I didn't say that. Oh, I am so, so
sorry."

Reverend Everything took a deep breath, tilted his head back so far that his shell
crown fell off, and laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks. When at last he recovered
himself enough to speak, he said, "Ms. Godz, your innocence is like a breath of salt air
from our own Mother Ocean's revivifying lips. Seen like this, outside of the context of
our worship services, my garb must indeed look a trifle theatrical, but pageantry is often a
part of religious rites. I assure you, when you see our rites as a whole, my chosen
appearance will look perfectly natural."

"Of course it will," Peez muttered, still blushing.

And so it did.

—for a freak show, Peez thought. No, that's too harsh. For a circus, then, or an
aquacade, or whatever the hell this extravaganza is. She took another pull at the loop-de-
loop pink plastic straw protruding from her sacramental pina colada and took in the scene
before her with a jaundiced eye.

Services were nearly over—the drinks had been distributed when Reverend
Everything called his followers to partake in the "refreshment of the soul"—but plenty
was still going on. It was standing room only in the dolphin tank, for one thing.

No, not the tank; the Immersionarium, Peez mentally corrected herself. Where the
suckers go to get a real soaking.

Less than fifteen minutes ago she had sat back and listened while the Reverend
Everything told the congregation that the way to become One with the Universe was to
let your soul float free. Money was the ballast holding you down on the bottom of the
great Cosmic Sea where the Crabs of Crotchetyness would nibble your toes and the
Remoras of Remorse stood poised to suck the good karma out of you. The people
groaned and made bubbling noises with their lips on hearing this.

Yet there was hope. Or, in the Reverend's own words, "But wait! There's more!" He
then called upon his lovely assistants to bring forth those worshipers who had given up
the most ballast at the previous week's service. These finny handmaidens too were
dressed like rejects from a Las Vegas-based road company of Hans Christian Andersen's
The Little Mermaid. Their fishtails made walking up and down the aisles a chore, so they
settled for announcing the names of the favored through microphones disguised as
lobsters.

With joyous sounds last heard on episodes of Flipper, the chosen ones came forward,
walking down the center aisle and up the steps to the deck surrounding the dolphin tank.
One by one they were taken behind a dressing screen only to emerge shortly thereafter
wearing swimsuits. Peez was impressed to see so many people mastering Reverend
Everything's own talent for doing a quick change act until she noticed that the screen also
concealed a picked team of additional assistants who could get the clothes off a body
faster than a horny sixteen-year-old.

As soon as a worshiper emerged from behind the screen, he or she was escorted to the
edge of the dolphin tank where the Reverend Everything was waiting, crystal trident in
hand. He said a few words about there being a tide in the affairs of men, going with the
flow, life as a river, the fount of all knowledge, sinners being pond scum, and brooking
no arguments from any outsiders who decried the methods of the Soulhaven Retreat and
Starchild Immersionarium because such drips were spiritual wet blankets.

Then he used his trident to swat the Seeker into the pool. The dolphins, aka
Starchildren, swam around each new visitor happily, sometimes taking an interest,
sometimes ignoring him completely. That was all right, though, because the Reverend's
earlier preachings had made sure to point out that it was the Seeker's soul that the
Starchildren would touch, and every person emerging from the tank insisted that he or
she had been very touched indeed.