Hero's Curse (15 page)

“For example, the fake fossil history was perfect until some idiot accidentally put feathers on a Velociraptor’s remains, and then every gullible, head-up-his-butt paleontologist decided dinosaurs had feathers. Can you imagine the waste of resources to go back and modify every single theropod remains so they looked like birds?” B shook his head in disgust.

“So in a nutshell, it all happened by accident, but Jehovah’s the best god for humans in all of the Multiverse. He’s the most powerful being around, but He’s not omnipotent, and he certainly isn’t omniscient. Our Universe is run by a huge bureaucracy made up of multiple billions of angels. The further they are from combat, the more incompetent they’re likely to be.”

The idea of Jehovah actively hiding from humanity seemed ridiculous. “B, explain to me again why God is trying to make people not believe in him?”

B snorted, “Yeah, I know it sounds strange, but unforced faith is a really good source of power for a god. It’s a hell of a lot better way to run a world than running around eating your worshipers. Humans do best when they think they’re in charge. Look at any culture that is dominated by its priests. It doesn’t do well. It’s a lot worse when it’s a god or gods doing the dominating. Creating the illusion that humans are in control of their own fate is just good animal husbandry.

“Give you an example, the Grand Canyon was originally created in Noah’s Flood. The rapid flood waters dug a huge ditch into the soft sandstone. Once Jehovah had enough power to invest on illusions, a bunch of low level angels were sent to the Canyon to pretty up the colors and artificially age the ditch. They made the canyon look like it was created by erosion over a time span of five to six million years. For once, the numbnuts on the illusion crew didn’t mess up. You have to admit that it’s hilarious that the ‘idiot, irrational Bible thumpers’ are right about almost everything, while the ‘know-it-all scientists’ are the oblivious victims of a con run by incompetents. But regardless of who is wrong or right, it’s better for human societies when there are enough know-it-alls to balance out the fundamentalists.”

B was right. The situation was hilarious. This time when he burst out laughing, I joined him. He finished the dregs of his beer. “Vic, my man, what happened to you was the typical FUBAR that comes from depending on REMFs. No one cast a spell on you to fall in love with Mina. You were designed from birth to be together. If you hadn’t been lost to the system for so long, you’d already know this info.” B made a ‘what can you do’ gesture with his hands, and then leaned forward. “Here’s the biggest kicker to this story. I’m not sure if He’s starting to believe His own press releases or if feeding on the belief of billions over the last four thousand years has changed Him, but Jehovah is now almost as much of a prissy ass, goody two-shoes as His worshipers believe. He’s so good, He doesn’t mind when an archangel talks crap about Him. He’s so good, there’s a constant stream of defectors from other Universes trying to join Him.

“Jehovah doesn’t do conquest. There is no need; all He has to do is watch His worshipers multiply. This means, on any given day, there are thousands of minions landing on Earth. There’s a constant need for Holy Warriors, human and angel. God love ya Vic, you may hate being drafted—and I don’t blame you one bit since I’m in the same boat—but I’m telling you, and you can trust me on this, He’s the best of a bad lot.”

B finished his spiel with the hearty smile of politician who only has your best interests at heart. It dawned on me that he liked playing the buffoon. My gut told me he had flubbed some of his jokes on purpose. It made it easier to underestimate him. It’s hard to be frightened of an incompetent class clown. He lounged back in his chair waiting for my questions.

I had a thousand things I wanted to know. I bought B’s explanation for what I felt for Mina. For once, I was told something that fit my worldview. Emotions are the end product of a mix of chemicals in your brain. Beauty is a marker for good genes and pheromones have way more power than most people realize. I also bought his explanation that my feelings for Mina were no one’s fault; I could live with that. I had already spent too much time and thought on her. I decided I wanted to learn more about the hosts of heaven. “Aidan told me at one time Angels and humans interbred. You’ve said angels don’t have the equipment. What’s up?”

For a split second, I saw an honest emotion on B’s face—intense longing; it disappeared into his politician’s smile. “We’re allowed to say anything we want about the Man. In fact, we’re encouraged to say stuff, make things up, even to insult Him. It helps support the illusion He might not exist. Any truth about God is lost in all the misinformation. The actual details of how heaven works, especially details about angels, are a different story. You don’t have the clearance to know what exactly happened. All I can say is Jehovah is a prude. Come on, man! He had an opportunity to make a baby and he used artificial insemination! It took Him close to four thousand years to get enough power, but when He did, things changed for angels.”

B shrugged to show he was helpless to satisfy my curiosity. I nodded back, “So getting the story on the angels that rebelled is out of the question?”

He flashed a grin. “You got it, bro.”

I kept prodding. “Your original name wouldn’t have been something famous, say Beelzebub?”

B burst out with involuntary laughter. It was a good thing he hadn’t been drinking at the time; I would have been sprayed. With a grin, he made the three finger Boy Scout salute. “I can neither confirm nor deny.”

He then looked at me seriously. “Dude, trust me, nothing good can come from these kinds of questions. Certain words and names are flagged; using any of the names of the ex-Princes of Hell are like waving big red ones. Right now one of Metatron’s boys is listening to us. Think of the NSA and eavesdropping programs on steroids.” He paused and looked me in the eyes to emphasize his point. “You need to drop this.”

B’s reaction told me what I needed to know. Hell no longer existed. He may or may not have been Beelzebub, but I’d bet a lot of money he had been one of the angels who had rebelled. To get out of Joey’s grasp I needed to leave this Universe. If Aidan could defect to Earth, there had to be a way to defect the other way. Another Universe filled with weak competing gods had possibilities. I needed time to do more research. I had never previously had much interest in dead religions, but I distinctly recalled in most of these religions, it was possible for a human to become a god. The idea of being a servant for eternity sucked; being eaten by a god was worse. The only way out for me was becoming a god myself.

I was certain the story B had told was mostly true. Like me, angels couldn’t tell a lie. I was equally sure his story was misleading. I needed time to figure out the real truth. I had to play along for awhile. “Okay, I get it. Let’s go back to the Jotunn. Is it still dangerous for me to go outside at night?”

B made a ‘who care’s’ face. “Not so much. Your anti-scrying spell prevents them from learning your exact location. They know you’re in the City, but not much else. They’ll have to track you down by non-magical means. By the rules of the Great Game, I’m not allowed to help you fight them off. I can’t even tell you how many of them are here. You’re better off talking to the Oath Brotherhood; they’re allowed to help you as best they can…”

An inebriated voice behind me became too loud to ignore. “Are you two fags? You guys are so pretty, you have to be fruits!” B was facing the voice; I turned and saw a guy who was convinced he was Bad. He was in his late thirties, with the large frame of an ex-football player, and at least forty pounds over his prime weight. There were six men and two women at his table, all of them in Hells Angels inspired denim and leathers. A couple of the guys had prison tats. We were in an upscale yuppie bar/restaurant. They didn’t fit. The other patrons around us were desperately trying to pretend they were somewhere else.

B grinned and blew the guy a kiss. “Why, you want some of this?”

The idiot lunged for B. I could have tripped him, preventing him from reaching my annoying guardian angel, but I didn’t; I was curious how B would play this. I didn’t see B move but somehow the biker missed him, landing on the floor on his hands and knees. B reached over and patted the drunk’s head like he was soothing a dog. He asked, “Are you alright, boy?”

With a roar, the biker swung at B from the ground. This time I caught what B did; he moved so quickly—out of the way and then back into position—it almost looked like the guy’s fist passed through B’s body.

“HEY!” The hostess screamed, “I’ve called the police. You need to leave NOW!”

The biker slowly stood up. He pointed to each of us, and then with a threatening glare said, “This isn’t over.” He jerked his head at his friends and they all walked out of the restaurant together. By the nonchalant way they were handling this, it was clear they’d been kicked out of bars before. B and I had remained sitting the entire time. The hostess walked over to us and said regretfully, “I’m going to have to ask you both to leave, too.”

From a nearby table, an older man spoke up, “Miss, my wife and I have been here the whole time. These two men did nothing to provoke those hoodlums.” A woman from another table chimed in. “He’s right. The bikers started the fight.”

The hostess smiled shyly at us and said. “Okay then, I did call the police. I guess when they get here, you can give them a statement.”

B beamed like an innocent cherub. “Absolutely sweetheart, in the meantime can we have our check?” When the hostess left happily to do his bidding, he turned back to me. “Vic, did you notice those yahoos were human?”

I thought back. “Yeah, I did.”

“As a paladin, you’ll be able to sense who’s human and who isn’t. You should also be able to get a good idea how powerful they are, pretty damn quick. For the most part, unless someone has more ju-ju than you, they won’t be able to hide who they really are. Now, try looking at me.”

I focused on B. He looked human—a fucking annoying human—but still human. I felt a flash of power come and go. “Notice what I did?”

I nodded. Our waitress then came with the check. B held out a hundred. As the girl reached for it, he gave her a lecherous grin and held onto the bill. “The change is for you, beautiful.” She mumbled her thanks, and unable to look him in the eye, snatched the money and fled again. He turned back to me as if we hadn’t been interrupted, “You felt me move a drop of beer in your glass. It’s a good idea not to get too cocky about your new senses. Remember, you won’t come across things that can hide from you often, but when you do it’s going to be a bitch. If, out of the blue, you feel a flash of magic and you don’t know the source, it’s trouble. Jotunn are powerful. A couple of the ones here might be able to hide from you.” He flashed his shark grin. “Wish I could tell you more, but like I said, there are rules.”

B looked at his wrist and revealed an Omega Speedmaster Professional. “Well, look at the time. Believe it or not, I’ve got other shit to do besides watching over you. Wanna see how angels come and go?”

I suddenly got the sense someone was behind me. I looked but there was no one. I felt a flash of magic. When I turned back toward B, he was gone. I scanned the people around me. None of them looked shocked or surprised. It looked like all of us had been facing away when he took off. I wondered if Harley came and went the same way.

Physically, I was fine. Mentally, I was beat. The thought of going back to my ‘true love’ made me even more tired. I promised myself I’d move out as soon as possible. As I walked out of the microbrewery, the hostess caught my eye. I waved and kept moving, the chances of the cops coming anytime soon for a bar scuffle where nothing happened was slim to none. When I got outside, it was full dark. I walked down the block and was about to turn the corner into the parking lot when I sensed eight people quietly standing beyond the corner in the shadows. I could hear them breathing.

I hadn’t taken anything the biker had said or done earlier personally. I knew he and his friends were playing a con to avoid paying for their food and beer. It’s not a bad scam; a group of lowlifes go into a place that’s too upscale for them, and eat and drink their fill. When it’s time to leave, one of them causes a minor ruckus and gets them all kicked out, usually without paying. As long as you don’t try to hit the same place twice, it’s a good way to get free grub.

It’s possible this ambush wasn’t personal. The biker and his friends may have just needed the money and they thought I’d be an easy mark, or they may have been fag bashers who had taken a particular dislike to B and me because we’re so pretty. I didn’t care. They were just what I needed. I had stress I wanted to release.

I turned the corner. Mr. Thinks-He’s-Bad and his gang were waiting, “Hey, fag…”

Force equals Mass times Acceleration. It’s hard to change your size and weight in the middle of a fight; acceleration is the way to go. I visualized my right foot being a lead weight, and my leg a piece of string. I flicked my hip forward three inches and my foot followed. Just for laughs, a couple years ago I used a radar speed gun to see how fast my foot traveled when I used this technique. My best speed was 92 mph. In the last couple days, I’d gotten faster. I’m sure the bony ridge of my shin struck the biker’s thigh at well over 100 mph.

My shin compressed the muscles of his thigh almost to the bone, causing massive soft tissue trauma. Like a baseball bat hitting meat, my leg rebounded. I used the momentum I gained from the bounce to turn my forward roundhouse into a rear spin kick. My heel slammed into the side of the guy that had crept up behind me. I could feel his ribs crack.