A Lee Martinez

by Divine Misfortune (v5)

  “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to do that, but I’ve been really busy lately and—”

  “Ignorance of the code is no excuse.” The black veins on the fury’s skull-like face throbbed. She ripped the citation from the pad and thrust it accusingly at Teri. “I’ve issued a warning this time, as per homeowners association guidelines.” The fury smiled, revealing sharp teeth perfect for ripping out the throats of murderers, traitors, and those damned souls who dared to stick plastic pink flamingoes on their lawn. “Don’t let it happen again.”

  Lucky appeared beside Teri. He hopped up and intercepted the citation.

  “Edna, is that you? You’re looking scarier than ever.”

  “Lucky, you ol’ son of a bitch.”

  “Hey now, what’s this?” He scanned the citation. “You’re not raining down wrath on my girl Teri here, are you?”

  “Just doing my job,” said Edna, sounding a bit guilty. “She’s not one of yours, is she?”

  “Yep. But more importantly, she’s a good kid.”

  “Rules are rules.”

  “We’re celebrating, and it got a little out of hand. My fault, not hers. Can’t we look the other way just this once?”

  “Well…” The fury’s fury faded. The citation disappeared in a flash of white flame. “I could never say no to you, Lucky.”

  “Come on in. Have a beer.”

  “One can’t hurt, I suppose.” She pulled out the stiletto knives keeping her hair in a bun. The black curls cascaded down past her shoulders as she joined the party.

  “Thanks,” said Teri.

  “Don’t mention it, kid.” He winked. “All part of the service, right? Do yourself a favor, Teri. Relax a little. Have a good time. Mortal life is too short to be worried all the time.”

  Janet showed up, handed Lucky a fresh beer. “Didn’t you promise to introduce me to that fox-eared demigoddess?”

  He led her away.

  Teri found Phil in the kitchen.

  “So how did the tournament go?” she asked.

  “You are now looking at Red Ronan, reigning Death Ninja 3 champion of Heaven and Earth.”

  She put her arms around him and gave him a kiss. “I think we made the right decision.”

  “Are you sure? No more doubts?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe a little bit of doubt. But not very much.”

  “All I can ask for at this stage, I suppose,” said Phil.

  She kissed him again.

  Charon poked his head into the kitchen. “Hades is burning for a rematch, Ronan. Dare you accept?”

  “You’re on.”

  9

  Bonnie had horrible dreams. They weren’t like ordinary nightmares, neither vague nor surreal. More like an edited playback of her life, as if someone had shot a movie, cut out all the good parts, and left only a parade of tragic, painful, and humiliating moments. She awoke, feeling as if she hadn’t slept a wink.

  Syph, head bowed, sat in the corner of the bedroom.

  “Oh, Jupiter,” groaned Bonnie. “What are you doing?”

  The goddess raised her head. Her hair fell across her face, but she gazed at Bonnie with one colorless eye.

  Bonnie covered her head with the blanket. She turned over and tried to go back to sleep. But she could feel the goddess still looking at her. Bonnie just wanted to get some sleep, to find refuge in unconsciousness. But even asleep, there was no escape from Syph.

  “I’m sorry,” said the goddess. “About the dreams. In time, you’ll get used to them.”

  “That’s what you think,” mumbled Bonnie from under the blanket. She had no intention of getting used to any of this, and she wasn’t about to surrender to the goddess’s influence. She hadn’t asked to follow Syph, and there had to be a way of getting out from under her.

  The alarm blared.

  She didn’t want to get up. She just wanted to lie here and wither away. But that was the goddess, not her. Bonnie was a happy person. She tried to stay positive no matter what. It wasn’t always easy. Not after her mom died. Or when she broke her leg and lost her dance school scholarship. Or that time her dog was hit by a car. And there was that car accident when she thought she might’ve had whiplash. And that other time when—

  Bonnie sat up and blocked the negative thoughts seeping into her mind.

  “Sorry.” Syph stood. “Would you like some breakfast? I can go make some eggs, if you’d like.”

  “That’d be nice,” replied Bonnie insincerely. She wasn’t hungry, but it’d get Syph out of her hair.

  After the tattered goddess left the room, Bonnie felt a little better. She was able to drag herself out of bed and get dressed. She couldn’t make herself take a shower, but she did run a comb through her hair and find the energy to brush her teeth. It was important to keep going through the motions, despite the weight bearing down on her. Bonnie couldn’t give in to the hopelessness.

  Syph had a plate of runny eggs, burned toast, and a bowl of cereal sitting on the table.

  “Don’t eat the cereal,” she said. “The milk has soured.”

  “I just bought that milk,” said Bonnie.

  Syph shrugged. “Sorry.”

  “Do me a favor, will you? If you’re not going to leave me alone could you at least stop all the apologizing?”

  It might’ve been a trick of the light, but Bonnie thought Syph almost smiled.

  “Your eggs are getting cold.”

  Though the scent of cooking was still fresh in the air, the eggs were ice-cold. Bonnie could tell just by looking because ice was forming on the plate. She didn’t eat them, didn’t even touch them. Accepting a gift from a goddess of heartbreak would only compound her problems.

  “Thanks,” said Bonnie, “but I’m running late. I’ll grab something on the way.”

  “No, you’re not,” replied Syph, “but thank you for bothering to make an excuse.”

  Bonnie took the bus to work. Syph didn’t follow her out of the apartment, but the goddess still managed to beat Bonnie to the bus. Syph even saved her a seat.

  A burly man with a permanent scowl occupied the seat behind her. His radio blasted out hard-core speed metal, where the guitarist played so fast the notes bled together and the vocalist roared. Thirty seconds after she boarded the bus the radio started playing twangy country songs about broken hearts and shattered lovers. He fiddled with the knobs to try to tune in another station and even changed the CD with no effect. Eventually he gave up and turned it off.

  Syph didn’t get off the bus with Bonnie, but when she reached the bookstore, the goddess was already there, perusing the magazine section. Bonnie decided she would do her best to ignore Syph. Maybe if she was offered no acknowledgment Syph might push off and bother someone else.

  Bonnie went to the break room and clocked in. Ms. Carter, the assistant manager, pulled her aside.

  “I trust you are feeling better today, Bonnie.”

  There was an accusation there. Carter was a stickler. Bonnie had been working at Books N’ More for four years now, and she’d missed only one other day. It had just happened to be Carter’s first day as assistant manager. Now Bonnie was branded as a slacker. Her nose piercing probably didn’t help, and she was pretty sure that her short hair qualified her as a potential lesbian in Carter’s estimation.

  “Much better,” Bonnie replied.

  It was a bit of a lie. She wasn’t herself, but she was adjusting. The goddess had been right. Yesterday had been rough. Last night, even rougher. This morning wasn’t so bad. She still felt the weight on her chest, the desire to surrender herself to oblivion. But that wasn’t her. That was the goddess’s influence. Knowing that helped her to work around it.

  Carter frowned, but she was always frowning. “Good, Bonnie. I hope we can trust you to be a reliable member of the Books N’ More family.”

  “Yes, Ms. Carter.”

  Her boss walked away in her standard kick-step mode of walking.

  Bonnie discovered it wasn’t so easy to ignore Syph. T
he tattered goddess didn’t speak to Bonnie, didn’t follow her around. She merely lurked in the store, walking down the aisles, having a latte at the in-store café, browsing the magazine rack, and otherwise killing time like any other customer. But there were problems.

  A customer threw a stack of bridal magazines on the counter while Bonnie was working the register.

  “I need to return these,” the woman said.

  “I’m sorry, we don’t take returns on magazines,” Bonnie replied. “It’s store policy.”

  “But they’re defective.” The customer opened the top magazine and pointed to a random page. “Look!”

  At first glance, the photo seemed fine. A closer inspection revealed the anomaly. The beautiful bride wasn’t quite so beautiful. She had the perfect dress, the perfect hair, the perfect bouquet. But she was snarling, and the mascara around her watery eyes was smudged.

  Bonnie flipped through the pages. It only got worse. Article headlines reading “How to Poison That Cheating Bastard” and “Top 10 Reasons You’ll End Up Dying Alone” filled the magazine. Perfect photo brides frowned, then in later pictures became slouching withered figures in frayed, stained dresses. The very worst was a two-page spread of a wedding where the groom had decided to forgo his bride-to-be in favor of the maid of honor. Bonnie could understand that, but she did think it was a bit much for the happy couple to consummate their love in the middle of the aisle while the guests looked on.

  Modern Homes magazine was full of photos of burning and crumbling houses. All the plants in the gardening magazines were dead. Bonnie wisely chose not to open the Kitten Fancier magazine.

  “I want my money back,” said the customer. “I don’t care what your policy is.”

  “Yes, I see what you mean,” said Bonnie. “Just give me a moment.”

  “Hey, Bonnie,” said Vince, “have you seen Carter?”

  “I think she’s in her office.”

  “Not there. I checked.” He leaned over the counter and rifled through the drawer beside her. “Have you at least seen the key that unlocks the store radio station? I’m getting sick of listening to ’Copacabana’ over and over again.”

  Barry Manilow’s crooning tragic tale was stuck on permanent replay. Although it seemed that every ten minutes or so Lola’s end was a bit more tragic. Bonnie didn’t think that in the original version an earthquake opened up, swallowing the heartbroken showgirl, the Copacabana, and a troop of orphaned Boy Scouts who just happened to be in the nightclub asking for directions to a charity campout jamboree.

  “Somebody at that radio station is going to lose their job,” said Vince.

  She feigned ignorance.

  After refunding the customer’s money and throwing the magazines away to dispose of the evidence, Bonnie sought out Syph, sitting at the café.

  Bonnie spoke through clenched teeth. “What are you doing?”

  “I’d say I’m sorry, but you asked me not to do that anymore.”

  The café clerk placed a cup of coffee before the goddess. “Here you go, ma’am. I’m afraid that all our dairy products have spoiled, so it’s free.”

  “Why, thank you. I prefer it black actually. Black like the endless night that inevitably engulfs and devours all mortal souls.”

  Bonnie glanced around before leaning closer. “You can’t do this,” she whispered. “I work here.”

  “What do you expect me to do?”

  “Go away. Go home. If you can’t leave me alone then at least go back to my apartment and wait for me there.”

  “There’s nothing to do there.” Syph sipped her drink. She frowned. “More bitter than I expected, but then again, it always is.”

  “May I speak with you a moment, Bonnie?” asked Carter. “If you’re not too busy chatting, that is.”

  Bonnie plastered on a fake smile and turned from Syph.

  “Have you seen this?” Carter held up a romance novel titled Love’s Empty Promises. The art was traditional except that the subjects weren’t particularly attractive. The long-haired hero was flabby and the redheaded heroine was cross-eyed and hunchbacked. They had their backs turned to each other, and the real shame was that this prevented them from noticing the cattle stampede rushing toward them.

  “I think there’s something going on here.” Carter pointed over Bonnie’s shoulder at the goddess. “And I think it has to do with that customer there. I don’t think she’s an ordinary woman.”

  “Probably just a homeless person,” said Bonnie. “She could be dangerous. Let me take care of her. You’re far too valuable to the store to risk—”

  Carter pushed past Bonnie. “Excuse me, miss. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave the store.”

  Syph took another sip. “I can’t do that. Not without her.”

  Carter followed the goddess’s gaze to Bonnie.

  “I can explain, Ms. Carter. I can. This is all just a misunderstanding.”

  “No misunderstanding. I’m her goddess.”

  “No, she’s not. She’s not! I didn’t solicit her, didn’t ask to be her follower.”

  “You said hello,” observed Syph.

  “I keep telling you that doesn’t count!”

  The goddess shrugged.

  Carter’s frown deepened. “Bonnie, the law prohibits Books N’ More from discriminating against anyone simply for their choice of god or goddess—”

  “She’s not my goddess!” said Bonnie with a bit more force than she’d intended.

  Carter’s brow knit in a disapproving glare. The outburst would probably find its way into Bonnie’s employee file.

  She pulled Carter closer and whispered, “This is only temporary. I’m taking steps to get rid of her.”

  Carter’s jaw tightened. “The policy of Books N’ More is to foster a spirit of tolerance toward its employees and whatever divine powers they choose to align themselves with, providing said alignment does not negatively affect their job performance.” She held up the romance novel. “Does this look as if it is not affecting your work, Bonnie?”

  “Look, I’ll take my break now,” said Bonnie.

  Bonnie grabbed the book from Carter. It immediately burst into flame. She dropped it and beat it out with a defective magazine.

  Carter cleared her throat.

  “I’ll take an early lunch now,” said Bonnie with a smile.

  “She’s coming with me, and when I get back, I’ll come back alone. It’ll all be fine. I promise!” She grabbed Syph’s hand, ignoring the chill passing through her, and dragged the goddess toward the door.

  There was a Burger Town just down the street. Bonnie ordered her lunch, then sat Syph down at a table.

  “We need to have a talk,” said Bonnie. “I know you’re a goddess, and that by myself, I can’t get rid of you. But I think we both know that I have a slam-dunk case for a restraining order with Divine Affairs. So why don’t you save me the trouble of having to file with the court and—”

  “It won’t save you. You don’t think you are the first to turn to Divine Affairs, do you?”

  “But you have to follow the rulings of the court,” said Bonnie.

  “You don’t get it, do you? Yes, if the court decreed it I would have to release you as my follower. But it takes time to bring a case to the court, time for a ruling to be handed down. Several months at least. And none of my followers have ever lasted that long.”

  She sighed. A dove flew into the window beside them and broke its neck.

  Bonnie stuffed a handful of fries into her mouth. Under Syph’s influence, they were cold and soggy. This was what Bonnie’s life was going to be like for the foreseeable future. A constant barrage of metaphorical soggy fries. Not a single drop of joy. Only unhappy endings. An endless depression that would eventually consume her soul.

  “How many months do I have?” asked Bonnie.

  “Four, perhaps five,” said Syph. “One lasted almost six before losing the will to live. His heart just stopped beating, and he turned to stone.
Shame about that one. I rather liked him.”

  Bonnie put her head on the table and almost cried. Almost.

  “No!” She sat up and slammed her palms on the table. “I’m not giving in! I’m not going to sit here and let you kill me!”

  Syph opened her eyes in startled surprise. It was the first time Bonnie had seen Syph appear anything other than depressingly resigned.

  “There has to be a way to fix this,” said Bonnie. “Mortals have defied the gods successfully before.”

  “Not in a very long time. The Age of Legends has long passed. A shame. They were brighter days.”

  Syph smiled and sighed wistfully. Bonnie braced herself for another dead bird or icy wind or symbolic spontaneous combustion. Instead, the dark cloud hiding the sun moved to one side and allowed a few warm rays to shine down on Bonnie and her goddess. The moment didn’t last. The cloud jumped back into its solar-interception duties, and a roach crawled out from under Bonnie’s burger bun.

  She flicked it away. “What just happened?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “I felt better all of a sudden.” Bonnie took a bite of a fry. It was still tasteless, but there was a little crispiness. “And so were you. Don’t deny it. I saw you smile.”

  “Maybe I did. Aren’t I allowed a smile every so often? Must I always be dour?”

  “I don’t know. Mustn’t you? You are a goddess of tragedy and hopelessness, aren’t you?”

  “I wasn’t always.” Syph spoke in a low embarrassed tone. “A long time ago… well, I suppose that’s not important anymore.”

  She slouched, and a crack split the window. “It’s not worth talking about.”

  Bonnie wasn’t so sure about that.

  “Gods can change their province?” she asked. “I didn’t think you could do that.”

  Syph nodded.

  “So why don’t you just change then? You obviously aren’t happy as the goddess of tragedy.”

  “It doesn’t work like that. I can’t choose to change. It’s not something I control.”

  “How?”

  “It’s not important. I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “Oh no. You don’t get off the hook that easy.”

  Syph arched her eyebrows in surprise.