A Lee Martinez

by Divine Misfortune (v5)

  Rick leaned against the wall. “What kind of idiot points his gun at the one person in the room he doesn’t want to shoot? You shouldn’t need a class for that.” He gingerly pinched the wound. “Gods, I’m going to bleed to death now.”

  “It doesn’t look so bad. Did the bullet hit the bone?”

  “How the hell should I know?”

  “Did it feel like it hit the bone?”

  “You want to know how it feels? It feels like some idiot shot me in the leg. That’s how it feels!” Rick started to slide down the wall.

  Eugene moved to brace his partner. Without thinking, he jammed his pistol down the front of his pants. There was another pop of gunfire.

  “Oh gods, oh gods!” He fell to his knees. The bullet had missed his groin by less than an inch. It had drilled a bloody trench in his leg and the flash had burned some highly sensitive areas.

  “You gods-damned moron!” shouted Rick, too obsessed with his own wound to notice the hostages sneaking out of the dining room.

  Quick lay across the sofa. “Hi, gang. Just in time for Family Feud.”

  “You knew that would happen,” said Phil.

  “This is the current residence of a god of good fortune and prosperity. Anyone who really understood the rules would know that trying to kill two of Lucky’s followers in the house where he hangs his hat would be a bad idea.”

  Another gunshot echoed from the dining room, followed by more swearing.

  “Sometimes initiative is a bad idea,” said Quick with a smile.

  16

  Gods were lazy. It was their nature, the design of divine metaphysics. The most successful and influential of gods weren’t the ones who had the most followers. They were the gods who did the least for the most and convinced everyone to overlook it. Zeus and Svarogich, the biggest divinities in North America, were also the two biggest clients of every reputable PR agency on the continent. It was no coincidence.

  Janet knew all this. So she also knew that it was a pretty big deal when Lucky brought her breakfast in bed. It didn’t require any divine power to pour milk over Cheerios (and they were her Cheerios and milk), but the mere act of offering a mortal anything without asking for something in return wasn’t a casual act among gods.

  “You’re out of orange juice,” said Lucky.

  “Funny,” she replied. “I was sure I had enough for one more glass.”

  “Nope. I checked.”

  He sat on the bed.

  “So things are going pretty good between us, aren’t they?” he said.

  “Pretty good,” she agreed.

  “It’s been a long time since I knew anyone I could just hang out with.”

  “What about you and Quick?”

  “He’s cool,” said Lucky, “but it’s different among mortals. Just more interesting.”

  “So that’s what I have going for me? I’m mortal? Just a little slumming.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  She rubbed his ear. “I know, baby.”

  He smiled. “I’m just saying that so far these last two weeks have been the highlight of this century.”

  “Mine, too,” she said. “So far,” she added with a grin.

  He put his hands together and opened them, revealing a golden necklace with a silhouette of a raccoon head.

  “Nice,” she said.

  “I want you to wear it.”

  “I don’t know, Lucky. I’m not into jewelry. I know I’m a woman and I’m supposed to be, but I have enough trouble keeping track of earrings. And isn’t this dangerously close to a talisman of fealty? Are you trying to make me into one of your followers?”

  “Fine. Forget it.” He tossed it away with an exaggerated motion, and the necklace disappeared. “No big deal.”

  Janet had been on the mortal end of more than one immortal fling. They were fun, casual, a chance to hobnob with immortals, have a few laughs, without any risk of getting serious. She liked it that way.

  It didn’t feel the same this time. She hadn’t expected his reaction. He tried to pass it off, to hide it behind a devil-may-care smile. But she could tell by the way his whiskers drooped that he was disappointed. She wasn’t sure how she felt about any of this herself. But she did want the necklace. Not because it was pretty. It wasn’t. Or because it came from a god.

  It was because it came from him.

  “I was just kidding around,” she said. “I’d love to wear it.”

  Lucky reproduced the necklace and put it on her.

  “Are we going steady now?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Are we?”

  They shared an awkward smile. She playfully tweaked his ear.

  Lucky glanced at his wrist, though he didn’t have a watch. “I really should get out of here. Check on Phil and Teri.”

  “Sure.”

  “Uh, so I had a great time.”

  “Me, too.”

  She took a spoonful of cereal, chewing very slowly to force Lucky to carry the conversation. She wasn’t sure what to say herself, and he was so cute when he stammered.

  “Yeah. Okay.” He hesitated, searching for the right words to end the conversation. “You did have one last glass of juice. I, uh, drank it.”

  “Oh, I know.” She winked and imitated his trademark finger snap/gun point.

  Lucky laughed.

  He left. As soon as she heard the front door close, Janet released a long sigh. This was getting complicated. She ran her fingers along the cool necklace.

  “Damn.”

  Someone knocked on her front door. She jumped up, hoping it was Lucky but grabbing a robe just in case. Cinching up the robe, she answered the knock. Syph fixed Janet with a cold stare. The leaves of a nearby tree wilted and yellowed.

  “Hey, you’re that goddess,” said Janet. “That one Lucky was talking to at the restaurant the other day.”

  “Yes, Luka and I are old friends,” said Syph, “and we need to talk.”

  “You just missed him.”

  “No, I don’t need to talk to him. I need to talk to you.”

  Janet leaned against the doorjamb. She appraised the goddess neutrally before grinning slightly.

  “Sure. Come in. Want something to drink?” asked Janet. “I’m all out of juice, but I can make some coffee.”

  “Thank you. That would be lovely. That’s a charming necklace, by the way.”

  “What? This old thing?” Janet chuckled. “I think it’s a bit tacky, but it was a gift, so I wear it.”

  She puttered around the kitchen, rinsing out the coffeepot and starting the machine. It took a few minutes, and Syph said nothing. Janet almost thought the goddess had left. She didn’t care enough to check until the coffeemaker beeped. She briefly debated pouring only one cup, but she took the chance. Syph sat on her couch.

  “Want some milk?” asked Janet.

  “I prefer it black,” replied Syph. “I have a feeling your milk has gone sour anyway.”

  Janet sniffed the carton. “No, it’s good.”

  She poured some into her coffee while Syph glared.

  “So a little talk, huh? Just between us girls?” Janet sipped her steaming cup of coffee.

  Syph frowned at her own cup. The liquid had frozen into a single block of brown ice. Janet didn’t comment but couldn’t resist stretching out her contented sigh a bit. She pushed forth her brightest smile, knowing it would irritate the hell out of Syph.

  “What’s up?” Janet added an extraneous lilt to the question.

  “Enjoying your little tryst with a god, are you?”

  “Sure. Lucky’s cool.”

  Syph suppressed her snarl with only mild success.

  “I’m glad you’re having fun. It’s nice for mortals to find some joy, considering how miserably short and meaningless your lives are. No offense.”

  Janet didn’t drop her smile. “None taken.”

  Syph’s displeasure manifested in a scowl. That was it. Nothing else changed. There was no drop in temperature,
no broken glass, no cracks in the plaster or exploding lightbulbs. Aside from her own frozen coffee, the goddess had no effect, conscious or unconscious, on the environment.

  “Lovely place you have here,” said Syph. “Very… lived in.”

  “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

  “Luka was always enamored of the common mortal. Do you know, I don’t think he ever abducted a nymph in his life. Even when it was all the rage. No, for Luka it was always about the peasants, the milkmaids, the mud-covered maidens toiling in the fields. Hardy stock with sturdy limbs and firm hips, but rarely the waifish type.”

  Syph made a show of appraising Janet. The goddess smiled wryly.

  “I beg your pardon. I wasn’t trying to insult you.”

  “Are you kidding?” said Janet. “I work very hard on these thick limbs. Do you know how many curls it takes to get this toned?”

  Syph’s face went blank.

  “My, aren’t you the pleasant little mortal?” she said with an icy tone.

  “I try. I figure if I’m going to live a miserably short and meaningless life, I might as well make the most of it.”

  “An excellent philosophy,” agreed Syph. She walked around the room, pretending to look around, but inwardly fuming. “But I do sometimes marvel that since your lives are already all too brief you don’t take more care with them. So many foolish decisions to be made, and you always seem determined to make as many as you can.”

  “Eh, when you’re mortal you know you’re going to die,” said Janet. “Most of us don’t try to overthink it. I wouldn’t expect you to understand, of course. You get to live forever and ever and ever.”

  Somehow, she made it sound like an insult.

  “Long after you are moldering in the dirt and your bones have withered to powder, Lucky and I will still be walking this earth,” said Syph. “Providing you mortals haven’t blown it up by then.”

  “Or you gods haven’t smote it to dust ahead of us,” said Janet.

  Syph and Janet dropped their polite smiles and locked stares.

  “Very well,” said the goddess. “Let’s be direct, shall we?”

  “Oh, let’s,” agreed Janet.

  Syph said, “You’re a smart woman. You’ve read your history. You know how this works.”

  “How does this work?” asked Janet with feigned wide-eyed curiosity.

  A few red veins darkened the goddess’s flesh. Her left eye twitched, but she otherwise maintained her composure. Though when she spoke there was an edge to her voice.

  “You’re a trifle, a momentary indulgence. You can’t honestly believe he cares for you. You aren’t that naïve.”

  “And how naïve am I?”

  Syph set down her cup and walked to a wall. She pretended to adjust a hanging picture frame and caressed a fern. It didn’t wither.

  “Do you think you’re the first hapless mortal he’s seduced?”

  Janet laughed. “Jeez, I hope not. Thoth knows he’s not my first god. Although I admit you’re my first jealous goddess.”

  “Luka is mine. He will always be mine.”

  “Okay. And what’s that got to do with me?”

  Syph said, “I’m giving you an opportunity to walk away. Before I am forced to intervene.”

  Janet laughed again.

  “You find this amusing?”

  “Sure. Why not? So you have a thing for Lucky. I get it. What I don’t get is why you should care if he sows some wild oats along the way. Isn’t that how it’s usually done? I’m only mortal, right? You can have him back when he gets bored.”

  “Presumptuous cow, you dare dictate terms to me?”

  Syph’s skin paled, and her glowing red skeleton flashed. She pointed at Janet with a twisted finger and unleashed a mournful howl. The goddess focused her displeasure on her romantic rival.

  Syph’s divine wrath battered against Lucky’s affections with the effectiveness of a rubber ball thrown against a mountain. Sensing all her power metaphorically rolling limply to her feet, Syph ground her fangs.

  The fangs were new.

  “Well, this has been a barrel of laughs,” Janet said, oblivious to the dark powers being focused against her. “But you should probably leave now.”

  The goddess burned, but Lucky’s power kept her from mussing a single hair on Janet’s head. It also prevented any changes in her apartment. Anything that would cause the slightest discomfort to this mortal trollop was held in check. The moods and desires of gods reached out to affect their environments, but Syph’s were bottled up by Lucky’s superior power. Her jealousy and anger built up inside her in the form of godly constipation. The tightness in her guts put her in a worse mood, which triggered more rage, which continued to build up in a nasty cycle.

  The most irksome detail was the bizarre revelation that Lucky must really care for Janet. Syph could feel the fortress of divine protection built from Lucky’s affections. And as long as that was in place, there was nothing Syph could do to Janet.

  “The door is this way,” said Janet, without fear of the raging goddess.

  Syph fantasized about pouncing on Janet and strangling the life from this mortal the old-fashioned way. But she hadn’t fallen that far yet, and direct smiting of that sort was prohibited in this day and age. Divine Affairs allowed her to ruin one mortal life at a time as long as she did so subtly. Bashing mortals over the head with her own hands, even if it was justified, would have consequences that even a fallen goddess should consider.

  Syph had to leave this stifling apartment before all her bound-up wrath caused her to implode. She knew she wouldn’t explode because that would make a terrible mess, and Lucky’s protection would never allow that.

  “I’m glad we had this little talk,” said Janet as she showed Syph out. “I’ll let Lucky know you dropped by.”

  She slammed the door before Syph could say anything else.

  Syph’s power surged outward. The earth rumbled. The sky darkened. Burning hail pelted the ground, setting the plants ablaze and scorching the grass. The foundation of a neighboring building in the complex collapsed, causing the structure to lean dangerously close to toppling.

  None of these manifestations had any effect on Janet’s building. And though the sidewalk was broken and shattered, Syph was certain that Janet hadn’t felt so much as a tremor while nestled in her sanctuary.

  It wouldn’t last. Lucky was a god, and the affections of the gods were fleeting. When Lucky finally grew bored with her, she would be vulnerable. Of course, then Syph’s jealousy would be meaningless, but she would still smite this arrogant mortal when that day came.

  Syph was about to transmute into a molting dove and fly away when she sensed something, a disturbance in the metaphysical ether. She followed it to its source, a woman banging on an apartment door.

  “Come on, Scott! I know you’re home! I just want my DVD player! It’s mine! You know it’s mine!”

  Syph observed the woman for a few moments as she kicked the door and unleashed a torrent of vulgarities. Eventually, she smacked her head against the door and grumbled.

  “Excuse me,” said Syph, “but is something wrong?”

  The woman turned around. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to cause a racket. It’s just that I broke up with this asshole a few weeks ago. Well, he broke up with me…” She shrugged. “Never mind. I’m sure you don’t care.”

  “Actually,” said Syph, “I do care. Perhaps you’d like to tell me about it.”

  The woman hesitated. “I don’t know. I’m sure you mean well, but I’m not really looking for—”

  “You’ve been wronged.”

  “It’s just a DVD player,” said the woman.

  “No, it isn’t. It’s the way he used you, the way he tossed you aside when he was done, the lies, the wasted time, the hundreds of little concessions you made to make it work that didn’t make one bit of difference in the end except to make your life harder.” Syph swallowed her own rage and forced a smile. “It’s never just a DVD
player, is it?”

  “No, I guess it isn’t.”

  “I sense in you a lover wronged, a soul in need of divine aid. And I offer my services without obligation. Merely as a favor from one wronged soul to another. I’m the goddess of heartbreak and tragedy. But why don’t you just call me Syph?”

  “I’m Christine.”

  They sat on the front steps, and Christine told her story. It wasn’t unique. She’d met a guy, dated awhile. Then he’d dumped her. Syph knew that there was nothing tragic or noteworthy about Christine’s failed romance. That didn’t prevent the goddess from empathizing.

  “That’s it,” said Christine. “It wasn’t a big deal. Wasn’t like we were planning on getting married or anything. We weren’t even very serious. All I want is my DVD player back. Is that too much to ask?”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  Syph approached the apartment door.

  “It’s locked,” said Christine.

  “No earthly lock can prevent the rightful wrath of the scorned lover.”

  Syph could’ve blown the door off its hinges or evaporated it or something equally dramatic. But she went the subtle route and turned the handle. The door opened.

  Scott was in there, sitting on the couch, watching television. He looked up, potato chip crumbs nestled around the corner of his mouth. Before he could speak, Syph waved her hands to silence him.

  “Foolish mortal!” she bellowed loudly enough to shake the walls. “You have wronged this woman, and I come bearing justice in her name and the name of all wronged lovers everywhere! Prepare to be cast into the pits of endless despair where unfathomable horrors shall tear at your flesh and nibble at your genitals beyond the end of time!”

  Syph felt invigorated, energized. This was what she was meant to do. She gestured and opened a tear in the time/space continuum. The portal glowed bright green, putting a lime tint on everything in the apartment.

  “And now… you…” She turned to Christine. “What was his name again?”

  “Scott.”

  “And now, Scott. For your transgressions against love, the most heinous and unforgivable act any mortal or god can perform, I cast you into oblivion!”

  Syph seized him by the T-shirt and dragged him to the portal. He was still too stunned to respond aside from gaping.