A Lee Martinez

by Divine Misfortune (v5)

  “That involves a whip or something, right?”

  “Is that going to be a problem?”

  “I don’t have a whip.”

  “Buy one,” said Syph. “I’m sure they still sell them.”

  “You could probably make one out of a jump rope,” suggested Bonnie as she searched through her fridge for something to drink.

  “I was hoping I could just offer you some cash,” said the woman, pulling a thick wad of bills from her purse. “How about a thousand dollars? Would that be enough?”

  “Sold,” said Bonnie, snatching the money.

  “Hey, that’s my tribute,” said Syph.

  “Well, if you’re going to rent out my place as your temple, I think I should get something for it.” Bonnie peeled five hundred dollars off, stuck it in her pocket, and gave the rest to the goddess.

  “Very well. This tribute is acceptable. However, in addition to this, I shall require you to slam your hand in your car door. Do this, and I shall be pleased. But the boils will only last two weeks. I’m not running a charity.”

  “Yes, goddess. You are as wise and beautiful as you are—”

  “Yes, yes.” Syph waved her away. “Go on then before I change my mind.”

  The woman left. Bonnie stepped in front of the man next in line. “One second, please.”

  The man was about to protest when Syph said, “It’s all right. She’s the… head priestess.”

  “Yes,” agreed Bonnie. “Private church business. So back off for a minute.”

  The man relented. Bonnie exercised her priestly authority and pushed the line back as far as the crowd would allow so she could talk to Syph in semi-privacy.

  She had a seat at the table. “What’s going on here?”

  “I’m getting over it,” said Syph. “Wasn’t that your suggestion?”

  “So you’re ruining other people’s lives now? That’s your way of moving on?”

  A perplexed expression crossed Syph’s face. “I am the goddess of heartbreak and tragedy. This is my job. What else would you expect of me?”

  Bonnie had to admit that she hadn’t thought about it. She had noticed that the overwhelming dread and misery she’d felt the past several days had faded. Probably because the goddess was no longer focusing all her influence on a single mortal. Syph had plenty of targets to aim her misery at now.

  It left Bonnie with a bit of a dilemma. If she discouraged Syph from exacting revenge in the name of wronged mortals, then Bonnie was bringing all that down upon her head. But if she didn’t, she was allowing Syph to hurt people. And it was even more complicated than that. Bonnie wasn’t certain this operation was even legal. She wasn’t up on the latest smiting regulations.

  “Does it have to be so high-profile?” asked Bonnie.

  “Things got a little out of hand,” admitted Syph, “but I’m trying to make up for lost time. I have a lot of wrath to dispense.”

  “You’re not killing people.” Bonnie leaned closer and whispered. “You’re not, right?”

  “Don’t be silly. That’s against the law. And it’s far too light a punishment for those who transgress against the sacred gifts of love.”

  She laughed. It wasn’t much, but it was the first genuine moment of joy Bonnie had seen from the goddess. Syph was still colorless, still radiated a noticeable chill, and charged the air with a hint of gloom. But the goddess’s tepid tea wasn’t frozen in a solid block of ice, and things weren’t spontaneously breaking or bursting into flame in the kitchen. That had to be a good thing.

  “How was your day?” asked Syph, interrupting Bonnie’s train of thought.

  “Not good. I went to talk to your raccoon god.”

  Syph rasped, “You did what?”

  “Calm down. He wasn’t there. So I talked to his followers. Nice people. Anyway, then a couple of idiots with guns barged in and tried to offer us up as a blood sacrifice to their god. Yada yada yada. They ended up shot. I got out of there after the cops showed up. By the way, you’re on notice with Divine Affairs. Filed a complaint since they were there.”

  Bonnie realized the dangers of taunting a goddess, but she didn’t care. Maybe it was because she felt so damn good all of a sudden with that terrible burden of the goddess of heartbreak taken off her shoulders. Not entirely removed, but a good portion off in other places, doing nasty things to people who weren’t her. Now it wasn’t despair that gripped her, but a cheery malaise. The term might have seemed like a paradox a few hours ago, but everything was relative.

  Syph said, “So these two men… did they happen to mention the name of their god?”

  “Gorgoz. Why? Ever heard of him?”

  “No. Can’t say the name rings a bell.”

  The impatient grumbling from the crowd had been growing steadily louder.

  “We both know I can’t throw you out of here,” said Bonnie. “So feel free to hold court here until Divine Affairs gets off their butts and takes care of this. I’m going to get something to eat, maybe see a movie. When I get back, it’d be nice if this was wrapped up for the night.”

  She half-expected to be blasted to dust by the wrathful goddess, but Syph merely nodded. “Of course.”

  “We’ll work out the scheduling arrangements in more detail later,” said Bonnie.

  Syph gave another slight nod. But this one warned Bonnie against pushing her luck.

  “I’ll be home late. Have fun helping people fulfill their spiteful natures.”

  Syph raised her teacup. “I always do.”

  21

  Teri wasn’t any good at waiting. It had been one of the things Phil liked about her. While he had been trying to figure the best way to ask her out on their first date, she’d shown up at his dorm room with an order of Chinese food and a DVD of Logan’s Run. He hadn’t fallen in love with her at just that moment, but he had started down the path. Later, after he’d learned that she’d done some research to know that Chinese food and sci-fi were the key to his heart and that she didn’t like Chinese food or Michael York, Phil knew he’d end up marrying her. That was the way she was. She wasn’t the kind of person to wait around for someone else to do what she could do perfectly well on her own. Most of the time that worked in her favor.

  Not today. They were marked for death by a mad god, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it except wait in their house and hope either Divine Affairs or Lucky solved the problem.

  Teri read a book, watched some television, read another book, and did some light chores. She vacuumed. Twice. She washed the dishes by hand even though they had a dishwasher. And she dusted every nook and cranny. When she tried to go out in the backyard, Phil stopped her.

  “Why? It should be part of the protective shrine, right? It’s part of the house.”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe.”

  “What’s going to happen? I’m going to get smote in my own backyard?”

  “It could happen,” he said. “Maybe.”

  She flopped down next to him on the couch.

  “I hate this.”

  “I know.”

  “I really hate this.”

  He put his arm around her. “I know.”

  “We’re almost out of toilet paper,” she said.

  “Maybe you could call Janet. She could bring us some.”

  “I can’t do that. What if that puts her in danger?”

  “It’s probably not dangerous, honey.”

  “Then why didn’t you suggest any of your friends do it?”

  “Janet is dating Lucky. It stands to reason that she’s already a bit of a target in this mess. And since she is dating a god of good fortune, I have to assume she’s well protected.”

  “I hate it when you make sense when I’m pissed off.”

  “I know you do. That’s why I try not to make it a habit.”

  She kissed him, tousled his hair. Then went and made the phone call.

  Janet arrived two hours later with several bags of supplies. She had to un
load them all from her car herself since Teri and Phil couldn’t safely step beyond the threshold of their front door. Teri and Janet unpacked the groceries. Phil stayed in the living room, playing video games. He would’ve helped, but he knew Teri needed time to vent.

  “Ta-da.” Janet made a sweeping supermodel gesture at a brand-new twenty-four-pack of toilet paper.

  “Damn,” said Teri, “just how long do you think we’re going to be stuck in here?”

  “I just assumed better safe than sorry.”

  “Jeez, there has to be three cubic feet of Hot Pockets here.”

  “Sorry about that,” said Janet. “But I wasn’t really sure if you liked to cook or not. So how are you holding up?”

  “How do you think I’m holding up? Your boyfriend totally screwed us over.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” said Janet.

  “He’s not? Then I suppose that necklace is just something you had laying around.”

  Janet ran her fingers over the raccoon-headed emblem. “Okay, so maybe he’s more than just a fling. But I wouldn’t go so far as to call him my boyfriend.”

  Teri smirked. “If that makes you feel better.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “What do you think I mean by that?” Teri opened the freezer and began theorizing on the complex geometric principles necessary to fit all the frozen meals in the limited space available.

  “Oh, no,” said Janet. “You don’t get away with that. Not when I risked life and limb to bring you the creature comforts.”

  Teri, wryly grinning, withdrew a jar of spaghetti sauce from a bag. It would’ve been nicer if Janet had remembered to bring some spaghetti to go with it.

  “I’m a terrible bomb shelter shopper. I admit it. Happy?” said Janet. “But you’ve been against me dating your god from the start. So why are you acting all smug about it now?”

  Teri extracted a tinfoil lump from the freezer. She couldn’t remember what it was, though it didn’t smell quite right. Like year-old meatloaf or halibut gone bad or maybe stale melted plastic. She pondered peeling back the foil and revealing the mystery, but decided her sanity wasn’t in a state for any more surprises. She threw it in the garbage.

  “Go ahead,” said Janet.

  The mystery foil had derailed Teri’s train of thought. It took her a few seconds to catch up to the conversation.

  “You’re just dying to tell me I told you so,” said Janet. “So do it already.”

  Teri laughed. “Damn, you really don’t get it, do you?”

  “Get what?”

  “I was wrong,” said Teri, “about you and Lucky.”

  “You’re saying it’s a good idea now?”

  “Oh, hell, no. Terrible idea. Horrible idea. Gods and mortals should not date. That’s just obvious.”

  Teri paused, holding up a six-pack of off-brand banana-and-chocolate soda pop.

  “It’s delicious,” said Janet.

  “Then you take it.”

  “Maybe I will.” Janet grabbed the pack, peeled off a can, and popped it open. After taking a sip, she calmly walked over to the sink and spit it out. She stuck her tongue under the running faucet. “Well, it sounded good. But I just thought it was worth trying.” She stuck out her tongue. “Got any crackers?”

  “Uh-hmm.” Teri smirked again.

  “You don’t wear smug well,” said Janet.

  “I think you wear everything well, honey,” said Phil as he entered the kitchen.

  “Thank you, baby. Here, have a Hot Pocket.”

  “You’re too good to me,” he said.

  “I know.”

  Janet and Teri put the conversation on hold until Phil had zapped his snack in the microwave and returned to the living room.

  “Lucky is banana-and-chocolate soda,” explained Teri. “Or at least, he was supposed to be.”

  “I hate metaphors,” said Janet.

  “Too bad. Because you’re going to have to listen to this one.” Teri took the remaining five cans of soda and put them in front of Janet. “This is what you do. Pop open a banana-and- chocolate soda. Sure. Why not? Maybe you’ll love it. Maybe not, but hey, let’s give it a shot. What do you have to lose?”

  “You’re losing me.”

  “No interruptions, please.” Teri pushed the cans forward. “But here’s the thing. Maybe you kind of like the soda because it’s new and different and at least you can say you had the experience. But, ultimately, you know that banana-and-chocolate soda isn’t going to become your favorite soft drink. Even if you drink the entire six-pack, the odds you’ll ever buy another six-pack are minuscule. And that’s assuming that they’ll even keep making the soda, which is highly unlikely also.

  “Dating gods is just the same. It’s a new experience, good for a story and a chuckle. But you don’t plan on doing anything more. And if by some chance you do develop some feelings, you know the god will take off before it gets serious.”

  “Commitment issues? That’s your deep metaphorical insight? Hell, I could’ve told you that.”

  “Ah, but here’s the catch,” said Teri. “Sometimes, even when you don’t mean to, even when you do your best to avoid it, you end up liking the banana-and-chocolate soda. A lot. And the soda likes you back. A lot. And then, before you know it, even when you didn’t want it, you find yourself looking forward to cracking open your favorite soda. And worrying about if they ever stop making it.”

  “Can we ditch the metaphor at this point?”

  “Okay, but you know I’m right.”

  Janet glowered. “Okay, so maybe you’re right. So what?”

  “So… nothing. Just an observation. Just so you know, I think Lucky really does like you a lot. And not just in that divine-infatuation way.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  Janet smiled, then frowned, then smiled. “Crap.”

  “Welcome to a relationship,” said Teri. “Whether you like it or not.”

  “You don’t have to be so happy about it.”

  “Sorry. I just think it’s funny, that’s all.”

  “So what am I supposed to do now? I’ve never really been in a… well, one of these things. Not even with a mortal.”

  “Play it by ear,” said Teri. “That’s how everybody else does it.”

  “And doesn’t that usually screw everything up?”

  “Usually.”

  Janet ran her fingers along her necklace and slouched. Crap.

  Someone cleared his throat. It was Lucky. He stood on the table. Actually, he hovered a few inches over it, in a transparent projected form.

  “Help me, Obi-Wan. You’re my only hope.”

  The hologram chuckled.

  “Sorry, I just always wanted to do that. Just thought I’d check in. Quick and I are lost in the collective unconscious right now. But we’ve got it figured out. A singing taco drew us a map on the back of a napkin.”

  He cocked his head to one side and listened to a voice only he could hear.

  “No, Quick, that’s not a turn. That’s just when the pen slipped. Remember?” He scratched his head and turned his attention back toward Teri and Janet. “So it might take a while longer than anticipated, but we’ll get out eventually. Just hang in there, kids. We’re on it. Quick says hi by the way.”

  He started to fade.

  “How long were you standing there?” asked Janet.

  “Technically, I’m not standing here,” he replied. “I’m just projecting.”

  “How long?”

  “Not long.” He looked a little embarrassed, but that could’ve been her imagination.

  The doorbell rang. Teri answered it.

  “Hello,” said the stooped, withered old man. “Have you considered the value of changing your religion?”

  “About once every three minutes,” she said.

  “Close the door,” said Lucky’s projection. “Close it now, Teri.”

  The man stuck his foot in the doorjamb, to keep her from getting the
door shut. His shoes sizzled and burned with a sulfurous, yellow smoke. He didn’t seem to mind. With one thin arm, he threw the door open, knocking Teri into Phil’s arms.

  “You can’t enter here,” said Lucky. “This is my temple.”

  Gorgoz’s mortal disguise cracked. He grinned, revealing crooked and misshapen teeth. He stepped across the threshold, and immediately burst into flames. He took three more steps before collapsing in a heap of blackened bones.

  “You have to get out of here,” said Lucky. “Right now.”

  The skeleton raised his skull. “Oh, but we were just getting acquainted. What’s the rush?” He stood. By the time he was back on his feet, his flesh and suit had re-formed. His liver spots had doubled in size, and his skin had turned a mottled puke green. And his eyes were two bloodshot orbs. He still smoldered, but the rate of regeneration had equalized, evening things out. The smell of burning flesh, along with his natural rotten-fish odor, was nauseating.

  “I’m warning you,” said Lucky, “if you harm one hair on these mortals’ heads—”

  “You’ll what? Hmmm. You’ll what? You’re not even here. And even if you were, you couldn’t stop me. Your favor is as worthless as the rest of the pathetic gods, shackled by the rules and regulations you’ve surrendered to. So why don’t you do us all a favor and shut up? I’m trying to have a civilized conversation here.”

  The mortals eyed all the possible exits. Gorgoz snapped his fingers, and every door and window closed and locked. And for that extra touch, he materialized various venomous serpents to guard them. Except for the front door, where he placed a two-headed mutant beast, something between a bear and a shark. The malformed creature was awkward, more likely to roll over people trying to exit than actually bite them. But that would have been just as fatal.

  A cloud of buzzing locusts covered every window of the house, allowing just enough sunlight to keep the interior in shadowy twilight.

  “It’ll be okay,” said Lucky. “Everything will be okay.”

  Gorgoz rolled his eyes. Considering the size of them, it was quite a feat. He waved his hand at Lucky. The projection faded away.

  “He won’t be bothering us for a while.” Gorgoz gestured toward the sofa. “Have a seat.”