“I guess there’s the other Territorial Gods,” Mirabelle said. “I’ve got contacts for only one, Portland, and she’s not much of a contact. I don’t have any contacts with the rest of them.”
Given what Dave had seen of Mirabelle’s Boise contact, he didn’t want to press her on anything involving any of the other Gods. Dave shrugged.
“I’ve read things on the internet about Portland and Phoenix’s followers,” Steve said. “Devoted cult members all. That’s what’s going to happen to you if you go to those Gods. It’s your call, but I’m not sure I’d try to contact any of them, even with my life on the line.”
“Steve, it isn’t as if they’re hurting for potential followers,” Mirabelle said. “They’re all turning people away. Of course the ones they accept as recruits are the most devoted. It’s a good thing.”
Steve stood and walked angrily out of Mirabelle’s living room.
“Persevere, Dave,” Mirabelle said. “I’m sure you can succeed.”
He nodded. His visit to Diana had at least lit a fire under his sodden ego and had torn him out of his self-pity. “I’m going to look into these Territorial Gods and see which one is the best match for me,” Dave said. “No more assumptions. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it the right way. My way.”
Dave drove past his house like a scalphunter looking for cheap foreclosures to snap up. Balconies around two thirds of the house, exposed brown-painted wood beams on the outside, windows with toe-curling views of the mountains all of the way around the house, brick veneer up and down, and no sign of Tiff. He turned around and zipped up the driveway, up the hill and to the left, past the overflow parking and into the garage, where he parked his SUV beside the empty space where Tiff’s bright red sports car normally sat. He crept inside dragging luggage, hoping for enough time to do laundry before heading out again.
It pained him to be staying in hotels, even in Denver. He should be spending more time at home, at least to see his kids. This whole situation annoyed the crap out of him, though, and his difficulty with Tiff made him most unwilling to be with her. He didn’t want to go to DPMJ either right now. His business situation reminded him of his futility. Right now, he wanted positive thoughts in his head, nothing else.
He checked his mail kiosk and found a large stack waiting for his attention. Just over two thirds of the way through the pile, he heard the garage door rumble open and the click of the house intercom turning on.
“Gotcha,” Tiff said, over the intercom.
Damn.
“You’re supposed to be at work,” Dave said.
Tiff smiled. “Yes, of course.” She sat down beside him in the library, a good three feet away. “You’re avoiding me.”
“I kept in phone and email contact.”
“Uh huh.” Tiff licked her lips. “You’re being a fool.”
“Tell me, how?”
“First, by trying to avoid me. You had to know you wouldn’t succeed, Dave.” Tiff steepled her fingers in front of her nose and looked over them at him. She couldn’t often scare him with her omniscience act, but she succeeded today. “Second, by believing you can keep the details of your medical problems from me. Hell, I read your latest test results before you got to Dallas.”
Dave’s stomach soured. “I understand.” Dammit, he didn’t need this!
“I am a professional at gathering personal information.”
“I see you’re smiling,” he said, remembering her comments about the bouncy names common to the data-mining firms. “Now you’re going to tell me it’s for my own good.”
“It is!” Tiff said. “Dave. I know you’re worried sick about everything, but hiding from me isn’t going to help.”
What I feel is informationally violated, he thought. She’s raped my bits!
He should know better than to try to out-anything Tiff. He slunk down in his chair, defeated. So much for keeping up his spirits…
“I also know we’ve grown apart and this is causing problems between us,” Tiff said. “Ignore that. I can’t help you and give you the support you need if you don’t let me.”
Dave didn’t respond.
“We’re a team, Dave, and don’t you dare forget that,” Tiff said.
He no longer believed they were a team. Nor did he speak.
“I think we need some counseling,” Tiff said. “I’m trying to set something up. I’ve been getting some counseling myself, but so far I haven’t found anyone who meets my standards for counseling the both of us.” Dave winced and turned away. Tiff wanted a counselor smarter than her. That pig would take a catapult to fly. No, a full sized trebuchet. “It’s become evident to me I’ve picked up some bad attitudes concerning our children.” Like perhaps she forgot their names again?
“Talk to me, Dave. Tell me what’s going through your mind,” Tiff said. No way in hell, Dave told himself. No way in hell. “You can count on me, Dave, no matter what. I’m going to be taking care of you.”
Dave slunk deeper down into his chair, more depressed.
“What can I do to help?”
Well, if anything would drive her away… “Tiff. Thank you for everything,” Dave said, sarcasting his best. “I’ve decided my only hope is to get a cure from one of the 99 Gods. I’m going to be researching them to find out which one’s the most compatible to me and my viewpoints. Then I’m going to go and visit. If I can. I’d welcome any information you have on the subject.” He suspected his chances of attracting the attention of one of these Gods depended on personal compatibility. For instance, he could tell Diana and Boise deserved each other. And, if he didn’t discount one of his freaky moments, Diana’s mother and Atlanta deserved each other as well.
Tiff licked her lips, searching for the right words. “I can’t make your decision for you,” she said, showing how much she disagreed with him. “However, I can provide you with data on the 99 Gods of North America, especially the ones who heal, the Territorials. Don’t bother wasting your time with the other ones, especially Doctor. Trying to search him out would mean he’d never agree to help you. I’ve already done the research.” Nudge nudge I’m so far ahead of the curve on this I already lapped you, dear, he read into her comment. “Is this the sort of thing you’re looking for? Will this do?”
Dave nodded, disgusted at this turn of events and Tiff’s unconscious condescension. Perhaps he shouldn’t have decided against a little shotgun-style brain surgery. It sounded better all the time.
“Almost all the heathen ordeals have depended on fire, water, or something to eat or drink. Even in the Bible we find an ordeal prescribed to the Jews (Numbers, chap v.,) for an unfaithful wife, who is there directed to drink some water with certain ceremonies, which drink God promises shall cause a fatal disease if she be guilty, and if not, not. It is worth noticing that Moses says not a word about any “water of jealousy” or any other ordeal, for unfaithful husbands!” – P.T. Barnum, Humbugs of the World
“Note that I did not strike back – again.”
26. (Atlanta)
As Dana dropped them toward the Davenport motel where the two powered mortals stayed, the two left their room and walked around to the scrubby back yard of the motel. Last time, the two had been a middle-aged man with a younger white woman; this time the white woman appeared to be black. Atlanta penetrated the mental illusion to find the scrawny and ugly white woman underneath. She rolled the idea of the disguise around on her tongue for a few moments, and decided she approved.
“Let’s talk,” Atlanta said, after Dana landed them among the weeds.
“Let’s not and say we did,” the woman said, wearing ornery like a fine fur coat. The sun had dropped down behind the trees far enough to leave the woman standing in deep shadow, but she still wore dark wrap-around sunglasses. She also wore layers upon layers of strange mental defenses. Atlanta found it hard to read anything about her. “Get the fuck out of here. I don’t have anything to say to you.”
“We’re here to warn you of some pot
ential trouble,” Dana said. “I think we’re…”
“You leave us alone and we don’t have to fight,” the man said. He didn’t look like his mind was all here, definitely someone who had lost the bubble.
Atlanta took a deep breath to steady herself. She hadn’t expected this level of hostility, or that the two powered mortals would be so ready to fight. “I don’t have any quarrel with either of you, whoever or whatever you are,” Atlanta said. “Let’s talk. I’m…”
The woman stalked forward toward Dana and Atlanta, fists balled. The man followed and Atlanta noticed the air around him moving with him. “Get the fuck out of here, Atlanta,” the woman said. “We’ve already flattened one evil God. There’s no reason why we can’t flatten a second.”
Evil. Atlanta wanted to rage against the unfairness. She wasn’t evil. Forceful, yes, but not evil. Unless what Dubuque… “If you take a swing at me, you’re going to hurt your hand,” Atlanta said. The woman’s misplaced aggressiveness was almost cute.
“Fuck you,” the woman said. Her head bowed a fraction of an inch and a mental blast plastered into Atlanta. Beside her, Dana dropped like a rock. Atlanta almost physically fell apart; the woman’s mental blast had struck at her Imago, the aspect of her willpower keeping her body in one piece. Atlanta exerted willpower and pulled herself back together.
The man’s force field thing darkened to translucency. Atlanta scanned Dana and found that although her shields had held, enough of the mental blast had leaked through them to stun her temporarily. Atlanta knelt down and put her hand on Dana’s shoulder, bringing Dana back to herself. The woman’s mental attack had been subtly different from a God’s, wicked and powerful.
Uh huh, a Telepath.
“Note that I did not strike back,” Atlanta said. She wanted to. She wanted to, badly.
She wanted these Telepaths as allies far worse. Some well-directed powerful ornery types would do Atlanta’s forlorn and unborn alliance well.
Of all things, they both reminded her of Marine Corps senior enlisted soldiers. Vets. They had seen the elephant, no doubt about it.
Selling them on an alliance? Difficult at best. People like them rarely bought anything.
The woman didn’t back off. “Noted,” the woman said. To Atlanta’s surprise, she realized the woman had ample Integrity and Rapture, though her Congregation sucked air. Was it possible the aspects of Mission were natural, not something made for the Gods by their creators? She double-checked and found no sign of divine backing on either of them.
Learn something new every day.
These two Telepaths had God-level capabilities, the woman with her telepathy and the man with his telekinesis. Goosebumps covered Atlanta’s fake body, tingling her spine with the realization the world really was a stranger place than she had imagined. She knew how the appearance of the Gods had affected normal people. How had the Gods’ appearance affected these two Telepaths? Were they hostile out of jealousy?
There had to be a way to ally with them.
This must have been what the Indigo people had gone through, before they decided to deal with Atlanta.
“You’re here to recruit someone,” Atlanta said, now able to read the woman’s Mission. She studied the man and saw he shared the same Mission with the woman. They were, improbably, married.
Oh, yes, she wanted these two. They were perfect.
“Yes,” the man said, taken aback by Atlanta’s comments. He feared she had breached his mental shields. These mortals didn’t have even the slightest understanding of Mission and its aspects. Predictably, the woman showed anger at Atlanta’s observation. “What’s it to you?” the man said.
“You’re in Dubuque’s territory. Less than an hour ago, he surprised us, trying to control our minds. We got out, but he’s clearly some kind of powerful mind control expert, an empire builder,” Dana said. “If Dubuque finds you he’s going to enslave you. He nearly got us. We’re here to help you. It was my idea to warn you, not Atlanta’s. I’m a fellow mortal, I know how this must feel, and…”
The woman tapped her foot. “Good for Dubuque. Someone’s got to reign in you fucking evil Gods and their evil flunkies.”
Atlanta remembered where the two Telepaths had been going when she had spotted them the first time, and the gossip about Miami’s encounter with an unknown enemy. “You had a run in with Miami and defeated him, didn’t you?”
No answer. The man looked warier. The woman’s posture showed more anger.
Well, that didn’t work. “Dubuque’s got a plan,” Atlanta said, banking to the conversational left. “He says he wants to make Earth into his version of heaven, a utopian thing he calls the City of God, only it appears he’s going to be doing it one mental slave at a time. You get me?”
“A God’s worried about Theocracy. How unique,” the man said, sarcastic. He appeared younger than his forty plus years. He carried, improbably, about five pounds of chocolate bars in his pockets. Unlike the typical hard-bitten hard-life white trash woman, he was wiry and athletic, well maintained, accustomed to middle class niceties. A professional of some variety, Atlanta decided. A real hard-ass, but not military. No weapons. The white trash lady carried the firearms. A police officer, perhaps? A former police officer?
“I am worried.”
The man glared at her. “Prove it, sistuh.”
Her patience gone, she walked up to the man to get into his face, but his force field stopped her. “Listen, shit-for-brains, we’re trying to save your scrawny asses and…”
Wham. Again, Atlanta pulled herself together from the woman’s mental blast and again didn’t strike back. She backed away from the man and knelt, trying to put her Imago back together. Damn, the woman had power.
“Enough, Nessa,” the man said. “We’re just starting to get along. Back off for a little while.” Getting along? The man sounded as whack as the woman.
“Oh, you have names?” Dana said. “You need to quit with this holier-than-thou crap of yours. We’re trying to help you.”
“This isn’t a good time for help,” the man said. “Try again later. We have our good days and our bad days, and this is a bad one.”
Atlanta empathized. She closed her eyes and felt around with her willpower. There, the same damned trick that had frozen Dana and Melvin during the discussion. Fuck! “Dubuque’s already gotten to you. He’s the one giving you the headaches.” She calculated the risk, and decided to take it. She exerted her minimal recovered willpower, leaving her open for more mental mayhem. “Here. I’ve shut off his trick.”
Wham.
This time Atlanta found herself flat on her back, her arms and legs deflated like balloons and punctured by stalks of brown grass. Worse, she had gotten a good sense of the woman’s potential: this time Nessa had blasted Atlanta with about a quarter of her full power.
Only a quarter.
Ouch.
“Nessa!” the man said. “Dammit, Nessa, why’d you go and do that?”
The woman put her hands on her hips and jutted her chin forward. “She’s messing with our heads.”
“She’s helping us! She removed something adversely affecting us. Leave her alone.” The man grabbed his wife and shook her a little. She turned and gave him the glare. Wham again, this time aimed at the man. A set of shields inside his telekinetic shield glowed light blue, then faded. Atlanta picked herself up and went to stand next to Dana, putting a new layer of shielding up around her. Her new shield could now damp, a little, of the woman’s mental attack. However, if the man used his telekinesis on them, Dana would die, unprotected in that area. Atlanta covered Dana with her anti-reality-bending defenses, protecting her, and hoped.
The man hadn’t even blinked when this Nessa woman had blasted at his mind with about half her full power. They were both absurdly powerful.
“Dubuque’s trick wasn’t aimed at just you,” Atlanta said, to the two Telepaths. “For some reason, he’s rigged this part of his territory to mess up powered mortals. According t
o rumors, he had a run-in with a powered mortal some weeks ago. He must have decided it best to drive you all away.”
“So he’s a ballsy piece of shit, eh?” Nessa said, glaring for a moment at Atlanta. “That can be fixed.” She turned back to take another telepathic poke at her husband.
“They’re nuts,” Dana said.
“Oh, it’s not just me?” she said. If their tiny lovers’ spats involved mind blasting each other, she wondered what their effect on the world around them would be if they had a real quarrel. These two were as potentially dangerous as any of the Gods, even if their mortality made them too conscience-bound to make regular use of their mental gifts. “Note that I did not strike back. Again,” Atlanta said to the two quarreling lovebirds, haughtily, with a loud sniff.
She might not be able to hold back the next time. They needed to calm down.
The man glared at Atlanta and Dana. “My name’s Ken,” he said, voice calm despite the glare. “This is Nessa. I assume you’re Atlanta, but who the hell are you, woman, and what’s with the strange abilities you have?”
The latter he aimed at Dana.
“My name’s Dana, and I have borrowed God powers.”
“Don’t even talk to them,” Nessa said. “They’re evil. Can’t you sense the blood on Atlanta’s hands? She’s just like Miami.”
“Don’t be so hasty,” Ken said. “If Atlanta was Miami’s ally, we’d be having a very different um conversation. We don’t know enough to understand what’s going on.”
Finally, some sense.
Nessa glanced at Atlanta, up and down. “She even knows she’s evil.”
Which meant Nessa had mind-read Atlanta’s secret mental ruminations, which Atlanta thought she had covered. Damnation!
“What if we’re evil, Nessa?” Ken said. “From their point of view. Consider the mission we’ve been given.”
“Oh my God, they’re out to stop the 99 Gods,” Dana said.
Ken smiled at Dana’s far too accurate statement. That put an entirely different spin on things. Wouldn’t allying with them make her a traitor to the Gods?
99 Gods: War Page 29