Fury's Death

by Brey Willows

  “Thanks, I think. Wake me when Tis gets here.” Kera flopped onto the sofa and promptly passed out.

  Meg grabbed her notepad and started sketching the portions of the Deadlands she could remember. Time to make some changes.

  Chapter Ten

  Dani leaned back to avoid the glass pitcher that flew through the air and crashed into the wall beyond her.

  “I told you, it’s not enough!” Iblis slammed his hand against the table, leaving a dent in the wood. His dark skin glistened with sweat, and his little fangs were extended. “We want to be included in all decisions, not eat the scraps of the ones you’ve already made.”

  A few of the other underworld gods nodded their agreement though Azrael and Hades both looked thoughtful rather than angry.

  “And I told you, that’s not how it works. That isn’t how it’s worked for centuries. Why are you adamant about changing it now?” Zed remained standing, his shining form a visual reminder of his power.

  “Because everything has changed. The world isn’t the same. We deserve the same respect. We demand it!” Iblis looked around the table for support and frowned when at least two people didn’t seem to agree with him. He pointed at Azrael. “Aren’t you tired of being told what to do? Of your cloud god making the decisions?”

  “We follow the books we wrote together with the other gods. Yes, we’re rewriting them for clarity. And yes, we have to tread carefully when it comes to understanding the changes happening among the humans—”

  “Tread carefully? We’re GODS. For perhaps the first time in our existences, we have the chance to be more than what the humans created. We can be who we want to be, and let them see that side of us. Once they see it, they believe it, and then it becomes part of their vision of us, which only makes us stronger.”

  Freya tapped the table for attention. “Perhaps the horned one is right. Now we can show the humans just how amazing we are.” She stroked the tiger beside her, who sat with its head on her lap, snoring as usual.

  Iblis winced slightly. The last person he really wanted to agree with him was a woman, even if she was a goddess.

  “Aren’t you doing just that, with your new marketing campaigns?” Dani said from her place against the wall. She’d worked with every god in the room throughout time and wasn’t afraid of any of them. Little did they know how much she hated conflict.

  Azrael nodded. “I am. With Meg’s help, I’m redesigning my territory and my image at the same time. I’m changing the way the humans think of me, regardless of which bureaucratic meeting I sit in on.”

  Osiris shook his head. “That’s not the point. We can make all the marketing changes we want. But if decisions on the way the gods behave are being made without us at the table, we remain less than. Our voices aren’t heard.” He looked at Zed. “And that is no longer acceptable.”

  The room was silent, everyone looking at Zed. He stared back at them, clearly at a loss.

  Dani finally spoke up. “Perhaps Zed can discuss it with the others and get back to you?”

  He looked at Dani gratefully. “That’s exactly what I’ll do. I can’t make a decision without speaking to the rest of the council. We’ll convene and discuss your concerns.”

  Yama stood and the others did as well. “I believe I speak for all of us when I say they are not concerns, Zeus. They are demands which must be met.” He left the room calmly, Iblis, Osiris, and Freya following. Azrael and Hades lingered.

  “And you two? Where do you stand?”

  Dani watched as the two of them seemed to struggle to say what they wanted to. Something seemed off, as though they were confused.

  Hades held out his hand. “I can’t explain. Feel.”

  Though he looked confused, Zed took his brother’s hand. He held it for only a moment before pulling away with a thunderous growl. He nodded at Dani, who took Az’s hand and shuddered when she felt the black strings of confusion suffusing his being.

  She let go and wiped her hand on her jeans. “Dis. Only she could have left that kind of stain.”

  Azrael sighed and rubbed his temples. “Of course. All of a sudden, nothing made sense. I was pissed off all the time. I even torched an entire sitting area because the color reminded me of a demon who worked for me once. I didn’t even really like her…” He drifted off, staring blankly beyond them.

  Dani touched his shoulder, and he jerked back to awareness. He motioned almost helplessly.

  “Yes. She’s brought her poison into our home.” Hades sparked with electricity, blue and white flashes appearing on his clothing like lightning bugs on speed. “I too have been beyond reason. The difference is that Az and I knew something wasn’t right, even if we weren’t in complete control. The others are being manipulated and don’t even know it.”

  “Would it matter if they did?” Dani asked softly.

  “What do you mean? No god wants someone controlling him.” Zed sat down behind his desk, looking weary.

  “No, of course not. But I have a feeling that the ideas in their heads were already there in some form, even if they were deeply buried. Even gods can be manipulated. Dis feeds on the chaos and doubt already within people. She can’t really do anything to those who know who and what they are.” Dani looked outside at the office cubicles buzzing with busy workers. “All she needed to do was drop the seeds of doubt over them and let them take root.”

  Azrael sighed and leaned against the table. He gave Zed an apologetic smile. “And there are plenty of people who would agree with them. You know some of what they say makes sense.”

  Zed nodded, his eyes closed and his head back. “Yes. I can see they have a point. And I really will raise it with the council. It may take some time to get everyone together, given how busy everyone is in their own areas, but I’ll make it happen.”

  Hades looked at Dani. “No offense, dark one, but why were you here tonight? You’re rarely at these meetings.” His eyes narrowed as he focused on her. “Though it looks like you may have a place at our table soon enough.”

  Dani tried to deflect the conversation she wasn’t ready to have and handed him a notebook. “I wanted to talk to the underworld gods about the number of lost souls arriving. I’m seeing an unexpected rise in people who believe, because they can’t do otherwise in the face of gods walking the planet, but who don’t subscribe to any particular religion. They’re quite literally souls with nowhere to go.”

  Hades flipped through the notebook, and Azrael read over his shoulder.

  Az looked up. “What was it you wanted to ask us?”

  Dani shrugged and shoved her hands in her pockets. “I’m not sure, really. We’re trying to figure out what to do with them. They’re dead, so really, they should go somewhere. And it affects your numbers too. Some of their souls are heavy and dark, and if they believed, they’d be in some kind of hell for sure. Some are light, like cotton candy, and want peace. But I have no idea where to take them.” She paused, thinking about the events of the evening. “And it doesn’t seem to me it’s a topic that can be discussed without you. This affects all the gods, but most especially the underworld gods who deal with death.”

  Hades and Azrael both smiled at her. “Well played, dark one.” Hades closed the book. “Can I take this? I’ll call a meeting with the others and discuss it. Let’s see if anyone has any ideas. If we come up with anything, we’ll let you know.”

  Dani felt like she could breathe a little easier, knowing she didn’t have to solve this problem on her own. “That would be great, Hades. Thank you.”

  Zed stood and put one hand on Hades’s shoulder and one on Azrael’s shoulder. “In the meantime, fight Dis’s seeds. Chaos among the humans is one thing. Chaos among the gods is another. We’re going to need all the sane people we can get now.”

  Azrael stretched and smiled. “It’s weird. Acknowledging it and talking about it out loud seems to have taken away some of its power. We’ll keep talking to each other, and we’ll try to tell the other gods what’s taken pla
ce. Hopefully, their irritation at being manipulated will calm their sense of righteousness.”

  Dani opened the door for them as they turned to leave. “Remember you’re always welcome in the Deadlands if you need a place to get away.”

  Hades nodded, back to his remote self, but Az kissed her cheek. “You’re a gem among pebbles, beautiful. Don’t think we didn’t notice you skirting your own situation. Remember that you’ve got friends too.”

  They left, and Dani pondered what he’d said. She looked at Zed, who shrugged. “Who knows? He’s always liked his vague metaphors. I think he secretly wishes he was born a Fate instead.” He motioned her to a seat and took one across from her. “Any thoughts on what to do next?”

  Dani considered. “I think you need to let Tisera know right away. This has serious implications with regard to the company’s constitution. And if Dis is meddling with the gods, who knows how bad this could get.”

  He sighed. “It was a lot easier when we were answering emails and eating donuts all day.”

  Dani laughed. “True. At least no one is fading now, though.”

  “No, they’re not. And now that the gods have shown their faces so the masses know what they look like, they’re getting even clearer. Stronger too. They’re acting like…like…”

  “Gods?” Dani smiled gently. “No shore pounded by waves is left unchanged. Still the water flows, and still the shore remains. Both are changed, but both are still there.”

  He smiled back at her and held her hand in his. “I forget how long you’ve been around. Between you and the fury sisters, we’ll make it through this.”

  Dani’s heart swelled, and she looked away so he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. For the first time in her existence, someone believed she offered hope rather than just darkness. And to be counted among the women she respected was more than she could have asked.

  The moment passed, and he stood. “Guess I’d better start calling the troops. Thank you for coming. And I’ll take your question about the lost souls to our council as well. You’re right, it’s something that affects us all.”

  He turned toward his desk, and she turned to go.

  “Dani?”

  She stopped halfway out the door.

  “You’re not alone. We all respect you too much to ask, but when you’re ready to talk about what’s going on with you, find someone to talk to.”

  She swallowed against the irrational fear of being found out. “I don’t know what you mean, Zed.”

  He shook his head. “You’re glowing like a pre-fader coming back to power, Dani. Humans like Kera and Selene may not see it yet, but the rest of us do.” He opened a bag of candy and popped a few in his mouth. “Like I said, when you’re ready.” He turned back to his work.

  Dani left, her pulse racing and her stomach churning. How do I talk about things I don’t even understand yet? It was confusing to know other people could see it taking place, and she had no real way to hide it from her own kind. Maybe I need to hide away like Meg. The thought was depressing. She’d only just begun putting herself out there more. He said when I’m ready. So, I wait until I’m ready. She pulled out her phone and called Idona.

  “I really need some board time. You in?”

  “Can’t, sorry. I’m overseeing a new batch outside Moscow. Backwoods church. An outsider came in and shot the place up with an automatic. Alec has already been here for the shooter, but we’ve got forty souls to pick up.”

  Dani could easily picture the scene. “Faith based?”

  “Alec says kind of. The people praying were all fine, and we’ll make sure they get processed. The shooter was pissed off about his wife and kid dying of poisoned water, said god didn’t help.”

  “So there were health problems?” The gods couldn’t do anything about science-based issues, something the human population couldn’t be told about. It would destroy their belief and lessen any hope they might have, a necessity if they were to continue as a species.

  “Yeah, major.” Idona hesitated. “Thing is, though, maybe the god could have helped clean up the water?”

  Dani picked at the cuticle on her thumbnail, trying to think it through. “I don’t know. I think it depends on how much poison there was. If it became a science thing, where it would be impossible to clean it up without chemical intervention or something, they couldn’t have helped. But maybe there’s a way to get the gods thinking about issues like poisoned water and working around them, rather than tackling them head-on.” She was at a loss, and with everything going on, she had a feeling it wouldn’t be a welcome question. Still, she had to raise it. “I’ll let Kera know, and I’ll let her bring it up with Zed and the council. We’ll just keep doing our jobs.”

  “Got it, thanks. I’ll give you a shout when I’m back.”

  Dani headed home, grabbed her board, and headed to San Diego for the late afternoon waves. She paddled farther out than she needed to, but she wanted space from the other surfers. She caught wave after wave and let the blue-black water carry and swallow her, spit her out, and carry her again. The Pacific was dark, cold water, but the waves were perfect, and the chilly opaqueness mirrored the feeling in her soul.

  By the time she made it back to shore she was centered again. I can do this. Whatever this is. Whatever I can feel coming, I’ll be ready. Somehow. She thought of Zed’s reminder that she wasn’t alone, and of the women at Afterlife she’d become close to. And Meg. Always, there was Meg. If there was one being in the world Dani would always keep going for, it was Meg.

  Chapter Eleven

  Chants filled the air, voices raised together in disharmony. Placards reading things like Anti-Theists for a New World and Send the gods back to their clouds were held aloft like beacons of poorly inked truth. Humanity First’s national billboard campaign had many of the same slogans, encouraging people to think for themselves and to consider the price of religion rather than some reward in the afterlife. The Bible taken literally is a horror novel was one of Dis’s favorites.

  She watched as Angie Hitchens, the latest in a line of leaders of Humanity First since Frey Falconi’s death, stood on a platform outside Afterlife, Inc. and motioned her rabid followers to silence.

  “Thank you for coming. As you know, we’re here because the religious landscape has changed. While we were formed on the basis of atheism, we have now moved into anti-theism territory instead. Though we can no longer say gods don’t exist, we can still maintain that religion is the foundation of a disease eating away at all of humanity.”

  The crowd roared their approval, and Dis noticed a few Afterlife staff at the windows above, watching the protest below. How does it feel to watch people protest your existence? She nearly laughed at the thought. No one liked chaos in their lives, but she never took it personally. But then, her ego wasn’t tied up with having followers, either. She loved the deep sense of discord heavy in the air around her, focused on every being in the building. The anger, frustration, and disappointment of the protesters caressed her skin like an old lover.

  “Belief in the gods creates false hope. Have they given us the cure for cancer? No. Fifteen hundred people a day are still dying. Have they provided the most desperate with a way out? No. Three billion people in the world are still living in absolute poverty. Have they stopped wars? No. Granted, the deaths from religious conflicts have slowed dramatically, that’s true.” The crowd didn’t seem to like her backing down at all, and there was a rumble of anger. “Wait. Hear me out. Even though religious wars have decreased, the desire for land, for resources, for money…all of those things are still causing problems all over the world. To date, there are more than fifty mass conflicts surrounding those issues, all of which are killing both those who fight and those on the sidelines. Isn’t religion supposed to temper those desires, those so-called sins? What are the gods waiting for? Who are they really for?”

  The crowd responded with a resounding battle cry. “Themselves!”

  She nodded. “Themselves.” S
he motioned to the building behind her. “And this is where they sit on their thrones, letting their believers down with every sobbing prayer not answered.”

  Dis loved the woman onstage. She wanted her. She wanted to possess her, body and mind. The fact that the gods inside sat on office chairs in front of computers like many of the people in the crowd did every day would have made a poor battle cry, and the fact that this woman chose her words carefully made Dis want her all the more.

  The crowd screamed their approval, and a bottle shattered against the front doors of the building. The resulting roar from the guardian, Cerberus, silenced them for a moment before they roared back as one.

  “We will not be silenced. We will not be ignored. We will continue to bang on their doors and protest their inhumanity until they either prove their worth or leave us in peace.” She raised her fists in the air. “We will resist!”

  The noise from the crowd was deafening, and Dis felt the emotions running through them. It was fascinating, the way a single focal point could dampen the confusion and funnel the communal rage. Jesus had done much the same his first time around. People had flocked to his gentle voice and simple ideology. Of course, while the outcome for him hadn’t been stellar, it had skyrocketed the number of followers, and his father had been happy. He was doing it again, and his following was strong. But with a group like Humanity First challenging everything the gods stood for, confusion and entitlement were spreading among humans like theological rabies.

  Angie left the stage and was instantly surrounded by bodyguards who ushered her past her adoring fans and into an armored car. She has her own zealots. Interesting. Dis could use that to sow her own brand of fun, but at the moment, she wanted to talk to her first.