Divine Misfortune

17

Teri and Phil weren’t happy to discover they were in the middle of an illegal holy war. They were even more upset to be informed of this by a pair of Divine Affairs agents on their front lawn.

A gray sedan, an ambulance, and a police cruiser were parked outside their house. Curious neighbors gawked from their own front porches or peeked out their windows. Neither Phil nor Teri was the kind to be overly concerned about their neighbors, but it was a hell of a commotion. Especially the sedan and the two Divine Affairs agents who came with it. Divine Affairs made people nervous, and rightfully so. Most gods played by the rules. But not every god. And the rogue gods were just as dangerous as in the history books. Even a little bit more so since the hubris of mortals only made these untamed gods more wrathful.

The agents operated in pairs, one mortal and one immortal. Agent Watson, the mortal, was a lanky man in standard Divine Affairs gray. The immortal agent was a muse named Agent Melody. Her suit was bright purple and her every gesture seemed as if it should have been set to music. Wagner would’ve been inspired to write a four-second symphony just by watching her remove a pen and paper from her coat pocket.

Phil was slightly more artistic than his wife. Just enough that being near Agent Melody, he found himself distracted, composing haikus in his head and having difficulty concentrating.

The ambulance sirens blared as it pulled away from the curb, taking the two failed assassins with it.

“How are they?” asked Teri.

Watson replied, “They seem to have suffered a total of five self-inflicted gunshot wounds. Also, one of them somehow managed to burn himself on your stove and got a corkscrew stuck up his nose.”

Neither Teri nor Phil could remember ever even buying a corkscrew.

“According to the paramedics,” said Melody, “none of the injuries should be fatal.”

“That’s good,” said Teri automatically, though she didn’t know why she cared about the health of two people who had tried to kill her. Even if they had failed miserably, they were still assassins.

“They mentioned something about Gorgax,” said Phil.

“Gorgoz,” corrected Watson. “According to our records this Gorgoz is a deity engaged in a holy war with your own registered god.”

“But that’s illegal,” said Teri.

“Yes, miss. Rest assured that we take these violations of Divine Treaty very seriously.”

“Are you currently engaged in polytheistic worship?” asked Watson.

“No,” said Phil. “We just have the one.”

“You do realize that it is deemed unlawful to follow a god without registering?”

Phil and Teri nodded.

“Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider your previous statement?” asked Melody.

“We only have one god,” said Phil.

“Can you explain the presence of an unregistered deity in your home then?”

They followed the agents’ gaze to Quick, who was talking to another pair of agents.

“Oh, that’s just Quick,” said Teri. “He’s not our god. He just sleeps on our couch.”

“He’s a friend of Lucky’s,” added Phil.

The agents exchanged an unreadable glance.

“It’s not a crime to let a god crash at our place,” said Teri, perhaps a bit too defensively. “We don’t follow him. We don’t offer him tribute.”

“According to Article Seventy-one of the Divine Affairs Treaty, offers of lodging qualify as tribute.”

“We didn’t offer it,” said Teri. “He just started doing it.”

“I see,” said Melody. “Would you like to file an official complaint then?”

Phil and Teri both had the same thought. They weren’t sure how they felt about Quick in their home, but they’d come to like him over the past few weeks. They didn’t want to get him into trouble, but they weren’t feeling very charitable toward gods in general.

“Maybe,” said Phil uneasily.

“Can we get back to this holy war thing?” asked Teri. “How does something like that still happen in this day and age? And why weren’t we told about it before we registered with Lucky?”

Watson’s cell phone rang. He walked away to answer it.

“It happens,” said Melody. “Though at this stage the holy wars are more underground, less obvious. More like holy guerrilla wars. Most gods play by the rules. But some can’t stomach having to live by rules at all. So they went underground, where they still find followers among the unscrupulous. As for your god… well… he has no legal obligation to inform you of this.”

“What kind of system doesn’t tell people they’re getting in the middle of a holy war?”

“It’s a complicated issue, miss,” replied the agent, “but Divine Affairs is not just for the protection of mortals. The gods have rights, too.”

“Including the right to lie?”

“Technically, it’s nondisclosure, miss. Would you appreciate having your dirty laundry posted to the public record?”

“My dirty laundry doesn’t get people killed.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you did agree to this, didn’t you? No one forced you into it.”

Teri fumed. “This is unbelievable. We’re almost killed, and you’re blaming us.”

“We see a lot of this, Mrs. Robinson. Perhaps you should’ve considered your decision more carefully.”

Teri shot her a glare, then looked to Phil to rise to her defense. But he didn’t disagree with the agent. And he didn’t see any benefit in arguing. This wasn’t the time to point fingers.

She stormed away, grumbling. Phil considered going after her, but it was probably better to let her cool off.

“If you would like to sever your relationship with your god,” said Melody, “we can start the paperwork. It can take a while, though, and there are penalties.”

Phil’s first reaction was to say yes to the offer. But the penalties part made him hesitate. The law didn’t just protect mortals from the capricious nature of the gods. It protected the gods from the fickle nature of mortals. There had to be stability, a reliable exchange of tribute and favor. He got all that. It wasn’t a perfect system, but it was the best they had. And even if it had its flaws, it had kept things in order. No longer did mortals have to fear seeing their city erupt in fire and brimstone just because a few of their mortals offended a powerful deity who didn’t understand subtlety. Now if your house blew up, you’d earned it. Or at least put yourself in the line of wrath, even if indirectly.

“No, it’s okay,” he said. “Maybe later. How long has this holy war been going on?”

“I’m sorry, but that’s-”

“Privileged information,” he said. “I got it.”

Watson returned. “Mr. Robinson, was there an incident in your office this Tuesday?”

“My boss had a heart attack.” The realization dawned on him slowly, but the agents gave him time.

“Wait. Oh my… it wasn’t an accident, was it?”

“We aren’t allowed to discuss pending investigations in detail.”

Phil shook his head. “Oh, come on. This isn’t right. We must have some rights. It’s bad enough our own god failed to mention we might get killed just for letting him sleep in our spare bedroom. Now you ask me about a mysterious death and don’t want to give me any information. How is that fair?”

Agent Melody shrugged. “A forensic team turned up a death rune written on his coffee mug. It was written in invisible ink. We’re lucky to have caught it.”

“Somebody killed him?”

“In a manner of speaking,” said Agent Melody. “We believe he was trying to kill you and that the attempt backfired. You were supposed to drink from the mug. He most likely planned to switch it out so that there would be no evidence, making it look like a coronary. Probably would have worked, too, if he hadn’t mixed up the cups. Lucky break for you, Mr. Robinson.”

“Yeah, lucky.”

But it hadn’t been blind luck. If Phil hadn’t spilled his coffee, if he hadn’t switched mugs to try and cover the mistake, he’d be dead right now. Lucky had neglected to mention Gorgoz, but Lucky’s influence had also saved Phil’s life. It was complicated.

“A search of Rosenquist’s home turned up a secret altar and contraband paraphernalia,” added Watson. “From the looks of things, we think he was giving tribute to Gorgoz.”

“But he was a business executive,” said Phil. “Why would he be following an illegal god?”

“Happens more than you might think,” said the mortal. “Statistically, most unsanctioned tribute is committed by the middle class.”

Phil didn’t know what to think. Like most everyone, he was inclined to imagine the temple underground populated by lowlifes, thugs, and murderers. Those people who couldn’t get ahead in this world and turned to the dark gods in desperation. But that really made no sense. Why wouldn’t people who were willing to invoke unethical and dangerous powers get ahead? He’d met plenty of middle management and been impressed with their complete lack of practical job skills.

And what about all those other employees who were promoted, never to be seen again, despite promises to “keep in touch”? Were they inducted into a secret cabal, too busy engaging in ritual sacrifice and secret ceremonies to return phone calls or even just drop by and say hi? Or even more sinisterly, were their promotions just a ruse, an excuse for a convenient transfer to some obscure position in another city so that no one would question their disappearance, another sacrifice to dark gods to facilitate the sinister boardroom dealings?

It sure as hell would explain a lot.

“What are we supposed to do now?” asked Phil.

“I can understand your concerns, Mr. Robinson,” said Agent Watson, “but you can rest assured that we’re on top of this. These sort of incidents are the exception, not the norm. And Divine Affairs is very good at dealing with them.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means we stand by our record,” replied Agent Melody.

“And what record is that?” asked Phil.

The agents turned their backs and exchanged whispers.

Divine Affairs offered vague reassurances, but nothing tangible. There was a twisted god out there, somewhere, issuing death warrants for Phil and Teri. Their own god, meanwhile, didn’t appear as trustworthy as they’d hoped. And he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Maybe he’d heard about the incident and flown back to Wisconsin rather than stick around and face the wrath of Teri.

Phil waited for the agents to finish their conversation, though he was positive they wouldn’t have any real help to offer. Just a vague promise to look into things and get back to him. They’d give him some phone number to call in case of trouble to make him feel better, but what good could it be?

“Cripes,” he groaned as he looked to the heavens, which now appeared so indifferent to his problems, more than ever before. And he spotted his god floating overhead in his signature globe of light.

He had no idea how long Lucky had been hovering there. The god chewed on a piece of beef jerky, sipped on a Big Gulp, and surveyed the scene. He spotted Phil, shrugged, and descended to earth reluctantly. Before Phil could speak with him, the agents pulled Lucky aside.

Phil waited for his shot at his god. While he waited, Teri and Quick returned.

“Don’t be too hard on him,” said Quick. “He’s not such a bad guy, really.”

Phil and Teri were having none of it. They wouldn’t have been surprised if, after finishing his conversation with the agents, Lucky had flown away rather than talk to them. But he didn’t.

“Hey, buddy,” he said with every ounce of carefree charm, “how’s it going?”

“Not so good,” replied Phil.

“So I gathered.” Lucky’s smile dropped. “I know this looks bad-”

“You’re damn right it looks bad. It looks worse than bad. We were almost killed, sacrificed as tribute to some evil god with a grudge against you.”

“I can explain-”

“You lied to us.”

“I never said-”

“Lying by omission is still lying. And what about those red animals? When I specifically asked you about them, you said they were no big deal. But they are a big deal after all. They have something to do with Gorgoz, right?”

“They usually go away after a while,” said Lucky. “So maybe I should’ve mentioned it. But I’m immortal. I bring a lot of baggage with me. I can’t be expected to remember every little incident from the past that might be of consequence today. It’s been a while since Gorgoz tried anything like this. I’d just assumed that he’d gotten over it by now. A few hundred years is usually enough for any god. Damn, when Ngai found out I slept with his wife he vowed eternal revenge, too. But now we play poker and laugh about it over beers. That’s the way it works. Maybe in the old days we could nurse a grudge, but that old-way bullshit doesn’t happen anymore. At least, it’s not supposed to happen anymore.”

“But it did happen,” said Teri, “and it nearly happened to us.”

“I’m on top of it,” said Lucky.

“Stop lying.” She thrust her finger at him. “You’re full of crap.

“I know you’re upset, Teri, so I’ll overlook-”

“No. You’re not going to turn this around and make it about us. We didn’t do anything wrong. You’re the wrong one. You’re the one who let us down. We came into this straight. We did what we promised. And you promised to look after us, to help us out. And the last time I checked, keeping us from getting killed by some rogue god is your job.”

He withered under her glare.

“Do your job, Lucky. Or get the hell out of my house.”

She marched away, going inside, slamming the door.

“She’s just upset,” said Phil.

The door opened. Teri stuck her head out.

“And Phil, don’t you dare apologize for me!”

She slammed the door shut again.

Phil paused, torn between placating his god and his wife.

“Go on, Phil,” said Lucky. “She needs you.”

“Please, don’t smite her,” said Phil hastily as he ran into the house.

Lucky sucked on the straw, even as the gurgling noise indicated that the cup was empty.

“She’s right,” said Quick.

“Yeah. Maybe.” Lucky chewed on a piece of ice. “All I know is that if I confront Gorgoz, he’s going to kick my ass all across the Milky Way. And I’d rather not have that.”

“Maybe if you tried apologizing, he’d forget the whole thing.”

“First of all,” said Lucky, “I’m not apologizing. I didn’t do anything wrong. Secondly, it wouldn’t make any difference. You know that. We’re way past the apology stage.”

“You could move out.”

“If I move out, they’re as good as dead. Without all the good fortune that comes from my presence, they’ll be fodder for Gorgoz’s minions.”

They sat on the porch and ran over the problem several times. They didn’t know where Gorgoz was hiding. And even if they did find him, they couldn’t fight him. Lucky could keep Gorgoz’s followers in check for a while, perhaps even years. But even the most powerful god of good fortune couldn’t prevent every assassination attempt. Eventually, by the law of averages, one would succeed.

The problem was bigger than two gods could handle. And Divine Affairs might be able to find Gorgoz one day and put an end to his reign of terror. But that day was a long way off.

“Too bad we can’t question those two moronic assassins,” said Lucky.

“They wouldn’t know anything,” said Quick.

“Worth a try at least.”

“Divine Affairs would never allow it.”

“Yeah. Too bad. But what they don’t know can’t hurt us.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Why bother talking to the mortal when you can go right to the source? Does Morpheus still owe you that favor?”

“Why?”

“Maybe it’s time you cashed it in.”

“What are you getting at?” asked Quick.

Lucky smiled.

“Oh no. He’d never go along with it,” said Quick.

“Can’t hurt to talk to him, can it? And you forget”-Lucky winked-“I can be very persuasive.”

“Should we tell them?” asked Quick, nodding toward the house.

“No reason to get their hopes up just yet.”

“You realize this is a long shot,” said Quick.

“You’re forgetting something, buddy.”

Lucky winked as the gods shot off into the sky.

“Long shots are my specialty.”