Divine Misfortune

22

Teri and Phil didn’t talk about it.

Janet left. They didn’t ask where she was going. They spoke with several agents. They couldn’t recall the details of the conversation other than some vague reassurances that Divine Affairs was “on top of the situation” and that everything “would be resolved shortly.” Then the agents left, too.

And Teri and Phil, very deliberately, didn’t talk about it. They didn’t talk about Lucky, still lost somewhere in the collective unconscious. They didn’t talk about the wreckage just outside their front door. They didn’t talk about Gorgoz’s offer. They exchanged maybe twenty words over the next few hours on no topic more uncomfortable than their favorite flavor of Hot Pockets. They were watching television when Phil finally dared to say something.

“We can’t take the offer,” he said.

“I know,” she replied.

Another twenty minutes passed without another uttered word. They even had the TV on mute. They watched the actors go about their business without really caring.

“We can’t take it,” Teri said.

“I know,” he agreed. He paused. “We can’t.”

This was how it went for another two hours. One of them would remark that they couldn’t take Gorgoz’s offer, and the other would agree. But there would be a pause between the first observation and the second. And it would be longer every time.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “This is all my fault.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s mine.”

“If I hadn’t brought it up in the first place…”

“Yes, but if I hadn’t changed my mind…”

“You’re right,” he said with a forced smile. “It is your fault.”

She wanted to laugh, but snorted. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

He kissed her forehead.

“We’re screwed, baby.”

“Yeah,” she said. “We’re screwed. We can’t take the offer.”

“No, we can’t. We can’t trust him to hold up his end of the deal. He even admitted it.”

“Even if he did,” said Teri, “I couldn’t live with myself. Any favor we’d get from him would’ve been paid for by someone else’s blood. Somewhere.”

The favor of Gorgoz didn’t come without a price. He was a god of death and chaos, and there had to be consequences to taking him on. Things they couldn’t conceive of. Gods were a deceptive bunch. Lucky had lied by omission, but at least he hadn’t been out to screw them. Not like Gorgoz most likely was.

Teri went to the bathroom.

Phil paced around the coffee table a few times.

“Damn.”

He ran outside before he could think too much about this.

“I know you’re out here!” he shouted. “I know you’re watching! Show yourself!”

A red spotted pigeon with blue eyes settled on the uprooted tree on Phil’s lawn.

“No need to shout,” the bird said with Gorgoz’s voice. “So have you come to a decision?”

“It’s a deal,” Phil said, “but only for me.”

The pigeon cackled. “Lovely. Selling out your friends to spare yourself. How delightfully self-serving. You’ll go far in my organization.”

“No,” said Phil. “You take me, but you leave them out of this. You leave them alone, never bother them again.”

The pigeon cocked its head and fluffed up its breast. “You dare dictate terms to me?”

“None of this is their fault. This is all because of me. We wouldn’t even know Lucky if I hadn’t brought this up in the first place. I started this. I have to finish it.”

“How noble.” The pigeon took a moment to preen its wings. “You’re an eager and shortsighted mortal, Mr. Robinson. I like that in a follower.”

Phil glanced at the front door. He couldn’t have much time left.

“Do we have a deal then?” asked Phil.

Teri opened the front door. “What are you doing out here?”

“Do we have a deal?”

The pigeon chuckled. “We have a deal.”

A tremor shook the earth as the pigeon grew into a giant bat.

“Oh no,” said Teri. “What did you do, Phil? What did you do, you idiot?”

The bat folded its wings around Phil.

“Everything will be okay now,” said Phil.

“You son of a bitch,” she said. “Don’t you dare pull that noble sacrifice bullshit!”

The bat launched itself into the sky, leaving the cold chuckle of Gorgoz hanging over the backyard for a long time.