Imprisoned Gods

by G. Bailey

  “Careful, lassie,” the bartender warns. “I like you, but that kind of talk will get you pitched out on the street if you don’t watch your mouth.” He closes his hand around the charm in question and nods. “At any rate, I’ll take it to him and find out if he is interested, goddess," he says. I don't really have any choice but to smile and nod, watching as he disappears through a door behind the bar. I glance down at the cocktail, feeling a twinge of regret that I'm not going to be able to drink the rest of the mysterious concoction. Well, at least it’s pretty to look at, at any rate.

  I lean back in my chair, glancing around the room as I wait for the bartender to return. Suddenly, the room feels different, like it’s taken on a new vibe in the span of a few seconds. The hairs raise on my arms as I turn my head slowly around to see two men walking into the room. They gradually come into the light as my heart begins to pound wildly in my chest. They both have blond hair, short and thick with white highlights pulled naturally through the locks. Their skin is tanned, golden almost, and it suits their big chests and slim waists. With sexy jawlines and picture perfect faces, it’s hard to move my gaze away. The twin on the left is taller, dressed in a suit fitting for a lawyer, and his gold tie matches his glowing gold eyes. The other twin is more casual, everything from his stance to his jeans and loose blue top says as much. He has the same glowing gold eyes as his twin, but they are darker and don't have the glow of his twin’s. I quickly turn back in my seat, muttering "fuck" under my breath. It wouldn’t take a genius to recognize them, even if I hadn’t already had a brush with one of them before.

  I feel them come to a stop behind me. It feels like their eyes are burning a hole in the back of my neck, and the fact that neither of them speaks immediately makes the situation even more unnerving.

  Finally, I’m unable to take the silence anymore. “I knew they’d send you after me,” I mutter, swirling the ice around in my glass with the cocktail stick. As brave of a face as I’m putting on, I’m nearly bricking it, and my mind is racing - is it too late to make a break for it? Would it be possible to distract them long enough to get away?

  “You killed a god,” one of them says at last. “You had to have expected the gods of justice would find you sooner or later.” His husky voice is so familiar, in spite of all the time that’s passed, and it reminds me of the last time we met. How this stuck up eegit is still alive, I will never know… but I guess that’s one of the perks of working for the higher gods.

  I go rigid in my chair, clenching my hand so tightly around the glass that my knuckles turn white. “Forgive me for not wanting to see your face right now,” I snap, unable to keep the attitude out of my voice even though I’m dealing with two incredibly dangerous men. “The last time we ‘hung out’, you shot me!” I turn my head back to glare at the businesslike one as he straightens his tie, swallowing hard. “Oh yeah, I haven't forgotten what happened,” I add. “I still have the scar on my arm.”

  “Accidentally!” he growls back, and his brother laughs, looking between us.

  “You shot her? Like, with a human gun?” his brother asks, crossing his arms. “How boring of you, bro. You know we can shoot ice and fire out of our fingertips, right? Make golden arrows out of nothing but dust? And you chose a gun?”

  “We are not going into that story right now. Besides, Karma is just trying to distract us,” he replies in a bored tone, turning those handsome gold eyes on me, and I chuckle. Damn right I am. I fumble for my tornado charm, the one I'm never meant to use inside and bring it to my lips. Both of them try to grab me, only to be thrown across the room by a gust of wind. I don't waste a second as I slide over the bar, looking back to see the gust of wind has turned into a tornado in an instant that is swinging chairs and tables around like toys. I laugh when a table slams into one of the twins, knocking him onto the floor, and his face is a picture I wish I had my phone to take. This was a brilliant idea.

  The other two humans are holding onto the bar, screaming for dear life, but the one guy is still holding his beer. That’s a true Irish dude right there. I duck as a chair flies past my head, and I keep my head down as I jog to the door, pulling it open and sneaking into the back. I run down the long corridor, looking for the bartender as the building shakes and finding only one door at the end of the hallway. I pull the door open, pausing at the sight of the bartender sat on a desk with a hooded man who is holding my anklet up in the air.

  "What is all that noise, lassie?" the bartender asks as I shut the door behind me, seeing that the corridor is still empty so the tornado must be keeping them busy. There is a loud crashing noise, followed by the whole building severely shaking as I flash a sheepish grin at my new Scottish friend. "Nothing to worry about...but it seems I have to leave. Like right now, so do we have a deal?" I ask, pulling my eyes to the hooded man who nods his head.

  "Seems like we do. Though if there is a mess out there, you owe us a favour," the bartender warns me and walks to the other side of the room which is covered by a curtain. The bartender pulls the curtain back, revealing the dark green swirling portal I came here for. I have to brace myself as I stop right in front of it, knowing that illegal portals aren't easy on the stomach to jump through.

  "The gods out there made the mess, not me," I say, winking at the bartender who only laughs before I jump headfirst into the portal, hoping for the best.

  11

  Killian

  “How the fucking hell did she do this?” Seth shouts at me. He’s sprawled on the ground, his hair a mess from the swirling winds, and he struggles against the cyclone that’s now blowing through the bar. He just manages to roll over onto his front, struggling to his feet, and I’m left helpless to do anything but watch, pinned against the wall by the air pressure. Chairs, bottles, glasses and some human guys fly around the pub, all screaming as if the world is ending. I can’t exactly blame them - if a tornado manifested in the middle of my Saturday night drink, I would probably be doing the exact same thing.

  In the chaos, Karma has made her escape. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m damn impressed by the Irish sexy little redhead. Shame we have to lock her up after all this is over; she clearly is a little kill happy, and the fact that she was able to get the drop on us like that is impressive. She’s pretty quick on her feet, from what we have been told. Which isn’t a lot, mind you. People - especially lower gods - tend to think that because Seth and I have an in with the higher gods, that makes us privy to all their information. That would make sense, surely, since we’re in charge of tracking down anyone who tries to go against their wishes, but the higher gods have never been known for doing things that make sense. Usually, we’re lucky to get anything more than a name and a list of crimes, and tonight is much the same. The only difference, of course, is that this isn’t our first brush with Karma. But that’s a story for another time.

  I’m still reeling from the news, in all honesty. I don’t get how the girl could even manage to kill a higher god, but man, is everyone pissed at home. Higher gods are meant to be immortal and unkillable - they’re supposed to transcend time, age, and physical weakness, to the extent that they make lesser gods look damn near human in comparison. This shouldn’t be possible… but it is. She did the fucking impossible. I wish I knew how she did it, but from the sounds of things, most of the other gods are as in the dark about it as we are. All they’re saying is that a karma god took down a higher god at a nightclub in Dublin, and now there’s going to be hell to pay - if not for her, then for us, since it’s our asses on the line if we can’t find her.

  It’s almost embarrassing how easily she was able to subdue the two of us. It makes us look like a couple of damn amateurs. How the hell did she even manage to conjure up a tornado this big? It’s not standard karma god magic, that’s for sure, which I suppose means only one thing: she’s using charms. Ugh. As if this job couldn’t get any harder. My brother and I are powerful - far more powerful than the average lower god - and that’s why we’re so good at doing what we do
. But charms, even weak ones, complicate things, and this job is already damned complicated.

  I shouldn’t find the fact that she managed to thwart us more attractive about her…but I do. It’s not just the fact that she’s a little minx who’s clearly capable of taking care of herself, but the fact that she’s an unknown. Most of our targets don’t put up a fight, or if they do, we best them in seconds. They aren’t quick-thinking, and they aren’t somehow able to bend the rules of the supernatural world to take down beings that should normally be impossible to kill. Karma is mysterious, and the mysterious thing has always been a big turn on.

  I duck my head as a table flies past, smashing into the wall next to me, and splinters cut into my arm. Well, that hurt. I glance down at the gash, which is already starting to mend, and grit my teeth against the pain. There are more important things to worry about right now.

  “You tell me!” I shout. “I thought she was just a karma goddess with no outward powers!”

  “So what is it then?” Seth calls back, putting his arms up to shield against the debris. “Enchantments?”

  “Charms, if you ask me,” I reply, only to start laughing as Seth gets hit by a few more flying chairs and bottles. The look of utter indignation on his face is enough to make it all worth it, including the bloody arm. He’s got a stick up his ass most of the time, and it’s nice seeing him taken down a couple levels. Between that and actually getting to see some real action for once, I haven’t had this much fun in years.

  “Stop laughing and stop the tornado before it destroys the pub and she gets away!” Seth shouts, sounding extremely pissed off, though that is my twin’s usual expression. In all honesty, I think I’d be concerned if I saw him smile, at this point.

  “Why don’t you do it?” I retort, taking a little sadistic pleasure in my brother’s desperate expression. Of the two of us, Seth has always been more of the thinker, while I’ve always been more of the doer. He can use his powers, sure, but action and magic have always come more easily to me. He leans more toward analysis, making plans, and negotiating. I’ll leave that to him - I don’t have much tolerance for bullshit. I smirk at Seth, desperately wanting to let the tornado go on for a little longer just to watch him squirm a little. I know it’s not charitable, but considering how condescending he usually is towards me, it’s nice to see him relying on me for once. “Killian!” my twin warns me.

  Fine, fine, I think, the fun is over. I clap my hands together, calling on my powers as I close my eyes. Power builds in my hands, making me feel like I could destroy the world if I wanted to. The power is addictive, and I love using it - I suppose that’s what makes me as successful as I am. There are more than two justice gods in the world, but there’s a reason Seth and I were handpicked to carry out the orders of the higher gods; he has brains and I have power. We’re two sides of the same coin, and regardless of how much we bicker, together, we’re almost unstoppable. Almost.

  I open my eyes as I pull my hands apart, creating a ball of gold light that sucks all the air into it like a vacuum. Just when it starts to feel hard to breathe, I clap my hands together, destroying the magic. The air I’ve drawn into the magical focal point is let loose, filling the bar back up and allowing all the flying objects to settle back down again. My hands stop glowing just as Seth picks himself up off the floor, looking furious.

  “You tell no one about this, I mean it,” he huffs, straightening his tie.

  I can barely contain my laugh. “What’s wrong, brother?” I ask. “Upset you had to rely on my powers yet again?”

  “Don’t you start,” Seth warns me, tucking his mussed up hair behind his ears. “You were the one who took a bribe from that leprechaun. You nearly cost us that job.”

  I shrug, throwing up my hands. “What can I say? Money talks.”

  “So do the higher gods, and they’re going to kill us if we fuck this up. I mean it, Killian - not a word.” I snort. I’m so telling everyone about this. “Now,” Seth continues, dusting off his pants and straightening up, “I’m going to wipe these people’s memories and get this place cleaned up. Go and find out where Karma went.”

  “You have beer on your jacket,” I respond, pointing at his lapel. He glances down and I see his face fall; there is nothing my brother loves more than his expensive suits. No dry cleaning is going to get that much beer out of his clothes, and considering we’re on the road, there won’t be magicking it away any time soon.

  “You’re a dickhead,” Seth mutters, shaking his head. “You just had to point it out, didn’t you?”

  Ah, brotherly love. I chuckle as Seth walks over to the group of humans, stepping over bottles and broken chairs. They’re still reeling from the cyclone, no doubt wondering if the world is coming to an end. Fear will make them more susceptible to memory wiping spells, which is all the more useful to us; the sooner we can get on our way, the better our odds will be of catching up with Karma.

  I peer around at our surroundings. The place is a right mess. One of the humans is still holding his beer as he stands up, looking pretty freaked out, but I’m impressed. It takes some dedication to hold onto your beer through all that. He meets my eyes for a moment and I grin at him, no doubt looking like a madman as I run and jump over the bar, landing on the other side with a thud. I remember seeing Karma disappear through a door back here - if I’m lucky, maybe she’s still inside. I have to be careful not to step on a stray dish or bus tub as I work my way to the back of the bar; the last thing I want to do is make an ass out of myself in front of Seth, who, let’s face it - is already doing enough of that for the both of us.

  There’s an overturned table in the far corner of the room, blocking what looks like a door into the back room. I lean down, grabbing the ends of the table, and lift it up high in the air. The moment I do, the door opens and a grey-haired dude walks in, his jaw dropping open.

  “Lad, did you fucking do this?” he asks with a thick Scottish accent. “Or was it that redhead? She seemed like trouble.”

  “It’s always a redhead, mate,” I answer, pushing the table down so it rests against the bar.

  The man runs a hand through his gray hair, shaking his head as he takes in the damage. “Damn,” he mutters. “What the hell happened in here, anyway?”

  “You know, the usual,” I tell him. “Destruction, magic, chaos… otherwise known as a normal day in my life.”

  He snorts, rolling his eyes. “You gods just bring trouble wherever you go, don’t you?”

  “I’d prefer to think of it as us following trouble,” I reply. “So where did the redhead go?”

  “Through the portal,” replies the man. “I take it she was trying to get away from you.”

  “That would be a good guess.”

  “Well, if you want to follow, my master and I have a price,” he responds, crossing his arms and eyeing me up. An illegal portal does make sense - there’s been talk for years about an underground portal network, and usually this would be the kind of thing we could shut down and turn in to the higher gods for a pat on the back. Now, however, we’re going to need to make use of it, if we want any hope of tracking Karma down again.

  I can’t help but wonder why Karma would choose to sit in a bar when she was meant to be on the run. If she’d left just a few minutes earlier, she would already be in the wind by the time we arrived. In fact, it was only sheer luck that we tracked her down in the first place: we wouldn’t have found her if it weren’t for a worried bus driver calling his wife and telling her about the young woman with red hair who he was concerned for. While we’re able to use our magic to track the location and use of magic, Karma has clearly been one step ahead of us; her magical signature went dark almost as soon as she left the nightclub, which means she knows that as well as we do. We were left to figure out where she was the old fashioned way: by knocking on doors and interrogating unsuspecting acquaintances. Seth ended up using his powers to search through every phone call in Dublin to find a clue, and he just happened to intercept
the bus driver’s phone call to his wife. Turns out, the guy’s route took him to this part of town, and he saw her walking into the bar; if it hadn’t been for that, then we would still be on a wild goose chase right now.

  I don’t get to respond as Seth jumps over the bar, drawing my attention away from the gray-haired man. His beer-stained jacket is gone, and he has taken his tie off. To anyone else, that would mean nothing, but to Seth, that means war. Karma is in trouble now. This just got personal to him.

  “The price we will pay is not shutting you down for owning an illegal portal,” Seth tells him, his expression impatient. “If you don’t let us pass, I will make sure this portal is permanently closed. Or maybe we’ll just let you follow the redhead into the gods’ correctional prison where she is going,” he threatens, sounding more than annoyed that there is another hold up and Karma will be getting away. Our only saving grace at this point is that illegal portals are usually unpredictable and tend to make even the most experienced travelers ill. She won’t have gotten far.

  “And who the hell are you guys to do that? No one would believe you that a portal is in a human pub,” the man responds, and I grin.

  “We are the justice twins, keepers of the magical world, and there is no one in this world who wouldn’t believe us,” I slowly reply, and the Scottish guy’s skin visibly pales as I speak.

  “So, move,” Seth tells him, sounding uninterested in dealing with this dude any longer. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone move as quickly out of the way, plastering himself to the wall, as this Scottish dude does.

  “Brother, did I ever tell you that joke about a Scottish guy and a British guy walking into an Irish pub?” I ask Seth as we head down the long corridor.

  He opens the door at the end, looking back at me like I’m an idiot. It’s a usual look from him, in all fairness. Seth doesn’t do jokes. “No, and I don’t want to hear it. Let’s just get this job over and done with,” Seth responds, walking into the empty room where there is a swirling portal on the one wall.