Three Dead Gods: An Urban Fantasy Thriller (Mortality Bites Book 6)

by Ramy Vance

  “Humph,” I said, sitting next to Jean. “Angels and their names. You know he won’t tell us his real name because he thinks that’ll give us power over him. It might have once, but with the gods gone—”

  “God,” Daniel corrected.

  “Gods gone”—I hissed the s to emphasize the plurality of their departure—“I don’t think the whole name-and-power thing still works. You’re holding on to a dead past.”

  “Perhaps,” Daniel said. If my words bothered him, he made no show of it. “But I find in this faithless new world, its best to hold on to something, don’t you think? Nonetheless, these two fine fellows are Hosea and Gomer, named after the prophets of old.”

  “Wonderful to meet you,” Jean said. “Now, if we can cut to it, I’d like to start with the burning question of the day. Why didn’t you kill us?”

  Daniel lifted a curious eyebrow. “Why did you assume I ever wanted to kill you?”

  “Well, we’re kind of on opposite sides here,” Jean said.

  Jean’s question was fair. Because of their attack, we didn’t have time to prepare, instead darting out on a suicide run through the forest, where the only chance of success would have been because they messed up.

  They hadn’t, which meant that they’d had plenty of chances to kill us. But they also didn’t do that, either. My only guess was that they had no idea about my soul and the power I held in the Shinto Land of the Dead.

  But just because you don’t think an enemy is a threat doesn’t mean you don’t take them out. Any experienced tactician knows that the fewer grunts there are around to muck up your plans, the better. The only reason we were alive was because they wanted something from us. But what? I couldn’t imagine.

  The angel processed Jean’s words and I could see him deciding what he should say in response. But as I threw my gaze at Daniel, looking for any clue as to the mystery of our continued breath, I got nothing.

  Way to go, Detective Darling.

  It wasn’t just my lack of detective skills that were playing against us. It was also the fact that we were dealing with a friggin’ angel. And reading angels was hard to do; their subconscious tics were so customized to who they once were in Heaven or Hell that there were no common, tell-tale signs amongst them. Each was as unique as a snowflake and each carried themselves with the personalized mission of their past. To understand what made Daniel tick, I needed to know who he once was.

  Trouble was, he knew that, too. Hence the false name.

  “We may be on opposite sides of the war, but are we on opposite sides of the mission? I think not,” the angel said.

  “Are we talking military mission, personal mission, company mission? Missionaries? You’re not going to hand me a pamphlet, are you?” Jean sneered. “But missions aside, what’s your deal, anyway? Aren’t you an angel of God? So what are you doing worshipping three dead gods from debunked religions? Shouldn’t you be evangelizing or something? Or are you one of those guys who’s promiscuous with his faith? You know, willing to give it up for the first god that shows up and—”

  If you ever want to get into a fight with an angel, just question their faith, and that was exactly what Jean’s rant was meant to do. He’d wanted to goad Daniel into losing his temper or worse, trying to get the angel to slip up and do something stupid. It was a classic move, the old escape-the-basement-by-pissing-off-the-psychopath tactic, and I would have applauded Jean’s efforts if we were actually locked in a basement.

  We weren’t. We were in the middle of an enemy camp, surrounded by combatants.

  But Daniel didn’t get angry. He didn’t even express any emotion. He just stared at Jean as he ranted. He was so devoid of emotion that I double-checked his wings just to make sure we were actually speaking to an angel and not some other kind of winged Other.

  Feathery white wings … definitely an angel, I thought.

  Since I couldn’t read Daniel, I turned to Hosea and Gomer to see if there was anything there. Gomer stared impassively straight ahead. He wasn’t looking at either of us, just sitting as still as a human was capable of, his hands folded in his lap. Hosea, on the other hand, swayed back and forth, muttering something to himself that I couldn’t make out.

  “We all serve God in our own way,” Daniel said as soon as Jean finished his rant.

  “And how is he serving God?” I asked, gesturing at Hosea. “What’s his role in all this?”

  “Hosea is receiving another vision from the Three Who Are One,” Daniel said, as if Hosea were receiving a phone call. “He will be with us soon enough, as soon as he establishes a connection.”

  “To what? The hotel’s Wi-Fi?” Jean’s voice dripped with venom. “I can give you the password, if you like.”

  “No, that will not be necessary,” Daniel said. Rising, he gestured to two centaurs standing nearby. “Come, make our guests less comfortable and bring them to my tent. I need to examine them more closely to see if they are worth keeping around.” Daniel stepped away, but then paused, cocking his head in Hosea’s direction. “Also, if he finally has anything new to say, be sure to call me immediately.”

  ↔

  We were led to a marquee tent of the other Other camp. Based on its gold rim and floral design, it was probably used by the hotel for weddings—not war councils—and given its central location, I guessed this was where Daniel liked to hold council and do other minionie things.

  The centaurs dropped us into the middle of the room, where Daniel stood with his back to us. “Leave us,” he said, and the centaurs snorted before stomping away.

  Alone, Jean looked up at the angel. “You know, we’re not really into this. I mean, you’re cute, but we’re both in committed relationships and you’re kind of a dick, so …”

  “Always with the jokes,” he said, his voice droning as he spoke. “Jokes used as shields to hide from your fear. But one such as you, Jean-Luc Matthias, should not hide from your fear. You should embrace it.”

  The angel turned, and his eyes went solid black. I’m not talking like someone tattooed his eyeballs with black ink. This was more of a let’s-replace-my-eyeballs-with-the-empty-void-of-night kind of black.

  Daniel’s eyes widened as he swayed his head between us, staring at Jean and me. It wasn’t so much the way he was looking at us, but the way he wasn’t looking at us that bothered me. It was as if he was looking through us to see what was behind us.

  No, that wasn’t right either. It was as if he was using us as a filter to see what he needed to see. Like 3D-movie glasses, we were what brought whatever he was searching for into focus.

  But that wasn’t the strangest bit. The truly weird thing was that he was clearly not using magic to do whatever he was doing, but he showed some signs of burning time.

  Jean must have noticed that, too, because he looked at his Mickey Mouse watch and counted in his head before whispering, “My watch isn’t speeding up.”

  So this angel wasn’t burning time, which mean he was doing his “thing.”

  Some Others have a “thing.” An ability that is innate and part of their being. Things can vary, but generally go by time. Take the ly erg as an example. I met one of those fae soldiers a few weeks back and learned that ly ergs can use their dying breath to grant them a single wish (as long as the dying breath was taken on the battlefield).

  Not all Others have a thing, but if they do, it tends to be along species’ lines. But angels are different; each angel had their own thing. And that thing was directly associated with whatever purpose they were created to fulfill.

  And Daniel was doing his thing. Trouble was, I didn’t know what his thing was.

  After a few minutes of him staring at us with two black pits, he smirked before his eyes returned to normal. “Good,” he said with a smile.

  Jean, who was rattled like I was, said, “What the hell was that? Did you just black-hole-sun us?”

  “I don’t think that’s a thing,” I said. “But whatever he did do is his thing, isn’t it? And given tha
t things are related to purpose, and your purpose for being is clearly to be an asshole, I’m guessing you just created a list of cutting insults to bore us with.”

  “Actually,” Daniel began, leaning in close. The void was gone, and normal eyes stared down at me. “I just wanted to make sure you two were a part of it.”

  “A part of what?” Jean asked.

  “Why, the end, of course. I saw The End of Everything and both of you were there.”

  Seeking a Friend for the End of the World

  “When God made me, He imbued my very essence with the ability to see the end, then He asked me to find all who would be there and make sure that those who are a part of the end will be present for the final moments in time. I can look into the hearts and souls of humans and know who will be there at the last moment of all. And I see both of you there,” Daniel said, clapping his hands together. “Oh, happy days. Happy, happy days.”

  “So that’s why you’re here? To help usher in the apocalypse? What about worshipping the Three Who Are One?”

  “Bah, humbug. Those faithless fools outside run around hoping, praying that the return of Baldr, Quetzalcoatl and Izanami will also mean the return of their immortality.” He spat out the dead gods’ names like he was spitting out sand. “They do not understand what Three Who Are One’s true purpose is. They return to fulfill God’s final wish: to end it all.” Daniel’s eyes lit up as he rose to his feet and began pacing the marquee with rapid, excited steps.

  “But I wasn’t sure if they would actually be the end. After all, so much has changed since the gods left and I wasn’t entirely sure the old prophesies would come true. After all, it is by God’s decree that human hands will be instrumental to ending it all. But no humans were on the island, and I grew fearful that I would have to suffer this world even longer.” He wiped away imagined dirt from his left shoulder.

  “But when I heard two humans were on the island, my heart swelled with hope.” More light-filled tears swelled in eyes that, only moments ago, had been impossibly dark. “That is why I commanded that you two be unharmed and brought to me. I needed to see you both for myself, see if I could find confirmation in your presence and … and I have. You both shall be part of the end.” He clapped his hands together, raising them to the sky, his once-caught tears painting streams of light down his cheeks. “The end is near. Finally, God’s command will be fulfilled.”

  Something didn’t make sense, and as much as I knew not to question the crazed, homicidal killer during the middle of a crying fit, I couldn’t help myself. “Aren’t the Heralds human?” I asked. “I mean, couldn’t you do your whole black, dead-eyed trick on them to see if this was the end?”

  Daniel cocked his head to one side as if truly confused by my question. That, or he simply couldn’t believe I was so ignorant. “They are prophets,” he said, like that explained everything.

  “So?” I gestured for him to go on.

  “Prophets are more human than human. That is the gift of being touched by divinity. It makes them …”—he paused as he searched for the word—“immune to one such as me.”

  So that’s why he didn’t kill us. He thinks we’re a part of the apocalypse. Or that the apocalypse needs a couple humans around at the end. Potatoes, po-tah-toes, I suppose. Either way, he believes that humans need to be present at the end.

  I thought about the army of Others battling on the beaches of this Okinawan island. They were fighting for a new beginning. Granted, that new beginning included three egotistical, evil gods, but given all they’d endured these last four years, could you blame them? If these gods turned out to be a mistake, then they were simply trading one shitty life for another. I was pretty sure that was the definition of “nothing to lose.”

  But they were fighting for life. Fighting for a better tomorrow. None of them knew that this asshole of an angel was using them to fight for no tomorrow at all. It was never about finding new gods or regaining his immortality.

  It was about fulfilling what Daniel believed to be God’s final wish: to end everything.

  To end everything, I mused. It must be strange to want to destroy everything you’ve built, even for a god. But if that’s what you wanted, you’d think you’d want to do it yourself, right? Build it with your hands, end it with your hands—that kind of thing. I just don’t get it. If God really wanted this to all go away, and He’s all powerful, then why not end it all when He left? I thought, and from the way both Jean and Daniel turned to look at me, it had been out loud.

  “He, in His divine wisdom, ordained that you humans have a chance to get your eternal souls in order before the end. His mercy has given you all one last chance at salvation. One last chance to prove yourself worthy before the end of all.”

  “And how exactly did He do that?”

  “Those who faithfully, unwaveringly worshipped Him after His departure will be rewarded with life eternal,” Daniel said.

  “Like you?” Jean cut in.

  “Like me,” Daniel said, his face glowing with the fervor of one who truly believed he was saved.

  ↔

  “So”—Jean turned to me—“seems like we’re a part of the end.”

  “Well, my mother always said I would be the death of her. I guess what she meant to say was that I’d be the death of everyone, including her.”

  Jean chuckled before shaking his head. “I don’t know. I mean, this guy talks a big game, but somehow I just don’t know. If God wanted to end everything, He would have ended everything. Why get three second-rate gods to do His dirty work for Him? Why go through all this drama of leaving, but not really leaving, just to see who will remain faithful? A lot of wishful thinking …”

  I nodded in agreement. “If wishes were horses and all that jazz,” I said, looking Daniel straight in the eye. “And have you considered that your first concern might have been the right one? You weren’t sure if old prophesies still held. Maybe ‘old angel things’ don’t hold, either. Two wrongs don’t make a right; two wrongs just make you more wrong.”

  I didn’t know if this was us goading him into making a mistake, or just letting off some steam, but either way, if felt good to kick this guy in the ribs … metaphorically speaking.

  “And what’s more, I spoke to those three gods,” I said. “When I was in the museum, I spoke to them. And other than being total jerks, do you know what they have in common? None of them believe that they’re ending anything. They all believe that once they resurrect themselves, they will rule over this world unchallenged. Forever. I’ve been hearing a lot of apocalypse chatter—and not just from you, Daniel—and I find it all hard to believe. Vague prophesies aside, what do you know that they don’t? Dead or not, they are, after all, gods. And you’re just an angel.”

  Daniel was rattled, his joy replaced by a slow, simmering anger. “God made me in the beginning and the first words He spoke to me were to tell me that I would be present at the end. That I, of all the angels, would be instrumental in ushering in His will. Then He kissed my forehead and I felt a divine love unlike—”

  “—anything you’ve felt before or since,” I said. “Or maybe you were going for, ‘unlike anything you humans are capable of feeling.’ We get it. But herein lies the rub, dear Daniel: He left. That was the ‘end’ He was talking about … His departure. And guess what? You were here to witness it. You are here witnessing it right now.”

  I tried to get to my feet as I drilled my words into the angel, soaking them with as much anger as I felt in my still soul-less body. I knew I was pushing him to the edge, going beyond the point of angering him so he’d make a mistake and we could escape.

  I was pushing him to kill me. And I didn’t care.

  “But the end isn’t some dramatic event with trumpeting horns and broken seals,” I spat. “No, this end is the slow-burning, perpetual dying that comes with mortality. That’s how He’s ending it. Ended it. He kept His promise to you when He left you behind. Tell me, did He say anything about you surviving the end?
I don’t think so. If He did, you would still be in Heaven—”

  “Enough!” Daniel screamed, pulling out his sword and grabbing me by my neck. He placed his blade against my throat; he only needed to apply a bit of pressure and slice to one side and I’d be done. Then, so much for me being a part of the end. Would my death be enough to ruin the apocalypse? Probably not, but if there was a one-percent chance of stopping it if I stopped breathing, then I had to take it.

  But Daniel didn’t slit my throat. Instead he rubbed a grubby, sweat-filled hand over my face before dropping me to the ground. “Enough,” he whispered. “Enough. This is the end. I have faith that it is, and I will not allow one such as you to fill my heart with doubt. I cannot—”

  There was a bray at the tent’s entrance. “Hosea, he is speaking.”

  “Oh good,” Daniel said, not breaking his furious eye contact with me. “Let’s go see what our gods have to say, shall we?”

  They Don’t Make Prophets Like They Used To

  We were dragged out of the tent and put in front of Hosea, who swayed back and forth just like he had when I’d first seen him in the izakaya. He was murmuring something in a low tone as Gomer sat next to him, eyes closed, not saying or doing anything. Made me wonder why they kept Gomer around, if all he did was … nothing.

  Hosea’s low hum turned into a high-pitched squeal as his face contorted in pain. He dug his fingers into his forehead, clawing at his own skin like he was trying to dig into his brain. Thin streams of blood ran down, and as if that wasn’t gross enough, he clawed downward, digging eight crimson-colored streams down his face.

  Then he stopped moving as if he hadn’t just given himself a Freddy Krueger makeover.

  Gomer began to speak. “The time draws near,” he said, his voice distorted and inhuman. “Soon our powers will be great enough to break free of this place and—”