False Gods

by Nazri Noor

  28

  “Wait a minute.” Quill cocked his head, pressing the end of his finger in the hollow of one dimple as he grinned at me, an exaggerated play of mockery. “You’re not actually planning to buy that old sword, are you? As I recall, you’re still in the poor house because neither of the Rodriguez witches actually had money to give. And then there was that unfortunate matter. The accident with your entire stock of bootleg wine spontaneously combusting.”

  I stood on the balls of my feet, scowling, barely able to hold myself back. “You blew up our goods and you fucking know that. It wasn’t an accident. You attacked us.”

  Quill waved his hand and chuckled softly. “Details, details. Semantics. Just words. What are words at the end of the day, after all? How much power do they truly give us over the universe?”

  My eyes went wide as I understood what he was planning to do. One word, two words, a phrase. That was all he needed to blow up this entire house. No way was I going to let him. Before I knew what I was doing, I’d shoved him up against a wall – and slammed my hand over his mouth. He grunted into my palm, his eyes going dark with anger as he realized what had happened.

  “You listen to me, Abernathy.” I bent in closer, just to communicate exactly how serious I was about delivering on my threats. “One false move, and I crush your windpipe.”

  He just rolled his eyes and grunted again, which only made me angrier. Settle down, I told myself. I didn’t want to go all Christmas tree in there, though even if I did, all the incandescent lighting in the Whateley house would at least hide the fact that I was an angry human lightbulb.

  “I don’t know what you’re actually doing here, and truthfully, I don’t care. I just want the sword. You have it. Give it to me. Hand over Laevateinn.”

  His forehead furrowed at the sound of the word. His eyes narrowed, one eyebrow raising, like he was trying to ask me something.

  “I’m going to take my hand off your mouth, slow like. You say one thing – I mean one thing that sounds like a spell trying to happen – and I’ll knock your teeth out.”

  Quill did his best to nod. I removed my hand. He sputtered and grimaced. “There are less aggressive ways to show me your affection, nephilim. I don’t even know where that hand’s been.” He stuck out his tongue, making faint retching noises.

  “Shut the fuck up and tell me where you kept Laevateinn.”

  He shook his head, chuckling. “If you couldn’t tell from before, I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. What even is that? Lay-vah – levit – I don’t know. I truly don’t.”

  Invisible gossamer threads cut into my skin, Arachne’s Veil of Surveillance all but yelling at me that we’d found the perpetrator. “But I was told – it was Loki’s sword. It’s the god of mischief’s sword. You’ve never heard of it?”

  Quill swatted my hand away from his neck, then brushed at his clothes, as if he was concerned that I’d smeared too much of my poverty over him. “Look at me. I deal in spells and spell books. My whole thing is magic. Tomes, grimoires, scrolls, the works. Do I look like someone who needs a sword? I could kill you with a single word.”

  My hand reared back, forming into a fist as I aimed directly for Quilliam’s mouth. His hands flew up.

  “But I won’t. Geez. Just a joke. I wouldn’t do that to Wyatt. It’d be rude to leave a mess of your corpse.”

  I spoke through clenched teeth. “You’re lying. Again.”

  “Um. Mr. Albright? Mr. Abernathy?”

  Our heads turned as one towards the sound of Wyatt Whateley’s voice. I gave him my best smile. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Quill was grinning, too.

  Wyatt’s fingers were in a tangle, worrying at each other as his gaze flitted from me, to Quill, and back. “Is everything all right here?”

  I lowered my fist and backed away from Quilliam. “Quite all right. No problems here. We were just talking, is all.”

  “Right,” Wyatt said, drawing out the word with suspicion. I shouldn’t have let my guard down, shouldn’t have let Quill get to me like that. “Only that the tome Mr. Abernathy wanted to purchase is now ready. Packaged and prepared, just as you requested, Quilliam.”

  “Wonderful.” Quill’s voice was thrilled and positively musical. He swept past me, but not before staring daggers bare inches from my face. He didn’t move his mouth as he glared at me – not once – but I knew what that look meant. This isn’t over.

  He had a point, though. Quill was the kind of mage who took pride in his magical talents. He was too full of himself to resort to anything less than an explosive show of arcane power. Swords and guns and bullets meant nothing to his agenda. But then why was Arachne’s veil tightening across my skull? It knew. He had to be lying.

  I stepped back into the main room, watching as Quill gathered up a parcel wrapped in brown paper and string. Ugh. I didn’t like the idea of him walking out of this place having acquired even more power. Yet it did surprise me to realize that he’d kept his word. Quill didn’t attack us, almost as if he considered Wyatt’s home hallowed ground. Maybe it was all the artifacts.

  Walking up to Wyatt and Sterling, I just caught the tail end of their conversation. “And I think that a fair price for the sword is this.”

  Wyatt scribbled something on a little square of paper, then slid it across the table over to Sterling. I never thought I’d see the day, but when Sterling picked up and read the amount, his eyes went as huge as saucers. He sputtered, then choked.

  “Oh. Oh wow.” Sterling’s eyes flitted from the scrap of paper to me. “I think we can arrange something to this effect. Jason?”

  It took a second for me to remember that Jason was my extremely stupid alias. “Y-yes, Charles?”

  “Run.”

  In one smooth motion, Sterling smashed his fist straight through the glass case containing Mistleteinn, then grabbed it in one hand. I didn’t wait to check if he was bleeding. Wyatt was already screaming his head off by then, wailing, clutching at his hair as he saw the diamond perfection of his collection ruined.

  Sterling and I ran abreast as we beat feet straight for the front door. Quilliam, as it turned out, was already heading to his car, rummaging around in his jeans pockets for the key fob.

  “Florian!” Sterling shouted at the top of his voice. “The little one. Tie up the little one.”

  I chanced a glance over my shoulder as Wyatt Whateley waddled out of the front door and hoofed it over the cobblestones. Within moments glistening greening tentacles had found their way from out of the garden, snaking at Wyatt’s ankles and restraining his wrists. I winced at the sight, despite knowing that Florian would never dare to tear this guy limb from limb, the way I’d seen him do to demons. Tears rolled down Wyatt’s face as we ran. I would have felt sorrier for him, but we needed Mistleteinn badly.

  Sterling streaked ahead of me down the path, his vampire physique making him lightning-fast, and he went the far way around Quilliam’s car. Call it instinct, but I knew exactly what we had to do. I reached out to the Vestments, summoning my own sword – and Sterling and I each slashed a tire on Quilliam’s car as we sprinted past.

  “No,” Quilliam screamed. “Not again, no, no.”

  Emboldened by the adrenaline pumping through my blood, I moved on to the second phase of my masterful impromptu plan.

  “Look alive, dork.” I disengaged my sword, returning it to the Vestments, but with just the perfect twist of my body, sent my right leg careening towards the underside of the book cradled in Quilliam’s arms. My foot connected and sent the book flying far across the car’s hood. It thudded on the street – where it was promptly run over by a passing truck.

  Quilliam fell to his knees. “Nooo.”

  It served him right. The bastard had tried to roast my ass alive on multiple occasions. Hey, I’m a nephilim, not an angel. I’m allowed to be a bad boy every now and then, especially when it comes to getting back at people who’ve been bad to me first. The world isn’t always black or wh
ite, or even gray. Sometimes it’s about having some fun. Nothing wrong with a little sin or two, right?

  My laughter misted into puffs of fog, the sigils on my skin lighting up the dark in my excitement. The boys and I raced each other to our rental car as the night filled with the music of Quilliam J. Abernathy wailing his stupid head off.

  Best. Road trip. Ever.

  29

  Florian slapped his thigh, the clap of flesh on flesh and his uproarious laughter resounding throughout Artemis’s domicile. A nearby copse of trees rustled, flocks of birds twittering huffily as they ascended into the sky, disturbed by the ruckus.

  It wasn’t just Florian laughing, of course. Sterling was sliding a finger under his eye, already in tears, and Artemis, though she had no idea who Quilliam was, seemed happy to celebrate our little victories with us. Priscilla shook her head disapprovingly as she doled out beverages, lingering as she handed Sterling a Bloody Mary, examining him with some suspicion. I sipped on a coconut half shell, amused by the whole tableau. This was my family, I thought. These were my friends.

  “And then – and then he threw his head back and screamed. ‘Nooo.’” Florian wiped at his cheeks as he chortled. “God, Artemis, you should’ve been there. He was practically crying.”

  It was hilarious in the moment, for sure, but thinking back to it only made me happier. So maybe slashing his tires and catapulting his precious tome into oncoming traffic was a childish thing to do. So what? Quilliam was an asshole.

  “I’m impressed.” Artemis rose to her feet, running her fingers along the hilt and haft of the sword and staff we’d already collected, both stuck into the earth just outside my hut. “Now you just need to find the third and you’ll be home free.”

  I nodded. “More or less. But I’m really not sure what happened there. This thing Arachne wrapped around my head was meant to show me the way. It was Quilliam. He was supposed to have Laevateinn. I was sure of it.”

  Artemis rolled her eyes. “Arachne has access to a massive wealth of information, but I’m not sure that I’d trust everything that came out of her mouth a hundred percent. Then again, I’m biased, so what do I know.” The bag of Snacky Yum-Yums in her hand rustled as she stuck her hand in, searching for the last crumbs. “I’m out. Gonna go refresh.”

  Sterling grinned at her. “You eat a hell of a lot of those, don’t you? Have you considered a bargain with Loki? He manufactures them. Could be to your benefit.”

  She scoffed. “Hah. As if anything to do with Loki could be to anyone’s benefit. You know better than that.” Her eyes flitted up and down his body, and she smiled. “Feel free to hang out here any time you want, Sterling. It’s nice to see you enjoying the sun.”

  “Thanks, Artemis.”

  The goddess went off in search of more cheesy snacks, and I snuck a look at Sterling as he shut his eyes and lifted his face to the sky. It was the rarest sight, seeing Sterling’s lips curve into a smile that was completely devoid of malice or ill intent. He was happy, just genuinely delighted to be basking in the light of the sun once more.

  I should have clarified. Artemis might be the goddess of the moon, but she liked to keep her domicile lit under the gaze of an artificial sun, one so realistic and convincing that you’d be correct for worrying about Sterling bursting into flames just from walking into the place.

  Conversely, her brother Apollo’s domicile was plunged into near perpetual night. His home, or so I’ve been told, was located on a beach, an endless stretch of white sand. My guess was that even the entities got bored with the things that were meant to flesh out their portfolios, the symbols of their station. It was interesting to me, getting a firsthand look at how close to human the gods could be.

  Yet that didn’t help for squat when it came to Arachne. Was she lying about Laevateinn? As huge an asshole that Quill was, I believed him. He didn’t mess around with weapons because his tendencies leaned towards magic.

  Hell, what convinced me was the fact that he didn’t lord things over me. If Quilliam had the sword on his person, I would bet my left nut that he would have bragged and taunted me about it, shortly before attempting to detonate my skull with a fireball.

  Or worse, he could have tried something on one of my friends. Sterling, for example. A lot of the myths about vampires simply weren’t true. Yes, you could kill them with a stake through the heart, and yes, sunlight would absolutely incinerate them. But Sterling lived up to his name and wore plenty of silver jewelry, and he was a huge fan of garlic.

  I watched him some more, hardly realizing that I was mirroring the smile on his lips. It really was good to see old friends again. His eyes flicked open, and he nearly caught me staring. I looked away quickly, flushing.

  “Well, I should go.” He brushed his hair out of his eyes, throwing the sky one last winsome grin. “It’s daytime here, but it’s early morning out in Valero. Sun should be up in a few hours, and I should be heading back to the Boneyard.”

  I nodded. “That’s a sound plan.”

  He smiled at me again. “You’ve really got a good thing going for you here, Mason. I promise I won’t tell the others that I found you.” His smile fell into a frown. “But you have to swear to me that you’ll take care of yourself, that you’ll at least come and say ‘Hello’ once the heat settles down around you.” He lifted a finger and stabbed it towards my face. “Call. Asher. He misses you.”

  I swallowed the little lump that formed in my throat. “I will. I promise.”

  Sterling sighed, pushing his fists into his waist, smiling up at the sky. “I hope Artemis wasn’t kidding. I’d love to come hang out here some more. See, I know it isn’t actually the sun, but gods, Mace. I can’t even remember the last time I walked out into the daylight. I can’t even remember the – hey, what’s that?”

  What was what? I followed his gaze, just catching sight of a golden streak of something crossing the clear blue sky. And it was descending, falling harder, and faster, almost – directly towards our group.

  “Hit the deck,” Florian shouted.

  We scattered, Priscilla somehow moving even faster than Sterling, taking off like a bolt towards her kitchen. Sterling cursed as he ran, diving behind a bush. I did the same, but on the opposite side of the clearing. Huddled and behind cover, we watched as the golden comet fell towards us –

  Then stopped, just before it struck the ground. The light around it cleared, then vanished. Where a smoking, dust cloud-covered crater should have been stood Raziel, the angel of mysteries, once again a strong candidate for getting his head shaved bald.

  He glanced around innocently, somehow unaware that he’d just caused an impromptu evacuation. Raziel brushed at his shirt and tapped off his shoes, despite the fact that it was everyone else who’d tumbled into the dirt and potentially shit their pants.

  “Is everyone quite all right?” Raziel blinked, turning in place as he searched our faces. “It’s just me.”

  An electric shaver. I wanted one more than ever.

  30

  My hands were already in fists when I rushed up to Raziel. He backpedaled slowly, but confidently as I approached. Within moments Florian was already on me, looping an arm around my waist and pulling hard.

  “That’s not how you say ‘Hello,’ damn it! Raziel, I swear.”

  He raised his hands, apologetic. “I was in a rush. I’m sorry, all right?”

  I shook Florian off – no mean feat considering the guy was a full head taller than me, and a walking slab of meat to boot. “I’m okay,” I told him, meaning it, the blood no longer simmering just under my skin. “I’m fine now.”

  Sterling, it seemed, was not feeling similarly. He stayed huddled behind a bush, his eyes just peering over the edge of it. Raziel gave him a reluctant wave. Sterling hissed, baring his teeth.

  “Play nice, you two.” I sighed, ruffling my hair. “Raziel, this is Sterling, an old vampire friend. And Sterling, this idiot here is Raziel, the angel of mysteries.”

  “That’s very un
kind. And it’s a pleasure to meet you, um, Sterling.”

  Sterling eyed him warily. “Not a fan of angels.” His voice came out suppressed, and oddly unconfident.

  Raziel blinked, then stepped closer to the bush. “I’m sorry? But Mason here says that you’re friends.”

  Harrumphing, Sterling stood up, brushing loose leaves off his clothes. “I’m okay with Mason because he’s still got that human side. You people are – different. And not in a good way.”

  Raziel stiffened, his lips pursing, but he said nothing more.

  “I should go,” Sterling said. He clapped me on the back as he made a careful loop to avoid getting close to Raziel, then offered Florian a rigid wave. “I’ll see you boys around.” With no more angels between him and the exit out of Artemis’s domicile, Sterling made a run for it, clearing the ground inhumanly fast and reentering Valero’s reality in seconds.

  I was still annoyed by Raziel’s theatrics, but the dumb, slightly sad look on his face made me take a little pity. He wasn’t used to people disliking him so much. “Don’t take it personally. Sterling doesn’t trust angels on principle. Something about the undead and smiting, he said.”

  Raziel sniffed and tugged on his lapels, still pouting. “That very much depends on the undead in question. We don’t just go around smiting indiscriminately, you know.”

  “Sure. Sure, you don’t. I believe you.” I took a moment to look up, reimagining the golden comet that was actually Raziel’s alternate form just moments ago. “How do you keep doing that, like, just descending out of the sky? Like a buzzard diving for scraps.”

  Raziel bristled. “I resent that.” If his wings had been visible, I was sure they’d’ve been ruffled.

  “How do you keep finding me?” I turned to Florian. “See, that was what I meant. Homing pigeon, not a buzzard. My bad.”

  “I am not a homing pigeon.”

  Florian nudged me with his shoulder, leaning in as if to whisper, but still speaking loud enough specifically so Raziel could hear. “Santa Claus rules, I bet. He’s watching you, even when you’re asleep. That kind of shit.”