by Rob Thurman
It was said with a dark acid humor I hadn’t heard in a long time from him. From the bad old days when world destroying was as easy and as natural for him as reaching for the remote. He’d been a bad boy before the concept of bad boy had been spawned. That’s what Cronus would remember about him and that’s who Leo would be for the trick at hand. Who he’d be for me.
Pretend to be for me. Only pretend. No trick, no information was worth Leo going back to what he’d once been.
Loki. Lie-Smith, the Sly God, the Sky Traveler. And one of the few that Cronus might actually give a real answer to—dark and chaotic enough to be at least worth a pat on the head like a clever little doggy. I could feel it coming from Leo as I stood beside him, ripples in a midnight black lake—the darkness of space where the earth would have once been before he incited a war to blow it apart. Only a might-have-been, but a very close might-have-been.
And Cronus remembered it.
“Sly one.” This time when he opened his mouth, I saw what I hadn’t seen before; there was nothing behind his lips, the same as his eyes. Only shadows of things no one should have to see. “What game play you now?”
“None that would take a thousand wings to find that fallen pigeon Lucifer. What use would you have for a failed pretender to the throne in a hell literally of his own making? What could he give you who’ve had that and a heaven too?” The disdain was automatic for Loki or Leo. Lucifer might have the power of all the demons in Hell combined, but to us païen, he was and would always be another pigeon with scales. We were stubborn that way. Lucifer was one of them; whether lording it above or hiding below, he didn’t count.
At least he didn’t until Cronus gave Leo the answer he wouldn’t give me. It was one word. It didn’t need to be any more than that.
One word to tell us why a Titan would devour Lucifer and make that Hell his own.
Chapter 7
“Rose.”
It’s what I said as soon as Eli manifested in my bar. I’d called him since Armand wasn’t going to be making any calls ever again. Cronus had left after giving us our answer, losing interest in his pet Loki quickly or on the way to bag more demon wings—it didn’t matter. He had slowly spun out of existence, streamers of faux skin and the slickly spongy material beneath it disappearing like a dust devil settling slowly to die. He took the wings and the checkerboard with him. The dead man and puddle of Armand he left behind.
I’d told him the Titan was gone, but Eli was no fool. He waited a good two hours before he showed up. Two hours I’d spent mopping up Armand while Leo covered up the tourist with a sheet. We’d seemed to have lucked out and he was either alone, a regular Vegas gambler who made the pilgrimage several times a year, or he wasn’t alone, but whoever he was with had no idea where he’d gone. It was sad to say that if he were a lonely gambling addict with no one in his life to miss him, it would be a good thing for us. Sometimes to do good, you take the risk of others being hurt. It shouldn’t be that way, but there are a lot of things in life that shouldn’t be as they are.
The physicist I’d once hung over a volcano hadn’t explained that one. The nature of time was simple. Why all things weren’t fair and just—he hadn’t had a clue on that one. Mama would say it’s all about balance. There can be no good if there’s no evil. No right if there’s no wrong. No light if there’s no dark. Then again, there’s often no mac if there’s no cheese.
The last perked me up and I had less of a desire to impale Eli with the mop handle as he straightened his tie, although the mop was a loss anyway. You couldn’t get demon out of anything, not even cleaning utensils. I’d already leaned it against the doorway leading to the alley for disposal.
“I suppose I don’t have to watch my back against Amdusias any longer, although you can feel free to watch any part of me, front or back.”
He was wearing all black. Black suit, black silk shirt, black tie with a muted pattern in a different weave. Even a black rose, ironically. “I’m in mourning for my comrade killed in action.” He spread his arms and did a turn so we all could get a good look. “But I’ll still be sexy. It can’t be avoided.”
“I do believe it can.” I did the shot of whiskey sitting in front of me. I was sitting two tables over from the one holding up the dead man. “In so many ways. I don’t need Leo’s help either, not that he wouldn’t enjoy it.”
“Just like old times,” Leo offered from behind the bar, having his own whiskey. His mood was more positive than mine . . . because it was like old times for him—a faint reflection of them anyway. He might not be that way anymore, but memories were memories, and whether the world judged them differently didn’t matter. They were Leo’s to do with as he pleased. If he felt nostalgic versus guilty, as long as he didn’t reenact those days, it wasn’t my business how he felt about his mental echoes.
Still, Leo’s upbeat was Loki’s upbeat and Eli saw that plain as day. He came in smooth as oil on water, wary with the one whom he still thought a god. “I was always a fan of Vikings. Brawny men. Brawny women. Hard-drinking and hard-killing. And when they die—Valhalla. More hard drinking and hard killing. Destruction all the way around. What’s not to like?”
“The killing in Valhalla isn’t permanent. The next day the dead come back and that’s what’s not to like.” Leo swirled his whiskey. “I like my destruction very permanent, but that’s me, and not some worthless lizard who imagines he can comment on my playground, much less survive in it.” It might’ve been odd to someone else seeing an American Indian telling you the downside of Norse afterlife from personal experience. But Leo had made his body as I’d made mine. He could deal with the details of that confusion on his own.
But tiptoeing around a god versus his ego, Eli didn’t have a chance when he made that choice. “Ah, such a mouthy and aggressive god. Your playground, eh? Perhaps one day we’ll see . . . when I beat you to death with a large set of monkey bars.” Eli shifted his attention back to me. “‘Rose’ is what you’re telling me Cronus said. Rose and only rose. Nothing else. Pardon me if I find that both wildly mysterious and completely inadequate.” The emphasis on “inadequate” was as black as the suit.
He sat at the table with me, suddenly holding a glass of wine, which he raised to toast the dripping black mop leaning against the door frame. “Valeas, Amdusias. You were an almost satisfactory minion. Now, Trixa, my one true love, shower me with roses and explanations and we won’t have to find out who is the baddest and most toned of asses around.” He took a sip of wine. “Although the last, I think we both know, is obvious.” His lips curled with a smug satisfaction. Smugness and Eli almost always went hand in hand.
I didn’t pay attention to the ass part since I did know the answer and I didn’t like it. “Since the big badass demon was too afraid to show up for two hours, we had time to hit the trickster network and linked up the word ‘rose’ with Cronus.” I waited and I made him ask. Any chance to stick it to the demon whose ass might be a little bit more toned than mine.
“And?” He tapped his fingers on the wood of the table. “I can’t believe you’re so petty. Wait, you’re a trickster, so yes, I do.”
“Yes, I am, and yes, I am.” I took the glass from his hand and a swallow of the wine myself. It was excellent. “Cronus, the Titan, a creature I wouldn’t believe could love, did fall in love with, of all imaginable things, a human. That’s why I was in the dark regarding any motivation for his psychotic behavior—not that he needs motivation. The few tricksters who heard the story passed it off as the very worst concocted of rumors, and we love rumors, even more than the truth. But a Titan falling in love? With a human? That was too ridiculous to repeat or toss into our gossip network. Yet the ridiculous and unthinkable turns out to be true or Cronus wouldn’t be waging war on Hell. He did fall in love . . . with a woman. Rose, Rosemary, Rosita—no one knows her exact name, only that she was his Rose.”
“Was,” Eli exhaled. “I sense a pattern here. Was. She was his Rose.” He let his head fall back to star
e at the ceiling glumly. “Let me guess. His Rose was a naughty, naughty girl. Stupid, stupid human.”
“Maybe not that naughty. But she wanted fame, fortune, what most humans want, and Cronus, to test her love, loved her as a human. In a human body I’m guessing he was a damn sight more convincing than the one he showed up in here today.” I grimaced slightly. Bad work was bad work, whether it was lack of talent or just not giving a rat’s ass. “Emotions too. For some reason, maybe boredom, he did become human, if only temporarily. He felt as a human feels, he loved as a human loves, and Rose thought he was human. She didn’t know about païen or Titans. But she knew about demons when one came around and enlightened her, tempted her, and then she traded her soul for what Cronus could have given her for free.”
“He wanted proof that she could love him without knowing what he was and what he could give her and she ended up in Hell because of it—well, that and her human nature. I like that story. With the greed, lust, and pride, and being damned to Hell, it would make a nice combination of Edgar Allan Poe and O. Henry.” Eli looked back down, took the wineglass back from me, waved his hand over it, and refilled it. “Water to wine is easy. Air to wine is much more impressive. Now you’re telling me that Cronus is going to walk through Hell and go mano a mano or Titano a Demonio with Lucifer because some random demon took the soul of his lovely if shallow Rose.”
“Demons are a dime a dozen and for a Titan to bother with an underling when he can take out the boss isn’t going to happen. A demon took his Rose, so Cronus will wipe all demons, their home, and their king from existence. That’s the Chicago way and it’s the Titan way as well.” I smiled. “And, with my curiosity taken care of, still not my problem. Now, if you could take the dead tourist with you when you go, I’ll consider that payment enough. That and, you know, the sheer enjoyment I get from seeing how screwed you are.” I crossed both feet on the spare chair and studied my new red boots with heels that could slash a throat. It was a brighter red than I normally chose, the color of a stripe in a candy cane. Red didn’t always have to be the color of blood. No, not always. It could be the color of a fast car, a sexy dress . . . or a rose.
Eli dipped a finger into the wine and turned it to the blood I’d just been thinking of. “There’s a way to stop him. There’s always a way to stop anyone, a way to escape anywhere. We made it out of Disneyland, didn’t we? The most boring place in eternity. The singing, the praising, the showing humans the path of love and Almighty Glory. If we could escape that, we can escape destruction at the hands of one miserable païen.”
I dropped my feet back to the floor and folded my hands, resting my elbows on the table. “Here’s the church.” I raised my index fingers to meet. “Here’s the steeple.” Then I moved my thumbs apart and flipped my hands over and waved my fingers. “Open the door and see all the people. All the never-to-be-damned people because you and yours will be gone. But I do wonder where the evil souls will go then. Many won’t be damned with you gone, but it doesn’t necessarily take your kind to make some people step off the path of the righteous. You’re good at it, but you’re not absolutely crucial to the process. They can do it themselves. Maybe some païen afterworlds will snap them up. They’ll be punished, if they deserve it, but at least we won’t eat them. Well, most of us won’t.”
Eli drank the blood. I don’t think he noticed he hadn’t changed it back to wine, or maybe he liked the taste. Once you’ve eaten thousands of souls, you have to begin to wonder what the container tastes like. Demons had wondered that a long time ago. They murdered, they stole lives and souls, and occasionally they ate one or the other or both at the same time. “I’ll have to ask the boss about this first, but I think I might have a way to satisfy Cronus.” He drained the glass without any visible enjoyment. Giving in to a païen. For a demon, it was a big sacrifice and they didn’t like to be on the wrong end of the sacrificing. “What if we were to let all the Roses go? Every single one of them. He can find his and pop her in a freshly made body of his own design. That’s a gesture large enough for even a Titan to take notice, I’m confident.”
“Digest your Bloody Mary and keep thinking that. This is a païen the rest of us don’t begin to understand and one who, for a while, became human. A god times ten became human and did not enjoy the experience. What he might take notice of I won’t guess at. But, hey, sugar, you give it your scaly best.” I paused, then pointed out the potential flaw in his plan. “And you are assuming she hasn’t been eaten yet.”
“You have a better plan?” He scowled, his eyes going from green and copper to black and copper.
“You think I’d tell you if I did?” I waved a hand at the tourist. “Remember, take him when you go. And, as I said, now that my curiosity is satisfied, y’all don’t come back, ya hear? Ever.”
“If you are satisfied, then you’re not curious about the right things.” His eyes shifted back to human.
“It’s not especially alluring when you say that with blood on your breath,” I said with a stone-still calm.
“As if you’ve never had it on yours.” The copper flecks were brighter and his words . . .
Hell, they were true.
But mine were always with good reason. I was justice. Eli was only Hannibal Lecter crossed with a T. rex—a sociopathic carnivore. I killed the wicked, if necessary. He would kill anyone and anything. But he was gone before I could tell him so. Not that I would’ve bothered and not that he would’ve cared. No, I wouldn’t have bothered and he wouldn’t have cared, but I would’ve cared . . . a little.
I shouldn’t have. I did what I was meant to, born to, raised to, and I loved my work. But there was the occasional moment I wondered what it would be to be like Leo, have tricking being only my hobby. That my existence wasn’t my occupation—and I could broaden my horizons. Take a vacation and let the stupid do what the stupid did. Let evil do what evil did.
But everyone had a calling, and I could no more stand by and let the ignorant and the sinister bumble about than I could wear gold lamé. I dropped my head forward and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. “I save one only to lose another. That’s not good math even for a two-year-old.”
“It’s not one for one. It’s one for thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands,” Leo responded quietly. “Unfortunate for him, but he didn’t die for nothing. He died for a reason, died a hero, despite not knowing it.”
“He died because I suck at checkers.” I sighed, keeping my eyes hidden. “Eligos didn’t take the body, did he? The bastard.”
“No.” I heard Leo give a sigh of his own. “I’ll take him out to the desert tonight and bury him. I’d pick him a nice spot, but wherever he is now, he doesn’t care.”
It was true enough. Wherever he was now, better or worse, where his dead body was wouldn’t make a difference to him. “Thanks.” I straightened and rubbed my forehead. “While you do that I’ll try to figure out what to do when Eligos figures out I lied to him.”
“That will be more tricky than checkers,” Leo warned. “And while you’re at it, also try to figure out what we’re going to do about what Cronus really wants.”
It was hard to have a smart-ass comeback to that, because I hadn’t one damn clue. And the consequences to that were exponentially worse than lying to a demon, even when that demon was Eli. Catastrophic came to mind, then went off in search of a bigger and badder word to take its place. Plain and simple . . .
We were fucked.
“Griffin’s lost.” He said it just that way—Zeke, sounding exactly the same as that last word.
Lost.
My brother, Kimano, lost everything when we were kids. Tricksters didn’t hold on to things much. That wasn’t us, not our lifestyle. Born to roam, and roaming was easier when you weren’t dragging baggage along . . . of either kind, physical or mental. And that meant I should’ve let Kimano go when I avenged him. Unpacked him. Left him on the side of the road. At peace and firmly in the past. But I couldn’t. I knew it. I didn’t even try.
Kimano was Kimano. Unique. I’d carry him with me forever.
But it didn’t change the fact he’d lost everything and probably would’ve lost his brain if he’d had one to begin with. That was my mama talking, not me, but that didn’t mean she was wrong. In fact, it meant she was right. Mama always was. Whether it was a shiny shell, a silver necklace, a wooden ball, a camel . . . How do you lose a camel?
The same way you lost your partner. You looked away for a minute or he outthought you. Kimano and Zeke weren’t anything alike, but the result was the same. Kimano’s attention span had been that of your average happy surfer dude and his camel had no trouble sneaking off. Zeke’s attention ranged wildly from one end to the other . . . from the “I don’t care, so it doesn’t exist in my world” to the “on you like glue for as long as it takes to obliterate your ass.” He wasn’t Inigo Montoya. No one had killed his father. But he was prepared to die, if that’s what it took to get the task at hand done. It wasn’t Zeke’s attention span that had him here. No, it was trust. He had trusted his partner and Griffin had done the same as that damn camel. Walked away.
Zeke hadn’t lost him. Griffin had lost himself.
“Griffin’s gone,” he said again. The word was slightly different, but the meaning was the same.
It had been a long day. I hadn’t opened the bar . . . again. Blood, dead tourists, dead demons, Titans. If there were such things as bad vibes, they were filling up the place today—another shot in the pocketbook, although money was the least of my worries. Cronus was my only worry right now, and while I thought on that, I went out. I shopped for some purely illegal guns, though nothing special caught my attention, grabbed a real nonmicrowaveable meal—if you can call a salad a meal and you can’t—and came home to clean. If I’m cleaning, I’m in a bad way. I like things neat, but I don’t necessarily like to make them neat personally. I’ll do it, but I will put it off and off and off some more. But with a Titan taking over Hell and Leo hauling a body out to the desert, there was no time like the present.
