Hour of Mischief

by Aimee Hyndman

  Laetatia laughed and scooped up another shot glass. “Good enough? You know how to use a knife, girl. I think I’ll have to up my game.” She swallowed the liquor and took her place again.

  We continued like this, drinking and throwing, matching each other shot for shot, blade for blade. In the beginning, the trick shots were easy. Underhanded, overhanded, over the shoulder, eyes closed. But as the drinking went on, I was reduced to basic throws. Soon the simple act of standing became difficult.

  I swayed on the spot as I took my place on the line for the twentieth time, my shot glass shaking in my hand. Around me, the shouts and cheers of the spectators sounded duller and slower than normal. Kalite had clearly taken over our game and plunged us under water. My limbs certainly moved as if I was at the bottom of a lake.

  But I wouldn’t surrender so easily. I raised the twentieth glass to my lips and tipped it back. I made my throw before the spinning got any worse. The knife buried itself in the outer edge of the barrel. Even Laetatia gave a shout of approval and downed her own glass. She made her throw. Her knife buried itself in the center. All of these shots and she still hadn’t faltered.

  Laetatia looked me over, her mouth twitching. “Wouldn’t blame you if you gave up now, girl.”

  “Give up when I have the lead?” I asked weakly.

  Laetatia burst out laughing and I struggled to raise glass twenty-one to my lips. I tipped my head back and swallowed the contents in one gulp.

  My hand shook as I raised the knife and my vision blurred in and out of focus as I looked about the room, taking in the faces of the drunken guests. Their rosy cheeks and liquor stained teeth. But somehow my stare locked on a flash of purple in the corner.

  Jasmine, the woman from earlier, talking to a man. No, not talking. Yelling. Because he kept on trying to grab her arm. Pull her close to him.

  She fought.

  She slapped him and screamed.

  Janet, go upstairs. I’ll handle this!

  No, that couldn’t be right. The words didn’t match her lip movements. But I heard them all the same.

  I said, GO, Janet.

  The man, as if in slow motion, turned his face back to look at the woman, bloodshot eyes enraged, drew his fist back. Only I seemed to notice. No one else even turned to look. They were too busy cheering me on.

  The man punched Jasmine in the face.

  She fell back, knocking hard into the table.

  The knife left my hand.

  It hit the wall between Jasmine and the man. Only the quiver of the blade echoed through the sudden dead silence of the tavern. There was a beat. A second beat. The man stumbled back with a yell, his hand over his now bleeding ear.

  “Whoops,” I said through gritted teeth. “Missed my target.”

  The world spun like the hands on a broken clock and the next thing I knew, I was staring up at the whirling ceiling, watching red lights and golden whisky swim across my blackening vision. The voices buzzed around me like a faint lullaby, willing me to sleep.

  I would regret this so much when I woke up.

  ou know how to put on a show, girl, I’ll give you that.” The voice of a woman woke me. I lay sprawled across a plush couch, staring at a different ceiling than the one where I had passed out. It was quite a comfy couch and for a long moment, I wanted nothing more than to fall asleep again for a good two days.

  But then I remembered why I had passed out in the first place. I had decided it would be a good idea to challenge the God of Drink to a drinking competition.

  I also realized it wasn’t just any woman in the room. Laetatia herself leaned over me with mischievous grin on her face.

  “Wake up, little human.”

  Why did the gods have to call me little? Did it refer to my height or my insignificance? Either insult really jammed my gears.

  I opened my eyes all the way, wincing as the light pierced my vision. “Lights . . . bright.”

  “Ah, there you are,” Laetatia said. “Glad to see you awake. You recovered surprisingly quickly for a human. I feared you’d be out for twelve hours at least. You have a way with drinking games.” She shrugged. “And causing a bit of drama to go with them.”

  I winced. “Um . . . right. About that–”

  “Don’t apologize.” Laetatia silenced me with a wave of her hand. “The men here give Jasmine trouble sometimes. She used to be a whore. Once I got to know her, I helped her get out of that nasty business. But men still seem to think she’s open.”

  “Drunks don’t know the meaning of the word ‘no’,” I muttered, my expression darkening.

  Laetatia grinned. “A knife to the ear can help their hearing.”

  “It sure can.” I looked around the room. It was a small space with only the couch I occupied, a faded-red armchair and a little table that sat in between. That and a private bar in one corner of the room. For a middle-class bar, it looked nice. “Where am I?”

  “My personal backroom.” Laetatia sat down in the chair across from me, propping her feet up on the little table. “This is one of my favorite bars in the middle ring of Fortuna. I decided to give them a little donation, so they installed this room to honor me. I come here when I want to drink by myself.” She winked. “I think I’m lucky. Some gods get shrines, I get my own personal bar rooms. It’s so much nicer.”

  “It is nice,” I agreed. “Why am I back here?”

  Laetatia shrugged. “I didn’t want you to be trampled.”

  “Oh,” I couldn’t help but be surprised that a goddess had concerned herself with my wellbeing. “Thanks.

  “I couldn’t let all your efforts to be for nothing,” Laetatia said.

  “Efforts?” I asked.

  “You had quite the determined look on your face when you challenged me, so I got the feeling you might want to talk to me.”

  Oh yeah, that’s why I challenged her. How kind of her to remind me.

  “A lot of people challenge me to drinking competitions when they want something from me.” Laetatia continued at my blank stare. “Not many people would do it out of their own free will. Unless they’re already intoxicated. Humans think they can impress me with their tolerance for alcohol. But I only give them that something if they prove themselves against me. Your drinking was moderately impressive. The knife throwing more so. But I might not have let you back here if you hadn’t helped Jasmine.” She picked up a glass of clear alcohol from the table and took a swig. My stomach rolled at the thought of more liquor. “So let’s hear it.”

  “Right, well,” I took a deep breath. I doubted there was a good way to ask for what I needed without earning a shocked and/or angry stare. So I just went ahead and said it, hoping Laetatia was in a good mood.

  “I know about the apocalypse.”

  Laetatia almost choked on her drink.

  In retrospect, I could have handled that better.

  “Okay.” Laetatia smoothed back her hair once she had regained herself and took another swallow of her drink. She seemed to hope this little sip would make her a whole lot drunker. “I’ll entertain this. How do you know about the apocalypse?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I just know.” It’d be best to leave Itazura’s name out of this conversation if I wanted to be taken seriously. “I came to speak to you about the gods’ stance on this issue. They’re trying to keep it a secret from humans, right?”

  “Because they think you might have an objection to being sacrificed to a game of cat and mouse with the elder gods.” Laetatia nodded. “Telling the humans forces us to actively do something about the elder gods rather than letting them run through their store of power.” She brushed her russet bangs from her face. “Admittedly that plan walks a thin line between strategic and lazy.”

  “I’m leaning toward lazy,” I said. “Why not crush the elder gods?”

  “Wars between gods take a lot of time and energy.” Laetatia pointed out. “And if we expose ourselves on the open field, so to speak, the elder gods will have a better chance of winning.
They know this. The human realms weaken us. We can’t take on our true forms as long as we walk inside the clock face. If we hole up in our realm, the elder gods can’t touch us.” She stared at her drink. “I’m a little fuzzy on the details. Kova is the Goddess of War, not me. We don’t mesh to well.”

  “I can’t imagine why,” I said flatly.

  “And anyway, why are you coming to me about this?” Laetatia asked. “I can’t change Mother and Father’s mind. They’re the Clockmaker’s hands and voice, and even he has expressed his worries about the elder gods, though he did not suggest any solutions.”

  “The Clockmaker?” My eyes widened. A lot of people didn’t believe the Clockmaker existed for a reason. There weren’t many records of him playing a hand in the human realms, so he had very few worshipers. People saw him as an observer rather than one who acted. The fact he had weighed in on an argument at all was mind blowing. “The Clockmaker? Actually . . . speaking?”

  “Yes,” Laetatia said. “He hasn’t appeared to us. He relays his message through Mother and Father. But it’s making everyone antsy. We’ve been ordered by Mother and Father not to mention anything about this conflict. We can’t surrender our powers just because the elder gods are holding the human realms hostage. Warning the human realms could turn them to the elder gods and weaken our position.”

  “But someone has to warn them,” I said, sitting up even though my head screamed in protest. “And you like humans, unlike some of the other gods. So we–I mean I–figured, you might help.”

  Laetatia frowned. “It’s not in my nature to spread bad news, girl. I love festivities and merriment and drunken bar songs in the early morning hours. Not spreading bad rumors and causing panic. I’m not sure I’d be suited for such a dreary topic.” She swirled the remnants of her drink in her cup. “Eventually the elder gods will realize they cannot hope to challenge the Realm of the Gods with only half their power.”

  “By that point they’ll have destroyed most of the human race,” I said, my voice rising in both volume and conviction. “I know the rumors aren’t ‘fun’ but if you don’t spread the word, then all the humans could be wiped out by the elder gods and their damn apocalypse while other gods do nothing. Then maybe you recreate the human race but what if the elder Gods destroy that too?

  “Then there–there won’t be any humans left to sing drunken bar songs with. There won’t be any more parties. There won’t be any more drinking competitions or festivities.” I recalled what Itazura said earlier about his domain and its need for humans. “If this apocalypse isn’t stopped, you’ll have nothing. You need us for your domain.”

  When I had finished, I took a deep breath and prayed Laetatia wouldn’t punish me with her godly powers. I was quite sure she could take away my resistance to alcohol if she wanted, and if she did, I would likely keel over dead.

  But she didn’t smite me. She just studied at me for a long while. Maybe she was considering my statement. The tiniest flicker of hope blossomed in my chest.

  Finally, Laetatia sighed. “Show me your palm, human.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Your palm.” She held out a hand. “Let me see it.”

  There went the hope. With a tentative smile, I held out my left arm.

  Laetatia’s mouth twitched. “Your flesh one, please.”

  I exhaled and obeyed. She took my wrist and examined my hand where Itazura’s mark remained, a thin silver line.

  “That’s what I thought.” She released my hand. “Itazura, get in here. Now.”

  Itazura appeared on the windowsill, faking a yawn. “Hello Lae. How are you this fine early morning? Fancy running into you. I was just passing by and–”

  “Cut the crap.” Laetatia nodded at me. “You made a pact with a human. A dangerous pact. You’re really using humans now to disobey Mother and Father? That’s pretty low.”

  “That’s what I said,” I muttered.

  “I’m not using her. I offered to take her out of an undesirable situation for a small price,” Itazura said.

  “The price of letting you use me.” I leaned forward, but upon doing so, my vision swam again. Maybe lying down was smarter.

  “Why are you doing this?” Laetatia demanded.

  “I would tell you,” Itazura said. “Unfortunately my lips have been sealed on that topic. I can’t even say the word when in the presence of another god. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

  Laetatia observed him with narrowed eyes for a long moment before she snapped her fingers. “I grant you permission to speak of the apocalypse to me.”

  Itazura beamed. “Aw, thanks sis.”

  “Don’t make me regret it.” Laetatia leaned back in her chair. “Usually I’d rather shut you up than give you permission to talk. Say something worth listening to.”

  “That’s a laugh,” I muttered under my breath.

  Itazura ignored me. “We’re playing right into the Elder God’s hands, Laetatia. They’re smart. They wouldn’t attempt this plan without a full set of gears. We think they don’t have enough power to challenge the realm of the gods. But what if they find a way?”

  “How?” Laetatia asked.

  “By gaining worshipers in the human realms when we turn our back on them,” Itazura said. “Worship gives us a portion of our power, Laetatia. They’ll grow in strength.”

  “If the elder gods smite the human realms, there won’t be anyone to give them worship.”

  “That’s not their plan.” Itazura said.

  My eyebrows shot up. What did he mean that wasn’t their plan? That’s exactly what he told me their plan was.

  “They’ll cause destruction, yes, but their real goal is to turn the human realms to their side. They knew we’d withdraw into the realm of the gods and wait out the apocalypse. And while we do nothing, they’ll make their move. They’re chaotic, but they’re not stupid.”

  “Since when did you get so strategic?” Laetatia raised an eyebrow.

  “I’ve always been strategic. You’ve just never appreciated my intelligence.” Itazura straightened, crossing his arms.

  “Hold up a second.” I said. “Why didn’t you tell me this? You told me that the Elder gods wanted to wipe out the human realms as revenge.”

  “No, I said that’s what the other gods thought they were doing,” he replied dismissively.

  “You still could have let me in on that detail,” I grumbled. What else had he not told me? I didn’t trust the guy, but he had to tell me all the essential information, right? He needed me as his speaker, after all.

  “Well, I thought the imminent destruction of all humanity would be a better motivation,” Itazura said. “And really, humans won’t be that much better off with the elder gods in charge. A lot of them will still die.”

  “Then why not tell me that in the first place?” I asked.

  “One thing you’ll learn about my brother is that he loves to keep secrets and feed false information.” Laetatia glared at the god. “Even if they did turn the human realms to their side. . . . It’s unlikely they’d gain enough worshipers. They’ll get stronger, but not strong enough to take on our realm.”

  “They’ll find other ways,” Itazura insisted.

  “You seem sure. Why?”

  “I just am.”

  Laetatia studied her drink. “Let’s say you’re correct and spreading the word about the apocalypse is the right thing to do. You’ve still taken a huge risk making this damn pact.”

  “Wait, he’s taken a huge risk?” I asked.

  “Maybe I have, but I had to do something,” Itazura said. “Risk or not, it’s better than sitting around and watching the destruction of the human realms.”

  “Hey, why is he the one taking the risk?” I asked.

  “You shouldn’t have–”

  “Hello! Gods, the lowly human has a question!” I called. Another bolt of pain shot through my head upon shouting. “Ow . . . damn drinks.”

  “Ask then,” Laetatia said. “I think you deserve
a few straight answers, seeing as this fool probably hasn’t given you any.”

  “I like you much better than him,” I said. “I want to know why he’s the one taking the risk. I thought I was the only one in peril here. I’m the one putting my neck on the line. And if I break the pact I die.”

  “True, you’ve taken a risk,” Laetatia said. “A risk that makes you almost as idiotic as Itazura.”

  “Hey!” we said in unison.

  “But Itazura is in danger as well. When a God makes a pact with a human, they surrender a fraction of their powers. If the pact is prematurely broken, as in the human dies, that power is lost. Itazura wouldn’t have enough power left to govern mischief. He would lose his place as one of the twelve. That is why we rarely make pacts with humans.” She nodded to me. “As long as he remains connected to you, he retains his powers. But he needs you now more than he cares to admit.”

  I stared at her. “He’s actually . . . risking his status as a god to seek my help?”

  “Yes.” Laetatia glared at Itazura. “Which is an especially stupid decision considering our position. If he loses his power, we lose one of the twelve. Without one of the twelve, the clock cannot function properly. It means only fifty-five seconds in a minute, fifty-five minutes in an hour and twenty-two hours in a day. Complete chaos. Without the balance of the twelve we will be weakened and the elder gods are all the more likely to seize control of Memoria.”

  “Wow, he sounds incredibly stupid when you put it that way,” I said through gritted teeth. Itazura started whistling and wandered toward the private bar.

  “He does,” Laetatia agreed. “And I forgot to mention that if our enemies get wind of this pact, they will focus all of their energy on one thing.” She looked back at me. “Trying to kill you. Because you are now the key to crippling the gods.”

  I blinked, opened my mouth to speak, and then closed it again. My tongue had gone suddenly very dry as Laetatia’s words cycled through my head like a broken clock that wouldn’t stop chiming. I had known this would be dangerous. But not this dangerous. Not suicidal dangerous. That miserable bastard!