Fury's Death

by Brey Willows

  Angie didn’t look away from Dis’s finger moving in circles. “How? By destroying our drinking glasses?”

  Dis pressed harder and the glass dust shifted, darkened. It turned to sand as pure as the kind found on pristine beaches. “Hardly, though destruction is fun. No. Like your silly glass, which I’ve returned to its natural state, I want to help humans return to their natural state as well. One that doesn’t include the gods. Just humans being humans.”

  Angie finally looked up. She sat back in her chair and studied Dis. She glanced at the open door, but the rest of the office was empty. “You know as well as I do the gods aren’t going anywhere.”

  Dis finally sat in the chair opposite the heavy wood desk. “But that’s what you’re preaching to your followers as the answer, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t have followers, and I don’t preach.” Angie sipped her coffee, looking exhausted. “Yeah, I tell people that. I think the world would be better if the gods were gone. If religion was no longer something people leaned on, they could learn to lean on each other and to depend on themselves.” She pointed at Dis. “But you and I both know they’re here to stay. We’ll never get rid of all the believers. Some of the gods will stick around to get their narcissistic asses licked. But the more people we can turn to reason and philosophy, the more it takes away from the gods. One day, this world may be a better place.”

  Dis picked up a handful of sand and let it fall slowly back onto Angie’s desk. “What if I told you I have a plan? A way to decrease followers exponentially.”

  “I’d say you’re as crazy as, if not crazier than, the rest of them. But I wouldn’t want to insult you and end up reverting to primordial goo.”

  Dis laughed. She hadn’t truly enjoyed a human in a long time. “Star dust, actually, but point taken.” She stood and moved to the window. “Do you know what I see when I look at humans? I see an extraordinary species that evolved from a combination of star dust and primordial goo, as you say. Animals who went from being water-breathing invertebrates to primates to humans. Humans who lived in caves and now communicate via satellites orbiting the planet. Truly, an exceptional species.” Dis turned around to see if Angie was listening.

  “I feel like there’s a punch line coming.” Angie opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of pills. She popped two and leaned back in her chair again.

  “Well. I also see a species almost completely taken over by a desire for more. More of everything. That’s fine for those who hardly have anything, totally understandable. But even those with more than they could ever consume always want more. Your species is never satisfied with anything. In a way, it’s helped you evolve incredibly fast. But it’s also destroying you faster than you realize. You’re heading for extinction, and you don’t even know it yet.”

  Angie was silent as she stared at Dis contemplatively. Finally, she said, “And? What about it?”

  Dis shrugged. “Just philosophizing. Not many people want to be around me. It’s nice to simply chat.”

  Angie rolled her eyes. “Great. Glad to be of service. If you don’t mind, I’ve got shit to do.”

  Dis came over and touched the sand once more, and this time it swirled, turned flame orange, and began to shift. It tumbled and spun until it was glass shaped, and with a final flick of her fingertip, it was a regular drinking glass again. “When you kill someone, what two places are sure to kill them the quickest?”

  Angie sighed. “Weird question, but okay. Head and heart.”

  “And where would you say the head and heart are of one of the major religions?” Dis waited, knowing Angie would catch on quickly.

  “There are a few. I suppose the most iconic would be Vatican City, in Rome. If, of course, you discount the Afterlife office itself. You know, where all the gods are.”

  Dis nearly clapped like a child at how easy this was going to be. “Exactly. Take out the heart and head, show how easily it falls apart, that the god who rules it is weak, and you’ll have even some of the serious believers flocking to you.” She could see Angie considering, could feel the part of her that wanted to see that flock come her way.

  “I’m not going inside a building full of gods, so Afterlife is out. And the Vatican is protected, especially these days. There are a zillion tourists there all the time now. And you think God is going to just let us waltz in and take his place?”

  Dis leaned forward over the desk and got close to Angie. She loved the disturbed feeling she got from her when she strayed into her personal space. “No. We’re going to take it. I’m going to help. You see, humans believe what they see. They’re already confused and frightened by having the gods walk among them. If we show how easily they can be brought down, that one of the most powerful gods in the world can have his largest temple destroyed, people will turn to non-belief. They’ll think the gods are weak, that they don’t deserve the loyalty they’re asking for. And when that happens, when believers stop believing in their God… Well, the rest of the religions will fall like dominoes too. Mass hysteria that the gods can be defeated will mean humans turning their backs on their lackluster, disappointing deities. And then those deities will simply fade away, back into the realms of myth and imagination.”

  Dis could feel the plan coming together, could almost hear the screams and panic, could sense the beautiful fear and disintegration of faith. It fueled her and made her feel like she could ride a comet. “But I want you to act as the voice of the movement. Waving cute little signs outside Afterlife is adorable, but it won’t get you anywhere. But if you make a big move, a serious statement, you’ll be the savior of the human race.”

  “You’re a nut case.” Angie stood and pointed at a picture of two men on the wall behind Dis. “Both of those guys thought they could save us from the gods. Do you know what happened to Frey? A demon stabbed him through the neck. After some big underworld god used him, that is. If you think I’m going to work with you so I can end up like Frey or the other guy, who just up and disappeared one day, you can dance your crazy ass right back out the door.”

  Dis sighed, surprised that Angie hadn’t jumped at the invitation for dominance. Maybe not all humans are the same after all. “Give me your hand.”

  Angie put both hands behind her back. “No.”

  “Don’t make me ask again.”

  Angie held out her hand, and Dis was impressed at how well she hid her fear. Her hand hardly trembled at all. “Close your eyes.”

  Angie did as she was told, and Dis opened a little gateway into the future for her. It wasn’t necessarily the real thing, but rather the way Dis thought it would come to be. It was enough.

  Angie opened her eyes and looked searchingly at Dis for a long moment. “I’m in.”

  “Excellent.” Dis dropped Angie’s hand, glad to disconnect. Humans felt so…solid. Terribly dense and yet distressingly fragile. Space dust indeed. “I have some calls to make. I suggest you pack well and talk to a few of your most trusted followers. We’ll leave as soon as everything is in place.”

  “I don’t have followers. And I don’t give commands. But I’ll see if anyone wants to join me on your suicide mission.” Angie brushed at her hand as though trying to wipe something from it.

  Dis moved closer once again. She liked how something as simple as someone being too close physically made humans distinctly uncomfortable. “Oh, but you are, Angie. I saw how those people reacted to you. The crowd was responding to you. To your words. To your courage. To your desire for change.” She lightly stroked Angie’s cheek, and the answering flare of irritated emotion made Dis want to do it more. “You need to accept your place on top of this food chain, because when it breaks, there needs to be someone to step into the void left by the gods’ absence. Someone to lead, to guide, to free.” She stopped touching Angie’s face, again impressed by her determination not to show her fear. Dis stretched, disliking the feeling of gravity more and more all the time. Soon, I can go home. She turned at the door and smiled at Angie. “Best get ready for
some fun.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The ocean crashed below them, and the smell of ancient pines surrounded them. The wooden deck was strewn with oversized pillows and low deck chairs, and the view of the Pacific was unimpeded by anything at all. A few backpackers set their packs down on the far side of the deck and went in to order.

  “Does this work? I love how quiet it is this time of year.” Dani sipped her iced tea and watched as Meg took in Nepenthe, one of Dani’s favorite restaurants in Northern California. The name meant isle of no care in Greek, something she knew wouldn’t be lost on Meg.

  “It’s gorgeous. I think I came here once, years ago, but I’m not sure.” Meg drew little shapes in the condensation on her glass. “I didn’t know you surfed.”

  Dani smiled. “Since the first time I saw them doing it in Polynesia in the 1700s. A tribal chief there taught me, and I’ve been doing it ever since.” She thought back to their recent conversations and didn’t remember mentioning it. “How did you know?”

  “I ran into Idona at a work scene, and she mentioned you had plans to go out.”

  “I’ll have to talk to her about spilling things about my personal life.” Dani laughed, but sobered when Meg didn’t even smile. “Hey. What’s up?”

  “I hate that there’s so much I don’t know about you. I mean, you know everything about me and probably both my sisters. I don’t know your favorite food, or the sexual position that gets you hottest, or what kind of women you like.” She looked like she was almost going to cry. “And now there’s all this weird woo-woo shit with the Fates saying I need to find myself, and everything feels stupid and…and…”

  “Out of control?” Dani took Meg’s hand in her own and held it, slowly caressing her knuckles with her thumb. She tried to concentrate on speaking rather than how soft and hot Meg’s skin was. “First of all, it’s not your fault you don’t know some stuff about me. I’m not the most forthcoming person, okay? Second, we all feel out of control right now. Imagine how Selene feels. She convinced the gods to come into the open, and it turns out most humans weren’t equipped to deal with that after all. People are dying because of their inability to adapt. I can’t imagine how terrible she feels.”

  Meg looked up, wide-eyed. “Oh shit daggers. I hadn’t even thought about that. I knew Tis felt responsible, but I hadn’t thought about how Selene was handling things. Damn, she even kind of said something in that meeting, but I wasn’t really paying attention…” She pulled out her phone. “I need to call her—”

  Dani gently put her hand over Meg’s phone. “Aren’t your sisters having some quiet time? You can have some too.”

  Meg lowered her phone and closed her eyes. “Why do I feel calmer around you?”

  Dani hoped Meg didn’t see how much the words meant to her. “I’m Death. You don’t get a lot calmer than dead. Natural effect of hanging out with me, I think.” She winked and was gratified when Meg laughed.

  “That’s totally not it.” She held Dani’s hand and studied it like she was doing a palm reading. “Everything is so crazy lately. But when I’m around you, I feel centered. Like things aren’t frigging upside down.”

  Dani squeezed her hand and then gently pulled away. She needed to break the physical contact before she said or did something she shouldn’t. Be sensible. “Things are upside down. And to be honest, they may get worse.”

  Meg threw her hands up. “Gee, thanks for that, Santa Darkness.”

  Dani grinned. “But. Listen. It’s not like you’re alone. We’re in this together. All of us. Every god at Afterlife, your sisters and their partners. Me. We’re taking this road together, and if it gets messy, so what?” She shrugged. “Yeah, we’ll have to deal with it. Humans are messy. Life is messy, even for those of us who don’t die. Upside down can suck, but it can also be interesting, right?”

  Meg stared at her for a moment before laughing her trademark belly laugh. “I thought that same thing just a few hours ago. You know me so well. So, tell me more about yourself.”

  “I don’t have a favorite food, but I could eat French fries for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Dipped in mustard.”

  “Gross. What else?”

  “My favorite color is the blue of the ocean in the Maldives. The way it goes from pale turquoise to darker turquoise to cadet blue. It’s similar in Hawaii and Polynesia. And in Aruba, where the sand feels like grainy silk.” She kept herself from saying her favorite colors were actually the shades of sunset trapped in Meg’s wings and hair. The deep reds shot through with faint oranges and bruised purples were sensual and exotic. But as usual, the ocean was her safe place.

  “And your favorite sexual position?” Meg bit her lip and leaned forward with her eyebrows raised.

  “Nope. Sorry. Only people I have sex with get to know that one.”

  Meg pouted for a second. “Does Idona know?”

  Is that jealousy in her eyes? She shook off the feeling. Of course not. “Yes. She did, anyway, a century or two ago.”

  “So you’re not together now?”

  This time Dani was sure she saw relief in Meg’s expression. Interesting. “She’s my best friend, and I’m insanely lucky to have her in my life. But no, nothing romantic. I haven’t been with anyone in a while. Too busy.” It was a cop-out, and Dani hoped Meg wouldn’t pursue it.

  “Yeah, well, that’s too bad and all, but I’m kind of glad. If you were with someone you wouldn’t have time for me, and you know how much I hate not being the center of attention.” She leaned across the table and took Dani’s face in her hands. “And I really love spending time with you. Maybe we can help one another answer the questions of life and death.” She kissed her softly before letting go and settling back in her seat.

  Dani simply looked at her, at a loss for words. Her lips tingled like electricity was running through them, and her cheeks felt branded by Meg’s hands. Before she could respond, though, Meg continued.

  “You’re super self-aware, right?”

  “If by super self-aware you mean in a regular state of confusion and befuddlement, sure.” She sipped her beer, wondering where Meg was headed, and if she’d be able to follow.

  “I wanted to say something, but my sisters told me to leave it alone until you were ready to tell us…” Meg waited expectantly.

  Dani stared at her blankly. “Yes? Tell you what?”

  Meg sighed theatrically and blew a stray strand of hair out of her face. “Fine. I won’t ask.”

  “Meg, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You know I’m pretty much an open book. Ask.” She couldn’t fathom what all three sisters wanted to know but wouldn’t talk about. It was unnerving.

  “Excellent. Why are you all glowy? What’s going on? Are you having such amazing sex you’re literally lighting up from the inside? I heard people who had sex with one of the Eastern goddesses could do that. I mean, they exploded shortly after, but it was a great effect for a minute or two.”

  Dani thought she saw a seriousness beneath the lighthearted question but wasn’t sure. Apparently, she couldn’t hide it anymore, and it wasn’t like plenty of other people hadn’t noticed. Not that they’re going to be upset. Why am I nervous? Because if I talk about it, it becomes real. “Are you familiar with Santa Muerte?”

  Meg frowned, clearly thinking. “That’s the death cult in Mexico, right?”

  Dani tilted her head, feeling foolish now that she was actually saying it out loud. “Yeah. Except it’s not a cult anymore. There are nearly twenty million followers, and more coming through every day. Apparently—”

  Meg leaned forward to grasp Dani’s arms, her eyes wide. “Shit bricks and call me Susan. Seriously. You’re becoming a goddess?”

  “I have no idea why Susan and shitting bricks are associated.” Dani was so embarrassed. It seemed preposterous, but it was true. “You know how it works. Enough people believe and a god come into existence. The thing is, I already exist, and the concept of death personified has been around for a hell of
a long time.”

  Meg sat back down, looking fascinated. “So what does it mean? Can you do cool new stuff? Can you fly or kill stuff just by thinking about it?”

  Dani flinched. “As if I’d do something like that even if I could.”

  “I’m sorry. Totally kidding, I know you wouldn’t. But what does it mean?”

  Dani sighed. “The truth is, I don’t know. I feel different inside. Like you said, it’s like something has been lit inside me. Maybe it’s the effect of all those candles burning for me. I don’t know. But my death-sight has become intense. I can feel the people praying to me like never before. Their voices are around all the time.” She felt the tears well in her eyes and blinked them back. When Meg took her hand, she nearly let them fall. “There’s so much desperation, Meg. The people praying to me seem to be the ones stuck in the middle. The ones who desperately want to believe and have religious leanings, but who don’t feel like the gods of life are listening.”

  Meg stared down at their hands, suddenly serious. “That’s incredibly sad. No offense, but if all they’re looking forward to is death, that’s a pretty difficult existence.”

  Dani nodded. “But now they’re seeing me as not just death, but as some kind of protector. I don’t get the correlation, but it’s mostly the poor and the outsiders who seem to be praying to me. The thing is, I’m not a goddess. I take people from one world to another. I don’t grant prayers, and to be honest, I wouldn’t have the faintest idea how to if I could.”

  Meg let go of her hand and took a long drink of beer, finishing it off. “I’m going to get another. Want one?”

  Dani nodded and watched as Meg walked inside to order. She was painfully beautiful. Her curves, her wings, her adorable short hair. She was full of passion and energy, and Dani was glad she’d been the one to ask. Meg’s exuberance and way of seeing life made it easier to talk to her about it.

  She came back and put the beer down in front of Dani. “Puberty.”

  “Sorry?”

  “You’re going through puberty. Without the zits and voice change, thank the gods. But that’s totally it.” She nodded sagely and grinned.