Strange Cosmology

by Alex Raizman

  Some gods improved their temperament over the centuries. Horus has just grown more impatient and condescending.

  “Might I suggest a compromise?” Dianmu asked. Athena and Horus both looked at her. “Horus, why not scout ahead to make sure we are on the right path, while Athena leads our group on the ground?”

  “That’s what I wanted to do,” Horus said, although he had said nothing of the kind. Without waiting for Athena’s response, he turned into a falcon and flew away.

  Athena let out a sigh, releasing her irritation at Horus for taking Dianmu’s suggestion - and at herself for not thinking of it sooner - without waiting for confirmation. “Thank you, Dianmu. I was…struggling to contain my frustration.”

  “I know, dear. It’s why you both missed the obvious option. You two have history, I take it?”

  Athena nodded. “When Alexander seized Egypt, the Olympians went to war against their deities to ensure he could control the region. I personally clashed with Horus multiple times and cut off his hands in one fight. He never quite forgave me for the injury.”

  “I can’t imagine why,” Anansi said to Dianmu in a stage whisper.

  She felt her cheeks redden. “They grew back,” she muttered defensively, “and it was millennia ago. I’ve gotten over him putting an arrow through my eye.” Knowing how absurd she sounded, she stopped talking before she said anything worse.

  “I wonder, Athena, have I done you some wrong?”

  Athena hadn’t heard Anansi’s approach, and she started. She glanced sideways at the other god, who was giving her his usual friendly grin. Dianmu had fallen back, perhaps sensing Anansi’s desire for a private conversation.

  “Seeing as this is our first time meeting, I can’t imagine how you could have,” Athena said briskly.

  He nodded. “Yet you seem to be uncomfortable around me. There must be something about me, either a past action or some inherent quality, that is the root of your dislike.”

  Athena huffed. “You’re a Trickster and a Spider. Every dealing I’ve had with either has gone poorly for me.”

  “Ahhh,” he said, smiling. “Did you not turn poor Arachne into-”

  “It wasn’t about the weaving thing.” Athena snapped with more heat than she intended. Careful, Athena, she told herself. There was no need to start a fight, and Anansi hadn’t done her any wrong. In fact, he’d been nothing but helpful so far. “I’m sorry, Anansi. It’s not fair, I know, but…”

  “…once bitten, twice shy. The euphemism typically implies dogs, but I think it may be even more relevant with spiders.”

  Athena chuckled and surprised herself when she realized it wasn’t entirely forced. “The bite is often worse in that case, yes. But I’ll try to be better about it.”

  “Do not worry. I am just glad to understand the concern. So if it wasn’t the weaving, why did you turn Arachne into a spider?”

  “You enjoy asking uncomfortable questions, don’t you?” Athena said, although there was no heat to it.

  “Of course. Trickster, as you pointed out.”

  Athena chuckled mirthlessly. She remembered that day all too well. The surge of power. Artemis’ warning. The piles of the dead. A terrible punishment. “I’m afraid I’ll have to decline to answer. There are some things I don’t talk about.”

  If Athena’s answer upset Anansi, he didn’t show it, instead giving her a slight nod of understanding. “For the best, I think. Look,” he pointed ahead. “It appears our feathered friend has found something.”

  Athena glanced ahead and saw Horus change to his human form long enough to urgently wave them forward. Then he returned to the air, and the others picked up the pace.

  They covered the next kilometer in total silence. Athena’s heart sped up, and her chest tightened as the pre-battle thrill began to build. She reached out into her nanoverse and plucked a simple straight sword, taking long, slow breaths to keep the anticipation under control.

  Then they broke into a clearing and saw what Horus had found: a building towering so high into that Athena was amazed they hadn’t seen it sooner. The tiered building resembled the ancient ziggurats of this region, but the stone was smooth and recently cut. Each layer was supported by immense pillars in the Canaanite style, long and ridged with deep grooves. The entrance was a simple archway with spikes inlaid into the stone, and each spike bore the skull of a different animal.

  It was definitely a temple.

  Horus landed and changed form again. “Do we wait for the others, or do we go ahead?” His voice was a low whisper, barely enough to be heard even though they huddled closely together.

  “I would suggest caution,” Dianmu said, her voice tinged with worry. “We do not know how many of these resistant cultists Moloch has created. Crystal and Ryan would greatly improve our chances.”

  “While you have a point,” Horus countered, “we also don’t know how many more he could create if we wait.”

  “I will defer to the war goddess in this,” Anansi said, “but I would advise caution as well. We do not know what dangers we face.”

  Athena considered for a moment. “We get closer and attempt to look within. Caution is important, but if there are limited foes, striking before their reinforcements could arrive may be our best option.”

  For the first time since they arrived in Venezuela, the other three all agreed with her. Horus didn’t even give her a dirty look, which was a blessed relief. They crept up to Moloch’s temple and climbed the first tier until they reached an open window on the east side of the building.

  It was empty within, at least from what they could see, but lit by a strange glow. Athena nodded towards Anansi, then pointed ahead. Get a closer look was the unspoken message.

  The god nodded and turned into a spider. Although massive – nearly half a meter long – it would draw less notice than a man. She waited, her heart pounding until he skittered back into view and resumed his human form. “It has been emptied. You may want to see this for yourself, however,” he whispered.

  Athena went in, followed by Dianmu and Horus.

  In the center of the temple was a vast pit, full of bones covered in soot and char. Athena didn’t need to look closer to be sure that at least some were human. Moloch does love sacrifice, she thought, her stomach turning. It was possible to draw power from the ending of human lives. Possible, but horrific, as it consumed the soul in the process. Once, Athena had complete control over a practitioner of human sacrifice, and she had handed out the worst punishment she had imposed over the course of her long existence.

  If given a chance, she would do far worse to Moloch.

  She didn’t need to wonder why Moloch had needed the extra power. Along the back wall of the temple was a portal, more than large enough to accommodate a man. Such things were used to enter places inaccessible by nanoverses, and the list of such places was short. Each one was a place of power that had been locked away so that gods could not easily access it, because of the high potential to do harm from such locations.

  Wherever he had gone, Moloch would be far more dangerous when he returned.

  Chapter 12

  Hope Springs Eternal

  Cassandra stepped into view, smiling at Bast. “Let me just finish setting things up. I’ll get the mirror. Everyone else has gone home or to their rooms for the evening, so we shouldn’t be interrupted.” Cassandra’s voice was more certain than it had been at first, although there was still a slight tremor in her tone.

  Before this, had you ever broken a rule in your life, Cassandra? Bast wondered.

  That kind of question was too complicated for their limited communication. Still, Bast let some of the tension drain from her back and arms. It was a relief to know that Cassandra was alone. When the other lab assistants were there, they still talked about Bast like she was a fascinating new slime mold.

  It was appalling.

  That thought was cut off by a sound growing closer. The creak of poorly oiled wheels and…

  LubdubLubdubL
ubdubLubdub

  Cassandra’s heart always raced when she was this close to Bast. Even though Bast was beginning to gain her trust, it still made the young researcher nervous. Or is it excitement? Does doing something so bold give you a thrill of the taboo?

  Bast suspected it was a little bit of both.

  The mirror appeared in front of Bast’s face, angled on the end of a multi-segmented metal arm. This was the primary way they could communicate. The mirror let Bast see Cassandra as she worked, and let Cassandra see Bast’s eyes as she blinked her responses. One for yes, two for no, three for elaborate, and a rapid series of blinks to indicate Bast just needed to clear her eyes. It was simple, but it was effective.

  It was also low risk. Even though the rest of the laboratory was empty, there was still the possibility of someone stopping by. The changed position of the mirror might arouse suspicion, but far less than Cassandra leaning over Bast to stare into her eyes.

  “So I’ve got a few questions for you if you don’t mind me starting there?” The last few words went up in a questioning tone that betrayed the young woman’s uncertainty. Bast actually appreciated that. She should be uncertain around Bast, given that - for all she had done for Bast’s comfort these past few days - she was still one of the goddess’s captors.

  And questions would be better than the alternative. As much as Bast appreciated having the woman there, it was hard to follow Cassandra when she started talking about biology. Cassandra was working long hours, often staying after her fellow researchers had left. From what she’d told Bast, she’d justified it to Doctor Pivarti, the head of research, by saying she thought she was close to a breakthrough when it came to...something involving a lot of biological terms. Something about changes to mitochondrial DNA in Ichor. When she started rambling about her theories to Bast, it helped fill the Social hunger, but it was painfully dull.

  Bast blinked once in affirmation. Questions were fine.

  “Thanks. So, I’ve meant to ask you...and I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable, but are we going to have any problems now that you’ve had some water?”

  The question was so unexpected, Bast had to give Cassandra three blinks to get her to repeat the inquiry. What on Earth are you talking about? she thought. Bast hadn’t even realized Cassandra had connected the drops of water to her drinking. Her eyes narrowed. This one’s more intelligent than I thought.

  “I mean…” Cassandra bit her lip, misinterpreting Bast’s expression. “Sorry, this is really uncomfortable, and kind of gross.”

  Realization dawned on Bast, and she was glad Cassandra couldn’t see her face. The sheer indignity of being asked if she needed something as base and mortal as a chance to use the restroom...if Bast had been free, she might have snapped Cassandra’s neck for the simple insult of it all. The mental image of Cassandra laying on the ground, her head twisted at an unnatural angle...Bast felt her hands tightening into fists.

  Where’s that coming from? Bast asked herself.

  Before Cassandra could elaborate on the question, Bast gave two deliberate blinks, then immediately regretted them. If she’d lied, Cassandra might have taken steps to allow Bast to relieve herself, which might have led to an opportunity to escape. Well, it was too late now. Besides, the actions Cassandra would have probably been willing to take would have been undignified and overly restrictive.

  “Oh, thank God.” Cassandra practically slumped in relief. “I mean...is that offensive? Mentioning the Abrahamic God?”

  Bast blinked twice again. The truth was, she just didn’t want to think about that whole mess, and everything that had come from the spreading of Christianity and later Islam, including forcing most of the Pantheons to go into hiding from a mass of humanity that no longer tolerated the belief in gods other than the “one true God”, and she definitely didn’t want to try and communicate the complexities of that through awkward blinks while strapped to a table.

  “Okay, glad to hear it.” Cassandra rolled out of Bast’s vision for a moment, giving the goddess an unobstructed view of her workspace for the first time. The text on the computer screen was unreadable in the reflection, unfortunately. However, Cassandra did bring personal effects to work. There was a picture of the woman holding a black cat at an awkward angle, lifting it from beneath its forelegs like one would pick up a human baby. Unlike a child, however, the cat looking like it was trying to decide if it was enjoying the attention or getting ready to claw its mistress’s arms until she put it down.

  Knowing cats, Bast strongly suspected the latter happened mere seconds after the photo was taken.

  Adjacent to that photo was one of Cassandra in a black dress, her hair in an impressively sophisticated style, with a man’s arm over her shoulder. The man wore a tuxedo, and a frowny face sticker had been stuck over his face, which told Bast everything she needed to know. Next to that was an older photo of a much younger Cassandra, next to a smaller child with a mouth rimmed in frosting.

  Cassandra rolled back into view and followed Bast’s gaze. “Oh, the photos?”

  Bast blinked once.

  “That’s my cat.” Cassandra flushed. “Um. She’s named after you. I didn’t know goddesses were real back then, I just thought I was being clever naming a cat after a cat goddess. Is that a problem?”

  Bast blinked twice. If someone was going to name an animal after her, she preferred they at least named the right animal. If it had been some mangy mutt, that would have been a different matter entirely.

  “Oh, good.” Cassandra’s face relaxed some, although her cheeks remained a bit red. “She’s a real treat. Hard to photograph - every time I try, she decides the camera is a toy, and I end up with a blurry mess. That’s the best photograph I have of her. Remind me to show you the scars she gave me after that one - never tried picking her up like that again.”

  The amusement in Bast’s eyes was real. Knew it.

  “Do you have some kind of special affinity for cats? Or did you get associated with them for another reason?”

  Bast waited patiently for Cassandra to realize the mistake. The woman was smart, there was no doubt about that. But her curiosity meant this wasn’t the first time Cassandra asked a question to which there was no way to answer with simple blinks.

  “Right, sorry.” Cassandra tapped her chin. “Okay, do you have special control over cats?”

  Bast blinked twice. As frustrating as communicating like this was, it was infinitely preferable to no interaction at all, and just like the slow drips of water had gradually quenched her thirst, this was slowly chipping away at her need to socialize.

  “Were you associated with cats just because you liked them?” Cassandra asked.

  Bast considered how to best answer, and finally blinked once. It had the virtue of being partially true, although it wasn’t a complete answer. Bast had been associated with cats because she’d had a cat head, thanks to some low-grade transformation. That had been in vogue at the time. She’d chosen a cat, however, because she liked the creatures. They were tiny engines of destruction, the perfect murderers, and they also were utterly absurd.

  Cassandra grinned. “A woman after my own heart.”

  Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub

  Don’t say that word! Bast silently screamed. She did her best to convey amusement with her eyes, but the mention of the word and the sound of Cassandra’s heart pumping in her chest set her stomach rumbling with hunger

  Cassandra chattered away, and Bast pushed the thoughts aside.

  Soon, Bast thought. Soon, I will feed.

  She just wished she knew what she wanted to eat.

  ***

  Crystal stepped onto the street outside of Isabel’s apartment building, enjoying the feel of the sun on her skin. It was a crisp California day, warm but not overwhelmingly hot, with a gentle breeze coming in from the beach.

  She took a deep breath. Job well done. Now I just need to-.

  The thought was cut off as her shoulder blossomed with a flower of agony. Crystal screamed
at the sudden pain and stumbled back, dropping to one knee. It was only then that the sound of the gunshot reached her ear, a deep, echoing report that bounced off buildings. Oh, you sodding little bastard, Crystal thought, hissing against the pain. A second bullet hummed through the air like an angry mosquito, inches from her ear.

  Crystal phased out of reality.

  A single bullet had nearly dropped her. Think, think, oh damnit that hurts. Crystal took a deep breath, and her ichor spewed from the wound.

  Ichor. Of course. The gods had known for millennia that arrowheads forged with ichor were deadly, so any mortal who’d figured out the trick had met with a nasty end, as well as any he dared to tell. That didn’t mean the secret couldn’t have been rediscovered, though, and there was no reason it couldn’t work with bullets, too.

  Whoever had shot her was using ichor rounds. There wasn’t any time to worry about how they had them or how they figured it out. Right now, she had to worry about her shoulder, which was bleeding ichor at an alarming rate, and the fact that ichor rounds could still hurt her while she was phased. That thought cut through the pain and gave her feet the energy they needed to move. A third bullet punched a hole in the concrete where she’d been standing.