Divine Misfortune

“One regular mead then.”

“All out of that, too.”

“Fine. I’ll take that.” He pointed to the last mug on her tray. “Whatever it is.”

“Oh, I’m afraid I just sold it.”

“Sold it? To who?”

“This gentleman.” She handed the mug to a customer sitting within arm’s reach.

He said, “Excuse me, but I didn’t ask for-”

“Yes, you did.”

“But-”

“On the house. Enjoy with our compliments, sir.” She turned and walked away.

He shrugged, then took a drink.

Lucky ran after the Valkyrie.

“What was that about, lady? Do you know who I am? I’m close friends with ol’ One-Eye himself. I could have you fired-”

“You don’t remember me, do you?” she asked.

He swore under his breath. “Sure I do.”

She covered her name tag. “What’s my name?”

“Brunhilde.”

The Valkyrie snarled. “Lucky guess.”

She was right, and he felt guilty getting caught.

“Does the Hundred Years’ War mean anything to you?” asked Brunhilde.

“Can you be more specific?”

“Rainy night. Hayloft.”

“Can’t say it rings a bell,” he said.

“You said you’d keep in touch.”

“Yeah, well, I meant to, but…”

He stopped.

“You know what? I’m not doing this. I really don’t care about whatever wrong you think I’ve done to you. It was one night. I was just being polite. And that’s that. So get over it, baby.”

Ass.

She walked away. Lucky visited the concession stand and tried to forget the encounter. If some leggy blonde couldn’t let it go, it wasn’t his problem. But he couldn’t stop thinking of her withering scowl. Even after he bought his mead and turkey leg and returned to his seat, he couldn’t enjoy them. And it wasn’t because of Bob or the uncomfortable plastic seat or the dirty looks all the vendors were giving him now. Maybe driven by Valkyrie solidarity. Maybe because he’d shared a barn with several of them. He couldn’t remember. They all looked alike, so it really wasn’t his fault.

But they really weren’t the problem. It was the combination of disgust and disappointment that got to him. And though they were blond and muscular and looked nothing like Janet, he kept seeing her face.

And Janet’s face led to Teri’s face led to Phil’s face led to Gorgoz and Syph and Quick and the whole tangled mess.

He’d gotten involved. Standard protocol was to keep your distance when it came to mortals. It’d been so easy a thousand years ago. Gods above, mortals below. It’d been so simple. When the hell did it all get so complicated?

Lucky handed off his snacks to Bob and found Brunhilde.

“I just wanted to apologize. I don’t know if it counts for anything, but that’s all I wanted to say, Brunhilde.”

“My name is Sonja.”

“Oh, well, could you do me a favor and pass the message along? I’d do it myself, but I’ve got some mortals to save.”

27

Quick pushed the button on the gate intercom. It took a few minutes and a few more button presses to finally get an answer.

“Yes?”

“We’re here to see Gorgoz.”

The security cameras above the gate swiveled in their direction.

“There’s no Gorgoz here,” replied the voice.

“Tell him it’s Syph,” said Quick.

The goddess performed a halfhearted wave for the cameras.

“There’s no Gorgoz here,” said the voice again.

“I told you this was a waste of time,” said Syph.

“He’s here,” said Quick. He turned back to the cameras. “We’re trying to be polite about this, but if you don’t invite us in now, we’ll call Divine Affairs and let them handle this. And I don’t think any of us wants that, now do we?”

The gate buzzed and swung open.”

Thank you.”

Gorgoz rolled the dice, then moved his race car to the B &O Railroad.

“Oh, drat,” he said. “How much do I owe you, Phil?”

Phil collected his fee, and eyed the pile of colorful cash sitting before Gorgoz. It was a meager sum compared to Phil’s own. He was wi

So far, Phil had scored a slim victory in Sorry! to avoid having his knees broken and followed that up with a miraculous win in Candy Land that kept him from losing a thumb.

“I gotta say you’re one lucky son of a bitch,” remarked Gorgoz with a grin, though his tone was not amused. “Are you sure you renounced your old god? You wouldn’t be trying to pull a fast one, would you?”

“No,” said Phil. “Never.”

Gorgoz’s grin dropped.

“I would never do anything like that,” said Phil through a tightening throat. Whether that was Gorgoz’s doing or just Phil’s own nerves, he couldn’t tell.

“I’m just messing with you, buddy.” Gorgoz picked up the dice, but stopped short of dropping them into Phil’s hand.

“Now, I don’t suppose you want to reconsider my offer? Just say the word, and I’ll go consume your lovely wife and get you completely off the hook with our little wager.”

“No, thank you.”

“You’re a good man, Phil. Boring, but good.”

Phil wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up. Or when Gorgoz would grow bored and discard this pretense. But he wasn’t tempted to take the offer. It had less to do with being a good person, and everything to do with his complete distrust of Gorgoz, who had already admitted to lying all the time. Any deals weren’t worth much, but Phil figured anything to keep the mad god occupied was all he could do. He didn’t have a better plan than that. He was a pawn of the gods, but he wasn’t a hero of legend. He was just a mortal in way over his head, and his only chance of getting out of this was a miracle.

But, given that his old god wasn’t that reliable in the miracle department and his new god was why he needed a miracle at all, Phil just hoped to end up dying as quickly and painlessly as possible while ensuring Teri stayed alive.

“Are you going to roll those dice anytime soon?” asked Gorgoz. “Or do I have to break out the sand timer again?”

Worthington entered the room. He offered Gorgoz a whole roasted turkey.

“Excuse the interruption, Master, but you have visitors. I think they’re here about… him.”

“Then by all means, Roger, let’s show them in.” Gorgoz rose, grabbed the turkey, and exited with Worthington. “We’ll be right back, Phil.” He smiled and winked. “Don’t cheat now.”

Gorgoz greeted Quick and Syph at the front door. He had swapped out his crusty bathrobe for a clean smoking jacket. The sweatpants ruined the look. And the whole roasted turkey in his right hand didn’t add anything.

He took a bite of the bird. It hadn’t been deboned, and that was made obvious by the crunch of bones and his open-mouthed ma

“Welcome to my temple.” He wiped his hand on his jacket, leaving a stain of grease. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had visitors. Isn’t that right, Roger?”

He glanced around.

“I seem to have misplaced my First Disciple. Oh, well, I’m sure he’ll turn up. In the meantime, let me show you around.”

When Quick and Syph crossed the threshold, a wave of nausea hit them. This was the temple of Gorgoz. It’d been a while since either had encountered such pure, malevolent will.

Quick was reminded of his younger days, when human civilization consisted of tiny tribes hiding in caves offering blood sacrifices and scraps of food to appease the unknowable powers. Quick had been a part of that. It was the way it was done back then. Looking back on it now, it just felt so immature and crude, a childish phase he’d grown out of.

Not every god had done the same. There were those who still yearned for the good old days, for the absolute fear and devotion of terrified mortals. He wasn’t surprised to find Gorgoz was one of those types.

Gorgoz led them down halls, pointing out rooms. More accurately, he pointed to closed doors and the rooms that might be behind them. “I think that’s the den. And I think this one is the bowling alley. I’m pretty sure we have a bowling alley anyway.”