Divine Misfortune

He took another bite of turkey. “Syph, you look lovely by the way. What a pleasant surprise to see you again.” Gorgoz pointed to another closed door. “Phil’s in there. All in one piece. For now. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go find my First Disciple. He’s around here somewhere.”

Quick and Syph found Phil pacing the room. Quick performed a fast introduction.

“Where’s Lucky?” asked Phil.

“He’s not here,” said Quick.

“But he’s supposed to rescue me.”

Syph laughed.

“He’s not coming, is he?” said Phil.

“No, he’s not,” admitted Quick.

“That son of a-” Acceptance quelled his rage. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. He’s been lying to us from the begi

“You renounced him,” said Syph.

“Only because he left me no other choice.”

Syph laughed again.

“You find this amusing?” he asked.

“Not particularly,” she replied.

“Yes, yes,” interrupted Quick. “We all have our issues. But right now, we don’t have long to come up with a game plan. So why don’t we put aside our emotional baggage and try to figure a way to get you out of this situation.

“As I see it, you’re just one insignificant mortal. Gorgoz only cares about you because of this vendetta he has going with Lucky. So, in a way, having Lucky abandon you is just about the only chance you have.”

“Wasn’t that considerate of him?” Phil sighed. “Do you really think you can talk him into letting me go?”

“Stranger things have happened,” replied Quick.

“But I wouldn’t count on it,” added Syph.

The door swung open, and Gorgoz and Worthington entered.

“Roger, this is Quetzalcoatl and Syph. Just a couple of used-up gods that don’t know when to call it quits. This is Roger, my First Disciple. Say hello, Roger.”

“Hello.”

Gorgoz thrust his uneaten half-turkey into Worthington’s arms. “Hold that for a moment.”

“Yes, Lord.” Worthington stifled his a

Gorgoz wiped his hand on his sweatpants. He threw an arm around Phil’s neck, squeezing a bit too tightly. Phil choked as Gorgoz gave him a noogie with sharp knuckles, drawing a little blood. “Phil and I have been having a wonderful time.”

Just when Phil was starting to turn blue, Gorgoz released him.

Gorgoz said, “Well, well, well. I have to wonder what is so special about our friend Phil here? When Lucky gave him up so easily I was begi

A low laugh rolled out of his throat.

“But now you two show up, and I’m thinking perhaps I have something more valuable than I first realized. What’s your investment in this, Quick? Seeking redemption? Do you think that intervening in the life of one worthless mortal can wash away the stain of a fallen empire?”

Quick’s plumage wilted.

“And what about you, Syph? Why are you here?”

“I don’t honestly know,” she said.

“So you wouldn’t mind if I devoured our mortal friend right now?”

“Be my guest,” she said.

Gorgoz licked his lips. Phil stepped behind Quick.

“He’s just one mortal,” said Quetzalcoatl. “You’ve proven your point. You’ve won. Your power is greater than Lucky’s. What would killing this poor speck accomplish?”

“What does letting him live accomplish? He’s just a speck. Why should his life or death matter to any of us? He’s not a king or a president or a dragon-slaying hero. I might understand if this was Perseus or Gilgamesh. But this is Phil Robinson. Even the name is unremarkable.” He pointed to Worthington. “Roger, go find a phone book. Tell me how many Phil Robinsons are listed in it.”

“Yes, Master.”

Gorgoz stopped him from leaving.

“I was just kidding, Roger.”

“Very amusing, Master.”

“Get a load of this guy. And I thought Attila the Hun was a wet blanket.” Gorgoz slapped Worthington on the shoulder. “You know I love you, buddy. Well, as much as I love any crumb of flesh that keeps me in tribute and chicken fingers.”

Gorgoz took back his turkey and sheared off another bite.

“Phil stays with me. Until I get bored with him. Or I’m looking for a change of pace from chicken fingers.”

Syph sighed. “All right, I’m still not really clear why I’m here, but I guess it has something to do with this mortal. Gorgie, are you sure you wouldn’t change your mind? As a personal favor to me?”

She tried to smile coyly. But she was out of practice and failed miserably.

“I’d be very grateful.”

Gorgoz stifled a chortle.

“What?” she asked.

He burst out laughing.

“Oh, Quick. Please don’t tell me you brought her here to persuade me. That is priceless.”

“But you love me,” said Syph.

Gorgoz chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye. “Love is a bit of an overstatement. You were hot. I was horny.”

“But what about Lucky?” asked Quick. “I thought you hated him.”

“I do.”

Gorgoz’s huge eyes opened even wider.

“You don’t mean to tell me that Lucky thought that I was angry with him because of her?” He pointed to Syph. “Her?”

Syph smoldered.

“That’s absurd,” said Gorgoz. “I may be petty and vindictive, but even I know a fling is just a fling.”

Quick said, “Then why the hell do you hate Lucky?”

Gorgoz hesitated.

“Y’know, I can’t quite remember.” He laughed. “Isn’t that fu

Syph rose from her chair. “But you said you would fill the oceans with blood and cover the continents with bones. You promised you’d destroy universes for me.”

“That was just pillow talk, baby.”

Phil sized up Gorgoz in all his physical and spiritual repulsiveness. Gods were more flexible when it came to sleeping around, and Syph was no prize herself. But he still thought she could do better.

Gorgoz yawned. “I’m bored now. Roger, show our guests the door while Phil and I break out the checkers. I call red.”

Syph pounced on the god. She roared.

“You son of a bitch! I’ll see you chained to Atlas’s armpit and reduced to a pile of bleached, wasted flesh!”

Gorgoz blinked. “Wow. Now that’s the kind of goddess I can respect.”

She hurled him into the fireplace. Flame exploded. Brick crumbled. The moose head mounted above the mantel fell onto the pile of rubble. She cracked her knuckles and narrowed her eyes.

“This could be bad,” said Quick.

The moose head rose with Gorgoz underneath it.

“Okay, okay. I guess I can throw you a mercy screw if it’ll cool you down.”

Syph, abandoning any divine subtlety, hurled herself into Gorgoz. They crashed through the wall and out of the room.

“Hell hath no fury…” observed Quick.

This wasn’t what he’d had in mind when bringing Syph, but a distraction was a distraction. The manor rattled with Syph and Gorgoz’s howls. Worthington took advantage of the situation to bolt from the room.

“You better get out of here, Phil.”

“But what about you?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m not sure how long Syph and I can keep him occupied.”

“But-”

“Damn it, go!” Quick transformed into a ten-foot-tall golden warrior with blazing eyes and bloody tattoos. “I can take care of myself.”

“Be careful.”

Quick nodded. “You, too.”

He walked toward the sounds of battle.

Gorgoz had transformed into his hideous primal form, that of a dark green giant with three heads and four legs. Syph, a burning, pale goddess of rage, wrestled with the giant. She tore pieces of his flesh with her bare hands.

It was all so ridiculous, thought Quick. Direct conflict between immortals was little more than a cosmic pissing contest. It was possible to win, to hurt a god so badly that it took him a few minutes to recover. But that was about it.