Divine Misfortune (2010) (7 page)

The ringing bell and the snake guided him, keeping him from getting lost in his own house.

“Coming!” shouted Worthington. “I’m coming!”

He descended the stairs. Gorgoz kept the basement dark with only a single hanging bulb and a big-screen TV lighting the dinginess.
He sat slumped in his recliner. He rarely left the comfort of its five-speed massage settings. He even more rarely changed
his clothes and never bathed. The room smelled of formaldehyde, seaweed, and nachos.

“What took you so long?” he asked, never turning his twisted face away from the television. Its light reflected off his bulbous
fish eyes.

“I was all the way on the other side of the house,” replied Worthington.

Gorgoz snorted. A glob of neon blue snot rocketed from his nostrils and splattered the television screen. He held up his bell
and shook it in annoyance. “Beer me.”

“Yes, Master.” Worthington paused. He already knew the answer, but he had to ask anyway. “You haven’t seen Montoya around,
have you?”

“Who?”

“The butler. The one I pay to… beer you.”

“Oh, him.” Gorgoz tapped his long black claws on his tusks. “I ate him. Is that a problem?”

“No, no. Not really. It’s just… Montoya was actually a pretty good butler, and good help can be hard to find.”

“I’ve had better,” said Gorgoz. “That one we had a couple of weeks ago, the Chinaman—”

“They’re called Asians now,” interrupted Worthington.

“The Asian was crunchier.” Gorgoz crushed his empty beer can and added it to the mound on the floor. “I like’em crunchy.”

“Yes, yes.”

“Do you dare question my judgment, Roger?”

“No, never.”

“Such insolence deserves swift retribution. You’re lucky Mary is on.” Gorgoz’s long tongue snaked out and licked the snot
off the television screen. He swallowed it with a gulp, revealing the smiling image of Mary Tyler Moore. “If this wasn’t the
clown funeral episode I’d get out of this chair and break your spine.”

Worthington suppressed a smile. Gorgoz talked a big game, but he needed Worthington. He’d made sure of that. Dealing with
gods wasn’t any different from any other business contract. It all came down to leverage. Gorgoz had many followers, but none
could equal what Worthington had to offer. Secretly dedicated slaughterhouses offered a steady tide of blood. Millions of
dollars a year were burned in his god’s name. And millions more were used to support smaller cults scattered across the world.
But Worthington made sure that none of these cults were self-sufficient, and that without his money, they would disappear.
Without Worthington, there was no Temple of Gorgoz.

The savage god had existed, mostly forgotten and without influence, for thousands of years before Worthington had taken him
in. He could always start over, but that would require him to get his butt out of the recliner.

“By the way, Roger,” said Gorgoz, “have you seen Lenny anywhere? Usually takes on the form of a squirrel.”

“There are a lot of squirrels coming in and out of here every day,” observed Worthington.

“Lenny was one of my favorites, you know. He served me well in life, but even more so in death. Always reliable.”

“I’m sure he’s just running a little bit late.”

“Let’s hope.” Gorgoz growled, not at Worthington but just in general annoyance. He held up his bell and rang it vigorously.
“I don’t see my beer, minion.”

At the kitchen, Worthington discovered a bloodied and broken squirrel pulling its way across the linoleum. It should’ve been
dead, but supernatural will compelled it to return, even if it had to drag itself with its one functioning limb.

“You must be Lenny.”

The squirrel held up its head and gasped, spitting up blood.

“He’s down in the basement. Where else would he be?”

Worthington dropped several beers into a plastic bag and tied it to Lenny’s tail. “Don’t keep him waiting.” The creeping squirrel
dragged its carcass across the kitchen floor, leaving a smear of blood and fur across the tile. Someone would clean up the
mess. He didn’t know who, but he didn’t care about those details. He had more pressing concerns.

Worthington was willing to make many sacrifices for his god. Cold veal was not one of them.

Teri’s day turned around after she talked to Lucky. It wasn’t as if everything corrected itself, but her bad luck faded. And
some of that bad luck turned good. The technician sent to check on her computer said it was shot, and that it would have to
be replaced. The outdated computer had always been temperamental. She’d been low on the replacement list, but now management
had no choice but to move her to the top.

One of her bosses (she had several) noticed her disheveled appearance as the two of them shared an elevator ride. When Teri
explained all the misfortune that had befallen her of late, they shared a chuckle. It wasn’t much, but it was an opening,
a chance to make an impression.

She kept finding loose change underfoot, under desks, in drawers. Pennies and nickels, quarters and dimes, and several silver
dollars. By the end of the day, she had twenty bucks’ worth of change jingling in her pockets.

A golden woman approached Teri’s desk around quitting time.

“Ms. Teri Robinson?”

A closer look revealed that the woman wasn’t just gold in color. She was actually made of the precious metal. Her skin, her
hair, her eyes, and even her clothes all gleamed.

“Yes, that’s me,” said Teri.

“Hello, I’m Veronika, your Hephaestus Motors personal liaison. Veronika with a
k.”

A handshake confirmed it. Veronika’s hand was smooth and cold as polished metal.

“Your car is ready, Ms. Robinson. Shall we take a look?”

“Already?”

Veronika’s beautiful face remained aloof, almost unreadable, but she raised a delicately sculpted eyebrow. “Yes.”

“What about the broken axle? The shop said it would take at least a week to fix.”

“Perhaps for mortal mechanics,” said Veronika. “Shall we go and inspect your car to see if it meets with your approval?”

Teri followed Veronika. Teri’s bare arm brushed against a golden sleeve. The metal “cloth” was cold but supple. Teri wanted
to touch Veronika’s hair, but it seemed a little presumptuous.

The coupe was parked out front. It was Teri’s car, but polished and waxed. It didn’t look brand-new, but it was pretty close.

Veronika said, “Along with the axle, we took the liberty of some basic maintenance. Tune-up, oil change, spark plugs, and
while we were at it, we added some improvements. The usual low-level package. I’m sure you’ll be very pleased with the results.
We don’t usually work on automobiles with this much… character.” Veronika frowned. “Someone must have called in a big favor.”

“Lucky?”

“Indeed, you are fortunate. Mortals used to sacrifice droves of livestock for an improvement package like this.”

“No, I meant Lucky. My god Lucky.”

Veronika glanced at her work order. “Doesn’t say.” She paced the coupe, allowing Teri to inspect it. “We did what we could
to increase fuel efficiency to a thousand MPG.”

“A thousand?”

“Yes, dreadful, I know, but the best we could manage with what we had to work with. We also coated the chassis with a high-quality
adamantite-based glaze to protect against future dings, dents, and stains. The tires are an organic form of rubber very recently
developed. Nearly puncture-proof and self- repairing, as long as you remember to water them regularly and allow them to get
a few hours of sunlight a week.”

“I park in the garage,” said Teri.

“Might I suggest purchasing a sunlamp then.”

The car’s door swung open on its own and Veronika stepped aside to allow Teri to get in. The seat was warm and soft.

“Genuine faux gryphon hide,” said Veronika. “Finally, we threw in a navigation charm at no extra charge.” She pointed to the
clear vial of green liquid hanging from the rearview mirror. A large yellow eyeball floated within it, and when Teri looked
at the eye, it looked back.

Veronika thrust a clipboard before Teri. “If you’ll just sign here, Ms. Robinson, the car is all yours.”

“And that’s it?” asked Teri one more time, just to be sure. “All this is absolutely free?”

Veronika flashed a patronizing smile. “Yes, Ms. Robinson.”

Teri signed. Veronika sprouted a pair of solid platinum wings. They didn’t flap, but the golden woman rose into the air.

The door closed and locked, and the car started spontaneously.

The big eye bobbed, staring at her.

Veronika descended to earth. She tapped on the glass with a slender finger, and the window rolled down.

“I almost forgot. If you have any concerns or complaints, feel free to give me a call, day or night.” Veronika handed Teri
a card. It, too, was gold in color, though made of paper. “We’ve also included a complimentary year of roadside assistance,
so you’ll want this.” She gave Teri a small velvet bag that smelled of mint. “Just burn a leaf or two should the need arise.”

“Thanks.” Teri tried the door, but it didn’t open. “Not that I’m complaining, but how do I get out?”

Veronika reached into the car and flicked its eye. “Behave yourself now.”

The doors unlocked.

“I’m afraid the navigation charm can be a touch overeager. Just be firm with it.”

Veronika disappeared into the clouds.

Teri put her hands on the steering wheel. The car responded by moving her seat back so that she could barely reach the pedals.
She tried adjusting it, but it didn’t budge.

The eye stared at her.

“Come on, now. I’ve had a long day, and I just want to go home.” She tapped the vial, not too hard. “Please?”

The car pulled into the street. She wrestled with the wheel and strained to hit the brakes. The car ignored her. It traveled
a few blocks before having to stop at a red light.

“Stop!” she shouted.

The car killed its engine. The eye sank to the bottom of its vial, reminding Teri of a dejected puppy. Or at least a giant
dejected puppy eye.

“I’d really like to drive myself. If that’s okay with you.”

The eye bobbed in resemblance of a nod as the seat slid forward to a comfortable position and the engine started just as the
light turned green. She tested the gas and brake pedals. They were responsive.

She thanked the eye and started driving.

The radio came on and flicked to a country-and-western station.

“I’m not into country music.”

The charm picked another station playing the biggest hits of the seventies. Teri wasn’t crazy about that either, but the charm
was trying so hard, she decided to let it go. Though by the time she made it home, she had absorbed enough disco to last a
lifetime.

She parked in the driveway, deciding to wait until sunset to pull into the garage. Phil’s car was in good shape, too, with
the same polished sheen and navigation charm hanging from the mirror.

Phil was in the kitchen. She slipped up behind him and gave him a hug.

“Hey, baby,” he said. “How was your day?”

“Better now.” She glanced down at the counter, where he was busy pinning cucumbers and bologna to crackers with toothpicks.
“What’s that?”

“Hors d’oeuvres. Lucky wants to have a few guests over.”

“A party? Already?”

“It’s not a party,” said Phil. “Just some friends.”

Teri glanced around. “Where is Lucky?”

“He’s out picking up some decorations.”

“Decorations? For the not-party? The not-party with hors oeuvres?”

Phil hesitated. “Yes.”

“I thought he wanted to spend his first night here getting to know us better.”

“Change of plans, I guess.” He kept his back to her, working on the hors d’oeuvres. “This isn’t going to be a big deal, is
it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.

“Teri, he’s a god. They change their minds a lot, and our job is to keep him happy. So if he wants a not-party with hors d’oeuvres
and decorations then we should probably give it to him.”

“You know what? You’re right.” She opened the fridge, found it stocked with a case of beer. She grabbed a longneck and twisted
the top.

“Those beers are for the not-party,” said Phil.

“We paid for it, right?”

He nodded.

“Then I get the first one.” She took a swig. Then she stuck out her tongue. She wasn’t a beer drinker.

He offered her a cucumber sandwich. She nibbled on it. “How old is this bologna?”

“It’s still good.” He double-checked the package. “Doesn’t expire for another two days.”

She jammed the sandwich in her cheek and washed it down with more beer. “By the way, Janet is coming over tonight.”

He gave her a look.

“She invited herself,” Teri said. “She’s a deiphile. Couldn’t wait to meet our new god.”

“One more doesn’t hurt,” said Phil.

“I’ll go change and then help with the not-party preparations.”

“Thanks. You’re a peach, you know that.”

“Oh yeah. I know.”

She gave him a hug and a peck.

“Hey, now,” said Lucky. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I, kids?”

Teri and Phil parted.

“How long you two crazy mortals been married?”

“Two years,” she replied.

“We dated two years before that,” Phil added.

“And you still have the passion. That’s beautiful. It really is. Can one of you lovebirds do me a favor? I left a couple of
bags on the porch.”

Teri volunteered. Along with the bags of decorations, a tall gray figure in frayed, dusty robes stood on her porch. The shadow
of his hood hid his face. He held a small potted plant in his hands. The plant was dead.

“Hello,” he said. “Is this the right address? I’m here for the housewarming.”

She nodded.

“This is for you then.” The gaunt man held out the dead plant. She took it. A chill passed through her as she brushed his
withered hands.

“Charon, old buddy!” shouted Lucky. “You’re early. Didn’t think you’d make it. Surprised Hades was willing to take that stick
out of his ass and give you the night off.”