“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 annoyance at the stains of grease forming on his five-hundred-dollar shirt.
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 beginning to think I’d overestimated this scrap of mortal flesh. Even thought about just letting him go. Never actually tried being merciful before. Thought it might be worth a chuckle.”
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 funny? I’m sure it was for a very good reason.”
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.
A few minutes might help Phil get away, though, so Quick tightened his grip on his onyx spear and waded into the fray.
The house shook with the fury of the gods. The structure wasn’t zoned for divine brawling. When Quick’s spear pierced Gorgoz’s thigh, the dark god’s shriek burst the pipes, spewing scalding steam into the air. When Gorgoz snapped off the spear and smashed Quick with the broken handle, a load-bearing wall cracked and a section of the roof collapsed. And when Syph bit Gorgoz in a very sensitive place, the windows blew out. In the matter of a few seconds, the house was a death trap.
Phil navigated the deadly maze. He was nearly buried under a collapsing hallway, he almost fell into a bottomless pit, and he dodged a miniature tornado as it tore its way across his path.
Phil didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t know the mansion’s layout and the chaos didn’t help any. He was just trying to find a way out without getting killed.
He pushed through a cloud of smoke and collided with someone.
“Watch it, you idiot!” growled Worthington.
Each man waited for the other to make the first move. Phil put his hands up, closed them into fists, and then flinched when he thought Worthington was going to attack. But he realized that Worthington was doing the exact same series of gestures.
A grand piano came crashing through a wall and nearly hit both men. They both decided, without saying a word, that they were just a pair of mere mortals trying to survive. Worthington ran, and Phil, trusting Worthington knew the way around his own crumbling house, followed.