A Martinez - Divine Misfortune

“No,” said Phil. “We just have the one.”

“You do realize that it is deemed unlawful to follow a god without registering?”

Phil and Teri nodded.

“Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider your previous statement?” asked Melody.

“We only have one god,” said Phil.

“Can you explain the presence of an unregistered deity in your home then?”

They followed the agents’ gaze to Quick, who was talking to another pair of agents.

“Oh, that’s just Quick,” said Teri. “He’s not our god. He just sleeps on our couch.”

“He’s a friend of Lucky’s,” added Phil.

The agents exchanged an unreadable glance.

“It’s not a crime to let a god crash at our place,” said Teri, perhaps a bit too defensively. “We don’t follow him. We don’t offer him tribute.”

“According to Article Seventy-one of the Divine Affairs Treaty, offers of lodging qualify as tribute.”

“We didn’t offer it,” said Teri. “He just started doing it.”

“I see,” said Melody. “Would you like to file an official complaint then?”

Phil and Teri both had the same thought. They weren’t sure how they felt about Quick in their home, but they’d come to like him over the past few weeks. They didn’t want to get him into trouble, but they weren’t feeling very charitable toward gods in general.

“Maybe,” said Phil uneasily.

“Can we get back to this holy war thing?” asked Teri. “How does something like that still happen in this day and age? And why weren’t we told about it before we registered with Lucky?”

Watson’s cell phone rang. He walked away to answer it.

“It happens,” said Melody. “Though at this stage the holy wars are more underground, less obvious. More like holy guerrilla wars. Most gods play by the rules. But some can’t stomach having to live by rules at all. So they went underground, where they still find followers among the unscrupulous. As for your god… well… he has no legal obligation to inform you of this.”

“What kind of system doesn’t tell people they’re getting in the middle of a holy war?”

“It’s a complicated issue, miss,” replied the agent, “but Divine Affairs is not just for the protection of mortals. The gods have rights, too.”

“Including the right to lie?”

“Technically, it’s nondisclosure, miss. Would you appreciate having your dirty laundry posted to the public record?”

“My dirty laundry doesn’t get people killed.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you did agree to this, didn’t you? No one forced you into it.”

Teri fumed. “This is unbelievable. We’re almost killed, and you’re blaming us.”

“We see a lot of this, Mrs. Robinson. Perhaps you should’ve considered your decision more carefully.”

Teri shot her a glare, then looked to Phil to rise to her defense. But he didn’t disagree with the agent. And he didn’t see any benefit in arguing. This wasn’t the time to point fingers.

She stormed away, grumbling. Phil considered going after her, but it was probably better to let her cool off.

“If you would like to sever your relationship with your god,” said Melody, “we can start the paperwork. It can take a while, though, and there are penalties.”

Phil’s first reaction was to say yes to the offer. But the penalties part made him hesitate. The law didn’t just protect mortals from the capricious nature of the gods. It protected the gods from the fickle nature of mortals. There had to be stability, a reliable exchange of tribute and favor. He got all that. It wasn’t a perfect system, but it was the best they had. And even if it had its flaws, it had kept things in order. No longer did mortals have to fear seeing their city erupt in fire and brimstone just because a few of their mortals offended a powerful deity who didn’t understand subtlety. Now if your house blew up, you’d earned it. Or at least put yourself in the line of wrath, even if indirectly.

“No, it’s okay,” he said. “Maybe later. How long has this holy war been going on?”

“I’m sorry, but that’s-”

“Privileged information,” he said. “I got it.”

Watson returned. “Mr. Robinson, was there an incident in your office this Tuesday?”

“My boss had a heart attack.” The realization dawned on him slowly, but the agents gave him time.

“Wait. Oh my… it wasn’t an accident, was it?”

“We aren’t allowed to discuss pending investigations in detail.”

Phil shook his head. “Oh, come on. This isn’t right. We must have some rights. It’s bad enough our own god failed to mention we might get killed just for letting him sleep in our spare bedroom. Now you ask me about a mysterious death and don’t want to give me any information. How is that fair?”

Agent Melody shrugged. “A forensic team turned up a death rune written on his coffee mug. It was written in invisible ink. We’re lucky to have caught it.”

“Somebody killed him?”

“In a manner of speaking,” said Agent Melody. “We believe he was trying to kill you and that the attempt backfired. You were supposed to drink from the mug. He most likely planned to switch it out so that there would be no evidence, making it look like a coronary. Probably would have worked, too, if he hadn’t mixed up the cups. Lucky break for you, Mr. Robinson.”

“Yeah, lucky.”

But it hadn’t been blind luck. If Phil hadn’t spilled his coffee, if he hadn’t switched mugs to try and cover the mistake, he’d be dead right now. Lucky had neglected to mention Gorgoz, but Lucky’s influence had also saved Phil’s life. It was complicated.

“A search of Rosenquist’s home turned up a secret altar and contraband paraphernalia,” added Watson. “From the looks of things, we think he was giving tribute to Gorgoz.”

“But he was a business executive,” said Phil. “Why would he be following an illegal god?”

“Happens more than you might think,” said the mortal. “Statistically, most unsanctioned tribute is committed by the middle class.”

Phil didn’t know what to think. Like most everyone, he was inclined to imagine the temple underground populated by lowlifes, thugs, and murderers. Those people who couldn’t get ahead in this world and turned to the dark gods in desperation. But that really made no sense. Why wouldn’t people who were willing to invoke unethical and dangerous powers get ahead? He’d met plenty of middle management and been impressed with their complete lack of practical job skills.

And what about all those other employees who were promoted, never to be seen again, despite promises to “keep in touch”? Were they inducted into a secret cabal, too busy engaging in ritual sacrifice and secret ceremonies to return phone calls or even just drop by and say hi? Or even more sinisterly, were their promotions just a ruse, an excuse for a convenient transfer to some obscure position in another city so that no one would question their disappearance, another sacrifice to dark gods to facilitate the sinister boardroom dealings?

It sure as hell would explain a lot.

“What are we supposed to do now?” asked Phil.

“I can understand your concerns, Mr. Robinson,” said Agent Watson, “but you can rest assured that we’re on top of this. These sort of incidents are the exception, not the norm. And Divine Affairs is very good at dealing with them.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means we stand by our record,” replied Agent Melody.

“And what record is that?” asked Phil.

The agents turned their backs and exchanged whispers.

Divine Affairs offered vague reassurances, but nothing tangible. There was a twisted god out there, somewhere, issuing death warrants for Phil and Teri. Their own god, meanwhile, didn’t appear as trustworthy as they’d hoped. And he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Maybe he’d heard about the incident and flown back to Wisconsin rather than stick around and face the wrath of Teri.