Constant Novels

He was nearly seven feet tall, flabby, and reminded me of nothing so much as a colossal walking catfish. The other had a figure more like an alligator gar, lean, with a jaw that projected out over a foot long, sharp teeth gleaming in the light. I stepped back, trying to keep my balance on the floor slick with condensation, backing towards the fryers. "What the hell? I don't own the place! I just work here!"

"Your death shall be the glorious call to battle for our kind! We shall dip you within the very oil with which you turn our brethren into your cheap food, and share your flesh at our holy table! Rejoice, human, for you shall be reborn as muscle and sinew in our great warriors! THE DEEP SHALL RISE AGAIN!" The catfish stepped sideways as the alligator gar approached me, grabbing my shoulders, his jaws opening wide. I grabbed the handle on the deep fryer's basket as a glint of white scales flashed in the door. I lifted the basket, dripping with boiling oil, and flung it into the gar's face.

There was a sizzling sound, as the gar shrieked in pain, stumbling back, hand going to his eyes. At the same time, Li's arm went around the catfish's throat, and there was a wet choking noise. I kicked the gar in the stomach hard, using the fryer to stabilize myself as I shoved him towards Li, and she put the two of them into a head lock, dragging them out through the back door. I sat, panting, and looked around the kitchen. "Shit." I muttered softly. "There goes that job."

In the back, the large dumpster had closed. Li was standing, her arms crossed, smiling. "You seemed to be less frightened of the unknown, that time."

I reminded myself. Not she. "So... You were a guy all along." I looked at Li's face. It was still very hard not to think of those pretty features as female. He crossed his arms, flushed.

"Yes. I, ah... Well. I thought you would become disturbed if you realized I was male. I know that there can be taboos on that kind of thing."

"I mean, it doesn't bother me." I considered. "There's probably a much bigger taboo on being kissed by a snake, anyway. So, what the hell were those things?"

"I don't know." Li shrugged. "Perhaps they would be somewhere in Randall's notes, or the many books that he collected, but those are beyond my reach. They wanted to hurt you, so I put them into a choke-hold. They're not dead, though. I wanted to question them. Later, once you were safe." He looked down at the bodies. "I suspect that they may have something unfortunate in mind."

"I thought that we'd have a little more peace than this." I admitted, staring down at the two. "It's been less than a week, and already..."

"That is the nature of our world. We live on the brink of chaos. There is always something happening." He smiled. "You are not tired, are you?"

I looked down at the dumpster. "You know, you're mine, now."

"Yes."

"When's the last time you had a good meal?"

Li tilted his head.

"Come on. Let's get back to the apartment. Those two will keep for a few hours, right?"

"Oh, yes."

I smiled, and put an arm around Li's shoulder. I was going to have to do a long personal inventory later, about the thoughts that he brought up in my head, and the fact that the best kiss I'd ever had was with him. That could wait, though. The strange monsters who had tried to deep fry me might get away, too, but that was also something that could wait. "I'm probably going to be fired in the morning. I'm okay with that."

The two of us walked home together, towards the apartment. I sighed softly. Tomorrow morning I'd need to start looking for a new job, and we'd be out on the streets. For the time being, though, I didn't have the mental wherewithal to confront that fact.

I opened the door to my apartment room. Betty was wearing a shirt, and talking animatedly with a man. He turned, and I recognized the lack of nose. Harold was sitting on my bed, wearing a rather snazzy looking jacket. He stood up, grinning brightly. "Horace! I've been having an absolute bitch of a time tracking you down! I was lucky to run into Betty today!" He clasped my hand, and pulled me close, hugging me fiercely. "Can you believe it! Ten years since I've been able to find someone to talk to in the news industry, and now, I've got a book out! And all thanks to you. I always knew that you were a good man. Giving everything you had, even when it hurt you." He smiled, and I felt something in my palm. I held up a check. There were a substantial number of zeroes on it.

"What's this?" I asked. I didn't want to question it. It felt like it might vanish like a pleasant dream if I asked too many questions.

"It's your part of the royalties! Now, I'm afraid that it's not as generous as I'd like it to be. The book's popular, but it's still a bit of a specialty market. Still, it should be enough to help you get back on your feet, and with any luck, there'll be more like it!"

"I... I can't accept this, Harold, I mean-"

"Nonsense! I'm back in the game! I only have what I do because you helped me, so many times, when you really couldn't afford to. I can afford to help you now. It's the least I can do."

"But..." I stared down at it. It felt wrong. Maybe too many games, where the right and moral thing was to refuse reward and to do it even when it hurt. Maybe I enjoyed being a martyr too much. Or maybe I felt like, when so many people had been hospitalized, killed, sacrificed everything doing something meaningful, and all I’d done was sit there, useless... The truth was, perhaps, that the world just didn't work this way. Good things didn't happen to the right people. Problems weren't solved because you helped someone out at the right time. Not in reality.

Harold gave me a long look, and smiled. "Take it, Horace. So often, we tell ourselves that the world isn't fair, that good people get treated badly because life is cruel. And that's why humans have to be kind. This is me helping you, because you're a damn good person, and you deserve to be rewarded. A happy ending can't happen unless someone makes it happen."

I stared down at the check. It wasn't 'retire' money, but it would help a lot. Enough to support us for a few months while I searched for work that could keep us going. My tongue felt thick in my mouth. "I don't deserve this-"

"You really do, Horace," Betty said, smiling.

I stared down at it, feeling a smile blossom across my face. "Thank you, Harold. I thought... I don't know. I thought you'd forgotten about me. I thought everyone had. I thought-" I wiped a tear from my cheek before it could give me away.

Harold grinned. "Well, it's not entirely motivated by altruism and debt-repayment. The book's selling well. My agent thinks that there's a real market for these kinds of real-life conspiracy things. I figure that if I can keep you and Betty close, we get another book. Symbiotic relationships. They're great, aren't they?"

I nodded slowly, and then raised my head. "That reminds me- Betty, I was attacked by a group of... I don't know. Fish-men? At the restaurant tonight. They said something about the deep rising again. Do you know anything about that?"

Her eyes widened. "Fish-men?" She was practically salivating.

"They were pissed about being eaten or something like that. Sounded like something important?"

"Never heard of them." She smiled. "Sounds interesting, though. I've been getting bored sitting around."

"Oh. And Li's going to be living with us from now on."

She took this rather worse, her smile turning into a dark frown. "What, really?" She eyed Li, annoyed. "You'd better not hit on him."

"Or what?" Li asked demurely, smiling mischievously as he rested a finger on his lips.

I laughed, as the two began to bicker. There was a certain release of tension as I felt my life slipping back towards madness. It was absurd, the idea of throwing myself back into that danger. These fish-people weren't my problem, and it was dangerous. But in danger, I found strength. I found meaning given to the people around me. I found meaning for myself. I could meet new people. I could do the things that my uncle should have done. Maybe, someday, I'd even be able to tell people that he'd died a hero. I could tell everyone about Phoebe and all she'd done in just a few short days. Maybe I'd even become strong enough to save the people I cared about. I was a failure in the real world, but when things turned mad, I could finally justify my existence. I had meaning. I wondered if that was how it had felt for Randall.

I looked down at the trunk, where the bundle of rat-tails sat, unnoticed, unremarkable. Just a trophy of what had happened, with the power of a god resting inside of them. I wasn't ready to handle that kind of power, yet. I didn't know if I'd ever be.

But I knew that a human could have the power of a god. I'd seen it done once. That meant it could be done twice.

Betty slid an arm around my shoulder possessively, frowning at Li. "Just don't steal any of my food, and if I find you two messing around, I'm going to be very angry."

I looked up. Dane stood over me. She was still pale from the brush with illness, but she looked a lot better than she had the last time I'd seen her. Flanking her was a tall man who I didn't recognize. He held out a hand. "Colonel."

"Colonel...?" I shook his hand, letting the question linger in the air.

"Just Colonel. I don't make a habit of sharing around my name. Name magic. Dangerous stuff." I stared at him blankly for a moment. He looked dead serious. I sighed, and returned to mopping. "I wanted to thank you. You played a substantial part in saving your country from both a deranged cult, and a power-mad man. I don't know the specific details of the confrontation with Randall after he was possessed by that thing, but I know that you helped the Protector to put it down."

"He wasn't possessed. He was able to overcome it. He saved everyone who had been touched by the disease. He could have been a guardian for the entire world, if he had just been a bit less stubborn. If he just could've listened," was what I didn't say. Instead, I simply nodded.

"I know it can't have been easy, seeing what became of him. And it cost you personally a significant amount. Your home. Your livelihood. Your last remaining family member."

"Yeah." I leaned on the mop, looking up at him. "I don't suppose there's a reward out there for that? Some money? A job? Maybe a shiny medal?"

"There aren't many rewards for the jobs we do. We stay deep in the dark. The world's better off not knowing how fragile it can be."

"Yeah, I heard that line of thinking was what caused the Cuban Missile Crisis, too."

The colonel smirked. "Smart mouth on you, kid. Of course, there is one possibility... The rat tails." I didn't freeze up or look up sharply. I simply raised my head, frowning. "We haven't been able to find them in the debris."

"Maybe they were destroyed. That would probably be for the best, right? Nobody should have access to that kind of power."

"Maybe. Or maybe that kind of power could be used for good. People shouldn't be powerless. That kind of power could give us a great advantage the next time this happens. And believe me when I say that it's going to happen again." The man lit up a large cigar. I pointed up at the 'No smoking' sign. He smirked, and puffed on the cigar, letting the trail of smoke rise to the ceiling. "In any case, if you should happen to know the location of the rat tails, we might be able to make an agreement. See about getting the FBI off your uncle's assets. You could live awfully well on that money." I sighed.

"You couldn't just do that because it's the right thing?" He smiled indulgently. "No, of course not. Sorry, colonel, I haven't seen any sign of it."

"That thing could do a hell of a lot of damage in the wrong hands, boy. Remember that."

"Trust me, Colonel, if I knew where it was, I'd do everything I could to keep it out of the wrong hands." He eyed me, and then shook his head.

"Fair enough. By the way, here. A little something to say thank you." He took out a small can. I took it. Fancy Feast.

"She doesn't like this stuff. She prefers salmon." I handed it back.

He shook his head. "That's not good, feeding a cat nothing but fish."

"She's a goddess. I don't think it's about the nutrients. I think it's about showing I care."

The man snorted, withdrawing the can. "Well, tell her that if she ever wants a job, and can learn to follow orders, we'll be there to help out. Until then..." He looked around the restaurant lobby, twirling his cigar between two fingers. "Good luck with the food service industry."

I resisted the urge to hit him with the mop. I'd lose my job, and probably get my ass kicked. It would be worth it, but only until I had to tell Betty why she wasn't going to get fed. I took a moment, breathing deep, letting the anger float out of me as he walked away, leaving Dane and I alone. "Sorry about him. Turns out that being in charge of a secret government branch of paramilitary activities isn't actually a job that attracts kind-hearted or noble people."

"That's life. I'm used to it. So, look at you, eh? Deputy Inspector? That must come with a whole extra dollar a year raise."

"Yeah. I'd help bail you out, but they don't exactly pay out the nose for this job. The hazard pay was just enough to cover the hospital visits for Marco." She sighed. "Amazing how they can find new ways to fuck you, while you're still recovering from the last round. Pardon my french." She studied me. "What actually happened after Randall got possessed?" I shrugged. She frowned. "You don't think you can trust me?"

"It's not worth talking about. It's over now. And he's dead. He paid for his hubris."

She studied me. "Was it really hubris, what he did?"

"He thought he was equal or superior to the gods, and wound up dying because of it. It is the textbook definition of hubris." She smiled.

"He just wanted to be strong. I can empathize. When we tried to distract them... Magical weapons, tactics, and we were still no match against them. I don't know if we even made a difference, being there."

"Oh, we definitely made a difference. A positive one, too." I shrugged, rubbing my chin as I leaned on the mop. "What else are we going to do? Stop trying to help people, just because it's hard?" She looked around the restaurant, and raised an eyebrow. "Hey, it keeps me and Betty off the streets. Sometimes you have to help who you can."

"If you say so, Horace. Good luck." She clapped me on the shoulder. "And if you see anything weird, give me a call. I've been hearing some weird reports about attacks around Shark Belly franchises throughout the greater Metropolitan area. The Shark Belly Slasher is no joke."

I moved into the back, washing the surfaces, and preparing food. At the end of the night, my coworkers left early, leaving me to shut things down alone.

"Things will get better."

"Oh yeah?" The phone rang.

"Yeah." She smiled, as I picked up the hotel phone, sitting up.

"Hello, Mister Creed? This is James Watt, your uncle's estate attorney. Do you think you could make time to come down to the office in about an hour? There's some news about your uncle's estate."

"Oh! Yes, that's great! Thank you." I looked up, and gave Betty a smile. She returned it. "I'll head over now." I hung up the phone, and opened up one of the trunks. I did my best not to notice the small bronze trophy, or the bundle of rat tails. The pain of loss was still sharp and fresh. I'd known Phoebe for only a little while, but she'd been special. And I couldn't help the thought. The one that said, deep in the pit of my heart, that I could have saved her. The bundle of rat tails was a reminder. I could've been powerful enough to save everyone. It wasn't impossible. Every night, I dreamt of having that power, of being able to protect the people I cared about.

I shoved the idea out of my head. I wasn't ready for that. I wasn't my uncle. I couldn't even cast the few spells I'd learned from Phoebe anymore. Without her helping me along, they just didn't work. She'd been supporting me. I wasn't sure whether to be angry about it or not. "I'll be back soon, okay? I'll get us some Shark Belly's at the end of my shift."

"Get me a Great Whitefish!" she said, smiling.

"I'll get you something off the Small Fry list. Okay? We need to tighten our belts." She pouted. I sighed. "Oh, fine."

I stepped out of the door, and into the hallway. The small hotel was in the middle of Chinatown, and I'd chosen it because it was the cheapest place that was still in the city. My meager savings were already being eaten away. Finding a job was proving difficult, as my resume's last position was 'Clerk at law firm responsible for black plague in NYC.' The whole city was still in economic turmoil, and I'd been working two shifts at a fast food restaurant just to keep the lights on. I'd thought the job with my uncle had been bad. This was worse. But at least it was Friday. I had a whole two hours until my shift that afternoon.

I checked my wallet, and opted to walk. The law office was only a couple of miles away. The heat had dropped precipitously in the last couple of days, and this morning, there was a nip in the air. Trees lining the streets were changing with the season. The trash had been removed from the streets, finally. I'd actually made a couple of hundred dollars working as a temporary freelance worker for the sanitation department. I sighed, taking a breath of the clean, fresh air. It felt good. I always preferred fall to summer, in the city.

The law office was buzzing with activity as I entered. I walked past the reception desk, following the corridors to the office. James Watt had been a friend of my uncle's for a long time. I'd been here before. Granted, at least once before it was to serve a summons on behalf of my uncle, but James hadn't held it against me. I knocked on the door. "Just a minute." I waited by the wall, leaning against it. I wasn't dressed my best. It was hard to get up much enthusiasm to dress nicely for law offices anymore, particularly if I was walking there. "Alright, come in."

I opened the door, and took a seat. The office was small, and cramped, full of signs of life. A battered paperback copy of Saints With Black Hearts, pictures of his kids. It was in many ways the opposite of my uncle's. I liked it. The seat was comfortable, and didn't even conspire to make me feel like a naughty child called to the principal's office. "So, you said you had news?"

"Yes. First of all, your uncle's estate. He's left everything to you in his will."

"That sounds good."

"Yes, I thought you might think that. Unfortunately, with the recent crisis, and his role in it as a legal counsel for the Church of the Survivor, he's been under investigation by the FBI. His assets have been seized and frozen, and even if they're ever unfrozen, it won't be for years. I'm afraid that the financial assets, the law office, the house in Amagansett, his apartment overlooking Central Park, his various collections, have all been seized. I wouldn't get my hopes up about them. But, on the positive side, you've become the inheritor of a trust for his pet." He held out a form, studying it owlishly. "For an... albino, reticulated python, male. Name is 'Li Xue Zi', or 'Beautiful Snow Son'. This also includes the title he held as a wildlife rehabilitation expert in order to own the snake, and-"

"Wait- Male?" I asked, frowning.

"Apparently. A small trust was set up for the snake, and you are now the trustee for it. It should provide what you need to buy an appropriate terrarium, feed it, and so forth. Unfortunately, the snake itself is missing, and hasn't been found, but if animal control tracks it down, we will of course have it shipped to you as soon as possible."

"So... I can't actually use that money to pay for an apartment or somewhere to live."

"No."

"Thanks, James."

"Of course."

"I don't suppose you need a paralegal?"

"We couldn't really justify the expense at the moment. Besides..." He shrugged. "Your last employer had something of a reputation. We wouldn't want to be tarred with the same brush. I'm sure you understand."

"I helped save the world! I let my uncle die to protect everyone, and I didn't get a single damn reward for it! And you can't give me a fucking job?!" is what I didn't scream in his face. "Of course," is what I said, my shoulders hunching down.

"The secretary will give you the information on the trust. Good luck." He smiled, patting my shoulder. "You're a good kid. All of this will blow over soon enough."

Click.

"- of the Survivor was brought down by one man, Harold Schmooli, an early survivor of the plague that the Church had unleashed on the Big Apple. A homeless itinerant and former investigative journalist, his shocking footage of the clinics, the isolated patients below-ground, and the obvious breeding facilities for plague rats-"

Click.

"-e have Harold Schmooli in the office today with his brand new book, 'Saints with black hearts: The Church of the Survivor.' Now, it's been only a few days since the cult was brought down, and you're already putting out a book that everyone is fascinated by. How on earth did you manage it?"

"Well, thanks, Carol, and thanks for having me here today. The answer is, great ghostwriters."

"Hahahahaha-"

Click.

"-all Creed was found dead in the rubble after the house collapse on the Upper West Side. His firm has been implicated in the Church of the Survivor's actions, and there are lingering concerns that he was responsible for-"

Click.

"-spected that the sudden die-off of the plague is because of the downfall of the Church of the Survivor, which is now being blamed for prolonging symptoms and releasing new rats into the city. The city is humming back to life, and while there has been a substantial economic downturn, disaster relief money is already pouring in, and the Dow Jon-"

Click.

"-n Discovery, we'll be hearing an explanation of how the Aurora Borealis was responsible for the strange phenomenon of the 'glowing moon' just a few days ago, on Yukon Me-

Click.

"Are you ready, kids?"

"Aye aye, Cap'n!"

"I can't hear you!"

"AYE AYE CAP'N!"

"Ooooooooh,"

I looked up from the bed as Betty walked out of the bathroom, toweling her hair. I looked away when I saw she wasn't wearing anything. "Look, Betty, you have a human body, the least you could do is be ashamed of your body like a normal person."

"Are you kidding me? Look at how excellent I look. Come on, look!" I didn't look. "Oooh, I love this show. It always makes me hungry." She climbed onto the large hotel room bed, making herself comfortable on the crisp, white sheets. It was soft, in that special way that only hotel mattresses can be, particularly after you've been dealing with a long, difficult day. "You never had any of these shows at your house."

"I couldn't afford cable." I tossed her a pillow, and she sighed, reluctantly covering herself partially. The small hotel room was a bit close, but it was cheap, and I didn't mind living in close proximity with Betty.

"How long can you afford this place?"

"About... Another 12 hours. Then we're out on the street." I sighed softly. "You know, you could pickpocket some deserving people, right? Like mob bosses and stuff?"

"But they're a lot harder to find than policemen. They usually don't wear uniforms and stroll around the streets with badges, either." She smiled as she leaned across the bed onto my shoulder. "You okay?"

"Not especially. My uncle's dead, and he took my job and my apartment with him. I don't even have a letter of recommendation or anything." I sighed. "Who knows what the hell's going to happen with his will, or when for that matter. I didn't end up getting any of the credit or the vast amounts of money being made on this whole deal. You're right, the world probably should be more aware of this stuff. Sacrificing everything you have for other people seems like a good idea at the time, but then you're out on the street with nobody to help you." I leaned my head back against the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Then, Betty was lying next to me, purring loudly as she leaned against my side.

"Not with nobody." She smiled. "You'll always have me."

"I know that you're not completely aware of human culture, Betty, but if the only person who cares about you is a cat that you feed, that actually makes you more pathetic than if you had no one."

"Bitter?"

He turned to the side, and retched a few times, before he was noisily sick. A thin slippery wash of stomach acid splattered onto the ground. And then a large bundle of rat tails, about the size of an orange, thumped into the rubble. I heard the crunching of pavement, as Horace climbed up. He was wounded, but not as badly as he had been. The combination of whatever had made him strong and my power had helped to heal him somewhat. He limped over to the uncle, and crouched down, picking up the bundle of rat tails. He brushed it off on his shirt, and slid it into his pocket as I lay on the ground.

"You really fucked it up, uncle." His voice was soft, and very sad.

"Why did you believe in her? Why couldn't you believe in me?" Randall asked. His voice was soft, as he knelt. The divine power had flooded out of him with the bundle of rat tails. He was on the verge of death, blood leaking out of him, his life no longer sustained by the power of a god.

"You're a great man, uncle. I hope I can be more like you someday." Horace's voice was soft as he patted the small lump in his pocket. "But you're not a good man. I hope I never become just like you."

The man bent forward, laughing, falling onto his side. "My boy. Your father'll be proud. I hope that I get the chance to tell him." And without much fuss, the old man died. Horace crouched down next to him, tears running down his cheeks.

"Stupid old stubborn fucking bastard. You couldn't let go of a grudge." I managed to slowly pull myself to my feet,  crawling over to him. I leaned my head on his side as he cried, and purred loudly, trying to drive away the sorrow inside of him. There was no dignity in the crying, no solemn manly sorrow. They were choked sobs, snot dripping down his lips. He made noises that sounded like someone dying painfully as he slid his arms around me.

"There was nothing you could have done," I said softly. This only seemed to make things worse.

After a long time, he recovered himself a bit, tears beginning to try, as he wiped his face with his sleeve, looking up at the trophy. "Phoebe... Did she...?"

I shook my head softly, even knowing that it'd hurt him. "I don't know how she survived the house collapsing. Maybe she was just tough enough to make it a little longer. Long enough to save you. Maybe it was some echo of her memory, living on in her power. But..." I waved at the trophy, and the bundle of rat tails in his pocket. "They're both like corpses. The power's still there, but it's an empty shell." I held him softly. "I'm sorry."

"She was a good person."

"No, she wasn't. She was just a killer."

"She didn't have a choice in the things that happened to her. She killed because it was the only thing she knew how to do. But she didn't kill him because she wanted him to die. She killed him because she wanted me to live. She didn't even use a knife to do it." Horace shook his head. "Sometimes you can't be strong enough to keep everyone alive, and you have to choose who lives, and who dies. But that's a lot better than not being able to protect anyone." He leaned against me, looking around the ruined building. Li had disappeared. I licked his cheeks gently, trying to lick away the tears, and he reached up, softly scratching behind my ears.

"You protected me." I whispered softly, and squeezed him. "You gave me the strength to fight. You stood up to your uncle, let him beat you until we couldn't take it anymore. You nearly got yourself killed giving us the will to fight. I wish that you hadn't done that, but you saved my life because you're a stubborn idiot who put yourself in danger."

He snorted, brushing his nose. "Great. I managed to save the day by being useless and nearly being beaten to death. That's a morale-booster." But the tears lessened a bit.

The two of us sat under the stars as the emergency services arrived, and started helping people to escape the rubble. "So, what now?"

"I don't know." He muttered softly. "It's over. I guess. Is Nergal still in the ball of rat-tails?"

"I can't feel any sign of him. It's... unprecedented. Your father killed a god, and took his power. It's..." I frowned. "A little bit disturbing, honestly. But... He also saved everyone. He withdrew the power of the sickness from everyone. He saved untold millions of lives from a horrible death."

"He always was a great man." Horace looked up at the sky. The moon was just a moon. "We saved the world. Billions of people. And only two people I cared about had to die." He rubbed his cheeks. "I need to be better than that." I looked at the pain in his face, and hugged him softly.

"When I kill you, I am going to forget all about you." I grinned. He lunged.

My eyes are better than any human's. Even with adrenaline pumping, the human ability to process visual information is limited compared to mine. Despite this, Randall flickered in my vision as he leapt towards me. I crouched and sprung, diving beneath him. I twisted in mid-air, my nails coming up to rake over his chest, reducing his shirt to ruins. He landed, cursing, as the cuts closed on his skin. He adopted a boxing stance, his fists up. I smiled, standing up. "You're not as strong as you should be, Randall."

"I held back the plague. Cured all of the people who were suffering from it. I saved every one of them from this, though it meant I couldn't draw power from them. Because I know the value of a life. And because I don't need all of that power to kill you." I laughed, and danced forward on the balls of my feet before leaping at him. My nails gashed him, opening up bloody streaks across his sides. He stepped back, his arms up, catching the cuts on his arms. Slashes healed as quickly as I delivered them, but I could see him slowing.

He stepped forward, his feet moving in smooth strokes. He swung his fist in a clumsy haymaker, which I dodged. The jab from his other hand caught me in the jaw with the force of a speeding car, and my brain slammed around the inside of my skull as I stumbled back. He followed up with a series of strikes at my ribs, cracking them with vicious hammer blows. I stood, dazed, trying to force my limbs to work as he crouched, and brought his fist up in an elegant uppercut, catching me in the chin. I left the ground, and landed full on my back, my legs striking the ground a moment later, as bells rang in my head.

I tried to get back to my feet, as he stood over me. "You've never been weak. You've always been a predator. But we humans, we know about weakness. We loathe it, because we know it so well. So we train ourselves to overcome our weakness. With craft. With tool. You were born strong. I had to earn it!" His fist came down on my skull as I got to my knees, sending me spinning across the floor, fetching up against the wall as he approached. He leaned down, and pulled the knife out of his kneecap almost lazily, rolling it around his fingers contemplatively.

There was a crash of cutlery. The knife block sailed through the air, long blades tumbling out like the world's most deadly rainstorm. "You don't know weakness!" Phoebe screamed, as she appeared in mid-air, holding a long chef's knife. She landed in front of him, and stabbed him in the stomach. Randall's counterstrike sent her into the wall adjoining the bathroom, destroying pipes and drywall together, as she became insubstantial again. Before he could recover from the strike, however, she appeared again, catching a long-handled steak-knife, and shoving it into his belly next to the chef's knife. He struck again, and this time she cracked the wall to the bedroom before disappearing. And she appeared again, and again, catching the knifes from mid-air, driving them deep into his gut while his guard was open. The last blade, a long-handled cleaver, hit the ground, and he grabbed her by the throat as she lunged for it, yanking her into the air.

"You're a fierce one, house-Lar! Protective to the end! I'm almost sorry to kill you! But this IS the end!" He hefted her into the air by her throat, and brought her down on the ground, slamming her into the floor hard enough to snap floorboards. Then, he lifted her again, grinning maniacally. "I know your weakness! I'm going to destroy your shelter, and watch you die for the insult you've inflicted on meAAAAAAGH!" He screamed wildly as her thumb jabbed into his eye. Blood dripped down his cheek as Phoebe slipped from his grasp. I leapt over her, grabbing his shoulders, my feet pressing against his stomach, where the knives had slashed him brutally. I tightened my nails into the back of his neck, and bit into his throat as my legs kicked. He roared with pain, and pulled his head back, headbutting me violently. My nose crunched under the blow, as I slipped off of him, tumbling to the ground, and skittering away from his stomping feet.

I hopped to my feet, facing him, my hands coming up, fingers curved forward into claws. "Impudent human," I hissed. "You have never seen me at my full power. You have never seen me fighting to protect those I care about. This human is mine, and I won't let you hurt him."

"Please." He snorted, stepping forward, his fists flickering out with terrible force. I dodged, but it was a close thing. I could feel the fatigue overpowering me. The rush of adrenaline and fury was fading away, leaving just a bone-aching exhaustion. Horace was weak, his Hearth barely flickering, and it wasn’t helping me anymore. But I had to keep fighting. I swung an arm, and he caught it. In a single smooth movement he grabbed one of the knives from his stomach, and drove it through my wrist. I let out a wail, falling back. "You don't have anything like the power that I do, now." He stood over me, grinning broadly.

"You're a man without honor or respect." Phoebe hissed, her eyes narrowed. "Your power was stolen, and it will be taken from you!" She danced forward, slicing three times with the cleaver, retrieved from the ground. Randall stepped back from the first two blows, and caught the third blow on his wrist, stopping the heavy blade, as blood trickled down his wrist.

"Impudent little spirit-" he began, and she spat in his good eye. He roared, and lifted both hands together as she cut forward. His belly button was split open, as he brought both hands down on her like a sledgehammer, slamming her through the floor. The already damaged building let out an ominous rumble as a crack ran across the floor and up one of the walls. "Oh, you filthy little-"

The building collapsed very suddenly. All of the vital energy that Phoebe had filled it with, keeping the building alive even with the rest of the house spirits consumed, was lost with her. I wasn't sure whether the blow had been too much for her, or if she had sacrificed herself deliberately. I could feel the life in the house fade, and like all dying things, it crumbled quickly. There was a roar of godawful noise as the floors above collapsed down, slamming down on top of us. I leapt for Li and Horace, helping to cover the two of them as the weight of the building came tumbling down. Stone and falling pipes battered my body, as dust erupted around us, and the noise became unbearable. Then, darkness fell.

I'm not sure how long we were stuck there. I couldn't concentrate. My body hurt. My energy was drained. I was barely able to breathe, let alone move. I could hear Li and Horace struggling to breathe as well.

There was a crunching sound from nearby, as a massive piece of debris was lifted. Randall stood over us, grinning. "Well, I must give the house-Lar points for effort." His stomach was a ruin of blood and muscle, but he didn't seem fazed. The desperate attempts to cut his belly open, rob him of the power he’d swallowed, had come to nothing. He was looking more energetic than ever as he reached down, seizing me and Li by the neck. "But futile. God, it feels good to finally have some power." He hauled us up above his head, holding us in the air, fingers tightening.

I felt myself relax. This was how it was going to end. I'd fought so long, and so hard. Maybe this was alright. It wasn't a happy ending for me, or for Horace, or for Li, or for poor Phoebe. But maybe it was the ending that was supposed to happen. I let my eyes drift, and saw the bronze statue that Horace had bought for Phoebe. It glittered in the light from the streetlights, the golf club held in the air in a victorious pose.

Then it was real. Phoebe stood up from it, transparent, holding a shining brass golf club in one hand, a large knob visible at the end.

"And now, I'm going to kill you three." He laughed, as Phoebe stepped up behind him.

Randall and Horace stood, facing each other. Horace’s arms were wrapped tightly around himself, blood dripping down his lips. Li had her hands over her mouth, her red eyes wide in horror. Phoebe had gone rigid, hand tensed into a fist. Randall shook his head slowly. "You're tougher than I gave you credit for, nephew. I'm sorry I had to hit you. I always thought it was a terrible tool for someone to use for discipline." He looked down at his fist, opening and closing it slowly. "You don't learn anything from a fist. You just hate the person who struck you." My head was pounding. My blood was rushing in my ears. My vision was turning red. The pain was gone.

"Yeah. But you always said I never learned anything from you anyway." Horace raised his hands, balling them into fists. Blood was dripping down his shirt. "And I'm not going to let you hurt my cat." He threw a clumsy punch, and cursed as he struck his uncle on the cheek. The older man's hair was a rich black color, like coffee. He didn't seem to even notice the blow, standing with his back straight and his eyes distant. The aura of malignant divinity clung around him as he towered over his nephew.

"I admire your spirit, boy. But think of the bigger picture. It's in her nature to fight me. She can't stand the thought of competition. She's lazy, uncooperative, arrogant. She doesn't care about people. She won't be able to save the world."

"I still believe in her more than you." I watched as Randall clenched his jaw. His muscles stood out in the stained and ruined jacket. His back was no longer hunched, his spine had grown straight. He was humming with power, youthful energy, and rage. I tried to push myself to my feet, but it felt as though lead was filling my bones.

"You really know how to test me, Horace. I've got to say, you learned that from your father. I guess that you're not my apprentice or my pupil anymore. You've really grown up. You're an equal. And I'm going to treat you like one." Randall's fist barely seemed to move. There was the slightest suggestion of a blur, and Horace was doubled over, wheezing, clutching his stomach. "Your father could hold his own in a fight against me, barely. You ready to step into his shoes, boy? If you want to defy me, you're going to have to be a damn sight stronger than you are."

Randall looked around. At Phoebe, whose eyes were full of fury, and whose fingers were tensing around one of the knives in the kitchen. At Li, whose expression was torn by grief. At me. "You give away the power in your heart so freely to these parasites. You make them strong, boy. And what do they do in turn? They know they're not strong enough to fight me. They're nothing but animals, and they'll bow to fear even if something that loves them is dying. They don't know what it means to die for a cause. You and I? We're humans. That's what makes us special. You could have faced me, if you didn't spend all of your time worrying about animals." He looked down at Horace. "Let it go. It’s nothing but a distraction."

"That's what you said when my frog died." Horace stood up straight, although he wasn't looking very well. "Is this the way it's going to be? Uncle and nephew fighting? Were we always fated to end up like this?"

"We're not fated!" Randall said, his eyes narrowing, his fist tightening. "My choices are my own! We're humans! We are not-" His fist loosened, and his shoulders hunched, as he laughed. "Well... Good point, boy. I guess that I don't have much choice, do I?" He reached out, resting a hand companionably on Horace's shoulder. Horace took another swing, and Randall stepped out of the way without showing a sign of anger. His fist lashed out, and there was a horrible cracking sound. Horace held his chin, cursing. "Why do it, boy? You know that not once has that cat been willing to die for a human. That's how she's lived so long. She's nothing but an animal. They're not people. They are not worth all of this effort. They are not worth dying for!"

Horace looked up. Blood and saliva dripped down his lip. His jaw was broken. His lip was split. "I don't care." His voice was tired. "I don't care whether they'd die for me. I don't want them to. But if the only way I can protect them, even for a little while, is by dying, that's okay." I began to force myself to stand. Horace looked up, resting a hand gingerly on his jaw. "You always were an asshole, uncle."

Randall lashed out with a foot that could have caved in Horace's chest. He was intercepted halfway through the air by a screaming Phoebe. She had a fruit-knife in hand, and plunged it hilt-deep into his knee, right where the bone ended and the tendons began. Li was half a second behind, her arm going around Randall's throat while he was unbalanced. She pulled with all of her inhuman strength, forcing him back as Phoebe lifted his leg into the air. He slammed into the ground, momentarily overwhelmed, and I was by Horace's side.

My human slumped to the ground. He wasn't in good shape. I could feel the weakness in him. Something he had drunk was making him strong enough to stay alive despite the damage, the internal bleeding. But it wouldn't last for long. "Horace." I felt something wet dripping down my cheeks. Tears. They weren't something I was used to. But I couldn't stand seeing him like this. "I didn't ask you to save me."

"I don't want the world to be ruled by my uncle," he grunted softly. "This wasn't about you," he said, resting a hand on my cheek.

"That's impossible," I said, laughing softly, as he stroked my ear.

"Just don't let him get away with this bullshit. If there's any man who shouldn't have the power of a god-" He coughed, blood dripping down his lips. I leaned close, and purred. I could feel the weakness stealing over me. It wasn't easy to preserve life, and he'd taken a beating. I could feel the strength leaking out of my limbs as I poured it into him. But I was the First Cat. I had strength to spare.

There was a thump from behind me. I turned, standing. Phoebe flew straight upwards, impacting against the ceiling, and disappearing, becoming insubstantial. I could feel her withdrawing like a wounded animal. Li stayed on top of the man, even as he struggled. "Finally breaking your vow to me, serpent?!" he asked, as she tightened her arms around his throat. She was putting him in a full nelson even as he struggled to his feet, dragging her like a cape.

"You told me to protect your nephew. Even against you." Her voice was level, even as I saw the pain in her eyes.

"Ha!" He flipped her over his head, onto the ground, and slammed his fist into the center of her chest like a jackhammer, half a dozen times. Then, he lifted her, spun, and threw. Li flew on a flat trajectory past me, and I caught the serpent in mid-air. Her chest was a mass of blood, but she seemed little more than annoyed by this, hissing loudly at Randall as the man stood upright.

"Betrayer! Slayer of kin! Murderer! Bastard!" She screamed at the top of her longs, her slender frame straining to leap at him. I turned her to face me.

I have your power, now. And I am better at this than you are.

And the voice in my head screamed as Nergal shrank away, locked in the darkness in my skull. I took a deep breath, and reached out. I could feel the sickness covering the world. I could withdraw it. Make them healthy again. I could feel the health of every person Nergal had touched. I drew the plague away from them, accepting the loss of power. I could take my time. I had the power I needed to accomplish this now. I didn't have to compromise, ever again. I had all the strength I needed to succeed. I smiled, as I tore the black slime off of my face. The bright red sun in the sky dimmed, going dark, becoming the moon again.

It had been so many years since I was young, and vital. My hands were no longer thin and clawed. They were as fresh and strong as when I was 20. I took a deep breath, and didn't cough my lungs out. I stretched my arms out to either side, grinning as I felt the strength surging in me. Youth, vitality, and power. I stood up, and walked up the stairs to my nephew's apartment. I could feel the fresh strength in my limbs. The certainty. I rested my hand on the door, and knocked. After a few seconds it opened, and Li leapt at me. I checked the snake’s advance easily, feeling the strength of youth combining with a lifetime of training. "Hello to you too, Li." I held the snake's wrists in one hand, and checked its side. It was already mostly healed. "I'm glad you're alright."

"Mister Creed? But- How?"

I smiled, stepping into the apartment, tugging Li along behind me. My nephew stood in the center of the room, his fists clenched. The house-lar was watching me warily, a knife-block sitting on the counter next to her. Bastet lay on the couch, a black spiderweb of veins growing out from her leg where I had stabbed her. She was breathing hard, and watching me with a twisted expression. I could feel the loathing in her. I was a god, invading her turf. The two of us couldn't live at the same time.

I turned towards Horace. "My boy." I reached out, and he flinched. I rested a hand on his shoulder. "You know, I couldn't have done this without your help. I'd lost all belief in myself. In my ability to save anyone. I thought I was just a useless old man. But you gave me a second chance. You gave me the confidence to try. I'm proud of you. Your father would be proud, too, if he could see you."

"You're..." Horace stared. "How?"

"The trick," I explained, smiling, "is not to fear them." I turned towards Betty, smiling softly. "I spent so long being afraid. Believing that we were really powerless. But it’s not true, is it, Betty? The truth is, you were the one who was powerless. If people didn't believe in you, if they didn't think they needed you, they wouldn't, would they? You were always holding us back." I stepped over her. "The world doesn't have any place for you anymore."  She looked up at me, hatred in her eyes. I knew that I was right. It didn't matter, of course, I wasn't trying to persuade anyone. "You forgot the source of your power, didn't you? You're a protector, but you've lost touch with those you want to protect. You can't bring yourself to be connected, because you think you're superior."

"What are you going to do now, uncle?" Horace asked, softly.

"Oh, spread the plague. Carefully. Gather power without killing. Maybe take a position of leadership. I'm powerful, now. I can make a real change in the world. I can make things better. I can help everyone. And I can turn back the forces that are threatening our world. A golden age that will never end." I looked down at the goddess, in her gold and silk. "But first, because I am a human, I'm going to get revenge. I'm going to kill this goddamn cat." I would make her pay for what she had done to my brother, all of those years ago. I couldn't even remember what had happened there, in the stinking jungle. My memories were a hash. But I knew that she was responsible. I looked over at the group. "And are any of you going to stop me?"

Li crossed her arms, looking down, her face troubled. "It would be against the agreement I made with your bloodline."

The house Lar looked at Horace, and back at me. "I don't owe her any duty. Do as you please." She saw the look Horace was giving her. "I am sorry, Horace. But I will not die to save the cat."

I looked Horace in the eye. "It's for the best, boy. She's unruly. She's dangerous. She's a killer. She's unpredictable. The world deserves a better protector."

He returned my gaze. The boy knew how to stare me in the eye. I had the power of a god, and he still wouldn't flinch away from me. "I can't let you do this, Randall. I believe in her. I believe in what she's done. I trust her. More than you."

"That's a damn shame, boy."

"Sorry." I said, seeing the look on her face. "It's just... Damn. That's so like him. Him and his god damn puns." Horace, screaming, firing a gun that didn't have any ammo at me. The look on his face as I grabbed him. The feel of my fist rushing to crush my nephew's face and wrenching-

What? How did you do that?

Another punch. Another wrench.

Stop it.

Striking him again and stopping the blow. Directing it at my own chin. Struggling.

This is the way you thank me?! You useless, filthy, disgraceful-

I struggled. I could feel myself sinking. The madness tearing at me like insects under my skin

The old man with an eye-patch, lying on the hospital bed. His breathing wheezing. His age finally catching up with him. I rested a hand on his. "You're the last of the Order, Randall." He coughed, grinning. "Never would have thought you had it in you. Outlasted even me." He sighed, holding up the elixir. "Useless now. Not as though there are any monsters left to fight. It's all getting quiet out there, once again. The last time this happened, it lasted for nearly two hundred years. Two hundred years of peace and serenity for the world. It was a golden age." He coughed again. "Take good care of things, won't you, Randall?"

My bones were heavy. I was getting old. My hair turning white. The world was weighing down on me. I was going to die, in just a scant few years. But that was okay. I'd helped in my own way. And there was Horace. The world would turn out alright. I watched as the life drained out of the old man. He breathed, and the heart monitor began to let out a steady whine. It swelled until it deafened me, the green and black extending in my vision until it was all that

Randall?

Randall, are you still there?

Hah, good. I smile, feeling the silence around me. The second sun, my symbol of power, shines down on the world. I can see everything illuminated by it. People lying in the streets, sickened. They will, a good number of them, recover. The humans will adapt. Many of them will die, which is sad. I don't want humans to die. I couldn't spread, I couldn't become strong, without them. I could feel their desperate prayers being made to me, begging for salvation. And I could smell the human, the last scion of the house of Creed. He was the one who was responsible for the plan that had killed so many of my friends. Him, and that cat, and that snake. They'd turned people against me. I would make sure they paid for what they did.

The city was silent, as I walked through it. I smiled, spreading my arms wide. I could feel the sick around me. They were suffering, but it would make them stronger, and it made me stronger. I laughed softly as I walked out of the park, and onto the streets. Cars sat abandoned, people lying on the streets, stricken. The curious opening their shades, only to be afflicted as well. I was touching so many souls. I could feel their power surging into me.

Randall Creed had been a foolish man. He'd thought that he could use my power for his own goals. He'd welcomed me into his body, given me a direct link, an avatar into the world. He had thought, for a few minutes, that he was special. That as a human being, there was something about him that would give him the heroic willpower that he needed to overcome me. Of course, that was foolish. It was a story that humans told themselves to make themselves feel better about being powerless.

Bastet was waiting for me. She would be with her friend. In the heart of his power. I would kill the boy, first, take away his Hearth. Then the snake. And then, I would embrace Bastet, hollow her out. There was more than one way to skin a cat, and I was going to enjoy helping her experience them all. I had finally won. The world was mine. And regardless of what Randall had thought, I would be able to protect the world from the things that were coming. I would be strong. I wasn't scared of Bastet. I wasn't. Even though I was shaking. Even though my stomach wrenched at the thought of it. I stood outside the building.

"You always told me that any mess you had the brains to get into, you had to have the guts to get back out of!" the boy said. He was right, of course. I had been a bastard. Hopeless. Believing that it was all over. When had I stopped believing I had power? When had I lost faith in myself? I was Randall Creed. I was the last of the Order of Set. I was not a god. I was a man, and men can choose.

I shook my head. It had been a strange fit. Some last spasm of memory from what remained of Randall's gutted personality. No human could hold the power of a god. They were small, limited things. They could hardly hold on to the power of their own belief. They certainly didn't have the strength needed to hold the belief, the worship, the prayer of millions of their fellows. It would burn out their soul.

"Do you even have a soul, Uncle?" the boy asked, frowning at me. I laughed. Of course I didn't. Souls were a childish sort of thought. He was rebellious. He would never obey. He tried to be good, but he couldn't help his father's nature. He defied me. And that delighted me, because if there was one thing I didn't want, it was for my nephew to mindlessly follow my directions.

I groaned, sitting down, holding my black, slick head. It was throbbing with pain. It was strange. The memories were sharp. They cut into me as I studied them, making me burn and writhe. They were poisonous memories, things that were indigestible, that hurt into me as I tried to sort them. They were memories of Randall's nephew.

The boy stood up, his fists clenched. "You're the last of an ancient order of demon hunters who protected the world. You've got the loyalty of a supernatural demon who I've watched kill men with a squeeze of her hand. I know a psychotic house goddess, a group of cops who hunt monsters for sport on the weekends, and an actual protector deity. Together, you've got to damn well be able to do something! You can't just let everything fade into the darkness like this! You always told me that men are the masters of their world! You can't be willing to just let all of this happen!"

He was right, of course. I felt pride swell in my chest. He was right. When had I become so frightened of consequence? Of course it would be hard. It would be nearly impossible to defeat the god. To protect the world. But not impossible.

I gritted my teeth together. You can't do this, Randall. I don't know how you survived, but you're just a human. You know what has happened to humans who try to take the power of the gods. This is your ending. You can't win.

Nonsense. Humans are always doing what’s said to be impossible.

You're nothing! A speck! A momentary existence! You are

I am Randall Creed. And I'm sick of lies, and believing I’m a victim in all this.

You are not powerful enough for this, human.

Of course I am. I always was. I was just frightened of the consequences of power. I was worried I wasn't worthy. I was worried that I was just a useless old man. I was filled with guilt about what happened to my brother. I believed that he was the one who should have survived. I've acted shamefully. I was willing to let the world fall into destruction, just because I believed I wasn't the right person to save it.

You can't do this. It's not fair. I was going to rule everything.

No. I'm a god! Even when I'm alone, I am far stronger than you. That's why I want to protect you humans. You need that help so badly!

"What do we do with it?" I asked, holding the black knife. The snake huddled in its kimono, leaned over the old priest. He was lying in his bed, his eyes closed. The snake aped the form of a human, with pale white hair and pale, fine skin. Its chest heaved as it sobbed. No tears fell from its red eyes. Oliver was staring at the scene, transfixed. The old man had died of a heart attack. We'd heard reports of a demon terrorizing the people who had tried to visit the shrine. There was no question that it was the small figure in front of us. Its cheek was cut open, dripping red blood from a wound that wasn't healing like it was used to. It must have been the first time it had ever met someone who could defeat it.

"We can't just kill it." Oliver said, frowning.

"The hell we can't. It's a White Snake. You know why it's so tough? It stole the immortality that belonged to a human by right. It's alive because that man there is dead." I took out the flask. Inside, the elixir shimmered. My ribs still ached from where the snake had delivered a brutal bear hug. I took a sip of the elixir, and felt better. The stuff was something that the Order of Set used, to make its members stronger. To restore youth. To help them heal. But it seemed to get a little weaker every year, the power dripping out of the stuff. The same way it was dripping out of the world

"What's your name?" Oliver asked, kneeling down next to the figure. The snake hissed, its tongue slipping out between its lips, forked.

"Li Xue Zi. It means..."

"Yeah. I know what it means." He looked at the old monk. "You're sorry about how he died, aren't you? You didn't realize what it meant, when you ate the pills." The snake shook its head. "We're not going to kill Li, Randall. We're taking the snake back with us." He looked down at Li Xue Zi. "You're immortal, and powerful. That means you've got a responsibility. You need to make up for what you've done, right?" He smiled. "I'll offer you the chance to do it. Help protect me and my brother, the way you protected the priest, and we'll take care of you." He held out his hand. "Deal?"

The small figure reached out, and gently took his hand. They squeezed gently. I saw a brief vision of my fingers lashing out, striking Li's throat. The snake collapsing to the ground, choking and gasping, and my boot connecting with that delicate rib-cage.

*I didn't want to hurt her, you know. I don't want to hurt anyone. But that doesn't mean that I won't.*

It doesn't mean anything to me. I couldn't stop you if I wanted to, and I know that it'll recover. Maybe it'll kill me.

Then, I saw the flash. Li's arms around my rib-cage, squeezing tight, like they had before. But no harm being done. The snake struggling with everything it had. Well, so much for that hope.

There's no hope left for you to win. But that's okay. You helped me to win. You're a hero. And now, I'm going to protect everyone. And I'll even get revenge for you.

My brother lay on the ground in the temple. The gods had taken their fight elsewhere. He looked up at me, his eyes empty, as he choked on his own blood. I pressed the flask to his lips. He swallowed the elixir. It didn't do anything. He coughed, and blood ran down his lips. His chest was a mass of gore. He was missing two limbs. The elixir could only keep him alive for a little bit longer. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Oliver." Tears were running down my cheeks as the only person who'd ever really believed in me bled to death under my fingers.

"It's your fault, Randall," he whispered. "But I forgive you. Alright? Just- Take care of Iris. And my boy. He needs someone to show him his way in the world. Someone to protect him from ever having to find out the things that we did. I believe in you." He smiled. And then he died. Lying there, among the corpses of the team. A dozen good men dead. I heard footsteps, and looked up, grabbing the black knife. If the thing that had fought the Protector was back- But it was just the Protector. She was nude, and it might have almost been a pleasant sight, except for the blood that stained her, thick yellow curds that dripped down her skin. Her nails gleamed like knives in the twilight, as she looked down on me dispassionately.

"You alright?" she asked.

"My brother's dead."

"Mmm." She stared out across the corpses, giving no sign that she was bothered. "Are you able to get back to civilization alright?"

"I... Aren't you listening? He's dead! Don't you even care? He died trying to help you! He died-"

"Did he?" she asked, frowning. "I didn't ask him to do that. I didn't need his help. Look, I'm sorry." She wasn't. "But a lot of people die in this business. He was just one of many." She waved a hand. The corpses on the floor. The members of the Order of Set, the Cambodian blood-mages who had summoned whatever that thing had been. "The world's safe. That's all I can offer you. Good luck." She turned on her heel, striding away.

"They wanted to kill you, you know. You were the reason why they summoned this thing. They wanted to get rid of you. My brother died because he wanted to save your life!" I shouted after her. She didn't turn. She just kept walking, into the darkness.

She can be horrible, can't she?

I hated her. For being so powerful, and so careless. If I had that kind of power, I could protect everyone. But of course, we're not gods. We're only men. Weak. Pitiful. Powerless.

That's right! But it's okay to be weak and powerless, because you care, and you can make spirits strong. Look at how strong you've made me! Bastet couldn't even lay a finger on me. That's all thanks to you, Randall! Because you believed in me. I was pretty frightened when I realized Bastet was coming after me again! And she had a human. That made her strong, you know? I was so scared that I wouldn't be able to protect any of my friends, but then you took on my power! And I promise that I'll make you proud.

"It should have been you." Iris whispered. She was beautiful. Her hair the color of flax, her eyes blue, her arms crossed over her pregnant stomach. I agreed with her, of course. Tears were running down her cheeks, as she sat on the small bench, the two of us bathed with the warm sun. She was sobbing softly. "Did it even mean anything? Did he do anything worthwhile by dying?"

He was right, wasn't he? Everyone needs a friend. That's why I'm so glad I have you, Randall.

Shut up. Why are you here?

Because you invited me in. You wanted my power. And now you have it. Of course, you also have my mind.

How did you do it?

I was stronger than you. You're not a god, Randall.

"Well, you two boys are in quite some trouble, aren't you?" The gray-haired man stood outside of our cell. He smiled indulgently. His jacket was exquisite, and he wore a Stetson fedora. One of his eyes was covered with a black silk patch, and there was a scar visible down across the length of his cheek. He leaned heavily on a cane. "Celebrating the bar exam, and you wind up knifing the mayor's son. A dozen witnesses identifying you as the culprits. Quite an embarrassing peccadillo."

Oliver stood up, frowning. "Those dozen witnesses were the thugs that were kicking the crap out of me. My brother did it to save my life."

"Oh, and I'm sure that the judge who plays golf with the mayor every week will take that into consideration. You two picked a fight with someone you shouldn't have. Over..." He studied the warrant. "An argument over a woman, hmmm?"

"He shouldn't have done that to Iris," I whispered, my eyes hard as I finally looked up at the man. His blue eyes were glimmering, as he rested his head against his fist. "I know what the bastard did. He was smug about it. He deserved worse than he got."

"And that, too, doesn't matter. And on such a promising night, too..." He smiled. "Your futures are very uncertain, boys. But thankfully, there's a place in the world for those who don't fit in. It's on the borders, where violence, roughness, and tempestuous tempers have their place. Tell me, do you boys believe in God?"

"I can't say that I do, no." I frowned. "What are you getting at, old man?"

Do you believe in God now?

I've never met the guy.

Ahahah. Yes, I heard about that movie. I enjoyed it quite a lot. Maybe I'll watch it with your nephew while he recovers from the plague.

Half a dozen of us stood in the rifle range. The old man ran a finger across the eye-patch. "Knowledge is the greatest weapon that we have. It is in knowing our enemy that we learn their weaknesses. It is very difficult to kill something if you don't know its anatomy, and it is nearly impossible to predict them if you don't know their mind." He waved a hand at the range. "A shot that would kill a human will do nothing against a demon of wind and fire. And if you should find yourself faced with a god, there are few ways to survive the encounter. It is my sincerest hope that none of you ever find yourself needing to kill one."

"But they can be killed?" I asked, frowning.

"Oh, yes. Everything can be killed with determination, Randall. That is the nature of our organization. We kill the things that threaten. We were there when the meat-grinder of the Great War nearly brought forth Bloody-handed Sek. We drove him back into the darkness between worlds with the help of the Protector. We were there when the Germans brought forth the bones of the Norse, and nearly brought Ragnarok down on the world. With the help of the Protector, we defeated them."

"The Protector?" I asked, frowning.

"Oh, yes. The Goddess. Bastet. Pray that you never meet her. She is an ally, but she is a careless one. When she is forced to intervene in the affairs of the mortal world, our men die. She is a wild thing, lethal and without compunctions. When she fights... Men die." The trainer smiled. "You are not a god, Oliver. Don't try to fight on their level. What we can accomplish is to stop things from reaching the point where a being like the Goddess must intervene, or placing our thumb on the scales to help the devil we know."

"There has to be something more that we can do." I complained, frowning.

"Know your limits, Randall. Be satisfied with them. Now, there are certain weapons that can cut short the life of even an immortal. If you can learn how to use these..."

"We had a plan, uncle. We could have saved the world." He was holding the Webley pistol in one hand, raising it to face the man who had been his uncle. "Why did you do it?"

"It's not-" Li choked out, and then screamed, as Nergal kicked her in the ribs, hard enough to leave her chest partially concave as she writhed on the ground.

"Little snakes are meant to be seen and not heard," Nergal said, with Randall's voice. "Because I saw the chance for real power. I saw the chance to make a difference. I saw that I could be powerful. You know how it feels to be powerless. Imagine it, Horace. The power of a god, but being put to good use. It was all I ever wanted." He laughed. "I could share some of it with you. Perhaps, if you bring that cat of yours to heel, I'll even let her live. The two of you could have a good life. She could be your pet. Wouldn't that be nice? We can be gods."

Horace's face was still. Then he pulled the trigger. There was a crack of the trigger striking the barrel. That was all. The magic in the weapon had died with its victory. I felt my heart sink. Nergal ran forward, and grabbed Horace, slamming the young man against a tree with Nergal's fingers tangled in his shirt. Horace grunted, as Nergal raised a fist.

"Just out of curiosity," he asked, his voice a sing-song, "How did you know I wasn't your uncle?"

"He didn't think being a god was a good thing. Is he still alive?"

"Oh, no. I hollowed him out. There's nothing left of him. I'm sorry I had to do that, but he was much too stubborn a person. He never would have been able to share a body with me. Maybe you'll be more pliable, though." Black putrescence surrounded Nergal's fist, and I screamed, trying to stand, as he struck Horace full in the face.

Horace stood still. The fist had pulled to the left, taking a chunk out of the tree. "Sorry," Nergal said jovially. "New body. Still getting used to the kinks." He pulled his arm back, and struck again. His arm pulled to the right at the last second, and even as Horace shook, Nergal cursed. "Damn it! Stay still!" He struck again, and his fist stopped, an inch from Horace's face. "God damn stubborn old fool-" Nergal screamed, and then his fist collided with his own face, cracking into his jagged white mouth with a wet, meaty sound.

"Uncle!" Horace stepped away from the tree, wincing. Randall was on the ground, gasping, as he struggled back to his feet. The black bulbous head was twisting, and Randall's stern features were barely visible underneath it, like a face pressed into the side of a balloon.

"Nephew- You've got to get them out of here- I can't-" There was a hideous scream, as Randall stumbled to his feet, lunging at Horace. The young man sidestepped him, as Randall fell to the ground. "Please- Get safe- I'm going- to come for you- You need-"

"Uncle! Please! You can do this!" Randall sank to his knees, grabbing his uncle's shoulders, as I grabbed Li with my good arm, carrying the choking snake towards Horace. "You stubborn old son of a bitch, you got yourself into this mess! You always told me that any mess you had the brains to get into, you had to have the guts to get back out of!" The young man shook his uncle's shoulders, as the man wretched and writhed, black filth dripping from between his lips.

"It's too late!" I shouted, grabbing Horace, as Randall rose to his feet. Nergal's face took on a bright, wide smile, his arms raising, opened wide, as though to embrace us. Randall's features disappeared below the writhing surface. Horace turned towards Li and I, his arms wrapping around us. He whispered something, and there was a sudden flash.

We were in the apartment. I felt my arm repairing itself as I sank onto my knees. The House Lar stood in the center of the apartment, her hands on her hips. "What the hell happened?" she asked, staring at the three of us. The curtains were drawn, but bright red light was visible around the edges, sickly and bloody, twisting and writhing as though it was trying to sneak into the room.

"Randall tried to seize the power of the god," Li managed, her voice rough, as she massaged her throat. "It overpowered him. Consumed him. The god is getting stronger by the moment."

"And it also wants to kill us," I stated. "Luckily for us. It will come to attack us. And we need to be ready for it. If we can't beat it, now, then it's going to consume everyone." I stood up, and then fell, cursing, my vision flashing. The black pain in my thigh was spreading. Whatever that knife was, it had hurt me, badly. I crawled over onto the couch, curling up on it, my arms crossing under my head, as I purred loudly, trying to hold the pain at bay.

"This is our last chance." Horace said softly. "We've got to stop him, before this gets any worse."

Phoebe was still giving Horace an appraising look. "You managed the spell. And with two others alongside you."

He looked slightly confused, then realized what she was saying. "Yeah, I... Huh. I did."

"That should not technically have been possible. I was only pulling you through. If Betty and the snake came with you, it means that you were carrying them along with your own power." She crossed her arms, studying him suspiciously. "I wouldn't have expected that of you. It is... surprising."

"But what does that mean?" Horace asked, frowning. "I mean, can I use it to stop him, or to save my uncle-"

"Betty! Why won't you let me help you?!" Nergal called, chasing me, his cartoonish white eyes flickering.

"I don't need your help, Nergal. This world, and all of its people, are mine. I protect them alone, and I can't imagine that I'd ever need your particular brand of aid." I looked around. We were getting further away from the focus, and its power. The plague-thing was growing thinner, more transparent. He was too far from his source. I stopped, my claws shining in the air as I lowered my stance. My tail stuck out straight, balancing me in my crouched position, my tendons tightening like steel cables. The plague god looked down at me, a pitying expression on its face.

"Betty... You're always so lonely. Fighting all on your own. Not having anyone to support you. I'm not like that. I know that I can't do it alone. I'm surrounded by so many people who could be my friends. So many people who could make me strong. Why can't you accept help? If we worked together, we could protect so many people, you know. Some of them would die from my touch, but you could help to keep as many from dying as possible. We could work together, and protect this world. Why won't you give me a chance to be your friend, Betty?"

The creature lunged, and my claws slid out. A gash opened in it, and black putrescence spilled out across the ground. I stepped back, avoiding the contagious filth. I smiled. "I don't need your friendship. I don't need billions of worshipers. I have a single human, and it is more than enough." I laughed, a high, cruel sound, urging the creature to make another wild attack. He obliged, and I put out one of his eyes with a razor-nailed thumb. He howled, and I spun around his blind side, leaping onto his back. My clawed fingers dug into the creature's shoulder, securing my hold as I kicked and clawed, ripping open the creature's back. I jumped free before any of the black blood could land on me, smiling. "Even as we speak, a handful of my friends are killing your priestess. They will soon destroy your focus. You're nothing to me, Nergal." The creature stared at me, its eyes wide, uncomprehending. "You've lost."

"I don't know about that, Bastet. I think I'm about to make a great new friend." And with that, he vanished, leaving me standing in the path. Something had to have happened to the focus, to remove his manifestation like that. I looked up at the moon. It was growing darker.

Then, there was a flash of light, and my vision went white. I screamed, covering my eyes, as tears streamed down my cheeks, my head pounding. I managed, after a moment, to open my eyes. Divine power repaired my damaged retinas, as I stared. The city was being lit brightly by the sun, hanging in the sky. Prominences leapt and danced around it. It was blood red, and gave a sickly radiance to everything. I could feel the sickening touch of the plague god. And I cursed Randall Creed, because somehow, I knew that this had to be his fault. None of the others could have screwed things up as thoroughly as he had. So I sprinted for the ritual site.

I passed dozens of men in uniforms, lying on the ground, struggling to breathe. Pustules of plague grew from their throats and armpits, where they were visible. Other, more exotic diseases were also in evidence. The touch of the diseased sun was filling them with sickness. I jumped over them, hoping I wasn't too late. I thought momentarily of Horace, and hoped that he was somewhere safe. I couldn't feel the medallion. The magic of the sun was interfering with it, leaving only a sense of dis-ease.

I broke through the tree line, and stared at the tableau in front of me. Dane and her Neighborhood Watch, on the ground, writhing in pain and filled with contagion. The Deacon's body, rat-like, transformed, and thoroughly dead, lying across the floor. Li Xue Zi standing, her arms up, hands balled into fists, facing the man responsible for it all.

Randall was standing stock-still, his back straight. His fists were clenching and unclenching, his body twisting from side to side. His head was gone. In its place was a swollen black balloon, with a cartoonish set of white eyes and a jagged half-circle on it. It was smiling. Nergal turned towards me, and laughed. "See, Bastet? I've got so many friends in the world. I can feel them now. Even this one! He welcomed me into his heart. He wanted power, to protect the world. He wanted it so badly he was willing to risk everything to do it! And now, I know everything that he did!" The old man flicked out his hand, and a black knife appeared between his fingers. "His body's old, but it's strong. I've got shape, now. I've got power. I am a God, Bastet, greater than you could ever be. And I'm going to do what he wanted. I'm going to protect the world. And I'm going to tear your heart out!"

He moved faster than I could. In a moment, he was in front of me, the knife coming down in one hand. I had an advantage, because where he had just lunged forward ten feet, I only had to lift my arms. He still almost beat me to it. My wrists crossed above my head, catching his hand. The impact was like an avalanche, and I nearly buckled under the pressure. His other hand came in under my guard, and hammered into my stomach. I felt the explosion of nausea as I rolled back, hopping back to my feet unsteadily. I could barely stand. The blow had been terrifyingly strong, and suddenly, I was feeling very alone.

Li Xue Zi appeared out of nowhere from behind him. Her arms slid around the old man's throat and his chest, tensed. "If you do not release my master, foul god, I will break every bone in his body."

Nergal laughed. "Oh, come on, snake-y." His voice changed, from the sing-song, childish tenor of Nergal, to Randall's own calm, dispassionate voice. "You know you would never hurt me. Think of all the good times we've had together. You couldn't hurt me, could you?"

"You are not my master. You are simply inhabiting his body. I am under no obligation to you." Li's arms tensed, muscles standing out in the kimono, as she squeezed with all of her might. Nergal laughed, and bent his head forwards, before hammering it back. Li let out a shriek of pain as she stumbled back, her nose twisted, streaming blood.

"You silly little spirits. What are you fighting for? Dominance? Power? Glory? I'm fighting to save the world. I'm the hero of this story. I'm not going to be defeated by you." He grinned. "Come on, I'll prove it. Go ahead. Attack me." He turned to the side, facing away from us. I narrowed my eyes. He was challenging me. Provoking me. Deliberately. I decided to surprise him, by falling for the ruse hook, line, and sinker. I leapt forward, my nails glittering as they slashed through the air.

With one arm, he parried every strike from me, not even turning to face me. "You're a selfish, hateful creature, Bastet." He caught my wrist, arresting the motion of a slash for his spine. Then, with lightning speed, he spun around, pulling my arm out to full extension. His other fist struck the back of my elbow, and with a sickening crack, my arm flexed the wrong way. I let out a scream of pain. It hurt, badly. I hated the pain. I hated him. I hated the weakness in my body. I hated Randall for what he had done. I hated the humans for not being strong enough to stop this. I hated Horace for not being there to protect me. I hated him for being too weak to save me from this. I hated him for being off, doing something more important.

And more than anything else, with a passion that made all my other emotions seem pale and shadowed by comparison, I hated myself for being so weak. I fell to my knees as Randall, or Nergal, stood over me. "Don't worry. I'm going to embrace your human, too. I'll take care of him. After all, Randall'd hate it if something happened to his nephew."

"You will not touch- Glrk!" Li had rushed at the man. With contemptuous ease, Nergal had flicked out a hand. I'd seen many fighters try to use knife-hand strikes. It usually did little to an opponent. In a best case scenario, it might stun an enemy. In Li's case, it had collapsed her throat, leaving her choking on the ground. I could see the cartilage repairing itself already, but she wasn't going to be standing up for a while. Nergal smiled, as he held out the black knife.

I jumped to my feet, lunging at him, trying to slash open his belly with a kick. He dodged easily, his elbow colliding with my knee. He stabbed the knife deep into my leg, and I felt a sudden weakness. He lifted my leg, overbalancing me, sending me to the ground. I could feel the blood dripping onto the silk dress. It was my own. That wasn't the way this was supposed to happen.

The three of us stood on the city-streets. The homeless man's face was badly ruined by disease, but his body language was contrite. "I trust Harold. He's always been a good person, and I think that he's saner than the others who got hit with the plague." I frowned, my eyes narrowed as I studied the man. He didn't wear one of the rat-face masks that the cult seemed to favor, but I wasn't pleased with this at all.

"Look, I'm sorry about getting Horace in trouble. I didn't realize the kind of insane things that the church was up to." The man looked crestfallen, which was an impressively elaborate expression considering the damage that the disease had done to his extremities. "I want to try to help how I can. I've got keys to the clinics, I can help him get in and out, and we can get the footage that he says you need. I know it might be hard to trust me, but..." Horace nudged Harold's side. "Oh! Horace said that this would help." He reached into a pocket of his dirty overcoat, and withdrew a plastic-wrapped package. He handed it to me. I slowly opened the plastic, and the rich smell of tuna filled the air. I delicately removed the top slice of bread from the sandwich, and tried a bit of the fish. It tasted excellent. That seemed to settle it, he must be trustworthy.

"Very well. You seem to have a good heart. I will trust you, for now. But if I detect even a hint of ill intent towards Horace, I will gobble you up, bones and all."

"She's just joking, Harold... I think." Horace patted the man's shoulder. "But Betty-" He looked around the small alley-way. "How in the hell did you even know that I was here?" he asked, frowning suspiciously. My eyes flickered down to the medallion around his neck, and I couldn't stop the guilt from flashing across my face. He looked down slowly, and frowned. "Oh, I really should've seen that coming. You've been spying on me? This whole time, you've been keeping an eye on everything that I do while wearing this thing?" He shook his head. "I'd be a lot more pissed about this if you hadn't saved my life multiple times, Betty."

"I know." My ears were flattened against my head as I looked down, chastened. I was doing it for his own good, but...

"Look, just- We'll discuss your trust issues later on. Alright?" He patted the medallion. "Have you been watching me the entire time?"

"No. I need to actually focus on it, and it only alerts me if you're undergoing powerful emotional reactions of fear. Like when the Lar girl tried to strangle you."

"So you saw..."

"If you sleep with her before me, I'm going to hate you forever," I stated primly. "I don't accept anyone's castoffs."

"Betty, I will gladly indulge in romantic comedy and all of the rest of that kind of interpersonal fun when the world isn't on the verge of being destroyed. You need to go and save everyone. This plan doesn't stand a chance in hell without you, okay?" He rested his hands on my shoulders, and squeezed me. I was not usually one for letting someone else invade my personal space. I preferred to be the one to initiate such contact. But the way he was holding me, it felt like he thought the entire world was about to fall apart. He had the sort of desperate grip that humans got when they thought they were going to lose something they loved. That made me feel a little bit better about his little agreement with the house Lar.

"Alright. I have one more stop that I need to make." I saw his confusion. "Oh, just a little something that I haven't worn in a long time." I smiled brightly. "If I'm going to be the hero of the day, I need to dress appropriately for it, after all." I laughed softy. "It's been such a long time since I've been anything but a stray cat. I'm going to be visiting the museum, first." I grinned brightly, and then wrapped my arms around him, squeezing him back. I licked his cheek gently, and he blushed. "Don't be afraid. I'm going to make everything alright." His arms dropped, and I scampered away into the darkness.

I could feel the arcane tension. The city had been depopulated by this point, healthy humans no longer in control. The unpleasant resonance of the cult was thrumming through the streets like a mosquito's wings, whining and sawing at my nerves. I walked through the streets, wearing one of Horace's shirts, making my way down to the museum. Horace had mentioned visiting it recently, and it had reminded me of what I kept there. It had been decades since I'd last worn it. Just the thought of wearing it again brought a smile to my lips. The upstart disease god had beaten me the last time. I'd underestimated him, and I'd forgotten how weak I'd become over the decades of neglect. I was going to rip his whining head off for that.

I stepped into the museum's lobby, deftly sidestepping the security guards as I made my way into the building. I could feel the humming energy within the building. All of the power that had been gathered here, spending the last sixty years dormant and weakened, finally awakening. The world was going to become very interesting if it didn't die. Thinking about that, I padded carefully through the endless rows of sleeping artifacts, until I found the mannequin which held my vestments.

They were not, so far as I knew, magical. They had simply acquired a certain divinity from their connection with me, drinking my power in. It was how they could survive the things I put them through. In the time while I was without an owner, I'd left them here, in a museum, where they'd been viewed as wonders. I reached out, gently pulling the bangle off of the mannequin's wrist. An alarm began to ring, but I didn't particularly care. My dominance over this world had been challenged by the upstart, Nergal. I was going to show him what a terrible idea it was to do so. I licked my lips, glee filling me. I would not say that I am a cruel being, but everyone has their vices, and mine was victory. I was going to tear the plague spirit to ribbons, scatter his followers, and protect my world. And I would exult in the praise of those who knew what I did.

I took one last moment to lift Horace's shirt, burying my nose in the fabric. It smelled warm, the distinct odor of the human heavy on it. It was a comforting smell, reminding me of him. His kindness there to buoy my spirits when I began to fall back into old thoughts. But I didn't need to be merciful today. I removed the shirt, dropping it to the ground, and began sliding my vestments on. They'd been cleaned, it seemed, no sign of the blood that had once stained them, marring the perfect gold, and turning the blue silk black. The rubies glittered, but not as beautifully as when they'd been bathed in the blood of some enemy or another. I would change all of that, soon. I could feel the old instincts flooding back into me.

Perhaps the oily things had been right. Spending so long as a house cat, it was easy to forget what I was. Being fed, not having to hunt for myself, maybe it made me rusty. But it had learned the hard way that even with rust on my joints, the First Cat wasn't to be dismissed. And fighting with a human behind me made me into a terror that would give even Nergal pause. The world had forgotten the debt it owed me. It would remember once I carried the head of the plague god through its streets. If the creature actually had a head.

I sprinted down the hall and leapt through a window without slowing, glass shattering and turning to dust against my skin. I landed easily on all fours, wearing my divine vestments, dressed to kill. I stalked across the road, ignoring the traffic as people honked. I entered the park, and exulted in my natural habitat. Grass, trees, the scent of water.

Humans feared the forest. They always had. Their cities were designed to protect them, to take away the places that camouflaged their predators. And yet, they couldn't shake their attraction to the very thing that frightened them. They made a home for predators in the heart of their sanctuary. I had always been fascinated by that. When I had to kill people, I had always seen that last little flash of admiration. They way their eyes widened, and the desire they felt for me. They tried to subvert me, to make me theirs. It didn't work, of course, but it made life so satisfying to see the way they loved me, even when they died.

"They were my friends." Nergal whined, a frown painted on his childishly simple features. "Why do you have to do this, Bastet? Why can't you just let me be?"

She laughed softly. "I'm going to torment you, Nergal. I'm going to pick the limbs off of your friends, one by one. I'll savage them, cripple them, leave them helpless, until they can't even endure your touch anymore." Her eyes glittered, as she stepped backwards into the gloom. The only thing visible of her were those flashing eyes, and those bright teeth. "I'm going to make sure all of your friends die, Nergal. Then I'll shove you back into the dark places, where you can't touch anyone ever again. Everyone will forget about you."

"You're a monster." Nergal whispered, bright white eyes widening.

"Yes. And I'm better at it than you, because I enjoy hurting things."

"I'll stop you."

"Try it." Betty lunged for the Deacon, as she spoke, and Nergal imposed himself between the two. Betty stepped back, grinning. "Do you want to stop me, Nergal? Do you want to save your friends? Better finish the job, this time. You'll have to kill me!" The dark god lunged forward at the dark goddess, and she danced back further.

"No! You fool, she's just trying to provoke you-!" the Deacon shouted, as Nergal lunged after Betty. Her warning fell on deaf ears. The two divinities disappeared into the darkness, leaving the Deacon standing, her teeth gritted. "You fools. I only wanted to save the world."

Randall was staring down at the small tangle of rat-tails. "You know you couldn't have done it, Mary. You didn't have the spirit to change the nature of Nergal. The god would have entered the world, eager to embrace everyone he could. He wouldn't have been able to show restraint. You're too compassionate, really, for your own good. You wouldn't be able to hold back from contact with others."

Mary screamed with rage, growing, twisting, nails lengthening. She became the rat-thing from my nightmares. Randall was lifting the black knife I'd seen in his hand before, trying to defend himself, but the hideous thing was on top of him in a moment, the knife skittering to a half at my feet. She reached out to claw at him as I grabbed the knife, lifting it into the air, lunging. I was going to be too late to save him.

Then, Li dropped from above. One of her legs wound around one of the legs of the rat creature, the other around the creature's waist. One of her arms went around the Deacon's chest, and the other around her neck. The two stood still for a moment, locked together like lovers, an intimate embrace between two very frightening things. Every tendon on the Deacon's inhuman body stood out, fighting with desperate strength against the hold. Then, Li squeezed. I decided I had experienced about as many horrific noises as I could accept in a single lifetime. I closed my eyes and jammed my fingers in my ears, which was good, because the Deacon didn't die easily.

After a few seconds, I opened my eyes. Randall was stumbling back to his feet, Li helping him. The serpent girl looked over her shoulder at me, and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry. I heard what she said, I thought it would be polite to give you the chance to kill her, but I had to protect Randall. I do hope that I haven't cheated you out of some very important catharsis and a chance to overcome the inner demons that drive you."

I looked down at the body. Eyes bulged, turned red. It looked like a rat that had been caught in the world's largest, most inhumane rat-trap. "I think I'm just satisfied knowing she didn't die well." I suggested, checking over Randall. "I'm feeling a bit useless, though. It would've been nice if our little diversionary tactic had accomplished much of anything..."

"Oh, I don't know about that." Randall said, grinning, as he managed to get back to his feet, approaching me. I handed him the knife. "The Deacon had been planning on killing me. With Betty absent, she would've likely done it sooner had you not distracted her men. Li wouldn't have stood a chance against Nergal." He sighed softly, smiling. "And it appears that you were able to find the right people to talk to." The Colonel marched up the hill from where his helicopter had landed, his face impassive as he approached us.

The ball of rat-tails sat on the ground. I looked up. The moon was almost at its darkest point. It had turned a ferocious, bloody red, sickly and shadowed. I licked my lips slowly. "So... Do we shoot it, or..."

"That tangle of rat tails is the stuff of gods." Randall explained. "It is the actual body of that thing we saw before. The black phantasm is more of, shall we say, a manifestation of its thoughts. That is why it is so difficult to kill. Much like Horace's house-Lar, it is not the whole of the thing. This is relatively fragile." He held out the black knife, and sawed through the tails. They cut reluctantly, but eventually, he hefted it. I stared down at the small ball of rat-tails. "Our time is limited. When totality arrives, the god will manifest fully. I need to destroy this." He stared down at it.

"What are you waiting for?"

"I was just... thinking. Of all of the people who I met over the years who attempted to summon gods, because they thought they could control them. Because they thought they could take that divine power for their own. Every one of them who tried found themselves corrupted by it, devoured in seconds, becoming nothing more than a new avatar for the god. All of their good intentions could not overcome the nature of the god. They were fools, every one of them. That is why the Order of Set was so focused on divinity, and the reminder that humans are not divine. We are not gods. We are less. We cannot use their power. We can only succumb to it, or do our best to hold it back." He stared down at the knife.

I shook my head. "Sounds like a wise group to me. What would make someone think that they could get away with something like that?"

"Oh, many things. The reason they risked it was because they wanted power, or respect, or the ability to protect the people they cared about. But the real heart of it is that each one of them thought they were special. More special than anyone else. That they, and they alone, could do what nobody else could." He twirled the knife slowly between his fingers. "But you know, they were wrong."

"Yeah."

"They weren't me."

"Jesus Christ, Dane, how drunk have you been getting-" the commissioner started.

"Nergal?" The Colonel asked.

"I... Yeah. I think so." The colonel nodded.

"I would recommend that you not interfere. We'll observe the situation, and if necessary, we will act." The colonel sat back, his arms crossing.

I stared. "Does that mean you're going to do something, or..." I tried to unclench my jaw, but still spoke through gritted teeth. "What do you mean, if necessary?"

"I mean that the choice to act or not will remain within my sole discretion." His face was impassive. "There are greater priorities to this situation." I stared, dumbfounded.

"What on earth could be more important than a plague god waking up in the middle of Central Park?" I asked, incredulously.

"I go to very great lengths to keep you from finding out the answers to exactly those questions, officer. Now, is there anything else?" he asked, completely unfazed as I stared at him.

"No." I stood up, and prepared to storm out, feeling the bile building in the pit of my stomach. Then I stopped. "There's one more thing. There's this cat."

The colonel stood up suddenly, his eyes widening.  "Cat?"

---

The thumping wasn't in my head. I stared, my mouth opening. "The bastard actually came through," I whispered. Out over the reservoir, half a dozen lights were appearing, running lights on a set of helicopters. The churning beating of their rotors filled the air. From down below, bright spotlights filled the air, painting the force of rat-faced men with light. The helicopters began to circle overhead.

"Attention! This is the United States National Guard! If you do not drop your weapons immediately, we will cut you down where you stand! This warning is in deference to the fact that you have prisoners. If a single one of them is harmed, you are going to enter a world of unending pain and misery. Trust me when I say that your gods will not protect you." The colonel's voice boomed out across the park. I stared up at the sky.

"He really wasn't fucking with me." I muttered softly. It had been in my head, the entire time. That it was all some bizarre joke at my expense. That we were going into this fight with no backup. I hadn't wanted to raise the hopes of the others without a sign of it being real. Around us, men in rat-nosed masks stood, uncertainty filling their features.

"Fight," The Deacon said, her face drawn into a tight rictus of rage. One of the men raised their weapon, and fired. There was an awful sound, and I covered my ears tightly as John pulled the iron shield from one of the men who had grabbed us. It probably saved our lives from the shrapnel as it dragged the metal into its frame, leaving those of us within the circle of light unharmed. As the shield dropped, we stared. It wasn't a pretty sight. It was mostly a waste of life. The Deacon lowered her head. "Nergal."

"Yes?" Nergal asked. The creature sounded terribly sad, looking out across the group, with a frown on its face.

"Show these men the errors of their way."

I sighed, and lowered my gun. The men spread out, and one of them roughly seized the sidearm. I wondered privately where the hell Betty had been. Or Li, for that matter. We were marched up the path, and Hector and Marco were soon joining us. Marco was walking unsteadily, his clothes slick with blood. One of the cultists was bandaging him. "What the fuck are you doing?" he asked, slurring.

"Unnecessary death is against our religion," The rat-faced medic responded coolly. "We would not want you to die before you have a chance to be embraced and enlightened by our god."

Hector was limping a bit, but looked very good for a man who'd plunged to almost certain death after being struck with a hail of bullets. "How the hell are you alive, Hector?" I asked softly, under my breath. He shrugged.

"I rolled off when I got lit up and saw people aiming for me. My ankle's killing me, though, and I don't know where the rifle is."

The four of us were marched up the hill, to stand within the lights of the circle. Four spotlights, pointing down at a small bundle of rat-tails. Scabby, pink, tangled into a ball about the size of an orange. And it cast four shadows. This wasn't a very rational day. Randall stood to one side of the rat tails, with his flask out. He had a morose expression, and a black-bladed knife hung from his belt. The Deacon stood to the other side, smiling.  "Ah, Randall. Such a sad play. You wanted to be the hero one last time, did you? Stop us?" She shook her head. "A group of violent thugs with a handful of scavenged artifacts. I hope that you were more impressive during your glory days." She turned, her eyes meeting mine. "I wonder. Don't I know you?" she asked, smiling musingly. "Oh, of course. You tried to evict me once. I cut you open. I'm truly sorry about that day." She reached out, resting a hand on my shoulder. A smile spread across the thin, pale woman’s arch face. I remembered razor-sharp claws and horrible pain, and watching my insides spill out. "I've since found religion."

"Ma'am. We think this was all of them."

She shook her head. "Keep an eye out. That little snake is no doubt still waiting for the right moment. Just fill it with bullets, even an immortal can't ignore enough lead. Randall, really, you're lucky this didn't escalate any further. Any more of us lost, and Nergal would be in serious danger of being maladjusted when he arrives." With her words, a dark form rose out of the ball of rat tails. It looked humanoid, with a large, comically simple face, a jagged half-circle smile and a pair of large white eyes. It was black, and almost gaseous save for the face. That looked more like a drop of ink floating in mid-air.

"I'm going to get to help everyone soon?" the spirit asked, its voice soft, smiling. I looked down. Randall had a glint of something black and sharp in his hand. The knife was no longer on his belt. "I get to embrace the world?" The spirit giggled softly. "I can't wait. You'll help me?"

"You know you can't control that god," Randall said. "Billions are going to die. You're not strong enough. Even with all of these men... You're going to be subsumed. You're going to lose yourself in the power." His eyes were hard as stone. "I've seen a thousand people like you, Mary. Every one of them died, consumed. We're not gods. We can't hold that kind of power."

"I don't wish to hold the power, Randall. I'm just going to give it some gentle guidance. And Nergal is so eager for it, aren't you?" The creature let out a soft, high-pitched giggle. The moon was growing darker. "Only a few minutes left until totality. Any last words?" I looked down at the knife in Randall's hand. My head pounded. Thumping, as though my air was being cut off. It was growing louder by the second as I tensed. I'd die, for certain, if I went for the knife. The question was how much good I'd do by cutting off the woman's head, first. Maybe enough.

God, the thumping was getting unbearable.

---

"A dirty bomb." The commissioner sat across from me, his face drawn. "You're telling me that death-worshipping cultists have snuck fissile material into the middle of New York City, and plan to detonate it."

"Yes, sir." The fan spun slowly above the desk, as the old man sighed softly, his head resting on his hand. The National Guard Colonel sat in a desk off to the side, watching impassively. Both of them seemed, frankly, a lot more dismissive than I thought was entirely fair. I had come into the office on the morning of the attack, only to find the Commissioner on the verge of giving up all hope. He was exhausted. Weeks of dealing with a major plague could do that to you.

"That you found out about because of a connection with one of their financiers. Something that none of our counter-terrorism units have heard a peep about. In the middle of Manhattan. That hasn't even pinged a single Geiger counter in the city. And which they are going to detonate while the city is almost completely depopulated, and already suffering from the plague." I opened and closed my mouth a few times. The commissioner leaned forward, his fingers tented. "Dane, what in the name of God has lead you to think that this is the time for jokes, or pranks? What the hell are you even trying to achieve? I had my ass grilled up and down by the Mayor after your little escapade in the east side, with that mummified corpse. What in the hell-"

"Mummified?" asked the Colonel, frowning.

The commissioner rested his hand on his head. "Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. Yes, Colonel. The city has had some... unusual activity, lately. Dane, here, and a handful of others, are part of what we call the... Neighborhood Watch. Dealing with-"

"You're the source of that former Ateroleum thrall, then? We heard a few reports about one."

The commissioner and I stared. "How do you know...?" I started, and the colonel gave me a cool look. His hair was shaved, leaving a bare skull visible. His eyes were muddy brown, and his emotions were equally clear.