Oisin O'Malley is the victim of a two-timing liar and a Divine Work Force F***up: declared dead before his time. He finds aid in the Moon God Tsukiyomi - whom he's fantasized about since childhood. To uncover the reason for his attempted murder, and...
Paddy took everything mostly in stride. Whether that had to do with his having Second Sight, or his Irish practicality, or both – is beyond me. Second Sight is supposedly genetic, and there are several Irish families who lay claim to having it since the days of the Danaan.
It grants you the ability to see the Fae and their towns, magics and such like. It also lets you see most supernatural creatures, see through magical illusions and things that are hidden from mortal eyes. As Paddy explains it, it's more a pain in the ass than something useful like, say, dowsing.
That next morning, he saw me standing next to my body, and Tsukuyomi in his silk robes. He lifted his cap and threw it to the ground. "For God's sake, boy, why haven't you got back in yer body? I'll have no ghost wanderin' around my home!"
"Paddy, listen, I'm..."
"Non corp'real? Discom-bodicum-lated? That no-good I-talian partner o' yours got rid of damned near everythin', and when I gots there he hands me a box of alla yer pitchers, one paper bag wi' yer good suit an' then shoved me out on the street. I'd a popped 'im good but me 'ands were full."
"Uncle Paddy, I'm..."
"S'alright. One o' yer neighborhoodlums, nice kid named Paolo, offered ta help me, and I gave 'im ten dollars ta slash Gio's tires an' scratch 'Property of Oisin' on the trunk."
"Paddy, Gio's family is gonna get..."
"No, they're not, kiddo. They were very nice at the 'ospital. His sister Isabella, she cried for you. She kept givin' Giovanni the evil eye." He turned and gave Tsukuyomi the once-over. "Who's the Chinaman?"
Tsuku, in response, bowed (although his eyes, at being called a Chinaman, flashed red.) "Respected elder, I am Tsukuyomi, Japanese God of the Moon. I thank you for your hospitality in granting my concubine and I the shelter of your home."
My uncle roared with laughter. "You're his concubine? Oh, that's a good one, that is. Sorry, Your highness SuSu-Kiki-Yoyo, but my nephew isn't that kind of guy. So began an uneasy but respectful relationship between those two.
Did I say 'poor' Tsukuyomi? The true downside of playing host to a former God, regardless of how damned sexy they are, is this: They expect to be waited on, hand and foot. The first time he asked Uncle Paddy 'where were his mandarin duck eggs fried lightly & quickly in sesame oil, his miso soup, his jasmine rice and scallion pancakes and his green tea', I had to stop him from beating Tsuku senseless with his heirloom shillelagh.
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We never got the bandages right – where was the silver powder, the plant leaves; but the wound, despite our less-than-adequate care, was healing. Some Good Samaritans had written down the taxicab number and the taxi company and snapped a pic of the driver before he'd driven off. We decided not to press charges.
For two days, he'd clapped his hands, expecting live servants to appear. When they didn't, he became quite rude. Occasionally he would pout. Tsukuyomi, the god who'd killed his goddess sister-in-law because he didn't approve of the way she served guests at her own dinner party, also pouted because we 'barbarians' did not have any sakuramochi for him.
This is his demeanor during the daytime. At night, he changes completely. As Tsuku is a moon god, that makes sense. That first night, we discussed what we could do to fix our intolerable situation. It set the tone for our next week.
He'd start with: "We must get Michael to reverse my banishment."
I'd reply with: "I think we should find out more about this Eager Reaper, who they're working for, and why the DWF is covering for them. That way, we'd have..."
He'd laugh, and say something like "Leave the thinking to me! You – you should dance for me" or "Put on your – What do you call it - jockstrap – the one like my fundoshi – and massage my aching legs. Then maybe go higher, hmm? Perhaps I play concubine, and you be my emperor?"
I had to remind him that I was a ghost – all I could do was watch. That was how I discovered that he had a premature ejaculation problem. Tsuku would complain that, as a god, he'd never had to wait for his sexual stamina to revive. He'd exhaust his partners, he'd brag. No matter – it was a turn-on watching him discover wanking off as if it were his first time.
Sex with Tsuku would be not at all comparable to the sweaty, rug-burning, bedframe-thumping sex that Gio and I would get up to. Tsuku would be warm water, caressing gently and insistently edging towards release – and it would be, I imagined, two to 4 hours before an easy, excruciatingly wonderful and welcome release; Gio had been fire, raging one glorious 10-15 minutes and burning out afterwards.
Unable to convince him that looking for information on Norman was the best way to get what we needed, we went our separate ways in the daytime. I was at Lenox Health Greenwich Village when I saw them. How did I know one Grim from another? Easy. By their shoes.
