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...
"Tiger, Tiger burning bright! As today's bairns say, 'Chill out, dude!' Baile put his hand around me, but I turned on him, screaming.
"He cheated on me. In our own bed, the bastard cheated on me! Five years, five blissfully happy years and I'm not even dead!!! He cheats on me while I'm in Uncle Paddy's apartment struggling to live!"
I try to pick up anything – a magazine, a sock, the picture of our 3rd anniversary, his late mother's favorite ugly figurine – just to have something to THROW and BREAK - but my hands pass through everything. I perch on the bed, wailing.
Only to have Amaterasu slap me, hard. "Stop your useless weeping! So, he cheated on you. My brother-husband cheats on me all the time. And with you, most recently. Does it make me FURIOUS? Yes. Is there anything I can do about it? NO. Do I cheat on him? Of course. Is there anything he can do about it? Yes, he can stop cheating on me. Will he? NO, he can't. He's male. It's what males do, spread their seed far and wide. Only a handful of animals mate for life. It's the same with male gods and humans."
"Boyo, cop on to yourself!" Baile said, kneeling down and staring at the body. "Have you thought that maybe Octavio was killed by Gio? The missing heart was cut very neatly. An eejit would have spilled more blood...you know, made more of a bloody mess of it. Maybe it's an eye for an eye, a heart for a heart? I know some feallmharfóir have a signature."
That was an idea that had not occurred to me. But why would Gio hire another assassin to do work that he himself specializes in? And Gio didn't have any signature that I knew of. But then, he didn't talk much about his other profession. "It's a good guess, Baile. But no, Gio would never bring his work home. This is definitely the work of another Mafia assassin."
"Mortal man, I would very much like a cup of tea," Amaterasu stated as politely as a Major Goddess could manage.
"I would gladly be of service, but I cannot touch or hold anything."
"Here," she said, and handed me two flesh-colored, elbow-length silk gloves. "Don't wear them where mortals can see them and use them sparingly. They should last several decades."
"Black, or Green?" I asked.
"Black, please." She smiled. I watched as she sat on the living room sofa, then went into the kitchen. The pansies were miraculously in full bloom. Minutes before, they had been quite dead. Amaterasu's presence must had revived them. As I waited for the water to boil, I overheard Baile and her conversation. Why was I boiling water? I was brought up in a good Irish home. You do not serve guests tea made in a microwave.
"The Yakuza are devoted to me, and while I have done nothing to earn this devotion, I do benefit from their worship. Has there been a rise in the number of deaths in the Irish mafia? As your country is, like Italy, devoted to the Christian God, has He said anything?"
"Yes, there have been twice as many murders of late. They are devoted, like the Italian rogues, more to Saint Michael than to the Trinity or the Danaan. And the Father, Son and Holy Spirit have said nothing. They keep to themselves. Away with the fairies, if you ask me."
I rolled the tea out in Granny O'Malley's finest Belleek China on her heirloom, 18th century teacart and poured them both a cup. Amaterasu sipped at hers and smiled with surprise. Baile took his with cream and two sugars.
"Why would someone be murdering murderers?" I posed.
The God of Blarney frowned. "Revenge? Sheer delight in ridding the Earth of killers? We know this reaper – Norman, was it? – cut you off before your time, an accident as it 'twere, so he isn't..."
"Wait," said Amaterasu. "What if it wasn't an accident? What if it were a test? To see if he could get away with...murder? But it didn't work – because you, young man, had the guts to demand your life back. You turned down Paradise. I'd say most would not."
"That place didn't look or feel like Paradise. And it was Tsukuyomi who did the demanding for me. That's why he was banished. For wanting to help me."
The goddess laughed. "You poor Irish fool, he wanted to help himself to your sexual favors. Oh, he likes you all right. But don't expect fidelity. He's like the moon – always changing."
"Baile, do you know any tunes for deep thinking?"
"Oh, Boyo," he said, mockingly, "One or two, perhaps."
You could see Amaterasu enchanted by Baile's harp playing. (He'd conjured one. I had to move both the coffee table and the tea cart. Thank goodness for the gift of divine gloves!) I was putting some biscuits on a plate when a thought hit me.
"Who benefits from the death of the Mafia and the Yakuza?"
"Everyone," the goddess stated.
"Oh," I said, "Right."
"Nice try though, O'Malley," Baile nodded.
"Who gives the Reapers their orders?" I persisted.
"The DWF," answered Amaterasu.
"And who's in charge of the DWF?"
"The adzuki bean-brained, obscenely muscled, sword-swinging and full of himself Archangel Michael!" The goddess was seething.
"What are you thinkin', darlin'? A power play? Or is the Christian martial angel just bored?"
"He's up to something. Oisin, would you be up to a bit of ghostly eavesdropping?"
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