Godtown

Chapter Forty-Six

We arrived at the docks too late for Ray Ennead. His yacht dotted space heading to points unknown. I cursed my poor timing as my feet pounded against the wooden boards of the dock. Ray Ennead was pulling the strings of City Hall. He may have just been a consultant, but he wielded more power than Horus or Osiris. He had been convinced an assassin was on the loose thanks to the little pony show Ares and Zeus put on. Now he was responding accordingly, and there was no way to stop him. The rolling waves seemed to be mocking my failure.

"Isn't there a way to reach them?" Hilda said as she peered her head out of the car.

"Normally," I said. "Hermes."

Hilda nodded somberly. Hermes could have crossed the water to Ray's yacht in seconds flat. But Hermes was dead. Whether they knew it or not, his killer had effectively crippled our communication in Theopolis. Maybe that was their motive all along.

"Can you call him?" Hilda asked.

"I don't have his number," I said. "Besides, one does not call Ray Ennead. He calls you."

I sighed as I looked at the vast open water stretching over the horizon. "And I didn't see a telephone on that fancy yacht of his."

"What about a cell phone?" Hilda asked. I looked at her, confused for a moment. "You know, a phone you can carry with you?"

I was just getting used to the shrieking monstrosity in my apartment. Now Hilda told me people actually carried them in their pockets? I looked at her with a moment of genuine confusion.

"They actually make those?" I said.

"And you said Wayland needs to get out more," Hilda sighed.

"Shut up and get back in the car," I said. I could see Hilda flash me a smile before she ducked her head back in the car. If we couldn't reach Ray's yacht, City Hall would just have to do.

***

Since I couldn't get answers from Ray Ennead, I figured City Hall would be my best bet. There was someone I needed to get answers from there anyway. Hilda and I strode through the darkened halls of City Hall. It was after hours, and even if gods didn't need to sleep, they did need to play. I stopped at one door in particular and opened it.

"Working late, Horus?" I said as I pushed the door open. Horus didn't move. He simply sat erect at his desk. Hilda glided in behind me.

"I'll cut to the chase," I said. "Chances are, Ares already told you I was sneaking around."

Horus still didn't react. Just like Ares, I thought. Cocky and arrogant.

"I know you are aiming for Hermes' spot in the family," I said. "And I also know it was Ares, not Loki, who tried to take a shot at Zeus. That puts you at Conspiracy and Obstruction of Justice. Daddy will not be pleased."

I expected at least some sort of reaction from that,. A chill ran down my spine. I didn't like this.

Hilda pulsed forward a couple of steps and shot me a wary glance. She waved her hand in front of Horus's face. Nothing happened. She snapped on the light on his desk.

"He's dead, isn't he?" I said. Hilda merely nodded. "Dammit. I spent the entire car ride thinking up that speech."

Horus died as he lived, at his desk. His eyes looked back, open, and vacant. A greasy liquid traced from the corners of his lips and down his chin. There was a plate of crumbs immediately to his left. I ran my fingers across the dead man's lips. It matched what was on the plate.

Pork.

"I didn't see any wounds," Hilda said as she emerged from behind Horus. "He wasn't shot like Hermes."

"But Hermes wasn't killed by a gunshot," I explained. "He was poisoned. The bullets were just the delivery system."

I stood up from the corpse. "It looks like the killer got to his food."

I ruffled through the papers on his desk. I didn't see anything linking him to Ares, and none of the reports were about Hermes. They were all typical office papers – requisition, petty cash, and the like. I didn't strike gold until I dumped out his wastebasket.

I found the usual assortment of garbage – napkins, notes, pens, and pencils. The contents of the wastebasket seemed too mundane. So mortal. I was more disappointed he lied to my face about Ares and Loki. Small strips of paper fluttered out of the basket.

Ashen strips of paper fell to his table, with any remaining paper already curled where the flames touched them. But I could still make out the letters, having seen them not so long ago.

A loud blast of sound and air rushed past me. Hilda clasped her hands over her ears in pain. The rumbling intensified so much we had to grab hold of the desk and even the corpse of Horus for stability. And then it stopped, as quickly as it had started.

"What the Hel was that?" I stammered. Hilda looked at me sadly.

"It's started, "she said. "Gjallarhorn."

"Come again?" I said.

"The counter-measures Heimdall described," Hilda explained. "They start when he blows Gjallarhorn."

"So this is Northland's way of pressuring City Hall to return Loki?" I asked. "The counter-measures are earthquakes."

"No, the countermeasures are Ragnarok," Hilda said. I couldn't help but chuckle.

"That's just a myth," I said. Hilda's gaze didn't shift.

"And what role do myths play in a city of gods?" she said.

"But . . . it never happened. We're still here," I said. "Even after the War."

Hilda began to pace. "Yes, we did think the War was Ragnarok. And we were disappointed in its outcome. But that doesn't mean it won't happen one day."

"What does any of this have to do with the tremors?" I asked. Hilda stopped. She hesitated. After a few moments, she spoke, lifting her eyes into mine.

"Ragnorak may or may not ever happen, but the pieces still remain. Sultr. Fernir. Jormungandr. Odin buried them all. Giants. The Serpent. The Wolf. This is his way of digging them up." She said.

"And if the Olympians give him Loki?" I asked.

"Then it stops," Hilda says. "For now."

They wouldn't give him Loki. Zeus and Odin weren't so different. Both stood, convinced of their own superiority, their own divine right to rule. They'd never see an outsider's prophecy as valid. Hell, fifteen minutes ago, I thought Ragnarok was just a myth. Now I wasn't so sure.

"If it works," Hilda said, looking away.

"And if it doesn't?" I didn't want to ask.

"Then it's mutually assured destruction." Hilda turned back to me.

So to recap, the same unidentified person who killed Hermes had just killed Horus. An innocent, or at least not-guilty-this-time, god was framed for the crime, sparking a war in Godtown, one which just might destroy us all.

And all of it was my fault.