Grapeshot Pantheon

Purgatory Wars: Book Seven

Dragon Cobolt

Uruk Press

Uruk Press

Great Britain

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Grapeshot Pantheon © Dragon Cobolt 2018

All rights reserved.

The right of the author to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Cover by Remy Malara.

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Grapeshot Pantheon

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Epilogue

Grapeshot Pantheon

Prologue

Rocket Rex’s was an incongruous piece of pulp fiction that had somehow dropped straight from a Heinlein novel and landed slap bang in the middle of Montana. A large red rocket held at a canted angle by a pair of struts sat before the entrance, with a plastic plume of exhaust thrust kissing the sidewalk. The front door of the bar itself was painted chrome, and the interior was decorated with retro-futurist kitsch. Bobble-headed astronauts, signed pictures of Buzz Aldrin (not by Aldrin, of course, that’d be far too expensive), and plastic rayguns decorated the wall, where most bars in Montana would have hung up deer heads and wolf pelts.

The only concession to the standard bar format by the aging owner, Paul Rex, was a caged TV that was usually tuned either to the History channel or, if his customers shouted long enough, the local football channel.

The chrome doors swung open and in slouched Coyo. Rex and Coyo had known each other for five years, and Rex had yet to actually ever see Coyo pay for a drink with any money from his own pocket. Coyo had the uncanny ability to sniff out people at the edge between black-out drunk and bad-decision drunk. Wagers, bets, wheedling, schmoozing, and sometimes, light pick pocketing would follow. Rex judged Coyo for this, but as the end result was more money in his cash register, Rex kept his judgment to his own self.

Today, there were two truckers who were on their way to the Rez and Marion Cooly. Marion’s husband had run off with a floozy who got younger and blonder every year, and she spent every dime she had saved every week at Rocket Rex’s. Coyo had never stolen a cent from her.

“Hey, Mary,” he said, grinning toothily at her as he took the stool seat next to her. His finger flicked the bobble-headed astronaut that Marion had been staring at. “Wanna see a magic trick?”

“I’m not going to give you any money, Coyo,” Marion said.

“This is to cheer you up!” Coyo exclaimed, his fingers going to his chest, his narrow, brown face crumpling into an expression of pure sorrow. “Would you think innocent Coyo would try and cheat you?”

“Yes.”

“Come on! Where's the game?”

Coyo and Marion and Rex all looked at the two truckers. The one with the annoyingly red hat was pointing at the TV. Rex turned to check to see if it was on the fritz. But behind the cage that protected it from bottles, rocks, and his own shocking ability to put holes in screens, the TV was showing nothing but concerned looking talking heads behind a desk. A scrolling text bar at the bottom of the screen had words bisected by those cage-bars, turning sensible sentences into an utter cipher. Coyo cocked his head slightly as Marion knocked back her drink, then held her cup out for another.

“Maybe it’s important, turn it up!” the other trucker said.

Rex picked up his remote and turned up the volume.

“...-other world. This world is an artificial construct built inside of the moon of Pluto, Charon. Within is a civilization of displaced humans and non-human beings.”

“You mean aliens, Hank?” the blond half of the duo asked, sounding honestly shocked. She looked to the left, her brow furrowing. Whatever she saw off the side of the screen made her eyes widen. She put her hand over her mouth.

“We have... yes, we have footage coming in, uh-”

The screen flickered and showed a new view – this one was of a large, metal room that looked a bit like a warehouse. Press and military filled it with equal measures. Reporters from every major news network were there, and the cameras couldn’t help but catch view of other cameras. But they all tried to angle for the best shot on the massive, black ring in the center of the room. Standing before it was a broad sweep of people. They were unmistakably aliens. But despite the fact that there were sharp eared people with pastel colored hair, despite the fact there were three foot tall green women, despite the fact that there were walking, talking lizards, the thing that the trucker in the red hat remarked on was:

“Look at the tits on that chick!” He pointed at the woman with the longbow strapped to her back. She was glaring at everyone around her as if people owed her money. Then she glared directly at the camera and scowled harder, as if she had heard the trucker and wanted him to know how offended she was.

Marion lifted her now full glass to her lips, only to find her hand was empty.

Coyo tossed his head back, drank most of the cup, then sprayed it over Rex in a perfectly timed spit-take.

***

Less than a block away from Rocket Rex’s, there was another throwback. A payphone. It had sat there on the corner and someone, somewhere, had decided that keeping it running was slightly cheaper than tearing it down. But it definitely wasn’t getting fixed if it broke. As if the phone had realized this, it had doggedly continued to work, chugging away despite the persistent smell of piss and the graffiti that sprawled along the outside of the glass.

Coyo slammed the door shut behind himself and tapped at the phone’s buttons, his eyes narrowing. He stuck the receiver to his ear, cocking his head slightly as he waited for the dial tone to start. A moment later, a computerized voice spoke in his ear. “Please state the name of-”

Coyo kicked the phone, crooking his leg in the cramps space of the booth to manage to get his foot up against it. The operator hiccuped, seemed to warble slightly, and then the phone started to ring again. Coyo fidgeted from foot to foot, looking left and right as if he expected heavily armed ninjas to bust out of the Montana wilderness that stretched out in every direction. The distant mountains continued to loom. The highway continued to be mostly empty. The phone continued to ring.

At last, there was a click and a groan.

“I am going to fucking kill you.”

“Sun?” Coyo asked.

“No, it’s the fucking Tooth Fairy. In that you’re going to lose all of them when I get over there and kick your fucking ass, Coyo!” Sun’s voice sounded like it had gone through a blender. Coyo scratched at the back of his neck.

“Uh,” he said. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” The faint sound of sheets crumpling and a girlish grumbling sound made Coyo’s ears perk. He could almost picture the other man sitting up and turning in the bed. What was he doing in bed? It was one in the afternoon? “It’s...” Pause. “Almost one in the fucking morning!”

Coyo blinked. He looked out the window of the booth, his brow furrowing.

“How can someone so smart be so fucking dumb!?” Sun snapped. “I’m in Mumbai!”

“Why are you in Mumbai?” Coyo asked.

“Coyo.” Coyo could hear Sun’s finger pinching the bridge of his nose. “Who runs China?”

“...communists?” Coyo asked. His brain made the connection a few seconds later. “They still hate you?”

“Yeah, still!” Sun shouted.

A string of Hindi – Hindi that sounded an awful lot like stop yelling at your phone and come over here and fuck me to Coyo – came over the line. Coyo heard Sun respond. Comparing him to the girl Coyo had to admit the accent was pretty good. He leaned against the side of the booth, waiting for Sun to get back to him.

“So, you have fifteen seconds before I hang up and-”

“They’re back.”

“Who's back?” Sun sounded like he was guessing who but didn’t want to come out and say it.

“The Greeks,” Coyo said. “And the Egyptians. And the fucking vikings.”

Sun sighed.

“Well, shit,” he said.

“Yeah, and they’re in America.” Coyo chewed on his knuckle. “Sun, the fuck are we going to do?”

There was a long pause.

“Get your ass to Washington DC,” Sun said. “And Coyo? Bring a gun.”

There was a faint click and Coyo sighed as he slipped the phone against the cradle. The contact caused the phone booth’s change slot to open and start to vomit a spray of quarters, nickels, dimes and pennies onto the ground. Coyo started to scrabble to get as many as he could. With his pockets bulging, he scrambled out of the booth, looked over his shoulders twice, walked over to a car. The owner had left the key in the ignition and had forgotten to lock the door.

The car started to judder down the road, its forward progress interrupted by bangs and grinding of gears.

Chapter One

kilometers away, Liam Vanderbilt was sitting at a desk and glaring at paperwork. The fact that this was his life when he wasn’t being shot, stabbed, set on fire, dropped from large heights, and thrown into various hard surfaces, never ceased to amaze him. As a kid, he had always loved roleplaying games. Dungeons and Dragons had been a favorite. In the older editions, when you reached a higher level (he remembered it was 9th for fighters), you got your hands on a stronghold.

Suddenly, the game became all about managing a castle and handling your servants.

Suddenly, the game got boring.

Liam would have given his left testicle for boring. The paperwork that sat on his desk contained dozens of decisions that would completely alter the life of tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of people. Millions, even. Billions, if things went right. Or catastrophic. For instance, here was a preliminary report from the Guild of Crystalwrights about crafting and sending crystals of various makes and category to researchers on Earth. Unformatted, formatted, enchanted, hardened, blessed, cursed, and decorated. He picked the report and frowned as he read the words and tried to come to a decision.

If the way that crystals interact with your iPod is a general rule, my lord, then it’s fully possible that the unformatted crystal using lattice-work A-1 can be used to store 6.8 MWh safely.

“iPhone,” Liam muttered.

The paper refused to correct itself. Then his brow furrowed. 6.8 megawatt-hours... He pulled his iPhone from the drawer he kept it in, then spent fifteen minutes skimming through all the textbooks he had brought with him before, at last, finding the book about sustainability and the issues facing the world when it came to weaning itself off fossil fuels.

“Holy fucking shit!”

“Well, I am holy.”

Liam looked up, grinning as he saw Mary stepping into the room. Her smile was playful. “And I am quite good at fucking. But I will draw a line at scatological eroticism.”

Liam pointed at his phone. “Mary, a single unformatted crystal can store four times the energy of an entire oil barrel. That’s forty eight gallons of crude!”

Mary smiled, weakly. “Is that good?”

“Kinda,” Liam said, dryly. “Considering we’re able to make...” He shuffled through the papers. “A ton of it a week using the crystalback ranches. With Earth’s grazing land, we could basically destroy OPEC.” He cackled. “Oh, wait, fuck.” He rubbed his temple. “What is that going to do to the Middle East?” He bit his lip, his brain locking up.

“Well, that’s just the thing,” Mary said, stepping over. She sat her rump down on the desk. Papers crinkled and her tail lifted upwards as she smiled ever so slightly down at him.

“No, wait, sorry, just need to think about this,” Liam said, rubbing his chin, then standing up. “Okay, I can’t just let short term economic problems stop me from ending the energy crisis and stopping global warming in one fell swoop. We’ll need to get all the best futurists on hand. And, uh, maybe get you in the same room as...”

Mary’s finger went to the collar of her wimple, where the head-scarf led into the leather and black cloth of her outfit. Her fingertip pressed, then shoved, and within a few seconds, her clothing had peeled to the desk and the ground around it. Her shoulders rolled, setting a tiny jiggle to her ruby red breasts. Her dark black nipples thrust eagerly into the air, practically begging for someone to tenderly worship them. Liam looked at her, his mouth suddenly overflowing with eagerness. His cock strained against his kilt as he blinked slowly.

Every single thought had dribbled out of one ear as Mary’s black lips split into a sultry smile.

“Thought that’d get your attention,” she murmured, huskily.

“Yeah,” Liam said. His nose flared and, now that he wasn’t too caught up in paperwork and long term analysis and planning, he could notice the thick musk of Mary’s scent in the room. His skin felt as if it was on fire. His hands went to his kilt as he bit his lower lip to repress an eager growl. Mary blinked. For a few seconds, he could see the conflict on her face and Liam wondered if she had planned for her distraction to lead to escalation. Then his kilt hit the ground and his cock bobbed in the air.

“Fuck it,” Mary whispered. Her tail lashed out, then wrapped around his cock. She was almost rough with him, dragging him forward by his dick into a desperate kiss. Her fangs bumped against his lips and Liam grabbed at her silky hips. It had felt like years since he had touched her like this. Their titles and responsibilities and the uncertain weight of the future fell away as their tongues met and wrestled, even as his dick started to grind against her belly and her sex, his balls slipping along her thighs. There was a competition, a race to see who could be driven to breathless, gasping want first. Mary lost. She jerked her head away, gasping as she did so.

“Liam,” she crooned, her hips rocking as she tried to get the head of his shaft against her plump pussy lips. Liam dragged back against her tail, the pressure forcing a low groan out of his mouth. But he had gone so fucking long without Mary that he wanted to enjoy the hit he got from her. His nose mashed against her neck and he inhaled. His brain buzzed and his whole body was washed in goosebumps. Mary turned her head, her fingers working through his hair as she held him to her body.

Liam’s tongue dragged along her skin, leaving behind glittering tracks as he kissed and licked and sucked his way down to her nipple. There, he attacked. His teeth caught her nipple and applied just enough pressure to tease her between pleasure and pain. Mary crooned. “Liam, fuck me!” Her fingernails dug into his scalp. Liam pushed her back, her breasts bouncing as her shoulders pressed to his desk. Her legs spread wide, but rather than plunging into her, Liam knelt down. His back pushed his chair away, the bronze wheels skittering on the tile of his office.

He planted his face against her sex, his nose pressing to the moist slickness of her clit, his mouth opening wide, as if he wanted to literally eat her, rather than just eat her out. Every contact point – his palms against the backsides of her knees, his tongue and lips against her sex, his nose against her clit – each one was another way for Mary to drug him. His eyes closed as his tongue plunged into her sex, and he could taste her exotic flavor – it was somewhere between pepper and a Starburst. It started off with a burn, but if you kept at it, you could taste the sweetness.

Liam drew his mouth back, his eyes unfocused as he watched her juices drip onto the desk, soaking some papers that he was pretty sure were fucking important, but that was what backups were for

“Leeee-ammm!” Mary whined. “Put your dick in me. I want to feel it. I haven’t had a cock like yours in so fucking long.” She bit her lip, her tail wriggling in the air to the left of her hips as she wriggled on the desk. And to think that she had been so chaste. Once. Liam grinned up at her face, looking along her slightly cushy belly, between her pillowy breasts, into those golden eyes of hers. She looked like she was a lick or two away from literally begging.

Liam licked her clit. Once. She hissed.

Twice.

“Please,” Mary said through clenched teeth. “Please fuck me, god, I need it, I need your cock so bad, please fuck my brains out.”

Liam surged to his feet. His hand took hold of his cock and he pressed it to her cunt-lips. She was so very aroused that his member slipped up and down her sex despite his best efforts, teasing her and driving Mary even more desperately wild. She sat up and hooked her arms around his neck, scooting herself forward on the desk. Papers crinkled and crunched under her ass as her tail wrapped around his wrist twice and her legs closed around his back. This still didn’t get his cock in her. Instead, he skidded along her belly and she groaned in frustration.

Liam pulled back, her legs bowing under the pressure of his strength.

Liam surged forwards. This time, he struck true. His cock slammed into her sex and Mary’s whole body rocked as she opened her mouth wide. She didn’t even make a noise. She just looked like she had forgotten how he had felt.

Liam had been with literal demigoddesses but Mary still managed to blow most women he had been with out of the water. Lilin were built from their toes to their horns for fucking, and Mary proved this, despite being literally the only other Christian that Liam knew personally on Purgatory. Her eyes, unfocused and blissed out, looked over his shoulder, her mouth only closing slowly. Liam realized he wouldn’t last long, not with the way that Mary’s pussy was fluttering around his cock.

Liam grinned.

He didn’t need to last long. His hips drove into hers and his balls slapped her ass as Mary cried out in utter bliss. “Yes! Fuck! God yes! In Mary’s name, fill me with your cum! Fuck me! Ah!” She bit down on his shoulder to try and muffle her screams before the rest of the palace could hear her. That was enough to send Liam utterly over the edge. His hips and hers pressed together with one more wet slap and his balls clenched as he spurted into her.

Cum dripped onto the floor with a soft, wet, pattering noise.

Mary and Liam both panted, looking at one another.

“I did not,” Liam said between gasps. “Know how, ah, much I needed that. Thanks Mary.”

She smiled, her voice sounding slightly slurred. “Szz okay. Didn’t know, ah, how much I needed that.” Her legs remained fastened around Liam’s back.

Liam smiled, letting his member slowly soften inside of her sex.

Once they could both say two words without having to pause to breathe between them, Liam finally asked: “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Huh?” Mary looked up from where she had been peering. She looked like she was trying to take in just how much damage her ass and her arousal had done to Liam’s paperwork. Liam was pretty happy with leaving that as Future Liam’s problem.

“What did you want to talk to me about before you seduced me? Me? A married man! The Free-Lord of Babylon!” Liam exclaimed. “And you, the Hierophant of Babylon and leader of the Followers of Mary. The scandal!”

Mary’s tail slapped his ass.

Liam laughed.

“And that was just the thing,” she said, nodding. “I, ahhh!” She crooned as Liam slowly pulled out of her sex, his cock escaping from her sex with a quiet pop. Mary closed her eyes, then grinned. “You’re up for election.”

Liam blinked at her. “I what?”

“It is in the constitution,” she said, smiling. “The one you helped to write.”

Liam grinned. “Yeah. I guess it is?” His brow furrowed. The yearly election had been a compromise between several dozen factions, and he hadn’t minded it. The first election had been an emergency selection to give him power while Borin the Black had threatened the city. The next election had been a landslide victory for him during the War of the False God. This one was likely going the same way – another year of being the leader of the most powerful polity on Purgatory.

So why was he feeling more dread than excitement?

Mary drew her legs up underneath her, her head lifting up. Somehow, she managed to transform from panting, desperately eager sex-goddess to one of his best aides in the political theater within seconds. And she hadn’t even needed to get dressed.

“And I’m running against you,” she said.

Liam sat down in shock.

Since his chair had gone skittering away during their fucking, he ended up sprawled on the ground, giving Mary even more height over him.

Liam bit back the first three responses – what and what the fuck and excuse me all sounded pretty fucking stupid - and instead went right to the best question: “Why?”

Mary’s tail flipped daintily. “Where to even start? You have, finally, after years of being on Purgatory, a chance to go home. But instead of going to see your family or your friends, you shook hands with the President, handed over the science team and the surviving military people, including Simone – and I know that you already miss her – and then came back.”

“Ares is still a threat!” Liam exclaimed.

“And more,” Mary said, frowning. “You haven’t seen your children in weeks. And for months before that, you only saw them every few days.” She shook her head slightly, her tail twitching again. “Liam Vanderbilt, Babylon has never been stronger and never been more secure. And, to be brutally honest...” She leaned forward. “Babylon doesn’t need you in this role.”

Liam gawped at her.

He tried to not feel hurt. It didn’t work. Mary’s eyes softened and she cupped his cheek. “Liam, you were a fantastic leader. You inspired people and you gave them heart in the face of mad gods and crushing defeat. You secured victory and snatched triumph from the jaws of defeat. But...” She bit her lip, hooking one of her fangs over her lip, her eyes flicking aside. “You’re not exactly an administrator. Usually, you find people who know what they’re doing and give them their head. That’s fantastic. But it’s not an irreplaceable skill.”

Liam took his hurt feelings and set them aside and tried to look at what she said logically. And…

She was right.

“W-What will I do?” Liam asked. “Well. Beyond run against you.” He grinned slightly. “I could totally whip you in an election.”

“Likely,” Mary said, shrugging. “But then again, I’ve been spending the last year and change making friends, shaking hands, kissing babies, and demonstrating my even handedness.” Her fangs glittered with a predatory light as she leaned forward, her breasts squishing between her elbows as her hands pressed to her knees. “So it’d be a hard fight, Mr. Vanderbilt.”

Liam was hard again.

“Or, alternatively,” Mary said. “You can quietly step down and once I’m elected, I can use the skill you have that Purgatory, all of Purgatory, desperately needs.”

“If you say my dick-” Liam said, noting where Mary’s eyes had drifted.

“You’re the only Earther we have!” Mary exclaimed, blushing darkly. “You know Earther culture and Earther law. You can be our diplomat.”

Liam grinned. “Ambassador Vanderbilt. I like the sound of that.” He rubbed his chin.

“And,” Mary said, puffing up her chest with a smug pride. “You can bring Meg, Fizit, Liv and your kids and take them to your mom!”

Liam blinked at her.

Mary giggled, which set her tits jiggling. “Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“Holy shit yes!” The door exploded open and Meg sprang in. Her fingers still glistened with her juices. “Say yes, Liam! Oh! And you can knock me up on Earth! In your house!”

Liam looked at Meg’s excited face, then down at the skimpy breastband that swept across her chest, barely containing her perfect breasts. His eyes flicked to Mary – still naked and glittering and dripping with his cum. He imagined Fizit, who regularly barely fit into her shift and had a tendency to use her tail to drag Liam into bed. He pictured showing up at his Mom’s front door, carrying a child that was half-lizard and another that was half elf-half half-lizard and also the daughter of someone who had almost killed him.

Liam whimpered.

***

Ensign Donker knew that this assignment had gone from boring to interesting the instant he stepped up to the apartment door and saw that the lock had been kicked in. Hells. The door had practically been hit by a battering ram. It had rebounded and now hung mostly closed, leaving a thin slit of visible room beyond. Donker frowned and pushed the door gently open, leaning into the apartment and out of the brilliant noonday sun of Faiyum Falls. The air outside was, as befitted a city nestled right up against one of the biggest jungles in Purgatory, sticky and thick. Donker was used to it, he had been born in Faiyum Falls, and his parents had migrated to Babylon when he had been sixteen. It had only taken two years for him to fall madly in love with his new home and yet, he had always remembered Faiyum Falls and the lands around it fondly.

This made his posting to the Timber a rather nice, cushy sort of position. The newly up-gunned steam-ship had started life as a standard galley before a hastily modified engine and paddle wheel had been strapped to her back. It was a pathetic ship, really, compared to the triple decked galleons and primitive ironclads that prowled the Platonic Sea these days. But the Timber wasn’t in Faiyum Falls for anything more intense than pirate hunting.

Which makes this assignment all the more, ah, unusual, he thought as he looked about the apartment. But Captain Chaser had picked him, of all the ensigns and middies aboard the ship. He stood slightly straighter, then frowned as he started to take note of what was in the apartment itself. There was definite signs of a struggle. The table in the center of the room had been knocked over, a tapestry had been torn from the walls, several bits of crockery were smashed. Even an amphora of olive oil had been tipped over, though the amphora’s thick construction had kept it mostly intact.

What was more? He could hear whimpering coming from upstairs.

Donkor reached to his belt and pulled his pistol. The flintlock wasn’t loaded – this was a relatively safe town. Sobek was a hard god, and his guards didn’t often give criminals second chances to make trouble. But Donkor had read enough newspapers and novels and heard enough stories about the kinds of things that went on when one got into the orbit of Liam Vanderbilt and his friends. He quickly tamped down the gunpowder, loaded the shot, then cocked back the hammer before he started up the stairs. He moved softly up the stairs – and as he moved up, the whimpering noise he had heard in the first floor resolved.

Without a doubt, that was a woman with a gag. In considerable pain, if Donkor didn’t miss his guess. He clutched his pistol in both hands, the humid heat seeming to grow more and more intense with every step he took towards the half-opened door at the end of the corridor. More signs of disarray were marked here. Tattered bits of clothing. A leather strap? There, a sword, still in its scabbard. It lay across the corridor, as if it had been struck from someone’s belt before they could even draw it.

Donkor stepped up to the doorway. He nudged it open with his toe and heard the wet smack of a palm against someone’s cheek, and a quiet snarling voice: “Yeah, come on bitch, squirm.”

Donkor kicked the door in and snapped his pistol up. “Babylonian Navy, hands uuuuuuuuhhhhhh.”

The two goblins in the room were, without a doubt, the goblins he had been sent to collect. The more slender one – Quinn – was tied to the bed with a pair of leather straps. Her green thighs were spread wide, and her mouth was stoppered up by a gag of red painted leather. Her eyes were wide and her hair, a luminous white, spilled around her shoulders and tangled up underneath her. The other goblin, Kailee, was the one who had been smacking Quinn, leaving bright, shining red marks on emerald green skin. Those marks were soon eclipsed by the vast tracts of blush that exploded across Quinn as she squirmed. Kailee remained perfectly still – caught between thrusts – and Donkor could see that she was wearing a wooden member as smooth and well polished as anything that Donkor had seen for sale on the dockside stores that female sailors frequented.

Kailee’s eyes slowly narrowed. The bird feathers that seemed to be a natural part of her mane of black hair ruffled upwards. A faint, ozone like scent filled the air. It reminded Donkor of the one time he had been at a war-game where the Timber had been lucky enough to have a mage aboard.

“I, uh... I should go,” Donkor said, lowering his pistol slowly.

He closed the door moments before the hurled mage-lamp smashed into it. 

Five minutes and one panicked gunshot into the ceiling later, Ensign Donker was trussed up like a spring lamb and hanging upside down above a rather alarming number of throwing javelins. They were military issue, back before the revolutions that had changed Purgatorian conflict from shields and spears to gunpowder and cannon. That meant they were pointed at both ends, allowing them to be thrust into the floor and provide a rather horrifyingly spiky end to any sudden drops.

The fact that Kailee had slammed them into the stone floor of her apartment with a single thrust of her arm was just another thing that made Donkor sweat.

“So!” Kailee said. “Here we are, enjoying our retirement!”

“Kailee,” Quinn said, looking a bit uncertain.

“And here you come, bursting into our house!” Kailee snarled, grabbing onto Donkor’s tunic. She dragged him forward, then let him swing backwards. This ended up almost grazing his face against the javelin points. Donkor hissed and tried to shrink upwards. “The door was locked!”

“No, it wasn’t!” Donkor tried to sound tough and military. Instead, his voice broke and he wriggled desperately. “Look! See! See?”

Quinn looked off. “Uh, Kailee?”

Kailee snorted. “Who sent you?” She frowned. “Which Babylonian puke did you skin for this uniform? Was it Ares?” She snarled. “Oh, if it was that prick Manannan Mac Lir?”

“Kailee?” Quinn asked.

“Who?” Donkor asked.

“It was!” Kaliee pulled out a javelin with one hand. Stone ground and crunched and powdered flecks slapped against Donkor’s face, sticking to his sweaty skin. She twirled the javelin so that the edge that hadn’t been wrecked by the stone faced Donkor’s nose, then prodded it up against his skin, setting him to wobbling slightly. “Can you tell him that, for the last time, Mom’s never going to admit that-”

“Kailee!” Quinn shouted.

Kailee turned around, the javelin point dipping.

“The door!” Quinn said, gesturing to the doorway. “Remember? Y-You didn’t, uh, want to stop kissing me. So, you... kicked it.”

Kailee’s brow furrowed. She looked at the door. Then she looked at the table she had walked through rather than changing course, the several plates she had shattered as she swung Quinn about, then up the stairs. She cocked her head, slowly.

“Okay,” she said. “Why are you here, Ensign Donkor?”

“The Admiralty wants to hire you!” Donkor said, quickly. His vision felt as if it was going gray. His head pounded. But he didn’t care, he was going to live!

“Oh?” Kaliee asked.

“Yes! Captain Chaser wants to speak to you on his ship, the Timber! Just cut me down and I can take you there!” Donkor said, quickly.

“All right,” Kailee said, shrugging as she slashed with the sharp edge of the javelin. Donkor screamed out.

Once.

***

Captain Chaser frowned as he looked across the table at the two goblinesses. Quinn looked appropriately apologetic. Kailee just looked skeptical. She had spent the entire trip from the gangway to his cabin glaring at everything on the Timber as if the hodgepodged ship offended her on a deep, personal level. On the one hand, Chaser couldn’t blame her. She had captained The Morrigan’s Kiss in two of the most important naval engagements in Purgatory’s history, crippling four ships with cannon-fire, boarding another two, and sending the entire Monodeist fleet packing.

On the other hand, the Timber was his ship. He loved every single poorly designed bolt on her.

“So, what’s the deal?” Kailee asked.

“Before we go on, I want to ask how and why my most promising ensign arrived with several fresh holes in his face,” Chaser said, his wings mantling slightly as he rolled his shoulders.

Kailee shrugged. “Quinn fixed 'em.”

“That doesn’t answer the question, Miss Kailee,” Chaser said, adding a severe frown to the mantling.

Quinn squeaked out a quick: “It was an accident! He, uh, fell onto some javelins. That we had set up. For practice. Uh. In the living room...” She trailed off into silence.

“I see,” Chaser said, slowly. “Well, as Ensign Donkor was healed quite effectively by you, Miss Quinn, I’m willing to overlook this. Admiral Cochrane wishes to grant a commission to you and your...”

Kailee frowned. Considering the amount of power at the demigoddess’ disposal, Chaser picked his next words extremely carefully.

“...life partner,” he said, which brought a surprised snort from Kaliee and a thoughtful smile from Quinn.

“A commission?” Kailee asked, grinning despite herself. “Uh, what for? Vanderbilt paid us enough in gold to last us our entire lives. And we plan to live a long ass time now that we’re out of the pirate trade.” She shrugged. “What could you possibly begin to offer us that would even begin to slightly tempt me back?”

Despite her words, Chaser could see Quinn looking deeply nervous. And so, he brought out his secret weapon. It was a small envelope, sealed with magic and warded with every clever trick that Spymaster Fizit could slap onto it. The idea was that if anyone but Chaser, Quinn or Kailee looked at it, the papers would combust. Rather dramatically too. In fact, it was such a dramatic combustion that Chaser had quietly stowed his flintlock pistols as far away from the desk as he could manage without breaking regulations about officers being armed while on duty. Popping the magical seal with his thumb, Chaser tensed and then breathed a sigh of relief.

He slid the paper across the desk and both Quinn and Kailee leaned over. They looked at the paper.

“Holy gods,” Quinn whispered. She picked up the papers, rifling through them so quickly that Kailee had to squirm and paw at her to try and get her eyes on. She leaned forward, nudging against Quinn’s shoulder. Quinn ignored her – her eyes were shining with excitement. “But I... that’s... oh that’s clever. Oh that’s very clever.”

“The Admiral thought that would pique your interest,” Chaser said, cheerfully.

Kailee finally managed to get her finger on the paper. She pinned it to the desk and leaned forward to read. Quinn was now the one who squirmed and pawed at her lover to try and get at the papers. Kailee started to laugh as she finished off the first page. “Well!” she said. “I’m convinced. But what the fuck is this?”

She pointed at the one part of the page that used English lettering, rather than Hellenic text.

“That’s the ship’s name,” Chaser said. “Chosen by the Admiral himself.”

“Ro-ce-nan-tee?” Quinn spoke the word slowly, chopping it into chunks as she struggled with the unfamiliar text.

“The fuck kind of a name for a ship is that!?” Kailee asked.

“Are you in?” Chaser asked.

The two goblins looked at one another. They shared the kind of link that only long, abiding friendship could forge. It was a link that was strengthened by love, and in turn, made that love nearly unbreakable. But even Chaser could read the expressions that they shot back and forth. Both girls looked as if they wanted, desperately, to say yes. It was only a matter of which one of them would stop worrying about the lives they had in Faiyum Falls first.

“We’re in,” they said, at the exact same time.

Chaser breathed a sigh of relief.

He wouldn’t have set foot on that death-trap, even if Thor himself had demanded it of him.

Chapter Two

Liam frowned as he looked at the stargate.

They had tried a lot of different names for the thing: The Gateway of the Heavens, the Portal, The Space Doughnut and the Chapa'ai. Though those last two had been jokes. And only Simone had laughed at the last one. Well. Snickered.

“Okay,” Meg said, lifting up Liv's daughter and holding her out with both of her hands. “Marion, can you say stargate?”

Marion burbled happily. Her elf side meant that her childhood would stretch out for decades. Her lizard side meant that she’d have a vastly shortened lifespan and sped up gestation. Tethis had studied her and determined that she’d age roughly half as fast as a human baby. Meanwhile, her adoptive brother Brax was running in excited circles, his arms spread wide as his tail dragged behind him.

Liam wasn’t sure why a half-human half-lizard had way more scales than half-elf and half-lizard. And he wasn’t honestly going to ask questions. Instead, he grabbed Brax and lifted him up with a grunt.

“Enough running, kiddo,” he said. “You can’t run around like crazy until we’re through security and back at Grandma’s house.” He gulped, his stomach roiling nervously as he thought of all the steps between those two steps. There would be the meeting with the security professionals, the President, the press. He shook his head and then looked back. Tethis had begged, wheedled and made puppy-dog eyes until she had gotten tapped for the mission. She was currently checking over all of her equipment and supplies which included a half a dozen glowing crystals that she had said would contain the energies she used for magic. She apparently wanted to test and see if the Ancients' magic worked outside of Purgatory.

Next to her was Fizit. She was reading through papers, her tail lashing from side to side as she hissed quietly.

“Uh, Fizit?” Liam asked. “This is an important diplomatic mission, but it’s also a chance to relax at least a little bit.”

“Ares hasn’t been seen in public for more than five speeches over the past month,” she said.

“...and?” Liam asked. “His temple was leveled by a hellfire missile while he was making a big show of how protected it was. I’m shocked he shows his face at all.” He glanced away from the stargate and at the embassy that the Monodeists had set up across from the central plaza in Babylon. The two paladins that stood to either side of the door maintained their impassive vigil. One of them was Chastity. He had been there when she had watched Ares, her perfect and infallible god, had made a very human mistake. He wondered how she managed to stay so perfectly still and stoic. It was hard to read expressions behind a steel visor but Liam would lay money on some contemplative looks.

“That’s just it,” Fizit said. “Why isn’t he running around his whole territory doing miracles left and right? It doesn’t make sense...” She frowned. “Ares is planning something. But I’d rather get my hands on, say, fifty of those iPhones and get them to my agents than stay here for a month. And I’m sure if I get in the same room as your CIA, we can start setting up some new intelligence networks...”

“Glad to hear that visiting your son’s grandmother is so high on your priorities,” Liam said, cheerfully.

“Oh. That.” Fizit paused. “There aren’t any lizards on Earth.”

“Well, there are, but...” Liam paused and rejected several things that lizards on Earth lacked. But his sight line made what he was thinking of clear. Fizit smirked and crossed her arms under her chest.

“I know they aren’t stacked like me,” she said. “But the point stands. There aren’t any lizards on Earth. How can I be expected about meeting someone whose just as likely to scream and faint when she sees me?”

Liam smiled. “My mom’s not the screaming and fainting type.”

Fizit grunted, skeptically.

“Dad! Dad! Dad! Dad!” Brax started to jump up and down. “Dad! It’s starting!”

Liam felt the subliminal whine of the gate before he heard it. His skin prickled and memory of going through the gate warred with his memory of being yanked to Purgatory in the first place. Memories of being ripped apart and put back together and being aware of every single second of it. Memories of falling and smashing and crashing. The gate flared with a pale blue-white light, forming into a sphere that expanded outwards with a whip-crack sound. The sphere hung in the air, rippling like water. Liam, with instincts that had become honed despite his absentee status as a father for most of Brax’s childhood, reached forward and grabbed his son’s tail before he sprinted into the sphere.

“Let's do this,” Liam said.

He walked forward before he could get scared.

***

It felt a bit like being turned inside out, toenails first.

It felt a bit like having his nerves lit on fire.

It felt like an eternity.

It lasted less than five seconds – which, all things considered, was a good thing.

Liam staggered as he stepped through the gate, gasping. This wasn’t even the first time he had been through the more recently constructed gate. But the feeling would never, ever, ever stop being fucking awful. He clutched at his chest and looked around himself, trying to get his bearings. The first thing he checked was his son, his wife, his daughter, and his friends had all come through all right. Tethis looked miserably cold. Meg was looking around herself with wide, saucer eyes.

Brax was immediately starting to run in circles, laughing. “That was awesome! Can we go again?”

“No!” Liam laughed, then scooped up his son, slinging him over one shoulder.

The rest of the entry room had undergone some renovations. It had been the centerpiece of the first godly visit to Earth in literally two thousand years – which meant the gate had been moved to a far larger room than it had initially been operated in. That room remained its new standard, which meant there were a great deal more things set up to do important science stuff. Simply seeing the hard edges of machined parts, the comforting glow of screens, hearing the burr and hum of fluorescent lamps and AC, all of it hit Liam like a sledgehammer.

“Liam Vanderbilt!”

That voice sounded... faintly familiar.

Liam’s brow furrowed and he looked around for the greeter. And he saw her and knew her. She had chocolate brown skin and had redone her hair from the old style to long, braided cornrows that made her look almost completely different. But he could recognize those warm, playful eyes, and that gorgeous body anywhere, even years later. “Chelsea freaking Brown!?” Liam stepped forward, his sandals clattering on the metal gangway leading to the gate. “What the- I expected- you’re looking-” he stopped.

What was the right way to say extremely pregnant without sounding rude?

Chelsea was dressed in a lab coat, but her belly swelled, straining slightly against her stretchy, maternity wear style under-shirt. She smiled slightly at his expression. She also let her eyes rove over him in a way that made Liam painfully aware of the last time that they had met. For a few panicked seconds, he started to wonder... then he kicked himself.

Human babies did not take two years to gestate.

Also, they had used a condom.

“Hello!” Meg said, cheerfully.

“Hi!” Brax said, from his place on Liam’s shoulder. He waved using his tail.

“Don’t wave with your tail, Brax,” Liam hissed.

Chelsea shook her head. “I know it’s tradition to, after not seeing someone for a while, to have loads of babies, but I thought that usually took until people hit their thirties.” She shook her head slowly, looking at the whole gang in slow wonderment. Liam pondered what they had to be like. He had been tossed into Purgatory head first, forced to sink or swim. But seeing a lizardman in the streets of Babylon was one thing. Seeing it in the next best thing to Stargate Command was another. It didn’t help that Fizit was eyeing Chelsea the way she usually eyed new people.

Like she was trying to figure out the best way to shank them.

“So, uh, I’m Chelsea,” Chelsea said. “Doctor Chelsea Brown. Welcome to the United States, Mrs Vanderbilt, Miss Tethis, Miss Fizit, Miss Liviana.” Then, grinning, she added. “And Mr. Brax.”

“That’s me!” Brax hissed excitedly, squirming.

“I will put you down if you promise to not go running off,” Liam said.

“I promise!” Brax said.

“He’s lying,” Fizit said, casually.

“Mom!” Brax squeaked.

“I’m getting terrifying visions of my own future,” Chelsea said, her hand going to her belly. “Come on. Let's get you all to decon and you can get into some, uh, Earthling clothes.”

“Oooh!” Meg eyes lit up and she clapped.

She was the only native Purgatorian to do so.

***

Liv stood in the decontamination chamber and hissed like a cat that had been dunked into ice cold water. She wriggled and squirmed, trying to keep some part of her body safe from the jets of water, slick with some kind of chemical. She spat and coughed as some got into her mouth. Once the spray was done, she started to shiver almost immediately. The first thing that Liam had forgotten to mention was that Earthers kept everything as fucking cold as they possibly fucking could.

A towel was dropped into the room and a voice – sounding bored and clipped – spoke: “Dry yourself off, then drop the towel in the incinerator. Also, uh, the doctors are telling me that they’re a bit concerned about the hair, Miss Liviana.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Liv snarled.

“The various scanners we have say that most of the water’s not even getting in,” the voice sounded a bit impressed. “We know this is a lot to ask, but we need to be sure that no Purgatorian parasites get to the Terran ecosystem. We’ll be sending you a razor-”

“You want me to cut my hair!?” Liv spluttered. “And give you five feet of material components for sympathetic magic?”

“...beg pardon?”

Liv snorted and rolled her shoulders. She closed her eyes and focused on the tiny ping of power that continually roiled within her mind. She had trained it for almost a year without knowing it, giving her greater and more ferocious levels of strength and dexterity. But realizing that she had a choice in what power she could display had made her want to experiment. And so, she experimented. Her fists clenched and she sternly told her hair to do as she wished. She felt it starting to coil upwards, twisting and winding and binding. When she opened her eyes again, she could see herself reflected in the mirror-fine walls of the decontamination rooms, she saw her hair had become as short as when she had first met Liam.

She pursed her lips, then focused.

Her hair shimmered and turned blue.

“There we go,” she said.

“Holy shit.” The voice over the PA didn’t seem to realize they were transmitting.

***

Fizit pressed her palms against the wall and hissed in pure delight as the warm water splashed along her back. She wasn’t sure if they had warmed it up for her, or if everyone else was getting this treatment. Whatever it was, it felt great. Once the water had sluiced off, she grinned and walked over to the towel that the Earthers had dropped into the room. She started to rub it along her rump. After a few quick twists – holding both ends of the towel in her hands and wriggling a bit to ensure she got her entire scaled rear covered – she let the towel drop and admired her own behind.

“Mmm,” she murmured. “What was the term Liam used? MILF?” She grinned. “Very MILFy.”

Five stories away, in a contained control booth, Lt. Daniels, the woman in charge of the female decontamination security, sat and sweated. She looked at the screens piping the live, high definition footage from Fizit’s room. She watched as the curvaceous lizardwoman started to wipe off her breasts, leaving them as glittering and shiny as a pair of emerald mountains. She kept watching as Fizit leaned forward to start wiping at her shins. She kept watching as Fizit’s long, whip-lean tail lifted into the air and showed the soft folds of her green pussy. She watched as Fizit carefully started to tease water off the feathered frill that ran from her scalp to the tip of that tail, which forced Fizit to jiggle slightly from side to side as she tried to get every drop out.

Lt. Daniels slowly sighed. 

“Annnnnnnnd,” she said. “I’m a furry now. Fuck.”

***

“Oohh gods yes,” Meg groaned, her head hanging forward as she arched her spine like a pleased cat. Liam rolled his eyes.

“Can you not?” he asked. “We’re under camera, uh, and I don’t want to...you know...” He glanced at the walls. The cameras were hidden. He wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse. But then Meg accidentally bumped her rump against his groin. This caught his cock between her ass-cheeks and she quickly stood on her tippy toes to trap his slick, water-soaked cock by her perfect, peach-round rump. Her wings spread and she grinned wickedly over her shoulders.

“Keep on scrubbing,” she purred.

Liam flushed, hard. “We’re on camera. That means people are... fuck that’s just tempting you more, isn’t it?”

Meg’s eyes gleamed with pure villainy. She shifted her hips and actually hopped slightly off the floor. It was a move that was born of superhuman agility and strength and simple practice. It ended with Liam’s cocktip grinding against her ass, her taint, and then between her thighs, where she trapped it as she landed, so that he couldn’t do anything but bump against her pussy. She stood and crooned.

“Dr. Brown was the one who said that I‘d need someone to scrub my wings.” She whispered. “Every. Single. Feather.” She twitched her wing.

Liam shuddered and closed his eyes. His hands went to her hips, squeezing as he started to slide them along her belly. He could feel the tautness of her muscles. He knew where this would end. It would end with his palms cupping and squeezing what remained, to him, the most perfect breasts in all of Purgatory. Hell, in all of the solar system now. He knew that there were better, from an academic standpoint. Hell, Fizit was heftier. Tethis seemed larger due to her small size. Liv was fetchingly small and perky in her own way.

But Meg had his perfect breasts.

Because they were attached to his perfect woman.

Meg crooned as Liam’s fingers started to gently tweak her nipples. He ground and rocked against her, nuzzling her neck. The only thing souring the experience was the tangy, chemical taste that came from the water sprays. Fortunately, that had tapered off. Meg lifted one leg with a quiet hiss, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she stood on one foot with effortless ease. Liam squeezed her to him tighter. It had been a while since he fucked her like this.

“Vanderbilt!”

The booming voice that rang in his ears caused Liam to jerk back so fast that he nearly fell back against the wall. Meg yelped and grabbed onto the wall, denting the metal with a squeal.

“What!?” Liam yelped, staggering to his feet.

“This is your decontamination officer, Lt. Brooks!” The voice was filled with enough pissed off rage to cut through a bulkhead. “And we’ve been telling you, for the past two minutes, to towel off! Everyone else is through already!”

Meg frowned.

“Spoilsport.”

***

“Well, by all the gods,” Dr. Khatri said, rubbing his bushy beard with one hand. “You really are completely decontaminated.”

Tethis chuckled. “I don’t mind having that tested,” she said, rubbing her shoulders. Dr. Khatri had offered to come and check on her, even though he knew that it would require him going through decontamination if her spell hadn’t worked. That was enough to make Tethis like him. The fact he was clearly fascinated by magic was another point in his favor. All of that weighed far more than the fact that he was, by far, the strangest person that she had ever met. It wasn’t that his skin color was that unusual – by Purgatorian standards, he wasn’t even that dark. But thick beards were uncommon and she had never seen a headdress like that.

“Still, if we can replicate it, then we could speed up customs through the gate a great deal,” he said, nodding.

“Dr. Khatri!”

The voice drew both his and Tethis’ attention away from the tests that they had been examining. Another doctor – this one as pale as any woman that Tethis had ever seen – stood in the doorway.

“This is Dr. Summer, she’s the pediatrician that we called in for this visit,” Dr. Khatri said.

“What is she doing here?” Dr. Summer asked.

“Oh, Tethis here, or should I say Doctor Tethis,” Dr. Khatri said, cheerfully. “She was showing me her spell which can do an entire decontamination cycle in a few seconds. I had to test it to make sure that it was safe, but I cannot find a single flaw in it thus far.”

“Maybe you can explain this then,” Dr. Summer said, walking forward to show Tethis the tablet she had. “This is the bloodwork we did on Marion Vanderbilt and Brax Vanderbilt.”

Tethis took it, frowning.

“I have no idea what any of this is,” she said.

“R-Right!” Dr. Summer said, blushing. “But, uh, basically, they both show signs of being vaccinated. I was told Purgatory doesn’t even have disease as we understand it.”

“Oh, that was my spell!” Tethis said, cheerfully. “I based it off readings I took from Liam over the past few years.”

“Readings,” Dr. Summer said, slowly. She tucked the tablet into one of the huge pockets of her lab coat. “How did you take readings in...”

“A Bronze Age planet of sensual eroticism and mysterious magics?” Tethis asked, giggling. “Well, the basics are pretty simple, if you know any arcanic theory. Which...” She paused. “You don’t. Uh, do you have a stone tablet I can draw on and some chalk?”

***

“Uh, wing cramp! Wing cramp!” Meg squawked. “Make the hole bigger!”

“I’m trying!” Liam said, tugging. “Just, hold your wing shut a little bit-”

Meg was no longer able to keep her wing pressed in the unnatural position she had forced it into. Her muscles rebelled and she spread her wings to try and stretch out the cramp. Liam went skidding backwards, covered in the tattered remains of what had once been a cotton shirt.

***

Liv scowled as she looked down at herself. The pants were way too tight. How the hell was she going to kick anyone in these things?

***

Liam rubbed at his back as he walked out of the dressing room and saw the rest of his bizarre extended family. He wasn’t exactly sure how he felt himself. After years of being in nothing more restrictive than a kilt and some body armor, being in a three piece suit with fancy shoes and a belt and socks and everything, it felt like he was suffocating. Of course, he thought, it was possible that this would have been suffocating compared to jeans and a T-shirt. He rubbed at the collar of his shirt and tried to put on a brave face.

Brax looked like he was still getting the hang of wearing a shirt, since he had leaned his head around and was tugging at the shoulder with his teeth. Someone had covered his finger-tips in metal and cotton finger splints, taped into position. It looked like he had broken every single finger in his hands. Liam felt a moment of pure rage and fear – but then he saw the lack of concern on Brax’s face and instead sighed.

“Claws?” he asked.

“I tore the first three shirts, sorry,” Brax said, biting his lip. His teeth had left tiny, ragged rents on his shoulder.

Fizit looked…

Fizit looked like the most terrifyingly fuckable businesswoman that Liam had ever seen. She had been given a button up shirt with a suit jacket – clearly, someone had heard ‘head of the intelligence agency’ and gotten out whatever they’d give to some spook from the CIA. It fit her remarkably well, though her pants rode a bit low. She was missing a belt, and her tail was peeking over the back hem of her pants, which added a delicious hint of exposure to her otherwise professional look.

Tethis had been bundled up into a thick orange sweater with a shirt that looked like it was made for a woman about twice her height. Apparently, the people picking clothes for short-stacks had decided in favor of boobage over height. Liam had a sinking suspicion that that had been the right decision, as it was easier to tuck in a long shirt than it was to free boobs trapped in a shirt meant for a ten year old. She had also gotten some short shorts that, on her, hung almost to the knees.

Liv was the one who looked the closest to her normal – in that it was hard for her to look like anything but a faintly pissed off elf, even if she was in jeans and a T-shirt now. The thing that surprised Liam was her hair. But he made a note to ask her later.

Meg’s clothes he was the most familiar with, as they had needed to experiment four times to figure out that no matter how many times you sliced up a T-shirt, there was no way to get the wings through without either Meg’s ability to compress her wings or the T-shirt failing at some point. And so, someone on the base had scrounged up something that Liam had never before seen in his life.

It was called a Virgin Killer Sweater.

“It is the best thing since sliced bread,” Meg purred, her hands slipping along the gray colored sweater that barely managed to contain her breasts, which themselves were barely contained by a hastily converted bra, which itself had been a trial to get on without cutting off circulation to her wings. The Sweater itself covered her chest, looped around her neck, but then had nothing at the back. It was simply empty space from the neck loop to the curve of her ass, where it tied together again. This meant the front strained against her belly and breasts, and her wings were perfectly free.

“It’d almost be better if she went naked,” a muttered voice drew Liam’s attention.

Yet another military bigwig was approaching down the corridor, followed  by Chelsea. He was an older looking Asian fellow – and Liam was pretty sure he had seen him before, when he had met the President. Dredging up a name, he held out his hand.

“General Sung?” he asked.

“Ambassador Vanderbilt,” Sung said, taking his hand.

They shook.

“Welcome to Earth.” He grinned. “Officially, this time.”

Liam laughed.

The general walked with them through the facility. The old bunker that had become the United States’ first faster-than-light starport had been hastily converted, and the signs of continuing work were everywhere. Men in reflective vests and security badges worked at various walls, taking off ancient looking metal plates to reveal ducting and wire work that might have come right out of the Cold War. Considering the original rationale behind the construction of the bunker, Liam wouldn’t have been shocked.

“You’ll have an escort,” General Sung said. “To ensure that none of the crazies bother you.”

“How bad is it?” Liam asked.

“Well, after your, ah, gods,” Sung said, making sure to emphasise how lower case that ‘g’ was. “Did their little meet and greet, this bunker has had to fend off at least two active shooters. Don’t worry.” He smiled at Fizit, who had hissed like a tea-kettle. “They weren’t exactly the kind of people who’d get past the first layer of defense. One was a fundamentalist baptist of some kind or another, I can never keep them straight. The other was a Muslim.” He shrugged. “But that’s just the people who’ve made it to the bunker.”

“I thought this place was supposed to be a secret,” Fizit said, her tail lashing from side to side.

“Well, it was a secret for about a week and a half,” Sung said. “But every government in the world started asking their scientists how we might have done it. The theory is, apparently, common enough among the high energy physicist communities that the same trick that Dr. Brown used to figure out the star-gate in the first place was replicated and...” He spread his hands. “There you go.”

“You figured that out?” Liam asked, looking at Chelsea. She was waddling along at a comfortable clip. If keeping pace with them made her uncomfortable, she didn’t show it. Her grin was playful.

“I had motivation.”

“She means your diiiiiick,” Meg whispered, sotto voce, to Liam.

“Is Mom talking about-” Brax asked, wriggling excitedly in Liam’s arms.

“Meg!” Fizit hissed.

“What?” Meg asked, her wings mantling.

Sung looked like he had bitten down on a lemon. Chelsea was either less of a prude (and considering how fast she had jumped Liam’s bones that seemed likely) or she  was just getting used to Purgatorian attitudes towards sex. Either way, her smile was playful. “It was actually how I met my husband.”

Meg grinned. “Even when not present, my husband’s dong is magical.”

Fizit, who had managed to clap her hands over Brax’s ears-tufts, hissed like a tea kettle thrown into a star.

They, finally, reached the elevators that led to the exit of the bunker. Liam sighed. “So, uh, how did my mom take it?” he asked. “I...I’ve wanted to talk to her for so long. I always worried that she’d be, like...” He shook his head, trailing off. The amount of emotions that he had taken out and pondered for literal years smote him. Every quiet evening for the first few months on Purgatory, he had laid in bed, looking at the ceiling. He had felt the closeness of Meg (and later, Tethis and Liv and Mary and Fizit)  and he had been happy. But there had always been thoughts of the life he had left behind. Those thoughts had grown less and less frequent.

Now they were back. All at the same time.

Sung coughed. “I see that the message didn’t reach you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wish that you’d be hearing this from one of the State Department flacks, but...” He looked at Liam.

Liam looked at him.

And Sung told him.

The elevator door started to close and every workman in the corridor looked up at the sound of Liam’s furious bellow: “You fucking what!?”

***

“So, what do you think of the news? Crazy, huh?”

Lucy Vanderbilt shrugged slightly as she stirred her cocktail. The dating app she was trying – Cougrr – had promised that the fee for entrance combined with its top of the line algorithmic sorting software would deliver a higher class of man into her life. Looking at the slimy looking, used car salesman type that was filling the seat across from her, Lucy was less than convinced. She shrugged slightly and sighed.

“I wouldn’t have believed it if it wasn’t for the footage. And even that was a bit much.” She sipped her drink and wondered when the waiter was going to come by with their bread.

“Well,” the man began. His name was already a bit hard to place. Was it Simon? Or Gideon? Something with an ‘ion’ at the end, she could remember that. “I’m just wondering what it’s going to do to the Middle East.”

“Oh?” Lucy asked.

“Well, you know how they are,” the man said, shrugging slightly.

“Oh,” Lucy said. Mr. Vibrator was definitely in her future tonight.

“And, listen, I’ve worked there for years.” He nodded, tapping his chest, puffing up slightly. “And even after all that, I can’t tell what’s going to set them off.”

“Ah,” Lucy said, looking down at her drink. It was gone now. She pursed her lips slightly. “W-What do you do in the Middle East?”

“Oil,” the man said, grinning. He looked like he was pretty damn sure that’d get her even more into him. His eyes dipped to her dress. Lucy frowned ever so slightly.

“I heard that this Purgatory place has a lot of interesting things,” she said, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s supposed to be a jungle planet, according to what the news networks have said. That means it’ll have plenty of oil. Assuming, of course, the return of Hephaestus, the god of smiting and mechanics, doesn’t upset the energy market.” She smirked. “Or do you think that he couldn’t invent a cold fusion reactor that’s cheap enough to be built in your backyard.” She shrugged. 

The slimy man coughed. “W-Well, uh...” He rubbed his collar. “That sounds a bit like a pipe dream. Besides, uh, you don’t really buy that they’re gods, right?”

“Of course not literal gods. Just beings who have demonstrated superhuman ability on live television, and they seem to be friendly with the United States.” Lucy said. She shrugged ever so slightly, careful to keep her arms over her chest. No sense giving this guy a show. “OPEC countries might not be the best long term investments.”

The slimy man nodded. “Yeah. Well.” He paused. “Did you see, uh, any good movies?”

The waiter came with bread and refills for the water. Lucy sipped her water once, smiled, and said: “I need to freshen up. Be right back.”

The restaurant's bathrooms were near the back, hidden from view by a thin half-wall topped by artificial greenery. Lucy looked around for some kind of exit for a few seconds before a quiet cough drew her attention. She turned and saw a smiling waitress.

“Need an escape?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Lucy said.

The waitress glanced back, looking through the fake shrubbery. She found Lucy’s table and clicked her tongue. “Him again?”

“I should add some choice anonymous comments to Cougrrr,” Lucy said, her voice dry.

The waitress chuckled, then glanced Lucy over. Lucy’s cheeks heated as she saw the interest in the other girl’s eyes. Fortunately, the waitress either guessed that now was a bad time, or she remembered that she was on duty. Instead of saying anything, she pointed. “The back exit’s that way.” She winked. “Come again, next time you swipe right.”

Once outside, Lucy thought about switching on her phone to see if there was any fresh news about Purgatory. Unlike most of her congregation and most of her coworkers and most of her friends, she was excited by this. Yes, to see human beings (or human-like beings) claim to be gods was faintly sacrilegious. But she had never saw the point of yelling at someone over their belief, unless it was directly threatening her livelihood. God would sort it all out in the end. But the promises of their abilities was... exciting.

A pang struck her.

Liam had always been into science fiction and fantasy. She tried to imagine what he’d be saying about this.

Oh, Mom, he’d say. If Thor can call down lightning at will, maybe he could power up capacitors. And if mjolnir is even half as powerful as the legends say, well, maybe we could, like, figure out how that works. Oh, wait. Don’t let anyone let Loki see the Thor movies. He might get ticked off.

Lucy smiled to herself. Instead of turning on her phone, she walked through the parking lot, found her car, slipped in, and then drove out. As she drove home, she tapped her thumbs against the wheel. Street-lights flashed in her windshield and the darkness of night cloaked the suburbs she buzzed through in mystery. She found her eyes blurring despite herself. It had been two years. But she supposed that never being sad about the death of a child, even two years later, would be far worse than the alternative. She wiped at her eyes with her thumbs, driving slower as she sniffled.

Distracted, she almost rear-ended a parked car before she rounded the bend to her house. She and her husband had gotten the place before prices had skyrocketed in California, and held onto it stubbornly. The price had gone up and up and up, and she figured if she ever desperately needed a million dollars in a hurry, she could nix it. But for now, she was going to keep it.

Even if it was hard being the only woman in a house made for a family of five. But George had died before Liam had gotten any brothers or sisters. And now Liam was dead too. She shook her head.

“Man, one bad date, and you get maudlin as heck, Lucy,” she said, shaking her head, then drove up into the garage. As the garage door wheeled shut, something nudged at her mind. Her brow  furrowed. There had been several dark vans parked on the street. Like, at least four. She stood up in her car, feeling a prickling fear slide along the small of her back. She reached into her purse and found the mace that she carried. She knew she was being absurd, but…

She opened the door.

And dropped the mace on the floor.

The living room held a ghost.

An exceptionally well dressed ghost.

Liam was pacing back and forth on his chin. “Why don’t you just interrupt the date? Or call her?”

A lean, limber looking Asian woman in clothes that could best be described as aggressively civilian, sat in Lucy’s favorite chair. She was looking around the room periodically, and she said: “Well, her phone’s off and it’s considered a breach of security when people might-” She stopped, looking at Lucy.

Liam turned to look at Lucy. Lucy felt the blood roaring in her ears.

Her son was very... odd for a ghost.

She’d have expected him to look the same. Instead, his skin was a few shades darker. His hair looked like it had been exposed to sun and wind and salt water. Also, he was definitely more muscular than he had been when the bomb blast had taken him from her. He was wearing a button up white shirt, a belt, and a set of black pants. The shirt’s sleeves had been rolled up, and she could see tiny seams of scars that definitely hadn’t been there the last time she had seen him. But the look in his eyes was exactly how she had remembered him.

“Hi Mom,” he said, his voice husky.

“Holy shit, that’s your mom?” A blonde haired, blue eyed woman leaned into Lucy’s line of sight. In contrast to the normal clothes of the others, her voluptuous body was contained in a single expanse of grayish cotton that looped around her neck and her hips, but left most of her sides and her back entirely exposed. That was not the most striking thing about her. Even her eyes, which glowed like a pair of LED lights, were not the most striking thing about her.

That was her wings. They were broad and pale white and intensely real. Seeing winged people on the TV was different from seeing them in person. There was a kind of horrifying realness that the mind wanted to rebel against. They had to be fake. They had to be fake.

“Dude,” the winged woman whispered. “Your mom is hot.”

“Meg!” Liam yelped.

Lucy felt as if she should faint. That would make things a great deal simpler. She could fall over and when she woke up, she could deal with this then. Instead, she stayed stubbornly conscious. She put her hands over her mouth and drew in a slow, shuddering breath. Liam stepped forward and suddenly, she was in his arms. And he was real. Her son was real and here and alive. He gave her one of his spine-cracking hugs and Lucy hissed. But she didn’t try to pull away. She simply clung to Liam and squeezed him back. When he set her back down, her knees were quivering.

“I’m going to go chew out my men for not giving us any heads up,” the Asian woman said, her voice a low growl. She stalked off. The winged woman – Meg? - waved after her. Lucy managed to walk to the sofa before sprawling back, her knees unable to keep her up.

“Sorry, Mom,” Liam said. “I didn’t mean to drop in like this. The State Department are keeping the details of my return, uh, secret. For at least a few days more.”

Lucy shook her head. Mom. She was being called Mom again. “W-What? How? Happen?” she gasped out.

Liam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where to start?”

Meg’s wings flared. “Your son touched an ancient artifact that sucked him into Purgatory, an alien laboratory used to research the gods of ancient Earth in safety. The gods overthrew their jailers but never learned the reasons behind their imprisonment, and the surviving aliens integrated with Purgatorian society and slowly forgot their history over the centuries. Dragged into this world, Liam met me – Megara – and saved my life. We became lovers and started doing odd jobs for the god Sobek. Over time, Liam was able to bring Earth innovations to Purgatory and became the leader of a small city state called Babylon and has been the steadfast opponent of Ares, the Greek god of War and current biggest douche in the universe. We got married, and have two children.” She smiled, slightly. “Which means I’m your daughter in law. Hi.” She nodded.

“T-That was... concise,” Lucy said, slowly.

Meg grinned. “While my fun loving personality often obscures the fact, I was trained in debate and rhetoric and logic. Also, I’ve studied the classics. Plato, Socrates, and now Einstein, Hawking, Descartes...”

“She pawed through my iPhone,” Liam said, grinning.

“Wait, did you say-” Lucy started.

Meg lifted up her hand, flashing a golden wedding band that looked as if it had come right off the shelf in some high end jewelry shop. “Tada!”

Lucy looked at her. Then she looked at Liam. Then she looked back at Meg. Slowly, she started to smile.

“C-Can I get you anything to drink, Meg?”

Meg opened her mouth. Liam coughed. Meg pouted. “Water.” She elbowed Liam. “Spoilsport. It’s not like she’s my biological mother.”

Lucy chose to not understand that.

In the kitchen, Lucy poured out some tap water. Meg watched with clear fascination, whistling quietly as she took the water. She drank it and sighed, smacking her lips.

“Y-You said kids?” Lucy asked.

Liam coughed and hemmed and hawed.

Meg smiled. “One’s the daughter of Liam’s friend and lover, Liviana of Sparta. She’s the daughter of Ares, but she hates him. Don’t worry about that.” She nodded. “She had a child with a lizardman general named Brax. When Brax died, Liam took on the role of Dad. And I’m Marion’s honorary Mom.” She nodded.

Lucy’s eyes brimmed with tears. She breathed in, then out, trying to control her voice. On the one hand, she wanted to ask Meg pointed questions about her casual attitude towards her son cheating on her. On the other hand, she couldn’t begin to express how deeply proud she was of Liam taking care of an orphan. “And how did Liv die?”

“Oh, she didn’t die,” Meg said.

“But you said-” Lucy’s brow furrowed.

“Liv is not a super motherly type,” Liam said, sounding like he was being strangled slowly to death. He tugged at the collar of his shirt.

“Anywho, the other kid is Brax. He’s the son of Liam and another one of his lovers, Fizit!” Meg said, cheerfully as she reached over to fill her glass again. She cooed happily. “Man, taps are ama-”

Lucy slammed her hands on the counter. “Liam Sebastian Vanderbilt!”

“Your middle name is Sebastian?” Meg hissed, her eyes widening.

Liam held up his hands as his mother turned on. Now, she couldn’t keep her anger out of her eyes. “How could you? You’re married!” she snarled. “I could understand straying once, even if it is very disappointing.” She shook her head. “But this? Twice!?”

“Technically,” Meg said. “Liam’s up to the low twenties in terms of girls.”

“Meg!” Liam squawked as Lucy lifted her hand to slap him. She clenched her fist and forced her hand down. She never hit Liam before, not once. She wasn’t going to do it now, even if he was, apparently, a philandering monster. With two kids as well! She thought she had raised him better than that.

Meg sighed. “Okay, while it is fun watching Liam squirm, I need to come clean...” She grinned. “I like to watch.”

Lucy turned to face Meg, her brow furrowing.

“I like to watch Liam! You know, bang other women,” Meg said, cheerfully.

Lucy gaped at her.

“O-Oh,” she said.

A long, pregnant silence filled the room, interrupted only by Meg filling her glass from the tap again and drinking the water down with a happy sigh. She set the glass down and smiled.

“So, it wasn’t cheating,” she said. Her wings flared. “Liam’s all good.”

Lucy blinked. “I feel like I need to sit down again.”

Once she was seated, Liam took her hand.

“Purgatory is a very different place from Earth,” he said, slowly. “But I’m proud of almost everything I did there. I’ve saved people, helped people. Met the woman I love.” He smiled at Meg, who blushed slightly. Lucy looked at her in wonder. She had thought that there’d be nothing in the world that could make that woman blush. But Liam’s simple admission of love had set her cheeks as scarlet as if she had been, well, any girl from down the road. Her wings flared outwards and Lucy blinked slowly as she realized that she was seeing a woman...mantle. And preen.

Like a bird.

That was surrealism on-top of surrealism.

“Where are these other women? Liv and, uh, who did you say was the mother of...” She paused. “Wait, you named him after the general?”

Liam nodded. “General Brax saved my life.” He paused. “After trying to kill me a few times. But, uh, Liv did the same, so it’s... okay?” He trailed off, looking at Lucy’s expression. He grinned sheepishly. “Purgatory!” He spread his hands, like he was on a vaudeville stage.

“Who's his mother?” Lucy asked.

“Fizit,” Liam said. “She’s, uh, you’ll like her. Are you feeling up to meeting the rest of them?”

Lucy breathed in a slow, shuddering breath, held it for a heart beat, then let it out. “No. But we might as well take the plunge.” She smiled at Liam, who grinned and sprang to his feet.

As he headed outside, Lucy looked at Meg. Meg smiled at her.

“So, uh, who was the Asian girl?” Lucy asked.

“Oh, that’s Simone. Well, Lieutenant Fong,” Meg said. “She was the CO of the team the USA sent to recover Liam. He fucked her too!”

Chapter Three

Fizit groaned as warm water sluiced along her shoulders, easing aches and pains she hadn’t even known existed. She was not normally inclined to sapphism, but she had to admit, Meg had a point. Even if it had taken four eyebrow waggles, two serendipitous elbowing, and Meg cornering her at the end of the evening for Fizit to admit it.

Liam’s mother was attractive.

But that hadn’t made the meeting any less fraught and awkward. Fizit had let Brax break the ice, confident that an ancient truism of children and grandparents would hold water, even on the alien world of Earth. And she had been right.

Grandparents loved children.

They could get all the fun parts – cuddling, laughing at their silly comments, playing peek-a-boo, and so on. And then when the tiresome parts – such as forcing Brax to actually go to bed and sleep – came up, they could leave and let the parents take over. But it wasn’t forcing her son into bed that had made Fizit so tired. It was the simple fact that California was freezing. Humans measured temperatures in a dizzying number of ways. Her favorite was Celsius, as it was the most logical. So, of course, the United States would use Fahrenheit. But whether it was 60 or 15 degrees, it all translated to the same awful, awful cold.

Which is why Fizit was fairly sure that she would spend the rest of the day in this shower, unless someone came and pried her out.

The door to the shower room opened and Fizit turned her head, her frills lifting curiously. She grinned as she saw Liam slipping into the room. He had not come with a crowbar, so she figured that she’d get at least ten more minutes of this bliss. Liam bumped the door closed and smiled at her. “Brax is still asleep,” he whispered. “And Mom’s downstairs getting breakfast ready.”

“Oh?” Fizit arched an eyebrow ridge.

Liam grabbed at his belt buckle, grunting as he started fiddling with it. Fizit’s body tingled slightly. She felt as if Liam hadn’t touched her in years. It was closer to days. But the stress of travel had added subjective time to that scale far out of proportion to reality. She licked her muzzle and realized that there was an advantage to human clothing beyond the fact it protected them from their beastly weather.

There was a delicious anticipation in watching Liam fumble his way out of his clothes. First, Liam had gotten the belt buckle unhooked. The quiet rasp of leather on cloth was like an aural version of a slow lick along her spine. It told her body what was coming and her body responded with a wave of arousal that was nearly dizzying. Then Liam had to undo the button, then yank down the zipper. Fizit turned so that her back was pressed to the tile wall of the shower. Her tail coiled around her ankles as she started to breath in slow, steady pants.

The faint bzzzip of metal on metal made her nipples ache.

Liam slid his pants down, standing in boxers that were tented by his arousal. The half-concealed cock was a new level of excitement. Fizit’s tail wriggled and twitched, almost knocking over several bottles of hair lotion. A new delight followed: Liam undoing button after button after button on his shirt. Every button exposed more and more of his muscular chest. She could see the scars.

Including one that she was fairly sure one of her assassins had left.

A tiny twinge of guilt bloomed in her, remembering the way Lucy had asked her, when they had been alone, about the times she had tried to kill Liam. Fizit gulped. Then Liam’s shirt hit the ground and the glass door of the shower opened and Fizit was able to forget everything but his body. He stepped in- then clapped his hand over his mouth, his eyes wide.

“Mmmrph!” He grabbed the shower faucet and twisted it. Hard. The water dropped to merely acceptable temperatures. Fizit tried to not pout.

Liam drew his hand away from his mouth. “O...www...” He closed his eyes, his face twisting into a grimace. “Fizit. Why were you boiling yourself?”

“It’s freezing out there!” She hissed.

“It’s California!” Liam laughed. Fizit harrumphed and stuck her nose into the air.

Liam decided to get some revenge by sliding his hands down and cupping her ass. He drew her close. Water sluiced along her feathers, slicking them back against her neck and her scalp. Then his mouth pressed to her muzzle. She tilted her head, thrusting her tongue into his mouth as he squeezed her ass firmly enough to drive an excited growl from her. Her tail reached up and she gently nudged the water. It shifted from adequate to slightly close to warm enough. Liam didn’t seem to notice.

But then again, he was kissing her. She was rather confident he’d have missed a godkiller going off right now.

When she drew her mouth back, panting, she murmured. “There is something I wanted to discuss with you.”

Liam picked up one of the lotion bottles. He squirted the thick, semi-transparent goop into his palm and Fizit’s nose flared. Even through the water, she could smell just how fruity that scented. Then she hissed as his palm pressed against her breast. His hand had to make several curving motions to actually cover and coat her breast in the soap. But the feeling of the slightly cool gel slipping between her scales was hard to describe. It was soothing and slightly discomforting at the same time. Then water sluiced along her skin and it mixed with the soap to create a frothing, sudsy mess. It coated her green breasts and dripped along her yellow belly, making her shimmer as if she had been oiled.

From the way Liam’s dick bumped against her thighs, it was quite effective.

Fizit stepped back. She started to spread the suds across her scales, groaning in pure bliss as she felt the mixture of warm water and warming soap, soaking into her. She grinned at Liam and purred. “Your government is keeping secrets from their own citizens. That’s going to make a big part of your job hard.”

“Oh?” Liam asked. His voice sounded faintly hoarse.

Fizit turned around. Her voice was a wicked, sultry purr as she lifted her tail. “Get my ass too.” She licked her muzzle. Liam didn’t bother wasting time with applying soap to his hand. He simply picked up the bottle and squirted it against the curve of her back. Fizit hissed and arched her spine even more, thrusting her ass upwards as if she was in heat. Again. The memory of her first time with Liam made her loins ache. Then Liam started to rub soap into her ass and she found it almost impossible to scheme.

Almost.

“We’re not just here for diplomacy,” she hissed around the pleasured moans that wanted to pour from her throat as Liam grabbed the shower head. Detaching it, he started to fiddle with the knobs. Fizit was about to complain – water was no longer hitting her back or shoulders. Then Liam pressed the head against her thighs, the jets flush with her sex. Fizit’s eyes widened and she had to dig her fingernails into the tiles, her claws leaving behind white scratches as she sprawled against the wall. Her hips bucked and she hissed in pure bliss. “Ahhhhhhh!”

“Like that?” Liam’s voice was smug.

“Hotter!” Fizit hissed.

“Seriously?” Liam sounded taken aback. “I don’t-”

“Hotter, you bastard,” Fizit groaned, bucking her hips against the water jets flushing across her sex. It was an infuriating and divine feeling. On the one hand, she had never felt so many points of contact. But the water didn’t seek out her centers of pleasure, it didn’t pay special attention to anything. It was an endless, endless tease. But as Liam twisted the knob, at the very least it was warm enough. She closed her eyes to thin slits and looked out the window.

The sky was cold and gray and cloudy – which made it easier to deal with. Significantly easier. She rocked her hips against Liam and his nozzle, and managed at last to say what she needed to.

“We’re here, ah, to make sure Purgatorian interests are, ah, able to stand up to, nnnhfuckyes... to Earth ones. That means corporate trade deals. That means, ah, fuck, fuck!” She closed her eyes tightly. “Liam, fuck me! Just stop teasing me and fuck me right fucking now.”

Liam, bless him, didn’t wait. He simply slotted the nozzle back in line, aimed it at her, then grabbed her hips. His cock slipped along her dripping sex, grinding up and down, trying to find the right angle.

“And we can’t do that,” she said. “If you ah fucking gods yes!” She screamed. She couldn’t help herself. Liam had hilted himself in her. His balls rested against her clit and her fingernails were spreading spiderweb cracks in the tile. Liam’s hands tightened on her hips and his face pressed against her neck. He drew a long, slow lick from neck to jaw to her ear-tuft. His voice was husky.

“The press release is later this week,” he whispered. “We have time.”

***

Lucy looked up, her eyes wide, her hands holding both halves of the cracked egg. The yoke sat on the counter, between the piping hot frying pan and the open carton. Meg, who was sniffing curiously at her cup of coffee, said: “Man, you guys build cheap houses. Why are the walls so freaking thin?”

***

Fizit felt her breasts almost slapping against her jaw as she rocked against Liam, yipping in time with the thrust of his hips and his balls against her. His hands had slid from her thighs to her shoulders, rooting her in place so he could use every inch of his strength on her. And it was divine. She let Liam use her and felt her own climaxes roar through her. They came one after the other after the other, stretched to the breaking point by the feeling of his member inside of her, by the fierce grip on her shoulders, by the feeling of water skidding along her shoulders and her feather. All of it combined to make one long, perfect moment of purest bliss.

Liam managed to last long enough for Fizit to hear her voice crack.

Then his balls clenched and he came. Hard. The feeling of his seed bursting within her, filling her to the brim, was enough that Fizit would have screamed again. But Liam’s hand had cupped her head and turned her to the side, so that he could lean over his shoulder and capture her mouth in a single, desperate moment. She shuddered and mewled into his mouth.

It was a sloppy kiss.

That didn’t make it any less perfect.

Liam slowly drew out of her, panting heavily. Fizit whined quietly, then gasped as she started to feel the steady drip of his seed, slipping from between her well fucked lips. She grinned shakily. “So, we spend today researching companies?” she murmured.

“Yeah,” Liam said, nodding.

“Sounds, ah, fun,” Fizit said, her eyes closing.

The boiler, at that moment, chose to run out of hot water. Fizit squalled in horror.

***

Fort O’Neill was, like many forts in the United States, not exactly fortified. The days of wooden forts and barricades to keep out Native American raiding parties were long passed. That didn’t mean there weren’t ways to keep the place safe. Watch towers and fences kept out anyone who wasn’t there on military business. Not that there were many of those. Wyoming was a state made for private places – with a population so low that it could have been a rounding error in most of China, it had more land than people.

Which was why it was very odd for Private Millard to see a big-rig, six wheeler truck approaching the perimeter. It was moving over the broad, flat plains at a brisk pace, kicking up dust and bits of earth behind its thick wheels. For a while, he had thought it was just a dust devil, kicked up by the endless winds that roared across the plains. But as the shape of the truck resolved, he had picked up his walkie talkie and called it in.

The fort’s CO had heard the news and, through the chain of command, told Private Millard and the rest of the grunts on guard duty to keep an eye on the truck. Several soldiers – some in field dress, others in working uniforms – got into a jeep and drove it to the front gates. The plan was clear. They’d go out and meet the truck. The only problem was, well…

The truck.

“Uh, sir,” Millard said into his walkie talkie. “The truck’s not slowing down.”

A sudden thrill shot through him. This might be action. Not just another endless day of watching nothing much.

“Say again, tower 8?”

“Sir, the truck’s going to ram the fence!”

Millard was half right.

The truck didn’t brake or slow down. It went even faster. But even as Millard waited for the order to ready his weapon, he could see something odd about the front of the truck. It had a large blue glowing light strapped to it by duct tape. The light shone around the strands of tape, and flared out of the top and bottom of the grayish cylinder the tape made. It was like someone had taped a rock to the truck. But as the truck got faster and faster, the rock started to glow brighter and brighter.

“All perimeter, you are clear to-”

The truck hit the fence.

Millard gaped.

The fence remained standing.

The truck kept going. But now it was driving through the manicured, well ordered buildings of Fort O’Neill. Men out for their morning physical training dove out of the way, while officers shouted and enlisted scrambled for cover. The truck blared its horn as it struck the wall of the officers mess. This time, Millard was able to see as the truck phased through the wall as if it was nothing. The only hint of any interaction at all was a flash of pale white light ringing the truck. It burst out of the far side of the mess and hit a turn hard enough that it nearly jackknifed into a roll. Somehow, the driver kept the truck from toppling. The crystal stopped glowing.

Men sprang out of the back. They wore Guy Fawkes masks and black jackets. Several had red armbands around their forearms. Gunfire started to pop and crackle. Some officers went around armed. Some had also either heard the go ahead for the use of their weapons, or they were so frazzled by this sudden attack to fuck the regulations and start opening up. Millard worked the safety on his rifle, his heart hammering.

The fucking anarchists – or whatever they were – didn’t seem to give a shit about being shot at. One stood in the open, laughing. Millard blinked.

His clothes were ruffling.

Bullets were hitting.

But he wasn’t dying.

“All towers, this is Commander Eld, weapons free, weapons free!”

Millard hefted his service rifle. He sighted, making sure that the firing lines were clear. The anarchist in the center of the quad was walking towards an officer who was backing away, emptying a pistol into his chest. Millard squeezed off a quick burst a fraction of a second before he realized that he was doing what he’d always grumbled about in movies.

The anarchist staggered as the rifle slugs hit his chest. Millard, his eyes focused on the man’s center of mass, could see the tiny glint of bullets rebounding into the air. Unlike the small 9mm rounds of the pistol, his rifle rounds ripped great gashes in the jacket, revealing unblemished pale skin beneath. But the effect was still the same.

He had done nothing.

The anarchist clubbed the officer down and lifted his baseball bat over his head.

His friends were busy too. They had quickly rushed the armory and had strapped what looked like five pounds of fertilizer and some chemical additives to the door. It wasn’t a patch on some of the bombs that Millard had seen used in the artillery range. But it didn’t need to be.

The door to the armory exploded inwards.

Smoke roiled.

The men in Guy Fawkes masks emerged, carrying explosives, rifles, boxes of ammo. They shoved them into the truck. Millard emptied his weapon into them, hoping to do something. He wasn’t sure if it was one of his rounds or someone else’s that set off a freaking artillery shell that one of the looters was carrying out. But he knew that everyone swore in the same tone of voice when the looter picked himself up, adjusted his half-shattered mask, then sprinted his now mostly naked ass onto the truck.

Finally, the order came.

“Cease fire, towers!”

He saw men with batons rushing forward. Someone had gotten a fucking clue. But it was too late. By the time the MPs with batons and shields rushed up against the anarchists, they had pulled back to their truck. The truck roared and actually drove towards the MPs, who had to scramble out of the way to avoid getting crushed. The last of the anarchists scrambled into the back of the now heavily laden truck as its engine roared and its horn blared.

It drove.

Some enterprising soldier came out of the armory with a Stinger missile launcher. She knelt down, aiming at the truck as it struck the fence. The crystal flared and the truck vanished through the fence with a flash of white light. Millard ducked and watched as the stinger missile arced from the sky and smashed into the truck. It hit the ground underneath the cab and filled the air with dust and smoke. When the bits of debris fell to earth, the truck was already half a mile away.

And before Millard’s eyes, the truck drove up a hill, down a hill, and into the ground.

It was gone.

Millard looked back at the relatively undamaged base. Men who had been hit by crossfire groaned and screamed. A few who had gotten the stuffing beaten out of them by the anarchists were groaning. Others were simply standing around in shock, waiting for officers to tell them what to do. A few NCOs, hiding their shock under decades of experience, were already shouting orders.

Alone on his watchtower, Millard had the privacy to say exactly what was on his mind.

“What the absolute fuck?”

***

Brax Junior narrowed his eyes as he peeked around the corner of the hallway. He glared down the hallway at the impostor. He knew, in reality, it was not an impostor. But it was more fun to pretend. He grinned, then drew back and away from the corner. To give him the slip. The impostor, that was. He grinned, then sprang out of cover. He charged, hissing. The impostor charged right back at him, hissing as well.

Brax smashed into the mirror.

He hadn’t realized it was so close.

The mirror shuddered and then fell from its hook. Since it was as tall as Dad was, this meant it had quite a way to fall. Brax squeaked and threw up his hands to try and knock it aside. But before it could squash him flat and break and get Grandma mad at him, a hand lashed out and caught the edge of the mirror. Swinging it back up, Auntie Liv looked down at Brax.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey, Auntie Liv,” Brax said, grinning as he leaped to his feet. Looking at the mirror, he saw that there was a pretty big crack in it now. He hissed. “Dang...”

Liv glanced down the stairs that led to the first floor of the house, then back over her shoulder at the corridor that led to the various bedrooms that everyone was staying in. She looked at Brax, then touched her thumb to the crack. She started to slide her thumb along the crack and as she moved it, a pale glow flared. Once she was done, the crack was gone. The mirror was whole once more. Brax oohed.

“How did you do that?”

“I dunno,” Liv said, shrugging. Her nose started to gleam with red. She sniffled and wiped at it, muttering a bad word under her breath.

“Are you okay, Auntie?” Brax asked, his tail lashing nervously.

“Fine,” Liv said. Then, grumpily, she held up her finger. “One second.”

When she had emerged from her room, she had something weird jammed into her nose. It looked like a tube of white cotton, with a tiny string connected to a tiny ring at the base of it. The ring bounced against her chin and she sighed slightly as she stuck the cotton up her nose even more.

“What’s that?” Brax asked.

“Liam’s Mom gave it to me,” Liv said, shrugging. “She called it a thing for soaking up girl blood. At least, I think that’s what she meant.” She shrugged again. “Liam said Earth people have a weird thing about saying some things are girl shi... stuff. Girl stuff. And some stuff is boy stuff. So I figure it’s just a bandage for girls that’s priced ten times more than a normal one is. And it’s a stupid shape.”

Brax cocked his head.

Mom walked up the stairs. She paused, seeing the two of them. Her tail twitched. “Liv, why do you have a tampon in your nose?”

Liv’s brow furrowed.

“Come on, Brax! Dad wants to take us to the park.”

“Yay!” Brax clapped.

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Liv asked, frowning.

Fizit snorted. “With Meg, me, you, Tethis and Liam there?”

Liv frowned even harder. Then she grinned. “Good point.”

***

Lucy and Liam sat next to one another, watching as Brax ran around in excited circles. Tanbark flew under his feet as he squealed and flailed.

“I’m not sure if it’s the park he likes, or that jacket,” Liam said.

Brax was wearing thick gloves with extra bits of tape to prevent his claws from having any accidents. This hadn’t stopped him from excitedly doing up and undoing every single zipper the jacket had several times. He had also tugged each pocket out and was now trying to make the pockets flap like he was a bird. The whole effect was that it made him sound and look like an entire thrift store being shaken in a paint mixer.

Lucy rubbed her hands together. “Is, uh, Tethis okay?”

Tethis and Meg were both walking together around the edges of the park. Meg was adapting fairly well to California. Her eyes were locked on the sky – the bright blue of it spread in every single direction. Liam found his own eyes dragged from his son to that sky. He had spent so much time on Earth in houses, in cars, being shuttled from place to place. Now? Now he had time to really grasp what it was to see sky. Not the enclosed bubble world of Purgatory. He blinked away tears.

“I mean, she’s wearing four layers,” Lucy said, not noticing Liam’s tears. He wiped at his face, trying to hide them. “It’s only fifty eight degrees, it’s barely jacket weather.”

“S-She’s smaller,” Liam said.

Lucy looked at her son.

Liam smiled. “Sorry, just...” He wiped at his nose again. “I haven’t seen sky in years.”

Lucy slid her arm around Liam’s shoulder.

Simone walked over to stand behind them. “Vanderbilt,” she said, her voice hard. “Just got a call from my CO. We need to get packed.”

Liam rubbed at his face. “Why?” he asked, standing. “The press release isn’t for days.”

“Things have come up,” Simone said. “They didn’t give me any details, but...” She paused. “Listen, I’ve heard enough orders over the years. I can recognize when someone is scared shitless.”

Lucy gulped. “Should I pack too?”

“Yeah,” Simone said. Liam stood, shocked at that.

“Do you think we’re in danger?” Liam asked, gesturing to Fizit. Fizit, who was watching Brax like a hawk, pushed the stroller that had Marion over to the playground pit. She scooped up Brax with her normal efficiency.

“I figure it’s better to be too safe,” Simone said.

Lucy couldn’t argue with that.

***

Liam sat next to Brax, whose nose was practically glued to the window. Across the aisle, Fizit had closed the window shut and was trying to pretend she was on the ground from her set, concentrated expression. Tethis and Liv had been a bit sky-sick as well. Meg paced up and down the central aisle of the jet, her wings folded tight behind her back.

“I could fly faster than this,” she said, grumbling.

“We’re going five hundred knots,” Simone said, looking up from her firearm. She had carefully disassembled it and was putting it back together again. She had set up a small tray on her fold down table and was taking advantage of the open spaces of the private jet. Not only was she fiddling with her gun, she also had room to let her legs hang out. It was weird to sit on an airplane and not have the normal spiel telling people to buckle their seat belts.

Marion started to fuss and whimper in Liam’s lap. He shifted in his seat and started to rock his legs up and down. Marion’s face started to turn increasingly red and she screwed up her face.

“Ah dang,” Liam muttered. “Mom, help?”

His mom, who was seated in the row ahead of him, reached up and tugged her sleep mask ever so slightly off. “She might be fussing because of the change in pressure, honey.”

“What do I do?” Liam asked.

“Hmm,” Mom said, turning to face him. She leaned against the window and smiled. “You can hold her until its over. And repeat after me: No matter how much she cries, it is only temporary.” She smiled as Marion started to upgrade from fussing to wailing and screaming.

Liam frowned. He started to rock Marion back and forth as Brax gasped and wriggled his tail in excitement. He had seen another cloud that looked impressive to him. Liam craned his head back. A row behind him, looking utterly dwarfed by her first class seat, Tethis was sitting cross legged with the family laptop sitting on her green thighs. She was wearing huge noise canceling headphones which were plugged into the laptop and had several blankets wrapped around her, giving her the appearance of a messy pseudo-burrito.

“An army of Anubis?” she muttered. “That’s more of a Set thing. And why would Anubis be offering deals to would be rebels? This Scorpion King should have beseeched Set!” She clucked her tongue.

“Tethis,” Liam said.

Tethis gasped. “Look out, Rick!”

Liam juggled Marion until she was sprawled against his shoulder. With his arm free, he reached out and slapped Tethis’ shoulder. Tethis jerked her head up, blinking at him. She took off her noise canceling headphones and slapped the pause button on her laptop.

“What?” she asked.

“Magic?” Liam asked, grinning as he held up his whimpering and crying infant.

Tethis smiled. She pulled out her crystal foci and the small power source she had brought with her from Purgatory.  The tip of the foci glowed and when she touched it to Marion’s forehead, the baby’s whimpers started to slow, then stopped. She sniffed, closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. Liam smiled, then set his child back down in his lap.

Mom glared at him.

“What?” Liam asked.

Mom glared harder.

Liam grinned, slightly. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

Mom slowly slipped her sleep mask back on and then turned wordlessly forward.

Fizit looked away from her screen. “I’ve been worrying about something.”

“Like that’s never happened before,” Brax muttered to Liam, grinning. Liam shushed his son.

“What about, Fizit?” Simone asked, clicking another piece back into her gun. Meg leaned against the back of the chair next to Simone, peering down at her firearm. Meg had gotten a taste for handguns during the battle of the Endless Mine. It turned out that having superhuman strength turned ‘kickback’ into a problem for other people. And when you never had to correct your aim between shots, you could be damn accurate.

“Are we sure that Ares cannot move through the portal without us being aware of it?” Fizit asked.

Liam frowned, his hand going to Marion’s head. He gently caressed her hair. It was growing thicker and thicker these days, and feather-like scales were beginning to appear between the strands. The effect was... odd. But not ugly or unseemly. And Liam was fairly certain that that wasn’t entirely based off his opinion, being her father. “The gate’s guarded and on watch, warded by the best spells we could make, blessed by several gods of secrets, and only on for a few seconds every few weeks.”

Fizit nodded.

“So, why are you worried?” Meg asked. “Also, what’s that?”

“It’s the action,” Simone muttered.

Fizit sighed. “I was reading some of the news stories. The revolution in that southern state...” she waved her hand.

“Chile?” Liam asked.

“Colombia, I think,” Simone said. “If you’re talking about the communist revolution. If it’s the drug thing, you might be thinking of Mexico.” She paused. “Technically, Colombia too.”

“Holy shit, what the fuck happened to South America?” Liam asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Fizit said, shaking her head. “What matters is the news report I read mentioned that the revolutionaries are calling on Purgatorian gods. They specifically made note of that.”

Liv, who had been radiating with a nervous tension for the entire flight, snorted. “Good luck.”

Everyone turned to look at her. Well, everyone save for Tethis, Brax, Marion and Mom, who each had their own more interesting things to contend with. Liv sighed at their curious looks.

“When I was born, Granddad – that’s Zeus, Simone,” Liv said, nodding to Simone. Simone got that expression that meant ‘oh right, my life is fucking weird now, isn’t it?’ Liam recognized it well. He had worn it more than once. “He said that when the gods were banished to Purgatory, they lost contact with all their followers who weren’t banished.”

“I thought they banished everyone who didn’t convert,” Simone said, snapping another part of her handgun together. Liam wanted to say it was the chamber, but he knew that he was likely wrong.

Liv smirked at him.

“...and lots of people don’t convert that easy,” Liam said, shaking his head. “And the Manchians couldn’t banish everyone.” He frowned. “And the aliens would want to control the experiment. That’d mean ensure that it could be isolated from external contaminants.” He rubbed his chin. “I wonder how many places in the solar system they tested Purgatory to see how far a connection between a god and their worshipers can stretch.”

Liv nodded. “Which is why Ares mucking around on Earth? No biggie. He’d have to give up his entire power base on Purgatory to come here. Then what’s he gonna do?”

Simone pointed at Tethis. “What about her power crystals?”

“Those are arcane magic, not divine magic,” Liv said, shrugging. “Different shit.”

Simone frowned.

Liv smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Ares would be cutting off his nose to spite his face if he tried to start a ruckus on the Earth.”

“Earth has a population of almost eight billion people,” Liam said, his voice soft. “If he convinces even one percent of them to worship them, then he’d effectively have replaced and doubled his original power base on Purgatory. And, holy shit, we can’t even remember which revolution or undeclared civil war that Fizit was even referencing. That’s not even getting into the USA’s weirdo militias, the far-right movements in Europe-”

“Antifa,” Simone said, ticking off her fingers. “ISIS, Putin and the entire Kremlin, China, the North Koreans.”

“I... I wouldn’t put antifa in that list,” Liam said.

“That wasn’t a  moral judgment, Vanderbilt,” Simone said, sighing. “Just pointing out that they’re the kind of people who’d love to have a god backing them. Doubly so when that’s a god of war.”

A long silence – unbroken by all save for the quiet gasps of excitement from Tethis and the low, droning roar of the engines – followed.

“Should I get out and push?” Meg asked.

Chapter Four

Kailee and Quinn whistled slowly as they looked over the railing.

“That’s a big damn hole,” Kailee said.

“How did you dig this?” Quinn asked as Admiral Cochrane clasped his hands behind his back and looked smug.

“Well, ladies,” Cochrane said, turning as he did so. He started to walk along the railing, heading towards one of the steam-powered elevators that whirred up and down the sides of the pit. In the shadows cast by the tall jungle trees that had been cultivated around the pit itself, the recesses of darkness seemed all the darker. It was as if every elevator simply vanished after a few feet, or emerged from nothingness to come to a stop at the edge. “This wasn’t the product of a single afternoon. But we had some covert assistance from Hades, Hel, Diayet...”

“How did you get help from Anubis?” Kailee asked. “And how do you know what happened to him?”

Cochrane chuckled. “I’ve got clearance. And, like Ares and Liviana, Diayet has been experimenting with her altered state.” He stepped onto an empty elevator. The cable connected to the top creaked as Kaliee and Quinn stepped aboard. The steam engine that powered the crank hissed and chuffed to life. The steam drifted into several wooden baffles that spread the steam outwards into a diffuse enough cloud that it couldn’t be spotted from above the treeline.

The elevator started to go down.

“Here,” Cochrane said, opening a small wooden cabinet on the side of the elevator. “Put these on.”

He held out a pair of outfits that looked completely alien to Kailee and Quinn. They were thick and furred and tufted with soft down, with sleeves that would completely cover their arms. The elevator was already starting to get colder as it descended into the pit.

Kailee shrugged into her jacket and drew it tight. It helped against the chill, but her fingertips and her legs started to prickle as the temperatures dropped as quickly as their elevator car. Quinn stepped to the side of the car, ignoring everything as she took hold of the railing and peered into the darkness. But they had stopped falling towards darkness.

Light was growing beneath them.

“It’s real…” Quinn whispered.

“Yes, it is, my ladies,” Cochrane said. “Your ship. The BSN Rocinante.”

He timed it perfectly.

The elevator fell fully into the dome of light created by mage lanterns. They shone on a solid expanse of gleaming metal – the same harsh black as the other creations of the Ancients. Built upon that was a scaffold of wood and bronze and crystal, creating a latticework around a half-finished wonder. It looked vaugely conical, with its forward nose fashioned from a single massive chunk of crystal that, even now, was being etched with magical runes. Glass spheres were nestled in a metallic framework along the spine of the ship, while wood was being placed into interlocking patterns to create the cone. Within that cone were decks – curved so the floor always faced outwards, towards the skin of the ship.

“We’ll be coating the wood in a thin layer of steel,” Cochrane said. “But the wood’s apparently required for the mages to do certain life-related spells. Something about their formerly living tissue makes the spells keep.” He shook his head.

“And those spheres? Are they place holders or are they the real deals?” Quinn asked.

Cochrane chuckled, swinging the door to the elevator open.

“Oh, they’re the real deal. They took almost five years of trade concessions and a deficit to the Tuatha that we’ll be paying off while my grandkids are going to the naval academy but they’re real.” Cochrane stepped forward, his shoes ringing off the metal surface they stood upon. Quinn pressed to Kailee as she stepped off the platform and onto the metal. She knew that the metal she stood upon had sustained millennia of impacts far more energetic than anything that she could do.

It didn’t stop a tiny voice in the back of her head from screaming.

“Have you tested them?” Kailee asked. “If what Quinn said is right, then without those fucking balls, this whole ship is one big wasted boondoggle.”

“Yes,” Cochrane said, then smiled as a young goblin shimmied down the scaffolding and ran towards the trio. She was slender and muscular, with grease under her fingers and brilliant red hair that exploded around her head like the sun itself.

As she skidded to a stop and gave the worlds sloppiest salute, Kailee purred quietly and grinned as she whispered in Quinn’s ear. “Dibs.”

“This is our chief engineer, Solis,” Cochrane said.

“Pleased to meet you,” Solis said, cheerfully. “You’re the captain?” She looked at Quinn. Quinn chuckled.

“No, uh, she is,” she said, pointing at Kailee. Kailee grinned, taking Solis’ hand.

“Charmed,” Kailee purred, leaning forward to kiss Solis’ knuckles.

Solis blinked, looking completely baffled. She drew her hand back slowly, her brow furrowing. “Uh. Right. Do you wanna see the ship?”

Kailee tried to not pout.

“Yes!” Quinn said, nodding.

Solis bounced excitedly. “Yeah! Okay! So, that’s where we’re going to be putting the machine guns – we, uh, haven’t mentioned those to the Americans. I have a lizardman smith topside who's working on making more slugs in their caliber. But the real treat is the fireball launchers. They’re tied right to the Blinking Star. Now, we’re not sure on their range, so they may only be usable near Purgatory.” She rubbed her palms together. “And I haven’t even started on the missiles. Rockets, really. Primitive garbage, actually. But still!”

Kailee, though, couldn’t take her eyes off Solis’ rump. Quinn saw that and smiled. But her eyes were nestled on the glass orbs. From their position they were nearly invisible, shrouded by wooden scaffolds and metallic protection. But she knew that they were the key.

Not to Purgatory.

No, they were the key to the whole damn solar system.

***

President Amanda Deinhardt had a small figurine of a golfer on her desk. It had a huge bobbly head and a massive, shit eating grin. Its pose made it look as if it had just swung hard at a ball, a ball that was now sailing across her desk, through the oval office, and out the nearest window.

She kept this figurine to remind herself, every day, of what not to do.

Golfing was hugely wasteful – requiring vast tracts of land that could only be enjoyed by a minority of people at a time. They demanded sprawling mono-cultures of grass that needed constant tending and an immense amount of water. It was a great expense for a tiny amount of people. It was everything that her administration opposed.

It also gave her a head to bang around when she wanted to smash her own forehead into the endless array of paperwork that seemed to dominate her every day. Slowly, Deinhardt reached out and flicked the bobblehead. The spring made a quiet squeaking noise.

“Ma’am?”

“Yes, Louise?” Deinhardt asked, smiling at her aide.

Louise, a shy looking black woman who did her best work as far away from cameras as possible, held a manilla envelope. “This is from our embassy in New Delhi, apparently it’s urgent.”

“Put it down, I’ll get to it after this bill,” Deinhardt said, rolling her shoulder slowly. “Also, any news on Vanderbilt and the Purgatorians?”

“Uh, according to security, they’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“Good, thanks Louise,” Deinhardt said.

Louise bowed her head, then turned and scurried away before the weirdos from beyond the edge of the known universe came to visit. Deinhardt didn’t exactly blame her. But she had been around the world, shaken hands with despots and dictators, saints and philanthropists, and seen more things than she had ever expected to see when she started off her career as a senator from Texas. Hell, the fact she was here, in this office, in 2018, was enough of a head-trip some days.

She took a moment to lean back and think, her eyes settling on the bright red envelope that the Pentagon had sent her office this morning. There had been no news release, no press brief, but she knew that the moratorium on the story wouldn’t last forever. Someone would leak, eventually.

It was only a matter of time.

The door opened a few minutes later after she had managed to get the desk neatened up.

And in came the weirdos.

Liam Vanderbilt came in first. He was a bit of a revelation for Deinhardt – seeing him emerging from the portal a few months ago, she had been struck by how much Purgatory had changed him. With his shirt off and wearing that kilt, he had looked like a savage warrior from the cover of an old bodice ripper that she’d never admit to reading. Well, he cleaned up. He cleaned up good. In his suit and tie, he looked like how she rather wished more heads of state might look. His clothing was tailored well enough that it showed off his muscle without being too tight or confining, and he moved with the casual, confident grace of a warrior. But tempering that was the dorky expression of concern that seemed to be plastered on his face nearly every second of the day.

After him came Megara, his wife. She was…

It was still surreal to see a walking, breathing angel. But next to Fizit, Meg was essentially normal. But the one that gave Deinhardt the biggest heebie jeebies was Liv. She was so close to being an utterly normal person. She had pointed ears, so what? It was the same kind of costume anyone could get at a dime store for cosplaying or Halloween. But what no costume could ever replicate was the look in those electric blue eyes, or the too-fluid grace that made her every movement a kind of hypnotic poetry.

A voice echoed in Deinhardt’s mind, from her briefing after the Purgatorian party had gone through decontamination and some serendipitous testing.

Well, if our understanding of the CAT scans are accurate, the node-like structure in Livana’s brain allows her to manipulate quantum events with a certain level of intentionality. The, uh, the backscatter effect on she has on electromagnetic spectra and the way that- There had been a pause as the biologist had been forced to simplify and get to the point. Essentially, ma’am... have you ever read Watchmen? Meet Doctor Manhattan.

Deinhardt had then gone and read the book and hadn’t slept the whole night.

Liam stepped forward and held out his hand. “Madam President,” he said, grinning at her.

“Ambassador Vanderbilt,” Deinhardt said, standing and taking his hand. He squeezed her hand – not hard enough to hurt, but not gently enough that it felt like he wasn’t taking her seriously. Deinhardt smiled ever so slightly and gave him a bit of a squeeze back, before letting go and sitting down. “Take a seat, everyone. Enjoying your homecoming?”

“Yeah,” Liam said, chuckling nervously as he took a seat.

“It’s cold here,” Tethis said, her ears twitching up.

“You were in California, aren’t you?” Deinhardt asked.

“It’s still cold,” Tethis said.

Deinhardt shuddered melodramatically. “I grew up in Texas. And it gets as hot as Hades there, but at least it’s a dry heat.”

Fizit chuckled.

Liam nodded. “It has been nice getting to curl up in a blanket and not wake up swimming in sweat.” He paused. “But you didn’t call us here for a little chit chat about the weather, did you?”

“No, I didn’t,” Deinhardt said, her hand going to the red envelope. She slid it across the desk. “Yesterday, a military base in Wyoming was attacked. It was a training facility, there were only a few casualties, no deaths.” She paused. “But the attackers were protected by Purgatorian magic.” She pulled out some of the photographs. They had been taken from base security cameras. Other than some blurring artifacts caused by the motion of the truck, they were clear. They showed the truck driving through the fence without leaving a hole. They showed the soldiers shooting at the men in the Guy Fawkes masks.

“Do you know who they were?” Liam asked.

“A far-left anarchist cell,” Deinhardt said. “They stole enough weaponry to outfit a platoon, and they’re immune to weapons fire and have a crystal that lets them phase through solid matter. They haven’t taken any further action, but what do we do if these fellows roll up to Main Street USA and open fire on the mayor’s office and declare themselves the first free-state of New Freedonia?”

Liam rubbed his palms along his face. “Normally, you’d send in the national guard...”

“Which is why, normally, anarchists grumble about politics on chatrooms and hand out fliers,” Deinhardt said. “Somehow, they’ve changed the rules.”

“But how?” Tethis asked, frowning as she picked up the papers. “That crystal isn’t hewn. It’s just a chunk.” She cocked her head. “I can’t see any rune working. It must be a short term enchantment, something cheap.”

“Thank heaven for small mercies,” Deinhardt said.

Liam leaned back in his seat and frowned. As his arms settled in the chair, Deinhardt found her eyes slowly drifting from his face to those broad shoulders. She could practically sit on them. She licked her lips subtly and forced her eyes back to his face as he continued to think.

“Ares can’t just be working with these guys,” he said. “But how the fu... udge...”

“You can say fuck here,” Deinhardt said, her lips quirking up at the way that Liam flushed. Swear? In-front of the President? “There’s no press, after all.”

Liam nodded, coughed, and said: “Well, how the fuck did Ares get here?”

“Through your gate?” Deinhardt asked.

“No,” Fizit said, her tail twitching. “Even if he had some kind of magical way to get through, we’d have noticed. He’d drop directly into your bunker, and your bunker has no exits save through decontamination and those machine guns.”

Deinhardt nodded, slowly.

The door to the office rattled.

“What is it?” Deinhardt asked.

The door opened and a ruffled looking aide – Jeremy – looked in. “Ma’am! It’s the Pentagon!”

***

The situation room was closed and cramped and smelled a bit like pens. Meg sat next to Liam to the right of the President, while the Secretary of State and other members of the Cabinat crammed into the left. Fizit remained standing in the back, frowning and hissing in displeasure. Liv tapped her foot on the ground next to the lizardwoman. Tethis, being the smallest, sat nearest to the front and looked deeply concerned.

The screen had a man on it. He was ill shaven and round cheeked, his brown hair flecked with silvery threads. He wore a Confederate flag armband and was standing with a confident swagger before a half a dozen terrified looking men and women in work casual clothes. One of the men was nursing a split lip and a rapidly puffing up black eye.

Several other goons - wearing black balaclavas over their faces and uniforms that weren’t quite army issue - stood near the hostages. They had rifles slung over their shoulders and stood with the confidence of men who had just won a battle.

“No longer will we bow to the tyrant whims of a false president, who took power in an illegal coup!” the man raved. “We, of the Liberation Army of Jesus Christ, have been blessed by He Who Lives Again, to retake the world in his name and his justice and his light!” Spittle flew from his lips and he laughed, spreading his arms. The movement drew attention to the dozens of ragged holes in his outfits. “See the blessing he has bestowed upon me!”

The video hit pause.

“That is ‘General’ Bartholomew Brown,” General Sung said, using the biggest air-quotes that Liam had ever seen in his life. “Dishonorably discharged from the Coast Guard for smuggling cocaine over the border and belonging to several neo-Nazi and neo-Confederate websites. He fell in with a militia movement called the Liberation Army of Jesus Christ two years ago. It seems he’s running the joint now.”

“Confederate?” Meg’s brow furrowed. Then she hissed. “Oh. Right. Those assholes.” Liam nodded to her, making a subtle gesture to stay quiet.

“This is bad,” Liv said, bluntly.

Everyone turned to look at her.

Liv pointed at the man. “I can see it, on the camera. He’s been blessed by Ares. He might even be a Chosen.”

“A Chosen?” the secretary of state asked. “That’s like a priest?”

“A Chosen is to a priest as a priest is to a guy who goes to temple every holy day,” Liv said, crossing her arms over her chest again. “They’re given extended life, some characteristics of the god, and a direct line to their powers. So, a Chosen of Bast looks like a cat. A Chosen of Ares gets warlike and good at stabbing people.” She paused. “Or at least, they used to, before Ares went nuts.”

The secretary of state shook his head slowly.

General Sung frowned and clasped his hands before him. “The point is that this entire militia has moved into a Louisiana township and taken it over. They’ve killed a few cops, captured the rest. A few have even switched sides.” He shook his head. “The whole town has been cut off the grid, but people are going to notice and soon. Then we’ll have an international news story on our hands.”

“What are our options? Tethis? Liv?” Deinhardt asked.

Tethis frowned. “I’m thinking.”

“Send me in and I kick their asses so hard they’ll be breathing out of their spines,” Liv said, grinning.

General Sung smiled. It seemed he liked the way Liv thought.

“I think that if I burn through a big chunk of my arcane energy,” Tethis said. “I can augment some bullets to have similar fields as the nulification collars used to take the powers of the gods in the first place. That should be enough to cut through their barriers.”

“I’d prefer that,” General Sung said, despite his earlier eagerness. “This is an American issue, and we should give law enforcement and the National Guard the tools to handle it.”

Liv frowned, but she didn’t grumble too much.

“Get to work,” President Deinhardt said, standing up. “Get Tethis to a laboratory, an armory, whatever she needs. I want you to get our best people on this – but make sure you follow the letter of the law. I don’t care if it’s SWAT or the FBI or the ATF who take these guys down. I want it done by the book.” She adjusted the collar of her shirt. “Mack, start getting ready for a press conference. There’s no way we can deal with this before the news story breaks, so we better break it ourselves. Vanderbilt.” She looked at him. “We’re going to need you on cameras, with your wife.”

Liam blinked and stood. “Of course. Uh, why?”

The President smiled at him.

Not for the first time, Liam was struck by how effortlessly the older woman straddled the line between approachable and distant. She had the gravitas of a leader, but the easy attitude of someone who... well, damn the cliché, of someone he could share a beer with.

It doesn’t hurt… his brain started. But Liam took that thought and he drowned it in a river. Despite his best efforts though, his eyes flicked from the President’s face to her body. She was not as ‘in shape’ as most women in Purgatory. She was soft. Curved. As horrible as it made him feel to admit it, she was MILFY in the purest sense of the word. Her breasts strained against her suit and her hips looked soft enough for him to sink his fingers in. Liam’s cheeks flushed and he realized that she had laid out her plans and he had completely missed it.

“Got it,” he said.

As they walked out of the room – hurrying to their various jobs – Meg whispered in his ear: “She said that you’ll keep people calm. And I’ll prove that it’s real.”

“Thanks,” Liam whispered.

Meg’s grin was wicked.

Liam groaned inwardly. He already dreaded what she planned.

***

Tethis set her third crystal down on the table next to the boxes of ammunition and hoped that this would work. Being on Earth had given her time to see how the Ancients’ magic worked without Purgatory’s innate nature to distract or corrupt the results. It had been illuminating. The crystals provided power but how? She was starting to piece together a theory. It all had to do with the Endless Mine and the discoveries that Dr. Cole had found there.

The Endless Mine had used concentrated swarms of incredibly tiny automaton to accomplish all of their wonders – nanomachines, Dr. Cole had called them. And every time Tethis cast a spell on Earth, her crystals didn’t just grow dimmer, they also grew fractionally lighter. She had measured them on Liam’s mother’s cooking scale and found that after two days of casting minor cantrips, one crystal had lost almost half a gram. Where had that gram gone? Well…

She rubbed her palms together.

“What are you going to do?” The technician that the Pentagon had gotten to help her with Earth technology spoke up.

Tethis smiled at him. “Well, the god’s magic is based off a biological node inside of a mutant human’s brain. That node is what gives them their power. A Chosen has a tiny fraction of that power and emits it to their surrounding people – sharing the blessing. But the Ancients had constructed collars that cancel that energy out.” She smiled. “Ancient technology - or magic, or whatever you want to call it - uses nanomachines. These crystals.” She touched each one. “Are chunks of nanomachines and their crystal batteries. So, what I’m going to do is create a spell that tells the nanomachines to etch the same signal emitters that the collars used on the tip of every single bullet.” She tapped the casings. “If this works, then your men will be able to retake the town.”

“And if it doesn’t?” the technician asked his eyes wide as saucers.

Tethis frowned.

“Well, I guess Liv gets to have fun.”

The technician frowned. “That’s not going to play well on international news. Or national news. Or local news. Or... any news at all.”

“Why not?” Tethis asked. “These people are traitors, aren’t they?”

“They’re American citizens,” the technician said. Tethis swung the ammo box shut with a clunk and tinkle – the last noise provided by a free hanging metal buckle. She puzzled at it for a few seconds before snapping it into the notch and tightening the ammo case shut. She made a happy noise, nodding.

“I like that design. Also, they seem to be most emphatically interested in not being American citizens,” Tethis said. “If my old liege lord had had a town rise up against him like that, well...” She shook her head. “It wouldn’t have been pretty.”

“Who was he?”

“Sobek,” Tethis said, as the technician took the ammo case.

“Who's that?”

Tethis turned to face him, looking appalled. “Liam said Earthers didn’t know the Pesedjeti much, but seriously?”

“The who?” The technician was looking like a child who had forgotten to bring his textbook to class.

Tethis clicked her tongue, looking cross. “I’ll need to have a word with your President.”

***

Coyo slumped back in the seat of his borrowed 1967 Ford Mustang and flicked listlessly at the dashboard. The busted AC refused to magically fix itself and help banish the hideous humidity that pressed to his face like a muffling pillow. He fanned himself and shook his head.

“So, what now, Sun?” he asked.

Sun was sitting in the passenger seat, twirling a metal toothpick around his fingers. His fingers matched any tricky con-man or circus sideshow act. He was able to send the toothpick twirling around his fingers, on the tip of his pinkie, rolling along his palm. He even launched it lazily through the air with the flick of his wrist, catching it in the other hand with a meaty whump. Coyo flinched.

“Jesus fuckmothering Christ, you know that scares the shit out of me, right?”

Sun grinned at Coyo. “I haven’t fucked up once. And I would like to point out that this is your country. You should be the one coming up w ith ideas.”

Coyo sighed.

The trip across the country to Washington DC had started off swimmingly. Coyo had enthusiastically borrowed several cars – ditching them when they ran out of gas and using his friend Mr. Brick to get into any that didn’t have their keys in them. He had found an abandoned felt tipped pen with half its reservoir and a mud encrusted yellow papered notebook in the first car, and he was down to the last three pages and almost no ink. But it had been worth it. He had left notes in each car, with directions as to where he had borrowed it.

They’d get home.

Eventually.

And it wasn’t traveling with Sun. He had picked Sun up in the Dallas International Airport. Though getting Sun off the plane and into the car had proved a bit tricky, since Sun had been tucked in among the luggage. The car he had ‘borrowed’ for that bit of the trip had been returned with a few extra bullet holes from a few Texan cops.

No, things had started going south the instant he got to the Gulf.

Coyo had always hated the American South. It had nothing to do with the people. It was the weather. The beastly, hideous weather that made him feel like he hadn’t shaved and hadn’t changed clothes. He felt like he could stand to peel himself out of his own skin and throw himself into an ice box pretty much the instant he crossed from the plains and deserts of Texas to the increasingly marshy Louisiana. And as the muggy temperatures got worse, it got harder and harder to find cars to borrow. He’d had to use Mr. Brick more and more often, and the cars themselves tended to have less gas.

And now this.

“There’s a limit to what I can do, Sun,” Coyo said, frowning. “We could try calling Triple A, but there’s a fifty fifty shot if we can get that to work.”

“If the tow-truck’s driver is a lady, bump that to a ninety percent,” Sun said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Only ninety?” Coyo asked, his brow furrowing. This ended up providing a perfect channel for sweat to slip along his forehead and right into his eyes. He started to swear in several languages – primarily Crow and Spanish – batting at his face.

Sun snickered. “They might be a lesbian!”

“That...” Coyo paused, cocking his head. “You hear that?”

And that was when the first army truck roared by, filling the cabin with dust and grit and thrown rocks. Coyo coughed and Sun swore.

“Fuck you, Mr. Brick!” He glared at the long shattered window.

“Mr. Brick does his best!” Coyo shot back.

Another camouflaged truck roared by, and another spray of grit and dust filled the cabin. The two men scrambled out, Coyo taking the driver’s side door and Sun swinging himself out through the passenger window without opening it. He yelped and hopped back across the hood of the car as a third truck roared down the road. The soldiers in the back looked at them with the casual interest of people with a serious boredom problem. The next car was an open topped hummer with a man in the passenger seat whose entire personage said, ‘I’m in charge.’ He looked tough as nails, with significantly fancier symbols on his shoulders and chest compared to most of the other soldiers. Behind him, in the back seat, was a weedy looking fellow with an ATF hat on. The third person, looking as effortlessly bored as the soldiers in the truck, was a woman. She wore a button up white shirt and had a suit jacket that she had slung over her shoulder. The hummer slowed down on seeing Coyo and Sun.

“Hello there,” Sun said, grinning at the lady. She looked at him – her coppery hair sparkling in the sunlight that had managed to get past the trees that lined the road. Her expression should have sent Sun’s smile running for cover. Instead, he simply brushed some dirt off his shoulder and tucked his toothpick behind his ear, where it glinted like a poorly aimed ear-piercing.

“This is an active emergency response scene,” the ATF guy said. “You got car trouble?”

“It broke down!” Coyo said, nodding.

“Why is the window broken?” the girl asked, jerking her chin at the passenger side window.

“It’s not broken,” Coyo said, quickly.

“I can see the glass shards,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

“Uh-”

“We don’t have time for this,” the military guy growled. “Get back behind the picket line.”

“They might have seen something,” the ATF guy whispered. Coyo’s ears perked up at that.

“I doubt it,” the copper haired girl said. “We’re still two miles off. And if they saw anything, they’d be in bigger trouble than a busted carburetor.”

“Is that’s what’s wrong with it?” Coyo asked.

“I’m using it as an example,” she said. “Let's drive.”

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all day, Agent Oleander.” The army guy hit the gas. As he drove, he pulled out his walkie talkie and started muttering into it.

Coyo looked at Sun as the dust cloud faded.

“She was hot,” Sun said.

“Let's get away from the car before the cops get here,” Coyo said at the same time.

Sun snorted. “I don’t think they’re sending cops back here to check on us.”

“They’re all cops in the end,” Coyo said. He looked at the marshy forest surrounding them and sighed. “Uuuuugh, I hate this shit.” He started off the road. Sun pulled his needle out from behind his ear and started to twirl it. He followed after Coyo.

Whistling cheerfully.

***

Simone was starting to feel like a ping-pong ball. Bounced across the country, flown from time zone to time zone, she was ready for several crisis to happen in a row in the same location. Not several hours away by plane and not in a different part of the world. If apocalyptic armies could just show up in Central Standard Time a leisurely walk from where she currently was, that would be just fine. But while she was wishing for that, she might have wished that Liam was on this assignment.

But, unlike on Purgatory, high ranking ambassadors didn’t get sent into dangerous situations where their asses could get shot off.

The tent set up by the National Guard was a half mile away from the edge of Blackberry, the township that the LAJC had taken over. There was always an uncomfortable feeling that came whenever the military – or something military adjacent - was used to do something even close to ‘policing’ duty in the United States. It called to mind the endless rounds of photos that had dominated Twitter and the news media of cops in APCs, toting assault rifles, and the endless rounds of riots that had shaken city after city. Over several years of increasing violence and militarization, the tide had swung. Simone had watched it all from the slightly uncomfortable sidelines of someone in a high profile military position, unable to share her two cents lest she bring down a tidal wave of bad PR down on her and the armed forces. In the space between her ears, she had breathed a sigh of relief as public opinion turned against heavily armed police response..

End result?

The ATF, FBI and Louisiana National Guard were each helping with this little shindig and none of them were bringing out the heavy weaponry. The national guard were busy keeping civilians away from the township, while the FBI and the ATF set up the observation posts and prepped their response units. Simone was the only military person in the planning tent – everyone else was either Critical Incident Response Group, the FBI version of SWAT, or Special Response Teams from the ATF.

“Now, here’s what we know,” the ATF commander said, pointing down at the map. “The perps have rounded up the entire town’s population and jammed them into the school’s gymnasium. From our drone observations, they appear to be...” He paused. “Singing.”

“Singing?” the FBI’s CIRG commander asked. Simone liked her on general principles – in a room with a serious case of testosterone poisoning, having another girl in there was nice. Then Simone’s opinion went up a few notches as the CIRG commander looked at her and said: “Any idea on why that might be? You’re the expert on this so called magic.”

“If I had to hazard a guess?” Simone asked. “They’re being told to pray to Ares or they get shot.”

“Would that even work?” the ATF commander asked, his mustache twitching as he pursed his lips.

Simone shrugged slightly. “I dunno. For most of human history, praying and not praying didn’t seem to do much one way or the other. But I’ve seen what these ‘gods’ can do. If that power comes from prayer, maybe having two thousand people singing about what a great guy he is giving Ares a few extra spell slots or something.”

The CIRG commander smirked.

The ATF guy looked faintly confused.

Another point for the FBI.

Shaking his head, the ATF commander went back to the map. “Still, this makes our job a bit easier. The school is near the edge of the town, right next to this forest.” He tapped it. “We just need to get the ensure that the bad guys don’t start killing hostages. According to the drone, they’re not even trying to hide. There’s four on the roof, two at the doors, and two more at the front.” He pointed. “The rest are distributed through the town, looting for food, gathering the cars up. The cars are being either retrofitted into cargo transport or turned into technicals.”

As he spoke, he pushed some pictures forward. The LAJC had spent years stockpiling weaponry. Seeing their heavier guns attached to pintles on the backs of formerly civilian pickup trucks gave Simone a shiver. It was something she was used to seeing in some war-torn Middle East shithole. Not the United States.

“Sounds like our wanna-be Napoleon is going to try and start expanding his empire,” the FBI girl said.

“Yeah,” the ATF commander said, shaking his head. “The technicals are the thing that has me worried. Four of them look ready to roll. Also, there’s the immunity to bullets thing. We’re only going to learn if that...” Simone could see his face scrunch up. It looked like he had bitten into a lemon. She could almost feel him trying to say the rest of his sentence. But his entire body rebelled at saying the phrase ‘goblin’s magical enchantment.’ Instead, he continued after the pause with: “...if the special treatment works right about when the bad guys start massacring us without impunity.”

Simone shrugged. “Well, let's lead with the assumption they won’t,” she said. “Ares has limited power. Either he’s projecting from Purgatory, which has to be fucking expensive considering it’s in orbit around goddamned Pluto.” She thrust her hand up towards the roof of the tent. “Or he’s somehow gotten his ass to Earth and is running off whatever converts he has now. That means he’ll need to conserve energy.” She grinned. “The two biggest killers in a modern fight are explosives and bullets. Maybe they’re immune to those but not, say, gas or flash or batons.”

The FBI commander nodded slightly. “That’s in keeping with our normal tactics anyway, if snipers can’t or won’t work.”

The ATF commander stroked his mustache. “We’ve got a start of a plan...”

“I suggest we also hit them at night,” the FBI commander said. “They don’t have any NVG – at least, not according to the purchasing records we’ve dredged up. And even if they do, they’ll be Cold War antiques or civilian models. That’s another edge.”

Another twenty minutes of hashing out ideas – most of which came down to which teams to put where, where to deploy their vehicles, and how to get at the hostages as safely as possible – and Simone walked out of the tent with the FBI commander. The redhead was shaking her head slightly.

“This still feels like it’s going to be Waco all over again,” she said.

“At least there’s been a rain recently,” Simone said, shading her eyes as she looked up at the sky, which was still peppered with wispy clouds. “The buildings are still wet.”

But the name ‘Waco’ echoed in her head. That had been a class A clusterfuck. And Waco had, by comparison, been dirt simple. If this went wrong, there were nearly two thousand people crammed into a few school buildings, surrounded by lunatics with fully automatic rifles, who were all immune to bullets and more than willing to start massacring people if they thought it would please their new Sky Daddy. Simone shook her head.

At least all the civilians from other towns were being kept at a safe distance.

***

“How long did it take?” Sun asked, lowering his binoculars as evening dusted the sky in purples and gold. “Like, a month? A month and a half? And they’re already fucking it up.”

Coyo grunted. He was sitting with his back to a tree, trying to be as ‘bushy’ as he possibly could. The thick undergrowth that shrouded them felt all too thin compared to the high powered hunting rifles carried by the Dodekatheon worshipers on the roof of what had once been Blackberry’s high school. The men were dressed in rough hunter’s garb and military hand-me-downs which ended up making them look like people dressing up for a post-apocalyptic LARP. But their guns were definitely real.

“You know I can’t dodge bullets right, Sun?” Coyo hissed.

“Don’t worry. I can handle that,” Sun said, scowling. “But seriously. Fuck the Greeks. Fuck the Greeks. If I had known I’d ever have to deal with them again, I’d have stayed under that fucking mountain.” He paused. “Okay, maybe not.”

“If you’re going to say the pussy’s worth it...” Coyo muttered.

Sun scoffed. “Nah. That idiot monk would have gotten himself eaten at least ten times without me.” A fraction of a second later, he grinned. “But the pussy was sweeeeeet.”

“Shh!” Coyo lifted his hand. “Do you hear that?”

Sun frowned and stopped twirling his toothpick. Coyo stood and looked left. Then right.

“Sup?”

Coyo and Sun both had to clench their jaws to not scream out in shock. Both had seen a great many bizarre things in their long, varied lives. But neither of them had ever seen a blue haired elven woman, floating near the branch above their heads. She soared down with a faint woosh and landed before Coyo and Sun. She was lean and muscled. Her breasts were small and perky and clearly bra-less considering the way they bounced fetchingly as her feet touched the ground. She wore thick combat boots and form fitting jeans.

She also had a sword strapped to her back and a pistol holstered at her kidney.

Coyo leaped to divert disaster. He clapped his hand over Sun’s mouth and hissed: “She has a sword, dude!”

Sun shot him a look that said: What are you talking about, that makes her hotter!

The elf frowned, then grabbed both of them, slinging them over her shoulder. She leaped up into the air with a rush of air, branches slapping at Coyo’s head. The elf gritted her teeth as she flew up, making for the thickest, leafiest branches of a nearby tree, then set the two of them down. Sun whistled softly as she held up her hand for silence. Looking down, Coyo could see figures moving through the forest.

They were armed with hunting rifles and modified AR-15s. Their heads were covered with hoods and beat up goggles that cast greenish glows on their faces. Their bodies were strapped with bulletproof vests and covered in sticks and leaves, to make them look like slumping, shifting bushes. As they flowed past the trees, silent and intent, the elf sighed.

“And that’s why they should have taken me,” she said, shaking her head.

“Who are you?” Sun whispered.

“Who are you?” the elf shot back, glaring at Sun. “Also, are you morbidly obese or something?” She scowled. “I nearly dropped you.”

Sun grinned, then plucked his toothpick from behind his ear. He started to twirl it – and as he twirled it, it lengthened. The tooth pick swelled to chopstick size, then baton size, then staff sized. The two edges were capped with golden rings, covered with Chinese lettering. The entire staff was made of a kind of iron which drank in light like the event horizon of a black hole, and the tree creaked in alarming ways as he swung it about. Finished, Sun set the staff down on the edge of his foot, rather than risking the weight on the branch.

“The name’s Sun Wukong, Miss Arwen.” Sun grinned. “This poor hangdog fellow is Coyote.”

He smirked. “We’re kind of gods. No biggie, though.”

Chapter Five

“How do you not go crazy in situations like this, Madam President?”

President Deinhardt turned to look at Liam. The situation room had a rotating population as the siege of the LAJC dragged on. Aides came with coffee and snacks – mostly fruits and crackers – while officials of various stripes flowed in and out as they checked on the feeds coming in from the camp. Even the Secret Service worked shifts. But the four of them had never left. Liam, who was slowly going insane from the tension. Meg, who was currently tapping through her cellphone, marveling at the ability to Google anything and have it be answered for her, was seated as far from the projector as possible, so her wings wouldn’t block the light. Tethis, who was looking at every bit of data coming in and nervously chewing her normally pristine fingernails down to the quick, was seated to Liam’s left.

And, finally, the President herself.

Despite the late hour and the tension she had to be feeling, there was no sign of it on her face, save that she had let her hair down.

She looked good that way, with her locks coiling around her face, framing those intense gray-brown eyes of hers. Liam, as the hours wore on, had found himself looking at her sidelong. She had been a senator when he had been dragged to Purgatory. And not even one from his state. Despite that, he still thought he should have remembered more details about her. But he was drawing a total blank on her past policy decisions, any major scandals, her character.

All he had to go on was what he had seen and read since first contact between Babylon and the USA had been established.

He should have been thinking about that.

Instead, he was thinking of her firm lips and wondering if she kept herself in as fearsomely good shape as it looked.

“I remember that we have  good people working for me,” the President said, shrugging slightly. Liam forced himself to not imagine how her chest would look with that shrug. Instead, he ended up thinking about how nice her twangy, Texan accent sounded. “And I go quietly insane on the inside, where no one else can see it.” She smirked. “Also, you can just call me Amanda.”

Liam tried to not show how fucking excited that idea made him.

Ugh, is Mom right? Did Purgatory totally ruin my sense of decorum? My way of interacting with other people? He looked away from her. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Liam pulled it out and saw a text from Meg.

10 bucks on you tapping her by the end of the week :D

Liam snorted.

“How did you do it, though?” Amanda asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Not go crazy on Purgatory, I mean.”

Liam smiled and pocketed his phone. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Amanda arched her eyebrow. “If even half of the report Lt. Fong gave me is accurate, that’s quite a whopper. And remember, I need to approve national defense budgets. I see big whoppers.” She grinned. “She said that you killed a basilisk with a sword. That you faced down an alien super-computer and an army of hopped up lizardmen.”

“Technically,” Liam said. “I did have an army helping me at the time.”

“I mean, I’m the Commander in Chief, but the closest I get to the military is touring a base in the Green Zone and shaking hands with the joint chiefs,” Amanda said. “You were doing stuff that would have made George Washington’s hair turn white.”

“Didn’t he wear a white wig?” Liam asked.

Amanda chuckled. “Whiter then.”

Liam shook his head. “Do you want to know what helped the most?” He paused. “It’s knowing that I had good people with me. Also, Tethis can heal pretty much anything assuming you don’t suffer immediate brain death.”

“That does help, I reckon,” Amanda said, her eyebrows shooting up.

Liam looked at the screen. “This is harder.”

Amanda nodded.

“This is Team Alpha,” a gruff voice came from the speaker phone set up in the center of the table. “We’re prepped to enter the town.”

***

Liv frowned as she knelt down on the branch. The sword in her hand was the best thing she could have gotten, considering the time constraints. Flying from Washington DC to here had been easier than she had expected, after glancing at the maps that  Earthers provided for free to literally anyone who had a godsdamned phone. She shook her head in bemusement at that. Not only were they better than anything on Purgatory, even those maps used by Babylon, but they had kept track of her position, even as she had flown over states.

Well. Kind of.

The Gee Pee Ess had gotten confused at how she was able to go so fast, and over such rough terrain. It kept trying to recalculate routes. So, she had shifted to just checking her position every twenty minutes, to ensure she was still heading the right way. Getting weaponry was easy too. The sword she had found in a store called Armorgeddon. It was a fake, but it was close enough to real thing that she was fairly sure she could use it. The pistols had been even easier, though she had needed to throw a store clerk into one of his racks.

Gently, of course.

But now she was trying to solve a more complicated problem. There were twenty fuckers waiting for the Government, spread out and sighted in. Almost like they knew exactly where they were going. Liv’s eyes narrowed and she remembered the way Ares had tapped into Simone’s radio transmissions on Purgatory. That had led straight to Godkillers being dropped on her head. Hurm.

“I’ll take those five,” Sun Wukong said, pointing with his finger.

“You fast enough?”  Liv asked.

“I will be in...” Sun looked up. “Fifteen seconds.”

“You have eleven,” Liv said, focusing. She took the power that she had and felt its shape. She had gotten a handle  on the shape required to fly, and she knew there was another shape that she assumed naturally to make herself tougher and stronger. But flight took her items and posessions along with her, right? So, she just had to tease the two forms to match and…

Ahh.

Her sword flared with light for just a moment, then settled. She tested it subtly against the bark of the tree, and grinned. It would hold an edge and not snap now. Nice.

“How did you do that?” Sun whispered.

“Later,” Liv said, standing. “I’ll take those five.” She nodded the others, then leaped off the tree. She flew forward, darting around branches and leaves to avoid making too much noise. She landed behind one of the bad guys, her sword flashing. She swept it down and his rifle fell into two pieces, the edge of the sliced off barrel shining like a mirror in the thick twilight of the forest. Liv saw his eyes widening behind his NVG and swung her sword in a backwards stroke. The pommel smashed into his temple and he sprawled on the ground. Then she leaped to the next guard.

Sun Wukong was a bit less subtle.

With a trilling warcry, he leaped from his tree, dropped five feet, and landed on a bright white cloud that soared from the sky and landed under his feet. He bobbed on the cloud, then seemed to ride it like a skateboard, soaring past three hiding goons. His staff grew twice as long as it had been, allowing him to swing down, smashing one goon in the shoulder, another in the chest, and the last in the back as they all scrambled to try and get out of the way. The impact of steel on flesh was mixed with the crackle of branches as Sun maneuvered his cloud through the Louisiana swamp.

By this point, Liv had knocked down two more of the bad guys. One she had elbowed as she ran past, and another she had launched into with both feet, kicking him to the ground with a groan. The bad guys who were still standing had all been drawn to the fucking glowing, flying cloud with the screaming maniac on it with the fucking shapeshifting staff and were filling the air with as much lead as Earther guns could manage.

Liv had been at several battles with muskets.

She had seen what Simone could do.

But this was fucking appalling. Trees filled the air with chips and bits of splinters, and branches went crashing to the ground. Sun responded with a laugh, his staff whirling. Bullets sparked and pinged as they struck the whirling staff, ricocheting into the forest. But this gave Liv plenty of cover to run charging towards a trio of camouflaged bad guys. They were all reloading their firearms as quickly as they could manage. She swept her leg in a twist, knocking all three off their feet as she spun on her heel. As they sprawled, she stood and kicked one in the stomach. He flew five feet and smashed into a tree back first, groaning as he hit the ground. Another was standing, still shaking his head. Liv punched him down.

The last had remained on the ground, his attention entirely on bringing his pistol to bear.

He fired.

Liv grunted as she staggered backwards.

Slowly, she opened the palm that she had snapped up before her face.

Sitting in a bloody crater on the center of her palm was a mashed up clump of lead. She dropped it.

The bad guy gaped at her. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered, moments before Sun Wukong brained him with the staff.

Liv then took a few seconds to curse under her breath.

That had fucking hurt.

With the bad guy ambush turned into so much groaning piles of broken bones and concussions and at least one spinal fracture, the American guardsmen were able to advance in the open. One of them sprinted forward, panting. Liv saw it was Simone, her face covered by NVGs, her arms holding an assault rifle that looked fairly similar to what the bad guys were carrying. She also looked horrified.

“Liv! What the fuck?” she hissed. “The hostages!”

“Hostages?” Liv asked.

“Oh, don’t worry about them,” Sun said, grinning. “That’s what I sent Coyo for.”

A loud roar came from the town. Several explosions leaped into the air and the distant sounds of gunshots and shouts of confusion rang out.

“What the hell did you just do?” Simone whispered.

“Coyo’s good at making things break,” Sun said.

Liv was already flying towards the town.

She broke the forest and had to weave hard to the side as sniper fire crackled from the rooftop. The men on the roof had been sighted in, but they had expected something a bit slower and a bit less high up than her. Their bullets whined underneath her, hitting trees and dirt. Then Liv was flipping around so her feet planted in the chest of one of the snipers. He went sprawling onto his back, skidding across almost ten feet of black rooftop. Liv rolled and came to her feet before another sniper. She grabbed his rifle, yanked it from his hands, then used the neck strap to fling him as hard as she could off the roof and into the large pool of water some thoughtful soul had placed near the building.

She had no idea why.

It smelled awful though, and the man fell head first into the water. He started floundering about, trying to swim to the edge while his ammo and weaponry dragged him down. Liv turned back to face the remaining snipers. But they were both running down the stairs.

Her ears twitched and she heard, very faintly, the bellowed order: “Kill the heretics!”

She placed the source of the sound, sprinted forward, leaped, then flew straight down. Her legs hit the roof and the roof cracked inwards, giving way with a spray of cheap roofing and wood and bits of plaster. She dropped through a vast indoor space and crashed down between a massive mob of panicked, terrified looking people and four men armed with those rapid fire rifles. Behind them stood a man who radiated with her father’s power.

It was all in the eyes. They roiled with a furious passion, the mad battle lust that Ares had inspired for millennia. It was somewhat at odds with his more calculating mindset these days, but Liv could immediately see why her father had given this man power. Smart enough to use it, too stupid to not.

Liv took advantage of the momentary shock to throw her sword at one of the men. It was an awkward grip and a worse weapon to hurl, but at this range, with her strength, it barely mattered. The hilt smashed into his face and he collapsed, blood pouring from a broken nose. Liv drew both of her pistols and started firing. Two rounds, one per knee cap, seemed to be about right. Then men sprawled on the ground, their screams of pain and curses filling the air. Liv then stepped forward and started kicking rifles from their hands.

The Chosen of Ares gawped at her.

Then he did the absolute worst thing he possibly could have tried.

He turned and he ran.

In that single instant, the power bequeathed to him snapped out of his body. It seemed that Ares could grant blessings to Earthers, but he couldn’t change some parts of his intrinsic nature. No blessing of the god of war could ever rest in the heart of a coward. And that was coward as defined by Ares – honorable retreat was more of an Athena thing.

Not that this made Liv feel all that bad about stepping forward, grabbing the man by the back of his bullet proof vest, and yank him backwards. She snarled. “Shoot a bunch of innocent kids, huh?” she growled, punching him in the chest. The plates in his armor cracked and turned to powder. The ribs behind the armor might have snapped. She wasn’t sure. “Try and massacre these people, will you?” She brought her knee slamming into his groin. The man made a horrible wheezing gurgling noise, then fell to his knees, clutching at himself. Vomit burst from his mouth.

Liv panted – about to continue beating him – when she looked up.

The auditorium, save for the distant sound of fires and the drizzle of plaster that still fell from the ceiling, was silent. Everyone that had been crammed inside was gaping at her. The front row had included more than a few children, ranging in ages from nine to at least sixteen. One of the younger kids, though, walked slowly towards her. He was a young boy, still dressed for school, with a backpack still slung on his back.

“Are you Captain Marvel?” he asked.

The look in his eyes made Liv pause. She desperately wanted to kick this fuckers head in for what he had done – what he had tried to do. Part of that was fury. But a bigger part was guilt. She had done things for Ares, in the long, thoughtless time when she had just been his daughter and hadn’t thought beyond the next brawl. In another time, another life, could she have been one of those assholes, aiming guns at an entire village?

Kicking the man once more, crushing his head like a grapefruit, ripping him in fucking half, though, would break something in the kid’s eyes. And for just a moment, she saw her own daughter looking up at her. How she might look in a decade, at least.

“No,” Liv said, her voice husky. “I’m Liv. Liviana.”

The doors to the gymnasium exploded inwards – kicked in by a stampede of armored officers. They sprinted for the prone bad guys and started to bellow orders at them. Plastic handcuffs were brought out, and Liv saw the people in the auditorium sag with relief. But more than a few kept looking at her.

Then the kid she had been speaking too beamed. “Go Liviana! Wooo!”

Liv flew up and away, flushing, as the other kids started to cheer, then chant. “Liv! Liv! Liv! Liv! Liv!”

She fled.

***

Liam stepped onto the roof of the Watergate Hotel, looking around slowly. There, on the very edge of the roof, was Liv. She had ditched her ‘enthusiastically borrowed’ weapons and was looking across the sweep of Washington DC. The city was shockingly short to Liam’s eyes. Apparently, some law about not building higher than certain monuments. Liv wasn’t looking at any of them. She was just looking into the broad sweep of the Potomac, her knee drawn up against her chest, her other leg dangling.

“I got your text,” Liam said.

Liv grunted.

Liam walked over to her. “Fizit wants to give you every medal that Babylon can mint. Mary is in agreement.” He smiled. “The President wants to give you a commendation in public.”

“And in private?” Liv asked, not looking away from the river. The lights of the city glittered in it, turning it into a rippling inverse of the night sky.

“In private, she wants to tear you a new asshole,” Liam said, slapping Liv on her back. “But I don’t. You saved a lot of lives.”

Liv nodded.

“He’s on Earth,” she said.

“How?” Liam asked.

“He’s got to be listening in on our radio communications-”

“Oh, no, I got that,” Liam said. “There’s no other way the LAJC whackos could have intercepted the ATF and FBI. But how did Ares get past every defense we have on Babylon’s gate and every defense on the Cheyenne complex gate?”

Liv sprang to her feet. She started to pace back and forth before Liam, glaring at the air before her. If she noticed that she was ‘walking’ on thin air, Liam couldn’t say. Her hands went to her blue hair, tugging at it as she growled quietly.

“I don’t know!” she said. “Maybe he just flew here.”

“Flew?” Liam asked. “GPS tracking put you at three hundred KPH. Impressive, but that’d take like a thousand years. Assuming you can’t get any faster in space. Which, to be fair, you may.” He shook his head. “And Ares still has to breathe, right?”

“I don’t know!” Liv spun to face him. “Maybe he built his own gate! We did!”

“We had access to...” Liam paused.

Liv scowled. “To the Endless Mine, yeah.”

Liam’s eyes widened fractionally.

A memory flashed in his mind, from near the end of the War of the False God, when he and Brax had finally slain Sysminor.

The room had clearly been designed to do something – but someone had come through and made it into something else. A bed had been laid across a table that looked designed for conferences. A few chairs had been uprooted and placed aside, leaving room for a training dummy. A chair was planted before a flower-like pod of crystal spheres that pointed outwards in every direction. A sleek helmet of crystal wafers sat on a small pedestal, with a shield bearing a lambda leaned against the wall beside it. Beyond both of those was another door, leading into a room that held a teleport shrine.

Liam’s brow furrowed. “Sparta?”

“Ares,” Brax said.

“Ares lives in the control center of Purgatory,” Liam whispered. His palms pressed to his face. “God fucking damn it! Why didn’t I realize it before?”

Liv put her hands on her hips. “How would that help him?”

“A central command center would get reports on things,” Liam said. “I bet that’s how he knew to find the fucking Endless Mine in the first place! And when we used it to build the gate, all he’d need to do is mark down the schematics and then recreate it on his own. He has wizards and his own powers. And his gate doesn’t need to be re-usable. If it just gets him here, he can run rampant!”

Liv sighed. She floated forward and set her feet down on the edge of the roof. Wind whistled past her as she looked at her feet. Her hands rubbed on her shoulders. “Cool. We know how he got here. Or at least, we have an idea. But that doesn’t change the fact he’s here and I have no idea how to find him. He’s been learning what his new powers can do longer than I have, Liam. And he has believers now. It’s not like those, those... what did you call them?”

“Liberation Army of Jesus Christ,” Liam said.

“What a stupid fucking name,” Liv said, her face twisting. “But they’re in jail, aren’t they?”

“Awaiting trial, yeah,” Liam said.

“And they’re not going to stop worshiping Ares. They were willing to kill for him.” Liv’s tongue darted out, flicking along her lips. “They’re still a win for him.”

Liam took Liv’s hands.

“That’s not the only thing bothering you, is it?” he asked. “That’s why you’re brooding on the fucking Watergate instead of coming back to the White House.”

“Is that what this place is called?” Liv asked, then scowled at Liam’s snort. “Does it matter?”

“No, not really,” Liam said, shaking his head as he squeezed her hands. In times like this, he could forget the ways that Liv was changing. The ways that her powers had grown and altered. The ways that they had drifted apart and come back together. He could just remember the irritable girl who had tried to kill him, then make his life miserable, then became just another puzzle piece in his weird, messed up life. He smiled at her. “Come on, Liv. You saved every hostage, and took every bad guy alive. That’s enough for the President to almost forgive you for running off.”

“You said she wanted to rip me a new asshole,” Liv muttered.

“I said almost,” Liam whispered, leaning forward to playfully wiggle his eyebrows at Liv. Liv rolled her eyes while smiling.

“It’s...” Liv pulled her hands away from Liam. Liam let her float away and start to pace again. “It’s the way the kids reacted. They saw me like I was some kind of... not a god.” She shook her head. “One of them called me Captain Marvel, whatever the fuck that is.”

“She a superhero,” Liam said. “And, I guess, so are you.”

Liv snorted. “Superhero. What, like Hercules?”

“Kinda,” Liam said, nodding. “But Hercules was a Greek hero. Big flaw, tragic end, that kind of thing. A bit arrogant and self absorbed too.”

Liv shoved him and laughed. “Thanks, dipshit.”

“I said kinda!” Liam rubbed at his chest, shaking his head. “Modern superheroes are more selfless. Helping the innocent, fighting things that normal police and armies can’t, that kind of thing. Saving kittens from trees.” He smiled. “There are some movies I can show you. A lot, actually.” He paused. “At least thirty of them.”

Liv looked away, turning back to face the Potomac.

Liam stepped up to the very edge of the building. He reached out, putting his hands on her shoulders, then drew her close. His arms slipped around her and he held her in the warm, muggy evening. His nose pressed to her neck and his lips tasted a faint tang of grit and plaster. He didn’t care. His tongue darted out and he slowly licked her, squeezing her even tighter. Liv squirmed. “There’s no way I can possibly live up to that.”

“Hey, we’re used to superheroes fucking up by now,” Liam murmured softly. “Watchmen cleared the way for you and Man Of Steel reminded everyone.” He shuddered convulsively. “Ugh. I can’t believe I just compared those two things, even tangentially.”

Liv snorted, then leaned forward. She kissed him, gently, on the lips.

Then she kissed him less gently. Her tongue swept  into his mouth and her legs lifted, then locked around his hips, her  heels crossing over one another as she ground herself against him with a fluid, almost snake-like undulation of her spine. Her hands clutched at his shoulders and it was all Liam could do to not topple off the side of the Watergate hotel. His hands cupped and squeezed her ass and Liv broke the kiss only after Liam was sure his lungs might explode.

“What was that for?” he asked, laughing.

“Post combat adrenaline,” Liv murmured. “And because... thank you.” She flushed, looking aside. “For everything.”

She unlocked her legs, flying backwards.

“We should-”

Liam grabbed her ankle. Liv looked back at him. Liam grinned and knew that she let him drag her backwards onto the roof and into his arms.

He didn’t care.

Her legs wrapped around his hips and her mouth found his. After so many times, he knew the shape of her mouth like the back of his hand – but there was always some new marvel to feel when kissing a demigoddess. This time, it was the crackling electricity that seemed to surge from her every pore, tingling along his tongue, buzzing up and down his spine. When Liam opened his eyes, he could see that a pale light was shimmering from between her lashes. Liv kept her eyes closed, lingering in that kiss for a decadent length of time. When she did finally break, though, she wasn’t panting. Her tongue darted along her lips, leaving behind tiny flowers of electrical current.

“New trick?” Liam asked, his voice rough and ragged.

“Not sure,” Liv said, her hands going to her shirt. She started to tug it up and over her head, revealing the bra that she had been forced into by the requirements of United States culture. She grumbled, then touched the bra. It shivered, then crinkled, then fell from her body in a crumbling, caking mass. Liam laughed, having to brush the bits of crisped bra-material off her sides, leaving black smears along her pale skin.

“You could have just taken it off,” Liam said.

Liv snorted. “Then you boring pukes would have just gotten it back on me somehow. Now? Now the beast is dead.”

Liam laughed, then dove in for his attack. He kissed her neck, bit, licked, nuzzled. His lips and tongue left a trail of glistening wetness, while his teeth left tiny hickies that faded by the time he reached her nipple, sucking on her eagerly. He was able to be rough with Liv, and Liam took advantage of that. He tugged his head back, his teeth catching around her nipple as Liv hissed between clenched teeth – a pleased hiss. Liam wondered if she knew how much she sounded like Fizit at that moment.

Liv unhooked her legs and flew back. As she hovered backwards over the roof, Liam stepped after her, reaching for her. But Liv needed her space to skim down her jeans. Her thumbs hooked under the edge of her waistline, her hands splaying outwards as she smirked at Liam. Despite her eagerness, she took her time pushing her jeans down. The button strained and the zipper creaked as Liv’s hips and hands ran up against their skintight nature. The button lost. It lost hard. It pinged off across the roof like a bullet, skittering off the rooftop and bouncing off an air conditioner that thrust into the dark evening night like a looming troll.

Liv had caught her panties with her thumbs as well. As the jeans reached the midpoint of her thighs, Liam could see her moist sex. She was completely hairless there, in a way that he had never seen rivaled on Earth – Liv didn’t shave, she simply didn’t have body hair. It had never existed, and it never would. From time to time on Purgatory, Liam had missed public hair... but then he’d get a glimpse of a delicious pussy like this.

Liv kicked one leg and her jeans puddled on the rooftop as she pressed her back against the wall of an outcropping stairwell. Hovering there, she looked like a girl in a porno who had had her partner digitally edited away, leaving her splayed open and ready for some cock. Liam gulped and hurried forward. He actually had to undo the button on his pants. His finger pushed on the zipper and the faint rasp of it was lost under Liv’s eager purr.

“Come on and fuck me already, Ambassador.”

Liam’s cock sprang free from his boxers and he didn’t waste a second more. His hands gripped onto Liv’s hips, more for the pleasure of feeling her silky skin than anything else, and his cock slapped against her thighs, then ground against her sex. She felt so deliciously smooth – nearly friction-less with arousal. His cock’s head spread her lips and Liv bit her lower lip to keep her voice soft.

Liam slammed into her. Hard.

There were advantages to fucking a woman who could fly. Liam had always needed to focus both on his thrusting and his grip, every time he had fucked a girl against a wall. Unless she had her feet on the ground as well, of course. But now? Now he was able to look into Liv’s beautiful face as it twisted with the pure bliss of his cock while also focusing entirely on how he was plowing her – not needing to spare a thought for keeping her weight up onto his hands, nor how the rough surface of the wall she was being fucked against would grind against her back.

Since, after all, she was also superhumanly tough.

“Liam!” She hissed, then bit down on his shoulder, her legs locking around his hips. Her body undulated, moving with a snake-like grace as she started to use her flight to not only keep herself up, but to actually fuck back against him. As her legs tightened, and he felt the pure strength that radiated in those limbs, Liam experienced a thrill that he hadn’t felt in quite some time.

Fucking Meg often reminded him that she could bend bronze with her bare hands.

But Meg had been born that strong.

She had enough control to squeeze him from tip to balls with just enough pressure to give Liam knee-melting orgasms.

Liv had started off as a demigoddess and progressed. She was something new now.

And Liam had no idea if she could control that when…

Well.

Orgasming.

Don’t think of Superman, don’t think of Superman, don’t think of Superman, Liam thought as he thrust. Liv’s cunt clenched on his member as if it was a fist, squeezing and trapping him as her juices dripped along his balls and started to patter onto the rooftop. Her whole body quivered as she nuzzled against his neck and the feeling of danger mingled with the pleasure of feeling her orgasm – pushing Liam over his own edge. He thrust deep enough to hilt himself inside of her, his balls clenching taut. He spurted into her, filling her to the brim. Soon, her juices were joined by his cum, adding to the soft drip drip drip sound that filled the air as the two looked into one another’s eyes, panting heavily.

“I needed that,” Liv panted.

“Always happy to serve,” Liam said, grinning.

“So...” Liv closed her eyes. “Oh. Right. There was something else that I wanted to ask you before we get to the White House.”

Liam smiled. The last time they had shared a moment like this, the question had been something unexpectedly tender from Liv. Liam wasn’t entirely sure if he gave good advice when it came to squishy emotions and romantic feelings – but since his gut had led him to a wife, several semi-permanent lovers, and a massive string of one-off flings, he supposed that he wasn’t completely hopeless when it came to the emotional advice angle.

“Who the fuck is Sun Wukong?” Liv asked, her brow furrowing.

Liam blinked at her.

“I beg your what now?” he asked.

“You know. Annoyingly smug. Kinda cute. Has a staff, magic flying cloud.” Liv shrugged, rolling her head back to rest against the wall. “I thought the Ancients nabbed all the gods, but I guess they missed some.”

Liam gaped at her.

“Liam?” Liv opened an eye.

Liam continued to gape at her.

Liv sighed, looking irritating. “Liam, close your mouth, or I’ll stick my cock in it.”

Liam closed his mouth before remembering Liv didn’t have a cock.

Chapter Six

“Finally!” Meg leaned back and put her feet up on the curved table that was set out before her chair. She wiggled her toes, her wings closing taut around her shoulders. “An airplane that’s an actual improvement on flying my own butt somewhere.”

Liam was the one pacing now. “I don’t get it. I just don’t get it.”

Tethis and Fizit were both poring through every piece of cultural information that could be crammed onto laptops and iPhones and PDAs in the short time between the information about Sun Wukong and Coyote hit the White House and the President’s decision to call for an immediate emergency meeting of the United Nations. Liam had thought that would have been a fairly easy trip, since the United Nations meeting hall had been in New York. But for some reason, the meeting was being called in Geneva and the President had looked quite dire when Liam had asked why the United Nations had relocated from New York.

Apparently, it was part of the ‘we don’t like to talk about it’ that covered every major political decision made between Liam leaving for Purgatory and coming back to Earth.

“What’s not to get?” Meg asked. “I mean, honestly, I’m a bit more surprised that you’re surprised. There’s the Hindu pantheon, the Chinese pantheon, the Native American pantheons – that’s ons, multiple.” She ticked them off with her fingers. “Whatever the Russians were worshiping at the time... And while a lot of gods got mashed into Purgatory, there was no way that a single Christian sect located in the freaking Middle East could grab, I don’t know...” She looked at Fizit.

“Quetzalcoatl,” Fizit said, not looking up from her laptop. She was, apparently, into the Aztecs.

Meg looked back at Liam, grinning. “I mean, looking at it from a strategic and tactical perspective, landing multiple times or trying to take advantage of multiple proxies increases the risk of discovery and a bunch of very angry gods deciding to knock your ship out of high orbit. And while the Ancients were powerful, we know that they had their limits. Considering how the Purgatory experiment went for them.”

Liv scowled at Meg. “I always forget you’re fucking smart.”

“That’s how I caught this guy,” Meg said, cheerfully, jerking her thumb at Liam. “Lure him in with the titties. Then make sure he can’t escape with an elegantly argued philosophical treatise.”

“I remember some minor strangulation being involved too,” Liam said, rubbing his throat in remembrance at Meg’s reaction to him being Christian.

“Kinky,” Fizit said, dryly.

Liam frowned.

Meg lifted one leg and gently prodded at Liam’s chin with her toe. This had the side effect of causing her skirt – she had put it on as part of her ‘going to meet the United Nations’ ensemble – to ride up, exposing more and more of her gloriously bronzed and athletic thigh. Liam tried to catch a glimpse of her panties, and not entirely for perverted reasons. For one thing, he’d rather know she was going commando now, and not when she flashed some UN delegates from Iran or something.

“So, the question you should be asking is not, why are there gods on the Earth? The question you should be asking is, why did you have no idea until now?”

Liam frowned. He started to pace back and forth, his brow furrowing. “I wish that the gods had agreed to the requests for genetic sampling,” he said, quietly. “We could have done some studies...”

When Liam swung around to start pacing the other way, he saw that the rear section of Air Force One had gotten a new guest. The President was walking in, brushing aside some of the dangling beads that separated sections. Apparently, the newest model of Air Force One was at least twenty percent bigger than the previous one, allowing for the creation of several discrete sections, for different kinds of administrative and diplomatic activity. For most of the flight from Washington D.C, the President had been sequestered in the communication and information part of the plane, on the phone.

“No luck,” she said, shaking her head. “Your friends vanished and according to the DHS, they’re not even sure they’re still in the country anymore.”

“They weren’t my friends,” Liv said, frowning. “Sun kept trying to get into my panties and Coyo didn’t even show me his face.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Fizit said, closing her laptop. “Considering the relationship between the United States and literally every single Native American tribe.”

The President bristled. “And what does that mean?”

“It means what it means,” Fizit said. “Whatever you may feel, Coyote is old enough to remember the genocide. I’m surprised he isn’t still taking potshots at you.”

Liam held up his hand. “Not helping, Fizit.”

Tethis, though, snapped her fingers. “Ah! Ah! Ah!” She sprang up. “Amanda! Er, uh, Madame Minister! Prime President!” she shook her head. “Lady Deinhardt!” She flushed, hard.

The President smiled at that last one. It was hard to not think of her as Amanda with that smile dancing across her lips. “I kind of like that last one.”

Tethis blushed even more. “Do you have a white board?”

A few minutes later, they had gathered in one of the meeting rooms in the second story of the plane, with Tethis standing on a chair so she could reach the white-board in the room. She uncapped a  pen, then drew a stick figure on it. Since she was Coptic, it ended up looking more similar to a hieroglyphic than the cartoony style that Earth artists used. Smiling, Tethis labeled it as Coyote.

“So,” she said. “Coyote is born. Or, more accurately, a human being who becomes Coyote through a feedback cycle is born. He acts like the legend, or legends are told about him, which feeds into his God Node...” She drew more stick figures, then arrows from their heads to Coyote’s head. “And thus, his power grows which causes his legend to grow.” She drew lines out again to the human stick figures. “This power sustains him in the face of catastrophic bodily harm – every god on Purgatory can return to a site of their power after body death, after all.”

Liam nodded. Amanda shook her head slightly. “But you said several of your gods died?”

“Exactly. If their, uh, site of power is destroyed,” Tethis said. “They can’t reform there. We’re not sure, uh, what makes a god’s site of power. Temples are involved, priests, rituals. But, obviously, no god wants to reveal the secrets and a great deal of them aren’t curious about it. They’re trapped by their own narratives. The G-Node rewrites their memories and personalities to match the legends told about them.” Tethis licked her lips. “But what happens if...” She leaned forward, almost falling off the chair – which had the byproduct of thrusting her butt into Liam’s face thanks to his position at the end of the meeting room table.

Tethis wiped out the stick figure worshipers of Coyote, then the arrows.

Fizit nodded. “He’s still alive, but there goes his power base. And that’s also a recursive cycle. As people die, he loses power. As he loses power, they lose faith.”

“But wait,” Amanda said, slowly. “Population growth on the Earth means that there are still millions of Natives.” She looked at Fizit. “You’ve been reading up on them, how does that compare to when Coyote was throwing lightning bolts?”

Fizit’s tail twitched. “Estimates vary. But if we split the difference, there are the same number of Native Americans now as there were before Columbus.”

“So why isn’t he still a goddamn superhero?” Amanda asked, frowning as she looked at Tethis.

Tethis frowned, considering. She tapped the pen against her chin, not seeming to realize she had just added a few fresh black splotches to her green skin. “It’s gotta be an issue of bandwidth.”

“Bandwidth?” Amanda asked, her brow furrowing. “What, there are too many Christian callers for the Coyote worship to get through?”

Tethis shrugged. “We don’t even know what the transmission medium freaking is. It can’t be electromagnetic, or else you’d have noticed it by now!”

“Fair,” Amanda said, shaking her head.

“So, Sun Wukong has, comparatively, more worshipers. I mean, a fraction of billion people in China, even a nominally atheist China, is still a lot of people.” Tethis nodded. “Hence why, apparently, Sun can fly around on a cloud and twat people with a metal staff while Coyote’s primary ability seems to be throwing bricks through car windows.”

“Also,” Fizit leaned in. “There’s another thing to remember: Coyote, as far as I can tell, was more of a living object lesson. Not really someone you beseech, like Ares.”

“There is that!” Fizit said, pressing her palm against the cap of the pen. Only now did she realize she hadn’t capped it and cried out. “Auh!”

Amanda rubbed her hands along her face.

“So, I get to go to the United Nations, most of whom have gotten into the habit of laughing at the President of the United States, and tell them that not only are there aliens and gods on another goddamn planet, but there are also gods walking around their backyards without them even knowing about it? What’s next, King Arthur kicking in the door to Buckingham Palace? A walking, talking Krampus, ready to start kidnapping kids to extort their parents for worship?” She shook her head. “Ares might be the least of our goddamn problems in a few months.”

“I doubt that,” Liam said, frowning. “How many attacks did we leave behind?”

“Four,” Amanda said, shaking her head. “Three were just bank robberies and one was an attempted prison break. No one else has tried to take over a town.”

Yet hung unspoken in the air.

The door to the meeting room opened. Liam had to admit that Simone looked damn good dressed as a Secret Servicewoman. The suit was well tailored and she exuded a sense of deadly efficiency, even without the kidney holstered semi-automatic pistol being visible. Her sunglasses were off, but her earpiece was in. “Madam President, Ambassador Vanderbilt,” she said. “Our escort just radioed in. They think they detected something.”

“Something?” Amanda asked, her face settling as she stood. “Do they have any more detail than something?”

“It’s an intermittent bogey, ma’am,” Simone said. “I think we should all get to the seats and strap in.”

Liam stood, feeling adrenaline buzz through his body. Not for the first time, he was happy that Mom and the kids were being left at the White House. According to the last text he had gotten before they had dropped out of contact, Brax was in love with one of the beds, and Marion had finally stopped fussing. Liam followed Simone as they headed for the seats. They had just arrived at several rows of seating when the PA crackled and the pilot spoke.

“All passengers, be aware, we have two definite bogies. No, three.” There was a pause. “Ten, actually.”

Liam frowned, then looked out the window. His heart started to race as Simone strapped herself in – after making sure everyone else was in. Tethis was starting to pull out one of her crystals. She whispered quietly, performing the delicate passes with her hands that were required for the casting of magic. Liam looked over at Meg, who was looking like she wanted to tear open the nearest door and go out swinging. He took her hand and squeezed.

A moment later, the pilot said: “Uh, all bogies are gone. We’re trying to reaqui- hold up.” With the preternatural calm that pretty much all pilots seemed to attain at all times during their careers, the pilot continued. “A rather large storm has appeared directly ahead of us. Looks like serious chop – with thunder. Lightning. Rain.” His voice was tight. “We may have some turbulence everyone.”

Liam craned his head.

Outside of the window, he could see that the entire eastern horizon had become consumed by a roiling wall of blackness. Jagged lightning crackled through the storm clouds, while sleeting rain – and what looked like hail – pummeled the Atlantic ocean below. His eyes widened.

“Magic,” he whispered.

“No shit, partner,” Amanda said, laughing. But it was a nervous, strained laugh. “I’ve only seen your friend Tethis’ showing off and even I can tell that.”

Liam felt his stomach drop out inside of him. On Purgatory, he had gotten used to being in control, in at least some way, some shape. He had been strapped to tables with mad cut lists ready to bear down on him with knives and torture implements. But his muscles and his wits could be leveraged against that. He had seen armies on the march, but he had had armies to call upon and his friends at his back. But in the small, relatively placid environment of Purgatory, he had forgotten just how unforgiving nature – even nature given a mystical steroid injection – could be. He was strapped down in a thin tube of aluminum and plastic, his fate entirely in the hands of some air force pilot whose name he didn’t even know.

Or, more accurately, in the hands of engineers and designers who had been tasked with building Air Force One.

To his left, a sudden bolt of lightning smashed home. The barely visible spec that was Air Force One’s port escort, an F-16 fighter, exploded into a flare of brilliant orange that was, a moment later, consumed by the clouds.

“You’re a fucking dick, Ares,” Meg snarled, her hands squeezing the arm-rests so tight that the plastic and metal groaned. But now, the wings were catching the turbulance. The whole plane rocked up and down, shuddering. It slewed left, then juddered back right, the wings twisting and groaning. The superstructure screamed and Liam closed his eyes as flashes of strobing lightning flared through the walls. Next to him, he was barely aware of Tethis’ incantations growing louder and louder and louder.

Right now, all he could do was pray.

And it was definitely not to Ares.

***

Well. Major Thomas O'Neill thought. And here, I thought I had seen everything.

His hands held the controls while his copilot, Captain Williams flicked on the radio and spoke the expected words into it. But Air Force One wasn’t just getting hammered with a storm that had gone from placid blue day to Cat-1 hurricane in record time. It was also getting jammed. O'Neill didn’t know for sure what was causing it, but it the effects were clear. All the navigational software and communication gear gave back was a snow-field of static. Even the altimeter and other plane-based sensors were going crazy. According to his HUD, Air Force One was flying sideways, backwards, and without half her engines.

“Guess we’re flying it by the seat of our pants, Williams,” O'Neill said.

“Ground control to Major Tom...” Williams muttered as she grabbed onto her yoke.

“Don’t start, Amy,” O’Neill said, flatly.

That was when the lightning bolt slammed into the cockpit wind shield. O’Neill barely had time to cry out in shock before the bolt hit him, defying every law of physics he had ever known in his life. But that was not the end of the impossibility. Rather than burning through glass and his own damnfool head, the lightning bolt wormed along the skin of the plane, arcing and coiling and twisting. Electrical pops and crackles filled his ears and he blinked away splotches.

“Everything working?” he asked.

“Are we dead? No?” Williams said. “I think we’re good.”

O’Neill gulped. “I guess God decided we de-”

Air Force One was struck four more times, one after the other after the other after the other. The distant screams from the passenger sounded more alarmed than in pain. O’Neill wanted to join them – his plane had just been hit five times by lightning and take roughly as much damage as it took from flying through a light drizzle. If his instrument panels didn’t tell him anything useful, his hands sure did. And he could still control the plane – after a fashion. There was a lot of stress on the wings and the fuselage, but the lightning wasn’t blowing out electrical conduits or frying metal components.

“We might just get through this damn thing!” Williams said, laughing – nearly hysteric.

O’Neill pursed his lips.

Ahead of them, a bubble had appeared in the air. It was a swirling sheath of lightning, shrouding three figures. All of them were winged. Their feathers were midnight black, almost invisible against the raging chaos of the storm, but they beat in unison as they soared towards the plane. Somehow, they came up slowly, as if they were going nearly the same speed as the plane, or as if Air Force One had suddenly come to a near perfect stop, buffeted into place by the screaming, tearing winds.

“You just had to open your mouth, Williams,” O’Neill snarled, his knuckles going white on the controls.

The leader of the winged people was a woman. Her clothes looked as if they had come right from a sword and sandals movie – a toga wrapped around her breasts, glued to them by the fierce wind and the soaking rain. Her hair was a silver cascade that billowed around her, a nimbus that would have reached her chest if it had lain flat. Her wings were a strange contrast to the white wings of the other two; her’s were a brown and black mixture like a falcon’s. She wore a belt, but whatever had been attached to her hip was in her hands now. She beat her wings as her two fellows – also women – chanted. Their lips moved, but their words were lost in the gale of the storm. They pointed at the front of Air Force One and the clouds exploded away from the cockpit window.

“Holy Christ,” O’Neill whispered.

They had just opened a tunnel of pure, clear air between them and the plane.

The woman with the object in her hand twisted it, then flung it forward. It slapped into the window.

It was a chunk of C4 with a timed detonator fuse on it.

Major O’Neill’s last words were as prosaic as any in his life.

“Ah fuck.”

***

Roar.

Crsssh.

Roar.

Crsssh.

Liam’s eyes slowly opened. His head pounded. His back ached. He felt like at least one of his knees had been wrenched violently out of alignment. But he was alive. And a bright, noon-day sun was beaming into his eyes. For a moment, he could imagine that he was on Purgatory, in the middle of some adventure. He rolled slowly onto his back. And instead of seeing the vast expanse of a jungle or distant city, he instead saw endless blue sky and the brilliant heat of a real star.

His eyes closed and he let out a ragged sigh as his leg screamed at him – furious he had dared to jar the knee he was now fairly sure had been dislocated.

He tried to piece together what had happened.

He could remember Tethis’ increasingly loud chanting. He could remember Liv standing up, her hands spread as she shouted: “Not this time, you fucker!” at least five times, coinciding with every single bolt of lightning that had struck Air Force One.

He could remember her smoldering and smoking by the time the plane started to-

Peel apart.

Liam forced himself to sit up. He failed. So, instead, he craned his head around, to try and get an idea of where he was. He was on the beach of an island. A chunk of Air Force One had landed next to him, buried in the sand. It was barely recognizable as a plane anymore. It looked like a curved mass of metal, blackened along one edge, with a snarl of cables thrusting from part of its internal components. He could hear the roar of the surf, but little else. Liam tried to get his palms underneath him, shoving himself into a more upright position. The pain that shocked through his knee was enough to draw a ragged ‘Fucking ow!’ out of him.

“Liam!”

That was exactly the voice he wanted to hear. His lips skinned back into a huge grin as Tethis came running over the ridge of sand that separated where he had landed from the rest of the island. She had rolled her shirt sleeves up and torn a rather significant chunk of it off her belly, so it was now more of a midriff exposing halter-top than an official looking under-shirt for a representative to the United Nations. Her breasts bounced fetchingly as she skidded down the ridge, her feet almost slipping from under her in her excitement to get to Liam. She rammed into his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him as her breasts mashed against his head. Liam laughed, leaning into the cushy gobliness.

“Are you okay?” Tethis asked. “Meg didn’t grab you, but one of her wings are broken, and-”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Liam said, shaking his head. “Can you get this?” he nodded to his knee.

Tethis nodded. “I can – well, partially. I can speed the healing process.” She reached into her fanny pack – Liam wondered where she had gotten that – and tugged out one of her magic storage crystals. It glowed, but only fitfully. She sighed. “I burned through a whole crystal to cast the slow fall spell on us. I’m not exactly energy efficient when it comes to non-healing magic.” She shook her head. “So, I have to stretch this out to cover you, the aides, the President, Fizit, Meg, and the pilot.”

Liam nodded. “So, the pilot made it? What about the co-pilot?”

“Oh, uh, not our pilot,” Tethis said, her ears drooping. “She ejected from one of the F-16s right before the lightning hit it.”

Liam frowned, slowly. “Cast on my leg, Tethis.”

“Sorry,” Tethis said, seeing his expression.

Liam laughed. “It’s not you, Tethis.” He smiled, squeezing her rump. She squeaked and laughed, her ears flicking up. “It’s the fact that we all landed on this island. Even a pilot in a plane almost a mile off.”

Tethis frowned. “You think the storm herded us here?”

“I bet once Ares wants, he’ll be back around to play with us,” Liam said as Tethis knelt down. She placed her palms on his knee, magic glowing. Liam hissed quietly as he felt his knee settle ever so slightly. Tethis then started to work on the more physical tools of her trade, pulling a pair of scissors from her new fanny pack. She cut another strip from her shirt, leaving it even more scandalously exposed, and then started to fish out bits of metal from the pack.

“In a day, you’ll be able to take this off,” she said as she bound up Liam's knee. “You’ll be good as new!”

“I will remind myself that, normally, a dislocated kneecap takes months of physical therapy.” Liam said, groaning as Tethis stood and grabbed onto his arm. She had to throw her entire weight into dragging him to his feet, and when she had managed it, she ended up on her rump. Thethis stood, brushing herself off with a laugh.

“I spoil you normally,  I know,” she said, cheerfully.

Liam limped back to the base camp with Tethis and breathed a slow sigh of relief. Meg was looking crotchety at her wing being splinted out, but Fizit, Amanda, Simone and the two Presidential aides were looking fairly calm. Fizit was speaking to Amanda, while Simone was checking her pistols and the other firearms that had been salvaged from the wreck. The aides were the ones who looked like they were the least comfortable with their situation. The younger one was shivering, her knees drawn up against her chest, while the older one was patting her back gently.

The F-16 pilot looked as if she had had the worst landing – her legs were laid out in splints and she was laying on her back, glaring at the sky. Her flight uniform looked ripped and torn, but no one had tried to take it off and replace it with something better.

“Liam!” Meg exclaimed, springing to her feet.

“Good to see you’re alive,” Amanda said, her eyes actually lightning up as she looked at Liam. Her eyes swept from his face to his feet in a single smooth motion and Liam actually saw her tongue dart along her lips. Liam looked down at himself.

Somewhere during the descent, his shirt had gotten torn off.

He hadn’t even noticed he was shirtless.

He was so used to it!

Liam felt a bit awkward, suddenly. He limped carefully over and sat down next to the pilot. “You-”

“My spine’s broken,” she said, angrily. “How the fuck do you think I feel, Ambassador Vanderbilt?” She paused. “Sorry, Madam President.”

“We’re all in a tough situation, Captain,” Amanda said, her tone light.

“Ah,” Liam said, then looked at Tethis.

Tethis gave him a thumbs up, then mouthed the words ‘two days.’ Liam shook his head in slow wonder. That was a facet of Purgatorian life he wanted to see brought to Earth as quickly as possible. He looked back at Amanda and Fizit and Meg. Then his brow furrowed. “Where’s Liv?”

“Right here,” Liv said, a shadow announcing her arrival. Her feet touched down to the ground next to Liam as she settled down.

“What did you find?” Amanda asked.

“I flew for ten minutes in each direction,” Liv said. “And saw nothing but water.” She shook her head. “No sign of the bastards.”

“Did you ever get a look at them?” Liam asked, looking at the pilot. She shook her head mutely. Her glare hadn’t abated.

“So, Ares has us penned up,” Meg growled. “Just in time for us to miss a big United Nations meeting. Now why on Earth would he want that?” She looked at Amanda.

“Well, since I was going to start bringing a resolution about to organize a multi-national effort against his nascent cults,” Amanda said, dryly. “I imagine he might take offense at that.”

“You’re not thinking 'holy shit, we’re fucked' enough, Madam President,” Meg said, her hands going to her knees. “Ares didn’t convince a fuckton of people on Purgatory that he was the one True God because we’re a bunch of idiots, you know?” She shook her head. “Liam has told me that he can read minds. If he doesn’t have a way to influence them, then I’m an elf. And now, there’s a collection of your world leaders in one area, without a demigod, a hero, or mage in sight to protect them from that. Hell, even if his plan is only to show up and kill everyone, that’s bad enough.”

Amanda rubbed her temples. “Jesus Christ, Obama had it easy.”

Liv stood. “Then I guess it’s up to me,” she said. “I got to get my ass to Geneva.”

Amanda frowned. “And you know where Geneva is, and the correct protocols to get in and not just get your ass shot off?”

Liv scowled. “I can catch bullets, Amanda.”

“That’s President Deinhardt,” Amanda said, her voice flat. Liv looked at her. Then she looked at Liam. Then she looked back at her. Liv smirked.

“Right. President Deinhardt. I can catch bullets. I don’t give a shit what the UN guards do.”

“Uh, Liv?” Liam said. “Kicking in the door is a real great way to get absolutely no one to listen to you. That’s exactly what Ares wants.”

“Arrgh!” Liv snarled, then kicked hard at the ground. “Fine!” She started to pace. “Fine!” She closed her eyes. “What would Brax do? He’d...” She paused. “Get allies. I do know the way to the White House. I can go there and tell General Sung what’s happened. He can send a message to Geneva, and sends rescue for you.” She nodded.

“You know the way to the White House? From here?” Amanda asked.

“I’ve been there before,” Liv said, shrugging. “I just go back the way I came.”

Amanda looked skeptical. Liam shrugged and spread his hands. Superpowers, that shrug seemed to say. We can figure it out later. But before he could say anything more, Liv apparently decided that that was enough talk. She shot into the air with a backwash that sent a plume of sand roaring outwards towards the thin copse of trees that made up the island’s center. As the pattering sound of sand sliding off leaves finished, Amanda shook her head.

“Well, what do we do till then?” she asked.

Fizit stood. Her hands went to her shirt and she causally slipped it off and over her head. Her full, perfect breasts bounced and jiggled as she rolled her shoulders in a slow, graceful arc. Her hands went to her leggings and she undid the belt and the button and zipper in a flurry of thumb twists. Her pants hit the ground a moment later and her gloriously curvaceous body shimmered like emeralds in the noon-day sun. She groaned quietly. “Holy shit, I almost feel warm...”

Amanda was gaping at her, her eyes wide as saucers. Liam tried to get his mouth working.

Fizit snorted. “I’m going fishing,” she said, shaking her head. “Perverts.”

“R-Right...” Liam said, slowly, watching as Fizit walked towards the beach. She rolled her hips with every step, setting a delicious jiggle through her full rump. Her feet sank into the surf and waters rushed around her ankles and her calves, sluicing up her shins, adding a glittering sheen to her scales. She lifted her arms above her head, then dove into the water with a fluid grace. Liam crossed his leg over his other leg, wincing as he jostled his knee somewhat. But it was worth it to hide his sudden erection from the President of the freaking United States of America.

Amanda herself looked as if she was reconsidering some facets of her personality.

“W-While we wait for that,” she said, her Texan accent coming in thicker than ever. “Uh, Missy!” She looked at the younger aide, who had stopped shivering and started to blush nearly as crimson as her maroon pantsuit. “Why don’t you start gathering us some firewood?”

“Yes, uh, Madam President!” Missy said, standing shakily.

“You could bounce a quarter off that ass,” the other aide whispered, seeming to be in a daze.

“Martin,” Amanda said, her voice growing more controlled and significantly less amused. “Why don’t you start getting stones for the fire pit?”

“Yesmadampresident!” Martin said in a single, quick slur. He staggered to his feet and took off at a run.

With the campsite now reduced to Liam, the President, Meg, Tethis and the pilot, Liam tried to find some words to say after that display.

“I got to ask,” Amanda said, slowly. “Are all women on Purgatory like you?”

“Oh, no, some are real sluts,” Meg said, cheerfully.

“Meg!” Tethis exclaimed.

“You’re the one intimating that being a slut is bad by getting offended by my terminology. I offered no value judgments. Those were brought by your-” Meg started.

“I think that’s literally the only time I’ve ever know you where you used the word ‘slut’,” Liam said, grinning as he wiggled his fingers at Meg.

Meg scoffed.

“To answer your question, Amanda,” Liam said. “Women on Purgatory are, uh, more, er, uh, less concerned with two things on Earth that might put a dampener on anyone’s ardor: Sexually Transmitted Diseases and pregnancy. Most people on Purgatory can’t fertilize one another without sophisticated magic.” He shrugged. “And they didn’t have Saint Augustine shaping their early religion into an anti-sex platform.”

Amanda nodded, slightly. “And what about you?”

Liam blinked. “What about me?”

Amanda smiled. “We’re about a thousand miles from any paparazzi, I might as well take advantage of my chance to ask all the questions I’d never get to ask in normal circumstances.” She leaned forward. “How did going to Purgatory change your view of relationships?”

Liam’s cheeks flushed.

“Okay,” the pilot said, a slow grin spreading across her face. “I changed my mind. Breaking my spine was the best decision I made today.” Her voice was weak and still tinged with bitterness, but Liam took some heart at her attempt at humor.

Liam paused. He actually took a moment to consider his own feelings. Coming home, seeing his mother’s reactions to his new relationships - they had awakened feelings long buried on Purgatory. One of the nice things about an endless string of pressures was that he had next to no time to worry about any of them. He sighed, slowly. “To be honest?” he said. “Part of me really is worried that a part of me is broken.” He tapped his forehead. “Can I see any relationship as anything more than just when I eventually get to plow them?”

“Yes,” Meg said.

Liam blinked and looked at her.

Meg sighed. “I’m your wife, honey. And thus, I am far smarter and more perceptive than you.” She tapped her nose with a cheery grin. “And you may fuck each of us. But you treat us different. Liv, you guide. Me, you rely on. Fizit, you scheme with. And Tethis, you pet.”

Tethis flushed. “I beg your, I, that, we, hey!” she spluttered.

“You used sex as a diplomatic weapon with Neriad, and under a kind of duress with Mary – then, later, as a way to cement an alliance,” Meg said, shrugging. “I think it’s these Earth people who are stupid enough to collapse sex into one thing. Like you can subdivide a ‘type’ of relationship the way you classify a genus.”

Liam smiled. “Thanks, Meg. I knew there was a reason why I married you.”

“Yes, my tits, we know,” Meg said, grinning impishly.

Amanda, whose cheeks had never quite dipped below ‘flushed’ for the whole conversation, laughed. “This is going to sound right foolish,” she said, her Texan twang adding a delicious color to her words. Liam hadn’t realized just how he had missed various English accents until he had them back. Years of having everything translated via spell had left everyone sounding repetitively ‘Hollywood’ in their accents. “But it reminds me a bit of how I manage Washington. Everyone has a different touch, and you have to wear different masks with them.”

“Some people call that lying, you know,” the pilot said. “Madam President.” She added a moment later when she realized that Amanda was scowling at her.

“She’s delirious,” Liam quickly pitched in. “From the magic.”

“Yeah!” the pilot said, nodding.

Tethis’ objections were muffled by Meg’s uninjured wing wrapping around her.

Liam shook his head, his grin fading as he looked from Amanda’s face to the horizon. Fizit emerged from the water  at that moment, her body sleeting with salt water, her long feathered hair dripping as she flipped her head. Liam wondered if she knew how many Bond girls she managed to replicate in that single movement. Though few girls in extravagant spy thrillers were allowed to emerge from the waves completely in the buff. And fewer than them were scaled in emerald and gold. And even fewer of them were carrying still wriggling fish.

“Dinner,” Fizit said, grinning toothily at them.

“Damn straight,” Liam purred.

And out of the corner of his eye, he could see the President of the United States looking real damn jealous. If only for a moment.

Chapter Seven

The brilliant sun had drifted to the horizon. Liam sat on the edge of a dune, his knees drawn up to his chest, and marveled at the spread of oranges and purples and blues that shaded the sky. He had forgotten their exact composition in the long years on Purgatory – in Purgatory, more like. His memories had always put the orange around the sun and the horizon, with the skies above becoming darker and darker. But the real sunsets of the Atlantic were something else entirely.

The sky remained painted in gold and fire. The clouds that drifted above seemed to burn with smokeless beauty. At the middle of the horizon, the sun was sinking into the waves, vanishing inch by inch, second by second. And shrouding the horizon like a pal of smoke was a gathering darkness deeper and more complete than anything on Purgatory. Even when the star in the center of Purgatory had dimmed to a nearly invisible disk of blackness, there had always been the slightly offset darkness of an enclosed room.

“It’s amazing,” Meg said, her voice husky. Liam had barely noticed her stepping up next to him. She knelt down, sliding her muscular arm along his shoulders and drawing him in close. She grumbled under her breath. “Stupid splints.”

Liam smiled. He could feel the unnatural stiffness of her wing as he leaned against his wife. She loved to ‘wing hug’ him almost as much as she adored flying, and getting a wing broken without enough magic to quickly heal it had to be frustrating as hell. His arm slid along her back.

“You always talked about sunsets,” Meg said, shaking her head. “And your Mom, and your President, and your planet. But even after years of hearing, I never really imagined just what it would be like. Just how different it would be.”

“Really?” Liam asked, laughing as he tore his eyes from the slowly vanishing sun and looked at the infinitely more beautiful face of his wife. It wasn’t a cheesy husbandly thing to think either. Liam could have been put before a judge and a firing squad and have easily sworn on the Bible itself that there wasn’t even a competition between Meg and the sunset. But they weren’t in competition. The light of the fading sun and her pale complexion complemented one another, like gold on a red velvet display case.

“What do you mean 'really'?” Meg said, sticking her tongue out at him, her nose scrunching up. “Of course reality would  be different from my imagination. Or, as real as my senses can get. After all, we are all just grasping at shadows.” She grinned.

“Oh, don’t start with the Cave again,” Liam said, shaking his head. Meg leaned her head against his shoulder, her eyes half closed as she looked at the sea. Liam reached up to gently pet her wings, careful to not hurt or jar her. His fingers worked between her feathers as he clarified. “It’s more that you act like we’re on Purgatory here. I figured that Earth didn’t phase you.”

Meg chuckled. “Well, someone has to be the brave one in the relationship. I’m putting on a front so you have room to be emotional.”

Liam’s face settled. He ducked his head forward, letting his chin rest against his chest, even as the sea started to grow a deeper and deeper blue as the sun finally vanished beneath the horizon. The gloriously pale light that hung around afterwards let him see his hands. He looked at the callouses – made by sword and fist blows – and the thin seaming scars from cuts. There was the deep, white line he’d given himself when he had grabbed his own longsword and used it to pummel an enemy unconscious in the most literal sense of that word.

He’d gotten gauntlets in a hurry after that desperate fight.

“I’m worried about our kids,” he said.

“I’m not. Holy shit, your Mom’s better than we are at this.” Meg nodded. “Think we can hire her full time?”

Liam chuckled. “I’m worried about Liv.”

“I’m not,” Meg said, cheerfully. “She’s a superhero demigod elven badass who loves you and is willing to kick all kinds of ass to get us saved.”

Liam looked at Meg, narrowing his eyes slightly.

Meg smiled. “I told you. I’m the brave front in this relationship for now.” She grinned. “Go on, bring up anything more dire thoughts, I’ll shoot them down.”

“Ares, a shapeshifting, teleporting, mind reading god with a massive hardon for vengeance against the human race is bopping around a world with fifteen thousand ICBMs loaded with city busting nuclear weapons,” Liam said.

Meg flipped her hand. “He’s still Ares. He might be smarter. He might have some new powers. But he’s still got an arrogant streak the size of...” She paused. “The Golden Gate Bridge.” She grinned. “That’s the big one, right?”

“Yeah.” Liam smiled. “Okay, uh, how about the Vorlon god Boogie and his magical space dragon who comes out periodically to eat the sun?”

Meg snorted. “Like I can’t beat up a Vogon.”

“Vorlon,” Liam corrected her.

Meg flipped her hand. “Them too.”

Liam chuckled. “So, uh...” He leaned close, so that his lips pressed right up against the curve of Meg’s ear. His voice was a warm purr that made her shiver in delight despite the relatively warm air that blew in from the sea. “How close are you to being fully healed?”

“Tethis said that it should be sometime tonight. Maybe earlier, she was a bit vague. Apparently my valkyrie healing factor was throwing off her calculations. Why?” Meg pursed her lips in a look of exaggerated innocence which distracted not a whit from the hard thrust of her nipples against her heavily modified but very thin shirt.

Liam grinned and leaned in and kissed her. He caught the back of her head with his hand, holding her close. Not that Meg needed encouragement. Her mouth and his met and her tongue plunged into his mouth as her palms spread along his chest, feeling his muscle. Liam felt a faint twinge of pride at the fact that feeling his chest drove Meg to kiss him even more deeply. Her thighs spread and she straddled his hips, pushing him onto his back. His back sank into sand and he felt the grains press against the small of his back, threatening the hem of his ragged jeans.

But in the moment, he simply did not care.

Meg broke the kiss, rearing back so that she settled and ground the perfect globes of her ass against his straining member. Her fingers drew ten electric lines of contact along his skin, tracing the shape of his muscles as if she wanted to put it to memory. Her eyes were hooded and her grin was wicked, barely visible in the gathering dusk.

“I can hear footsteps,” she whispered, cocking her head. “Sounds like someone who kind of knows her way around the brush but not quite.”

Liam started to turn his head – but Meg caught his cheek with her fingers, rooting his head in place.

“Definitely your Madam President.” Meg’s soft purr was nearly lost in the crash of the waves on the beach. “She’s stopped.”

Liam felt his heart skip a beat and his cock twitched against his jeans. Meg, attuned to his body by her own closeness, grinned even wider. The ghostly remains of evening light had finally swept away, letting stars shine above. Diamonds in velvet. The only thing Liam could see of Meg for the moment was the pale glow of her blue on blue eyes, shining just enough to hint at a nose and that wicked grin. Her wings rustled as she flexed them, snapping splints with ease. Her groan of relief made it clear those splints weren’t needed. Not anymore.

“How about we give her a state of our union, hmm?” Meg rocked her hips to give decadent punctuation to her words – an exclamation point, from how slick and wet and hot she felt.

Liam reached up in the darkness. His hands found her breasts, squeezing through her thin shirt as Meg fanned her wings outwards, their outlines traced by how many stars went dark. But Liam’s eyes were adapting to twilight, and the crashing waves were beginning to glow with bioluminescence, adding an extra ghostly edge to the surrounding night. Those were secondaries, though, to the firm deliciousness of Meg’s perfect breasts. Contained in bras, hidden by shirts, wrapped in towels, or protected by bronze and steel - it didn’t matter. Liam loved getting his hands on them. Loved that he could find her nipples and tweak them just a fraction harder than he could with normal human women.

From Meg’s excited hiss, she appreciated his strength and her own superhuman toughness.

“Fuck, Liam,” she whispered. “I almost forgot how good this feels...”

“I fucked you yesterday, Meg,” Liam said, sitting up. But despite his words, he could also feel the electric excitement between them. Meg had watched as he plowed his way through what felt like the population of a small city. She loved to watch. She adored every moment of the act and had expounded upon her favorite details – from the shocked awe on women seeing Liam’s size for the first time to the point where a woman started to slide towards the edge of total orgasmic bliss. But something Meg and Liam hadn’t done in far too long was show off.

Liam grabbed her shirt, practically tearing it. The only reason why he didn’t was because Meg lifted her arms and adjusted her wings, to allow the specially tailored shirt to slide up and over her head. In the dim twilight and the luminescence of her eyes, Liam could see her hair looking tousled and mussed. His palm cupped her cheek, slid through her hair, and dragged her close. Her breasts mashed against his chest, the hard tips of her nipples grinding against his, and the kiss they shared was even longer, even more intense, punctuated by a slow rocking motion of her hips as she desperately fucked against his bulge.

Meg broke the kiss to gasp: “Oh Liam.”

And even Liam could hear the quiet whimper that came from the forest near the beach. Liam could barely believe his cock didn’t explode out of his fucking pants. He supposed Earth jeans were tougher than he remembered.

Meg’s hands shoved him back down and she purred. “Let's see if you still eat pussy as well as I remember.”

“Fucked. You. Yestermmmmph!”

In that moment, the near darkness of twilight was gone, replaced with the glorious, warm darkness that came from having the woman you love more than life itself sitting right on your face. His nose nestled into her pubic-feathers and his tongue immediately swept out to slide from the bottom of her cunny to the very tip of her clitty. In that one sweet moment, Liam not only got to hear the most musical and wonderful noise in the world (Meg’s moan of pure bliss) but also taste the finest pussy in the universe. Win-win. His eyes closed and his hands reached up, cupping and squeezing her ass. This provoked a quiet grunt of happiness from Meg. So, Liam added a quick spank, rocking her pussy against his face. His nose rubbed her clit as he delved his tongue into her, immediately finding the spot that he knew brought her the most pleasure.

Meg bit her lower lip and hissed – Liam recognized the sound. He also recognized the fluttering rush of her wings flapping slightly with her own gathering orgasm. So, Liam quickly slipped one hand between the muscular heat of her thighs, pressing his middle finger to her pussy and plunging it immediately up to his knuckle. He crooked his finger, playing Meg like a violin as his tongue drew back to circle teasingly around her clit. Meg started to pant heavily, and he heard her fingers crunching into the sand as she rocked her hips above him. Liam applied direct pressure to her clit.

“Ah fucking gods, yes!” Meg quivered and came. Hard. Her pussy clenched on his finger and her juices flowed liberally into his mouth and down his throat. Liam slid his finger back as quickly as he could, so he could kiss against her sex and drink from her. His nose continued to tease against her clit as she rocked her hips, her wings beating once or twice as she came.

Which was why Liam was glad that the healing had worked slightly faster than Tethis had predicted.

Meg groaned. “Get your big cock out now, Mr. Vanderbilt, or else you’ll get to the UN without pants.”

Liam grinned as Meg drew back enough to let him sit up and get his hands at his jeans. He undid the button, struggled the zipper down, and groaned as his cock finally escaped the prison it had been straining to escape. As it slapped audibly against his chest, Meg purred…

And from the treeline, both could audibly hear: “Jaysus!”

Liam tensed. While it was fun knowing that they were being watched, this wasn’t Purgatory, where being forced to admit that they knew they were being watched could smoothly pivot into another partner. He was still trying to find a diplomatic way to bring up the issue to Amanda – or a way to fake that he hadn’t heard her – when Meg turned and then called out, “Get your MILFy ass out here, Prez!”

“I what!?” Amanda squawked.

“Meg!” Liam hissed. But Meg was already standing. Buck naked and practically glowing with the aftereffects of her orgasm, she sauntered towards the forest. She moved like liquid sex, her hips rolling from side to side, catching moonlight on her soaked thighs with every step. The jiggle of her rump and the rustle of her wings was so hypnotic that Liam just lay there for the five or so seconds it took Meg to reach the forest and bushes, reach in, then casually tug Amanda out.

The President had stripped down to her shirt and some salvaged pants, rather than sticking to her severe suit. Then, she had stripped down just a fraction more – opening her pants. Her panties had been shifted back into place, but the rising moon was making it quite easy to see the glisten on the tip of her fingers, while her plain white panties had a definite dark spot. Amanda looked like she was completely befuddled as to how she had gotten into this position, even as Meg drew her over to where Liam was finally starting to get to his feet. As he stood, Liam tried to cover his member. His member, still aching with eagerness, refused to be easily hidden by a single hand.

Meg grinned and gently pushed Amanda towards Liam. The President staggered and fell against him, her palms pressing to his chest, her head tilting forward as she nuzzled against his neck more by accident than design. Her nose flared and she shivered, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. Liam gulped, slowly. “I am, uh, sorry, Madam President, my wife forgets. We’re not on Purgatory.”

Meg’s hand dipped down. She cupped Amanda’s ass and smirked.

“Yeah. But isn’t the whole point of coming here to bring the best parts of Purgatory to Earth? The healing is nice, the power crystals are fine. But let's be fucking honest here.” She pushed and Amanda didn’t even struggle as she was pressed more completely against Liam – Meg’s voice dipped lower and lower, becoming a huskier and more predatory sound with every word. “It’s also about the fucking.”

Amanda gaped at Liam.

Liam gaped at her.

“Y-You’re not married, are you?” he whispered, his hands going slowly to her hips. She was soft in a way Meg, for all her delicious curves, wasn’t.

“Yes. No. Not anymore.” She gulped. “Died.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Liam flushed.

“Don’t be...” Amanda’s voice was very husky. “Bastard was fuckin’ an aide before he dropped dead from a heart attack.” Her lips were growing closer and closer and closer as she leaned forward. Then she drew back. “We shouldn’t-”

“Oh come on!” Meg slapped the President of the United States ass like she was a balking horse and Meg was in the Texan rodeo. Amanda shoved forward and her lips mashed against Liam, her hands squeezing his shoulders. Liam’s tongue plunged into her mouth and Amanda moaned with a deep, husky eagerness. Meg grinned, then nodded and crossed her arms over her chest.

“My work here is done,” she purred.

Liam drew away from Amanda. Amanda didn’t waste any time. Her hands went to her shirt and she tugged at it – buttons going flying as she desperately clawed at her shirt. Considering the workload an active President had, and the lack of a husband, Liam wouldn’t be shocked if she had gone without for an achingly long time. And from the way she desperately tugged her bra off and tossed it carelessly over her shoulder – Meg catching it from the air and sniffing at it curiously – Amanda was hornier than any woman Liam had been with in, well, at least two minutes. Her lips pressed to his neck and before Liam could do more than cup and squeeze her firm, high breasts, Amanda slithered out of his grip.

But she wasn’t stepping back.

She was going down.

Whatever the tolls that age had taken on her, it hadn’t done a thing to Amanda’s knees. They pressed to the sand as her lips kissed along Liam’s belly, tracing the circle of his belly button with her eager tongue. She moaned wantonly as she kissed down to the small tuft of pubic hair above his cock – her hand cupped his member, lifting it so that she could nuzzle him. She didn’t kiss and lick. She simply ground her face against his cock, breathing in his scent. “Jaysus,” she said again. Liam half closed his eyes, focusing on the soft feeling of her cheek slipping against his member. “Are you half horse, young man?”

Okay, Liam thought. I did not know being called a young man could be quite so erotic. Good to know.

Looking down, Liam could see with dark-adapted eyes that a bit of her makeup had smeared and her eyes glittered with a wantonness that shocked him – the contrast of that youthful lust and the slight wrinkles around each eye only accentuated how very horny Amanda was. She planted a tiny, almost dainty kiss against the side of his cock, her perfectly manicured fingernails glinting in the moonlight and starlight as she started to pump her hand up and down his cock, taking her time with every single inch.

“Ya’ll absolutely cannot and I do mean cannot,” Amanda murmured, her Texan twang growing more pronounced with every inch of Liam’s cock she nuzzled and licked and kissed. “Breathe a word of this to the press.”

“Well, duh,” Meg said, kneeling down behind the President. She kissed her ear, then whispered. “Liam likes it when you say how big his dick is, bee-tee-dubs.”

Amanda shot a look at Meg, who gave her a cheery thumbs up. This look didn’t stop Amanda from kissing and nuzzling Liam’s cock again, her nose flaring as she inhaled him like a drug. Mumbling against him, Amanda continued: “Tarnation, not the fact I’m layin’ him.” She kissed the bottom of Liam’s dick, moving her head slightly so that his cock rested against the middle of her face – his balls against her chin, the length of him against her lips, his tip almost mussing her hair. She closed her eyes. “Tha’ fact I love suckin’ dick.”

“Well, doesn’t everyone?” Meg asked, honestly confused.

“Not on Earth. Not most women,” Amanda mumbled, quietly, shivering. “But when ah was younger, ah couldn’t get enough of cock.” She shuddered. “But Christ, Vanderbilt, if anyone ah knew was packin’ this heat, ah’d never get out from under my desk.” She pressed forward to lovingly kiss his balls. Her tongue feathered out and she began to tongue his ball-sack with the same kind of loving attentiveness she had been showing his cock, curling her tongue to draw one of his balls into her mouth. Her eyes closed and the look of utter bliss Liam could see showing past his cock was almost more erotic than the feel of her sucking.

Almost.

Amanda drew back, breathing in eagerly as her hand closed around the base of Liam’s dick. Her other hand, he noticed, was buried between her thighs. She shifted her legs wider – then squeaked and looked over her shoulder. Meg was leaning up behind her and in the darkness and shadows, Liam couldn’t quite see if Meg’s arm was pressed to Amanda’s belly. He couldn’t say, for sure, if the Republican President was currently being fingered by his wife. He could have set on a congressional hearing and said, truthfully, that he couldn’t say if Meg was fingerfucking the President.

Honestly.

He was slightly more focused on what Meg saying.

“Now, his size is going to be a bit of a struggle. But that’s half the fun. What you need to do is not think about it. If you focus on every single inch, you’ll lose your nerve. So start by just licking around and around his tip. Yesss, like that.” Meg nodded as Liam half closed his eyes, hissing as Amanda started to ring his cock with her lips and her tongue. Her tongue-tip teased the edge of his foreskin and her lips closed around the very edge of his cock head. Her hand started to pump his cock, stroking him slowly as she closed her eyes, quivering.

There was a kind of bliss on her face that rivaled anything Liam had ever seen. Even Meg was looking impressed.

“Now, start to relax your throat. And slide forward. Just like that, Amanda. Just like that.” Amanda was starting to push forward, her mouth opening wider, her tongue flattening to the bottom of her mouth. Her teeth lightly grazed Liam’s cock as his girth pressed further and further in, but she opened even wider to push more and more of his cock into her mouth. She reached the halfway point and Liam felt his cocktip bump against something in her throat. Amanda froze, and Meg caressed her cheek with the hand that wasn’t hidden.

“Shh, just relax...this is the part where everyone needs to take a break. Want to-”

Amanda made a quiet groaning noise and let go of Liam’s cock. Her hand went to Meg’s wrist, then moved Meg’s hand from her cheek to the back of her head. Even Meg - decadent, debauched, utterly hedonistic Meg - looked a bit thrown by that. Then her fierce grin came back.

“Oh can we keep her?” she purred.

“That’s an act of war, honey!” Liam managed to gasp out. Then the only noise he could make was a quiet, unmasculine whine as Meg started to push Amanda’s mouth forward, gently. Insistently. Amanda’s eyes opened and rolled up to look at Liam’s eyes. Then they rolled back more as she shuddered and pushed the last few inches forward with Meg’s help. His balls gently slapped her chin and Amanda’s hips rocked as she came.

“Holyjesusfuck,” Liam whispered.

Amanda drew slowly back as Meg lifted the hand that had been off doing utterly mysterious things. She slurped her tongue from palm to fingertips, her glowing blue eyes closed to thin slits as Amanda’s lips released Liam’s cock with an audible pop. The older woman panted heavily, her hand going to her chest as Liam mentally revised his story.

That juice could have come from anywhere, Senator O'Donnell. Meg often fingers herself. Liam imagined himself saying to a microphone as a panel of congresscritters frowned at him.

“Gods, she tastes good,” Meg purred.

And Meg sometimes refers to herself in third person.

Amanda was in the middle of wiping some smeared lipstick off her mouth with the back of her hand when Meg leaned forward and caught her mouth. The older woman looked completely shocked. Her eyes widened and she sat there in dumb confusion for a few seconds before slowly starting to kiss Meg back, pressing against her. Meg drew back, whispering. “God he tastes amazing on you...” She purred, kissing Amanda’s cheek – pushing her head with her nose to get Amanda’s lips back against Liam’s achingly aroused cock.

Liam mentally resigned himself to perjury.

It took thinking of every old dude in the Senate and the House of Representatives to not cum as Amanda slurped his entire cock back into her throat. Now that she had ‘broken’ herself in, it seemed she could take him with ease. Her head started to bob with smooth, fluid motions. Her free hand cupped and squeezed his balls as Meg kissed and nuzzled at her neck, her hands cupping both of the older woman’s breasts. Amanda’s eyes were closed and she started to suck faster and faster. Liam gritted his teeth. He had been blown by goddesses. He could-

Amanda started to hum.

“Fuck!”

His balls clenched and Amanda squeezed him with just enough pressure, as if she was trying to milk him for every droplet. Liam felt as if he was giving her everything he could – his knees almost buckled as his cock spurted with a wave of thick, hot cum. Thick, hot cum that Amanda drank with such clear pleasure that it only redoubled his pleasure. Then her mouth slurped back halfway between one spurt and Liam gaped as he saw his cum splash against the face  of the President of the United States.

It was just as surreally erotic as he could have imagined.

Cum dripped from her chin onto one of her slightly sagging breasts, while the laugh-lines around her eyes crinkled as her face screwed up in pleasure. She licked at her lips and her chin, straining her tongue and using her fingers to start guiding Liam’s cum to her tongue. Meg leaned in, starting to lick at her face with eager movements.

“Remember,” Amanda purred, her fingers sliding out of her mouth. She had regained enough control to use her accentless voice now. “Any word goes to the press and you two go into a very deep, very dark hole.”

Liam and Meg both nodded.

Then Meg grinned. “So, want him in your pussy now?”

“We don’t have a condom so, absolutely not.”

“Ass?” Meg suggested, ever hopeful.

“Are you insane?” Amanda asked, actually laughing. “Vanderbilt would split me in half.”

Liam, meanwhile, had dropped onto the sand with a whump. He sprawled there, feeling his balls nestling into a tiny divot in the sand. He closed his eyes and breathed as evenly as he could, trying to think a thought that wasn’t inane. But it was just an endless series of ‘wows’ and ‘holy shits’ echoing in his head. His eyes remained closed as Meg and Amanda continued to speak.

“Give it back...”

“Come on, your titties are still cute enough hanging free!”

“It’s not about being cute. Not all of us have your superhuman back muscles, Mrs. Vanderbilt.”

“Gods, I love how you say my name when you’re angry...”

“Argh!”

And then Liam heard the unmistakable and very audible sound of an iPhone’s camera function going off.

“Annnnnnnd saved!” A cheerful male voice said from overhead. Liam opened his eyes and saw that the whole beach was illuminated by a pale golden light, shimmering in the air and setting dust motes that danced in the night breeze alight. The illumination came from a puffy cloud that looked as if it had flown right out of a work of Chinese calligraphy, and standing upon it was the gangly, muscular form of Sun Wukong. His staff was tucked behind one ear – the size and shape of a tiny metal toothpick – and he was holding a nice, sleek new iPhone in one hand, angled down at the threesome on the beach.

Liv, who floated next to him, snatched the phone from his hand and crushed it between her fingertips so fast that Sun’s expression was still smug and cocky as the glass and metal crinkled to the beach floor. The dawning horror came as he slowly turned his head to face Liv, his hands still held up, like he was holding a phantom cellphone.

“I was kidding, Liv!” he said.

“Oh,” Liv said, looking at the mangled mass of glass, metal and silicone in her hand. She slowly handed it back to Sun.

Sun Wukong sighed audibly.

***

“On a scale of one to ten!” Liam shouted over the roar of the winds. “How fucked are we?”

“Turbo!” Sun shouted back.

Liam groaned. He preferred flying first class in Air Force One to this, no matter how spectacular it was. Sun Wukong had stretched his Stormwind Rider (“I came up with the name myself!”) to be roughly the length and width of a RV. This had made the cloud as thin as a carpet, and left everyone who was seated on it clustered as far from the edges as possible. The F-16 pilot, who could just barely start to feel her legs again, was in the center, with Tethis next to her. Fizit, Amanda, Meg and Liam were near the front, where Sun stood and focused on the horizon. It seemed all he had to do to get his Stormwind Rider to rocket forward at a significant multiple of the speed of sound was stand there and clench his fists.

Liam wondered how much effort it actually took.

The magic of the Rider did cut down on the wind chill and the noise. The operative phrase being ‘cut down.’ Not eliminate. Liam was sure that his head would be ringing by the time they hit the French coast.

“What happened to the United Nations conference?” Amanda shouted.

Liv, who was rocketing along next to the Rider, skimmed closer. She rolled onto her back, still flying through the air at an incredible speed. Wind blew he blue hair past her cheeks, forcing her to shout through strands of sky-blue like she was speaking through a curtain. “That’s just the problem, Ma’am. It’s still on. You’re there!”

“I’m what?” Amanda blinked. Then, as if she had been a Purgatorian politician her whole life, she got it. “Ares took my place?”

“Either that or he cast a spell on someone,” Sun Wukong shouted. “The conference is closed to the press for the preliminaries. I’m betting Ares is waiting until today to bring out the big guns.”

“Why today?” Fizit asked. “What’s special about today?”

“Well!” Sun said. “Today is when the speeches before the Press are being held. What better time to dramatically fuck everything than when the whole world is watching?”

Meg nodded. “So, what’s the plan?”

Amanda frowned. Her shirt was still missing a few buttons, despite the best efforts of Tethis. She wasn’t exactly a garment mage, and she had burned through every single crystal source she had fixing the pilot’s spine and Meg’s wings and Liam’s leg. Liam gulped. He had at least one trump card. He still had the magic that would keep his brain alive and in stasis, even if the rest of his body was obliterated. But the chances were that if he was ever blasted that hard, Ares would just stomp on his skull like it was an annoying vase.

But it was something.

“Here’s the plan,” Amanda said. “We get there as fast as we can and we reveal Ares. Then we hope against hope that you can beat him, Liv.”

Liv nodded, curtly.

And on the horizon, Liam saw, for the first time in his life, the beaches of France.

It was time for endgame.

Chapter Eight

Officially, the Geneva Airport was simply that. The Geneva Airport. But everyone, including the air traffic control officers, still tended to call it by the old name: Cointrin. Though the whole place was in Switzerland, the northern edge was pressed right up to the very limit of France’s territory.

For Noah Altherr, working there was just another slow step to his true dream – a dream born in the long, lazy days in the service. It was known around the world that Switzerland required compulsory service in their young men. It was less widely known just how mind numbingly boring it was. It had been in a weed fueled afternoon of waiting for something, anything, to happen that Noah had realized his true dream.

He desperately wanted to make a living drawing. He already had a Twitter account, and he had posted up a few sketches of local birds, but there had been limited traction. Noah didn’t mind. He was just warming himself up to go from sketching birds to landscapes. Then maybe he’d tackle humans. He was willing to take time. Partially because working in air traffic control was an extremely time consuming and mentally taxing job, but also partially because every year he worked at Cointrin’s tower, he’d have just that much more squirreled away into his bank account.

Noah smiled at the thought.

Then his smile vanished.

Because the radar that helped to guide the immense amount of air traffic that flew through the Cointrin terminal had just detected what it claimed was some kind of cruise missile coming right at them.

Noah’s mouth went dry.

“M-Ma'am!” he shouted to his boss. She turned away from the console she had hunched over.

“What is it, Altherr?”

“We’re under attack!” Noah stammered. “The radar!”

His boss hurried over, her brow furrowed in confusion. But it was too late. Noah looked up, his eyes wide as saucers. But rather than seeing the flare and smoke trail of what the radar claimed was a cruise missile, all Noah saw was a tiny white spec in the noon-day sky. Then, so fast that if he had blinked he would have missed it, a cloud flew past the tower, close enough for him to see the man astride it. The man had looked right at him, waving as he flew past.

His boss had seen it too.

“What the absolute hell?” she whispered.

“I think we should call the police,” Noah whispered.

***

“I’m so bored...”

“That is good, isn’t it?”

The woman who sprawled in the armchair in the hotel room that the Republic of India’s delegation had been given by the United Nations, lifted her head and glared at the man sitting, lotus style, in the center of the floor. His eyes were closed and his hands rested, palm up, on his knees.

“Of course you’d say that,” the woman said, her face scrunching up slightly.

“I’m not sure what you are implying,” the man said, his voice still utterly serene.

“Oh, you know what I’m implying,” the woman said, sitting up. She clenched her hand, then punched her own palm. “I can’t believe we were pulled all the way out here. We should still be in Kashmir!”

“I argued against our being posted to Kashmir entirely,” the man said. His attempts to sound serene and focused on his inward meditation was growing ever so slightly strained.

The woman sprang to her feet and started to pace. She scowled as she did so, punching her fist into her palm with every other step. The rhythmic sound began to take on the tone and temper of a war-drum, matching the mood of her. She prowled around, the stateroom like a tiger. Her muscular shoulders strained against the dark blue-black of her dress uniform, while her steps set the medals that glittered on her chest to bouncing.  “Yeah. That’s cause you’re a weakling. You also said we should let the western states go.”

“And I was right,” the man said, his voice growing tight.

“Oh, that’s how you’re going to swing it?” She asked. “They only listen to you because they’re afraid of me.”

“An interesting interpretation of the events in question...”

Because she was prowling away from him and towards the window, the uniformed Indian Army lieutenant colonel saw the cloud shoot past the glass of the hotel. She saw the man on the cloud. She even saw him take a fraction of a second to shoot her a finger gun and grin.

And loudly, she swore. “Oh that sister fucking son of a bitch!” She stepped forward, her palms mashing against the window.

“Did the man in the room across the way get his telescope out again?” the meditating man asked, his voice ever so slightly amused.

“No,” the woman snarled. “Sun Wukong just decided to crash the party.”

“Ah.” The meditating man opened his eyes. “Well then.”

***

“I have to admit,” Liam said as the wind finally died down and he felt like, for the first time in years, he could speak normally. “The Swedish police work fast.”

“Swiss, actually,” Amanda said, shaking her head slightly.

The Swiss police had pulled up their cars out in-front of the meeting hall. It was a large, rectangular building that oozed a kind of old world charm. It looked like a building that had quietly seen out the tumult of the 20th Century without so much as a bit of paint being chipped off. The only thing that ruined the rustic charm was the team of snipers on the roof, aiming at them from behind sandbags and other makeshift protections.

The Swiss police themselves looked like they were mostly street cops, but they were rapidly being joined by men that could have stepped right from an American SWAT van, save for differences in uniform that Liam, honestly, didn’t give a fuck about.

“Hands up!” one of the men shouted through a megaphone. His English was quite good and that caused Liam to feel a prickling worry slide along his spine. Now, why, exactly, would they know to use English? “Surrender peacefully, or we will open fire.”

Amanda stood, shakily. “I am the President of the United States!” She said, projecting her voice as Sun Wukong kept them floating above the street.

“We find that hard to believe, as your staff tipped us off about you!” the man with the megaphone shouted. “We’ve been informed about the exotic methods that American criminals have access to. Now. Surrender and we shall take you into custody.”

Amanda frowned.

Liv shook her head. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Liv, wait-” Liam started.

Liv flew down.

The police paused, bringing their weapons to bear  on Liv. The man with the megaphone shouted: “Stop or we will open fire!”

“Sun, get us to the roof!” Liam shouted. “Meg, help-”

Meg was already flaring her wings.

Sun focused and they shot upwards as the police opened fire. But Liv wasn’t where they were aiming. Liam had no time to focus on her or Meg – he was tensing and readying to jump. He leaped just before they flew over the building and landed on the back of a sniper trying to bring his weapon up and around. His shoes smashed into the man’s shoulder blades and he heard a loud clack as the man’s helmet smashed into the ground. The sniper groaned and tried to roll, but Liam was already skipping off. “Sorry!” he said, kicking the man in the face, turning the blow to try and keep the man down without doing too much damage.

Sun Wukong flew his cloud past another sniper, knocking his rifle away with his staff as Tethis and Fizit sprang down. Fizit’s tail snaked around one of the sniper’s spotter’s throats and tugged him away from where he was kneeling. The pistol in the spotter’s hand went flying as Fizit twitched her hips and pitched him against a lumpy air conditioner. Tethis sprinted for the doorway that led into the building proper, taking advantage of her size and speed to evade notice.

Meanwhile, Liam was charging another spotter. That man’s pistol was free and he was clicking off the safety. Liam grabbed the pistol’s barrel and used every bit of strength he had to shove the  other man’s arm up. And here, Liam realized that there was a serious difference between physical training to stay fit and the physical training it took to use a sword. He nearly effortlessly jammed the police officer’s arm above his head and was able to bring his knee up into the man’s flack vest. The vest absorbed the impact, but the blow was still enough to lift the cop off his feet for a moment, then drop him. Liam grabbed his head and bounced it, hoping to stun him despite his helmet.

“Stay down!” Liam snarled, holding the pistol by the barrel. He tossed it to Meg, who had just flown by. Meg caught it and landed next to him.

“Liv’s really freaking scary now. Just so you know,” she said.

Liam hurried to the wall. The pop pop pop of gunfire was still going and as he looked over the roof, ready to jerk back in case he had to, Liam saw that Liv was shoving the doors open.

She hadn’t even tried to beat the cops up.

She had just walked past them – ignoring them as they fanned out and poured lead onto her. Bullets bounced off her skin. No. Liam shook his head. They weren’t even hitting her skin, her clothing was unharmed.

“What is she, Liam?” Meg whispered, quietly. “I mean, she’s still Liv, but...”

“She’s Liv,” Liam said, nodding. “Never forget that.” He grinned at her. “Fuck. Old Liv would have slit those guys' throats without me shouting her down. So, there’s that.” He slapped Meg’s shoulder. “Also, try to not kill anyone!”

“Got it!” Meg said, nodding as she ran with him towards the entrance, leading into the building proper.

Around them, they could hear the wailing sounds of alarms.

Getting to the door, Liam paused beside the entrance to glare at Sun Wukong.

“Where’s Amanda?” he asked.

“I sent the Rider off with her on it,” he said, nodding. “Told her how to fly it. She said she’d come back once the airspace got a bit less leady.”

Liam grunted, then turned to the door. Tethis was muttering under her breath as she fidgeted with the lock. “I can’t get it open,” she said, scowling. “I can hack an Ancient lock open, but...” She shook her head. “No magic here, no Ancient command codes, no-”

Meg grinned. “Tethis, Tethis, Tethis, honey. Here’s the Ancient command code.”

She stepped up and kicked the door. The hinges exploded in a spray of stucco and drywall, the doorway flipping as it flew into the narrow industrial looking stairwell, bouncing off a wall and leaving a hairline fracture in the concrete.

“Tada,” Meg said, cheerfully.

Tethis scowled.

Liam held up his hand. “Wait!” he said, frowning. Everyone stopped – and they heard what he had heard. It was the unmistakable heavy clunk clunk clunk of boots, the jingle of modern military armor and weaponry. Liam risked a glance and saw six men running up the stairs, their brutal looking submachine guns at the ready. The faint radio chatter he could hear was entirely in French, so he wasn’t sure what they were saying. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. Liam looked at Sun Wukong. “You, in front, deflect the bullets. Meg...” He grinned. “You know what to do.”

Sun Wukong started forward, grumbling under his breath about being in the front. But he had pulled his staff out to its full size and was twirling it in circles. He came to the corner of the stairwell just as the heavily armored cops came around the opposite corner. Their submachine guns started to chatter and bullets sparked and pinged off the staff. Meg stepped up onto the edge of the stairwell and leaped out, her wings fanning for just long enough to slow her descent and angle her to land behind the soldiers. She punched one man in the side of the head. He sprawled, and the squad started to try and react. As they swung their weapons around, Fizit flowed past Liam. She leaped like an animal – arching over the railing, sailing in the open air, then landing palm first on the face of another cop, who had just enough to scream something before he was put on his back.

“I forgot she could do that,” Tethis whispered.

Liam nodded. “Lizards are scary sometimes.”

Sun had taken advantage of the abatement of fire to step up and smash one of the cops in the jaw with his staff. The cop hit the ground with a groan. By then, the rest of the squad had been taken down by Fizit and Meg’s fists. Liam grinned.

“It is kind of nice not having to do all the work,” he said, scooping Tethis up with a grunt.

“Hey!” Tethis squeaked.

“Sorry, we gotta move fast,” Liam said, starting down the stairs three at a step. He was joined by Sun and Fizit. Meg simply dropped down the center of the shaft. Gunshots rang out and Liam’s heart sprang into his throat – but as he craned his head over the railing, he saw Meg was blowing smoke from her pistol. Faint groans and a few screams of pain came from the corridor. Liam took the steps five at a time, and came to the bottom to find Meg slapping a new magazine into her borrowed pistol.

The corridor had five more cops – these ones were plain clothes. Each one was clutching a knee.

“Meg!” Liam snapped.

“They’ll live,” Meg said, cheerfully. “And they’ll walk again. Healing magic, remember?”

Liam made a face.

And then, at the intersection of the main corridor that adjoined to the corridor, he saw Liv walking past two other cops who were trying to stop her. Both had set their riot shields up and locked them together, their feet planted on the ground. They were throwing every bit of weight into trying to slow Liv. She hadn’t even paused and wasn’t even pushing. She just stepped forward and the cops skidded backwards. Finally seeming to get annoyed with even this minor delay, she put her palms on both shields, then shoved to the side.

The two cops smashed into walls with groans.

Liam started to jog forward. “Liv!” he shouted.

She ignored him – she was glaring at the doorway that she had focused on.

Liv was going after Ares.

And she wasn’t going to let a goddamn thing stand in her way.

***

Liv shoved the doors open. “Father!” she shouted, her voice booming into a room suddenly silenced. Her elven ears, even before she had unlocked the true powers of her God Node, would have picked up the panicked sounds of screams, the shouts, the confused calls. There were dozens, maybe even hundreds of languages, all compacted in that room. Diplomats and translators both were all being ushered out of the room as fast as they could go. But the situation had gone from ‘alarming’ to ‘full action’ so fast that the room was still packed. Guards were struggling to get to clear firing positions.

And there, standing behind the podium, was Amanda Deinhardt.

Liv felt her mind echo like a bell – and felt a returning echo from the replica of Deinhardt. It wasn’t just that, though, that made her utterly certain of what she was looking at. It was the fact that Amanda Deinhardt was charismatic, charming. Pretty, even, if you were into women who showed they were mortal.

But she didn’t radiate command like Ares did. Just looking at her, part of Liv longed for what she had felt before Brax. Before Liam. Before she had seen what Ares had done to beget her. Before she had been forced, by fate and by the people around her, to see what her life of war and servitude had meant. It had been so easy to coast from battle to battle, to…

To just follow orders.

She had felt utterly certain in those days. And even in the form of an older human, Ares radiated that certainty. And that promise of security. A place. He hadn’t even said anything and part of Liv wanted to bend her knee and beg to serve her father again. Like in the old days.

To be quite honest?

It pissed her right the fuck off.

Liv snarled. “Show yourself to these people, father. Lying sounds a bit like a pussy move to me.”

Ares shook her head. “I don’t know who you are, but the President of the United States doesn’t negotiate with terrorists.”

Liv tossed her head, her eyes flashing. Her hands clenched and lightning crackled along her skin as the bits of debris that her forceful opening of the doors had peppered the floor with started to float upwards, like they couldn’t quite remain attached to the ground anymore. The carpet rippled beneath her feet, invisible waves of force pulsing away from her in growing patterns. She grinned – and there was no mercy in that grin.

“So we get to do this the hard way then. Good.”

Liv flew straight for the fake President.

The blinding light didn’t come from before her.

It came from her left.

Searing heat smashed into her shoulder and Liv veered hard to the right as if she had taken a ninety degree angle. She shot over the heads of cowering diplomats and translators and guards, then smashed, back first, into a wall. The wall gave with a roar and spray of plaster and dust and debris. Liv’s back crashed into a desk that some functionary had abandoned, cracking the immense wood and metal frame completely in half. She coughed and sat up, feeling a slow, dull throb beginning to spread along her back, from her shoulders to her ass.

She coughed and stood, walking into the amphitheater.

“What the absolute fuck?” she asked, waving dust away from her face.

The far wall had a hole sliced into it. The edges smoldered and flickered, but what bits of metal that had been worked into the wall looked just as smoothly vaporized, their cherry red edges sticking slightly farther up than the blasted plaster and brick. A dark form flew through the hole, then landed with one foot on the railing of the walkway that curved around the massive meeting space.

“Who the fuck are you!?” Liv exclaimed.

The woman who had flown in...was utterly unlike any woman that Liv had ever seen.

For one thing?

Her skin was blue. A dark blue that nearly shaded to black. Her eyes were glowing red and her teeth contained two long fangs that hooked over her lower lip. Her breasts – full and heaving – strained against a uniform that was nearly the same shade as her skin. The sleeves of the uniform ended in tattered rings around the shoulders. It looked as if she had simply torn them off, to give her muscular arms plenty of room. But what was even more bizarre was that the second set of arms that grew beneath the first. One of her lower hands – the right one – still smoked and flickered with spots of black light, which shimmered between her fingers like a heat haze. Her upper right hand held a wicked looking combat knife, while her lower right held a sawed off shotgun.

“Lieutenant Colonel Kali. Also known as Kalika. Also known as Shyama. Also known as the queen bitch of the fucking universe,” the blue skinned woman said, her voice a sneering, mocking one that Liv recognized.

It was basically her own.

“Now,” Kali said, lifting the shotgun and aiming it right at Liv. “Stand the fuck down right now, you Dodekatheon bitch.”

Liv responded by throwing half of the desk she had landed in at Kali. The desk shot through the air as fast as a bullet, and Kali had to blast it away with a beam of purple light from her palm. Liv immediately noticed that this beam didn’t blow through walls or vaporize the desk. It just knocked it out of the way and set it on fire. As the desk smashed into the wall and the diplomats went screaming and running for the exits, Liv started to bound forward. Every step sent her rocketing forward in a zigzag pattern, forcing Kali to swung her shotgun left and right, trying to track her. She fired at the last second. Liv saw the slug shooting towards her – it wasn’t buckshot, as she had expected. She twisted, flipping around faster than a human could possibly see.

The slug hit the wall of the room.

Liv landed and brought her fist down towards Kali’s jaw.

Kali caught the fist with her upper right hand, then smashed her head into Liv’s face. Liv saw white as she sprawled on her back, shattering one of the formerly used desks. Wood and plastic crunched under her and Liv saw Kali’s boot lifting upwards. Liv rolled out of the way and Kali smashed the floor so hard that the wood buckled in a circular crater. Splinters went flying and one of the boards caught Liv and actually flung her upwards. Liv took advantage of her flight, shooting up and right.

Kali started to fire quick, strobing blasts of energy from her hands – dropping her shotgun as useless. The purple beams of energy peppered the ceiling, filling the air with dust and smoke. Liv wove and darted in a wild pattern – and saw that Kali was grinning hugely.

She was having the fucking time of her life.

Liv risked a glance down and saw Ares – still in the form of the President – running for the back door. She was putting on more speed than the President should have been able, but less than what she knew Ares could do. Clearly, Ares planned to keep up the deception as long as possible.

“No!” Liv snarled – shooting forward.

A beam of purple light shot past her front, just barely missing her. Liv skidded to a stop in the air, glaring at Kali, who was starting to fly herself, flickering black flames roaring to life around her.

“Oh, this dance hasn’t even started yet, Olympian,” Kali purred.

Ares got to the exit and ran right into the arms of another bizarre being. Where Kali radiated violence and sexuality and power, this figure seemed to glow with a kind of peaceful glory. But that didn’t stop Liv from gawping, because, well, the fucker had the head of an elephant. It smoothly merged with his otherwise normal body – he actually had more of a paunch than Liv would have expected, though his four arms were only slightly less slabbed with muscle than Kali’s.

The elephant guy grabbed Ares.

“Come with me, Madam Presi-” the elephant guy stopped, looking square at Ares.

“Whoa, everyone!”

Liv looked back.

Liam had just run into the room. Next to him was Sun Wukong, holding his staff and looking smug as ever.

“You!” Kali snarled, starting to fly towards Sun.

“Hey babe!” Sun waved.

“You know her?” Liam hissed, sounding shocked. Then, louder. “Ganehsa! Look out!”

Liv snapped her head back.

Ganehsa – what kind of god was he? - had stepped away from Ares and was drawing what looked like a battle ax from his hip. But Ares had moved in the same fluid motion, shifting as he did so. The form of the President rippled away from him and a knife flew into his palm, shot from a wrist bracer. The knife itself looked odd – glossy black and smooth. Liv had no time to admire it, though. Ares batted Ganesha’s trunk aside and plunged the knife into his chest.

Kali’s roar of rage shook the room.

Liam started to sprint forward. Liv flew.

But it was Sun Wukong who acted first.

He stepped forward, his staff flipping up into the air. It actually left his palm before dropping back into it as he stood in a perfect form. Had this been the Olympics – either ancient or modern – every onlooker would have known that he was about to break every record.

He twisted.

And threw.

His staff arrowed through the air with a whistling sound, the black iron tip rushing straight towards Ares, who was jerking his glossy black knife out of Ganesha’s chest. The elephant headed god fell to one knee, clutching at his wound, still looking faintly shocked. Ares heard the staff flying towards him. He turned, then smirked, and caught the staff with one hand.

Then, with a surprised grunt, he actually toppled ever so slightly to the left, having to shift his stance. His eyes widened as he realized just how fucking heavy Sun Wukong’s staff was. But then his grip tightened and, as he corrected his stance, he swung the staff. There was no elegance in his movement. Just brute strength. The staff rushed outwards and Liv tried to put on as much speed as she could.

The staff was hurtling towards Liam but he had already started to drop – combat reflexes honed to anticipate and act before even the superhuman speed of a former God of War. It was the single most stunning things Liv had ever seen. Liam went into a skid, something small and black cradled in his arms. Liv recognized it.

It was a submachine gun.

Liam’s feet smashed into Ares’ shins – doing more to stop Liam than to actually shift Ares. The staff had finished its long arc and Ares was looking down, to try and see where Liam had gone.

Liam pulled down the trigger.

Bullets hammered into Ares chest, smashing home and bouncing off his chest as Liam screamed at the top of his lungs – roaring out every bit of frustration and rage and hatred he had built up over the years of conflict, both overt and direct, between him and the God of War.

It did absolutely nothing.

Then Liv smashed into Ares chest, going full speed.

The two of them hit the back wall of the building – exploding out into the street in a spray of brick and plaster. They flew in a curving arc and then smashed into a pillar that was used to support the front of another building. Civilians were going running, police sirens wailed, and screams filled the air. But all Liv could focus on was Ares, his face twisted in rage underneath her. She started to smash her fists into him.

“That’s for my mother!” she shouted, slamming a fist home. Air rippled outwards from the point of impact. Ares head had actually been knocked a few inches into the concrete stairs of the building. Liv clenched her fist and smashed home again. Another pressure wave explosion – another spray of dust, another ache in her knuckles. She was bleeding, having cut her knuckles on Ares’ teeth and skull. She didn’t care. “That’s for Brax!”

She grabbed Ares by both sides of his head, jerking it from the crater she had punched him into. Then she smashed him back down with every bit of her strength, feeling the ground ripple with the impact.

“And that’s for my entire fucking life, you son of a bitch,” she snarled.

Ares looked up at her.

His left eye was puffing up and a single tooth fell from his mouth as he spat to the side. Quietly, he laughed.

He laughed.

Liv trembled in fury, drawing her fist back. Lightning crackled and she screamed out her fury as she punched down.

Ares’ hand blurred upwards and her fist slammed into his palm. Lightning surged along his arm, dispersing in a crackling haze of sparks. Ares’ eyes were cold as he clenched his fist – sending a shooting rush of pain through Liv’s hand as bones creaked and crunched.

“Grow up,” he said, his voice cold. “The only one you can blame for your wasted life is you.” He stood with a surge of energy, forcing Liv backwards. Her knees almost buckled as his hand clenched even more – her bones snapping and popping, sending shooting waves of white hot agony along her arm as nerves were crushed and severed. Her fingers were turning blue and blood dripped along her arm and between his vicious fingers.

“But you were always blind,” Ares snarled. He flicked his wrist and that black knife of his glittered.

He swept it upwards and twisted his other arm in the same moment. White hot pain shot along Liv’s cheek and suddenly, the entire world was blood and agony. Something hideously spherical slid along her cheek, and she felt an awful tugging sensation in the very back of her eye. The spherical something swung like a pendulum and the knowledge of what it was nearly made her gag past the pain. Her other eye opened wide as Ares twirled his knife in an arc, holding it in his fist as he twisted her arm around.

He lifted the knife.

And a beam of purple light smashed into his chest. Ares nearly ripped her arm from his socket as he was picked up and put through the building. Liv grabbed at her face, then screamed as she felt the dangling eye finally rip free. She hunched forward. She had become so used to being nearly invincible that even minor pain was shocking. And this wasn’t minor. Blood poured between her fingers, and she gasped heavily.

Kali flew by overhead, snarling – her voice echoing as Liv felt what was left of her vision starting to turn gray.

“Where did he fucking go? Where the fuck did he go?”

Liv panted.

Gods, she needed a nap…

She closed her eyes.

Her eye.

Blackness.

Chapter Nine

“And that is how that feels.”

Liv slowly opened one eye, groaning as she felt sensation slowly starting to return to her body. She did her normal post-battle check up. Her face felt like it had met King Leonidas’ sandal-clad foot for the entirety of the battle of Thermopylae, with a follow-up of every single Persian to grind the dirt in. Her ribs felt cracked, her arms felt leaden, her head swam and she was fairly certain if she sat up, she’d be struck with the specific kind of dizzy spell that only came after losing a great deal of blood.

The fact that she had no other eye was also something to worry about. Instead, she just felt a mass of cloth and tissue and tape, all of it mashed up against the left side of her face.

Liv swung her eye around and saw Liam. He was seated in a chair in the right corner of the painfully dull white room. He held a newspaper up – the headline she read was: EX-PRESIDENT STARS IN HIT NEW SHOW, LIVE FROM JAIL CELL.

He flipped it shut along the horizontal axis, so he could look over it. He gave her his biggest shit-eating grin ever.

“Normally, I’m the one who wakes up in the hospital with a body part missing.”

Liv groaned and closed her eye. “How long has it been?”

“You’ve been out three days,” Liam said. “Tethis has been screaming at the State Department to get her more power crystals, but they’re not turning on the gate until they can figure out how to keep Ares from using it. No matter how many times we’ve tried to explain that the damage is done...” He shrugged. “They won’t open it up until someone a few rungs up the ladder yells at them.”

Liv pointed at the newspaper.

Liam looked at it.

“Why is she in jail?” she mumbled.

“Huh?” Liam blinked. “Oh, no, this is about Amanda’s predecessor.”

“Oh.” Liv closed her eyes. Kings often did far worse things to their predecessors in the Hellenic League than throw them in jail. But Amanda had always struck her as somewhat soft. “Why isn’t it about me?”

Liam chuckled. “Because print media is dying, Liv.”

When she opened her eyes again, Liam had turned on the TV in the corner of the room. It showed several talking heads – their words lost in the quiet hum of the lights and the distant sound of voices speaking over the PA. But the footage playing behind them was clear as day. It was Liv herself, punching Ares into a stone pillar that, now that she could get a good look at it, could have come from the Parthenon itself if it had been painted a proper color, rather than left to turn white and boring. The footage was slowed down, so that everyone could see every single blow.

Liam looked at her. His voice was soft. “You saved a lot of lives by rushing ahead, Liv.”

Liv smirked. “Damn straight I did.” Then, after a moment, she furrowed her brow. “Wait, I know I did the right thing. Why do you think I did the right thing?”

Liam dragged his chair over and sat down so he could speak to Liv directly without getting between her and the TV. They were replaying an earlier scene – this was her walking through bullets as police officers scrambled back and away from her. Liv smiled to see that.

“Because while you were out, they showed me footage from the two and a half minutes of speech Ares manages to get out as Amanda,” Liam said. “It’s all standard diplomatic boilerplate. But, well...” He pulled out his phone. He tapped at it a few times, then swung it around to show it to her. The footage was clear and crisp, and the sound only faintly tinny. It showed the false Amanda Deinhardt standing before the podium. She was smiling genially, and she started to speak.

“Greetings, representatives of the United Nations,” she said. “I know for some time, the United States and the United Nations have been at odds. But today, I come to you to speak on a topic of great importance to our many nations. The return of the gods and the alien life of Purgatory, brought to us by a gate constructed by my government. All of us are uncertain of what this means. Of what this might lead to-”

Liam shut the phone off. Liv blinked and shook herself as she realized…

She had wrapped her hand around Liam’s throat.

“Ow...” Liam whispered.

Liv jerked her hand back, looking at her palm. The impulse had been something below conscious thought. Below the nerve endings, flickering deep within her breast. It had buzzed and crackled and hissed in her head: Kill. Murder. War. She shook her head slowly, her hand going to her face. “Whoa...”

“Ares was going to broadcast that to the world,” Liam said, quietly. “The only thing that stopped him was you kicking down the door and setting off the Swiss counter terrorist teams. First thing they did? Lock down the building, shut down all communication and route it to their police centers.” He shook his head. “I think the only reason you didn’t come in to find a total fucking bloodbath is that most United Nations ambassadors are trained to resort to violence as a last option. Not a first.” He coughed.

Liv shook her head. “I didn’t even feel the control.” She put her palms against her face.

Liam nodded. “We’re studying this. Tethis is checking it over, and begging - begging - for the chance to take it back to Purgatory, so she can use the Ancients' machines to scan it.” He shook his head. “But until then, the best way to keep people safe from this is to keep Ares away from cameras.”

Liv shook her head again. “No, there’s another way.”

“Well, yes, I know, killing him would help,” Liam said, grinning.

Liv smirked. “No.” She paused. “Do you know why I was so slow?”

Liam frowned. “You...” He paused. “You punched Ares through a wall, Liv.”

“Yeah, and you still unloaded a full magazine into his balls before I did it,” Liv said, smirking.

Liam waved his hand, as if to say, ‘oh, it was nothing.’

Liv punched his shoulder, then blinked as she realized her wrist was actually tied to bags of clear liquid, by lines and tubes that were sunk into her skin. She frowned, slightly, then reached to take them out. Liam put his hand on her hand, shaking his head. “Without Tethis’ magic, we should keep those in.”

Liv frowned, but let it – and her arm – drop. “The reason why I wasn’t fast was because I have limits. I tried to make myself tough, so I got less fast. I had to make myself strong, so I got less tough.” Her hand that wasn’t connected to needles touched her cheek, gingerly. She hissed quietly. “And Ares has to work the same way. He has to.”

Liam sighed. “I am sorry.”

“I’m not.” Liv smirked slowly, her eye closing. “The last time, I didn’t even touch him. This time?” She held up her hand, lifting a single finger. “I took out a tooth and blacked his fucking eye.”

Liam was silent for a few moments. She could feel him regarding her. What was he thinking? Was he proud of her? Worried about her? Liv smirked slightly at that thought. Liam Vanderbilt, the inveterate worrier. Some days, she was still shocked that he had ever managed to beat her, back when she had merely been a demigoddess. But most days, she could hardly be happier that he had. Her life was a fuck of a lot better now.

Liam chuckled. “So, next time...”

“Next time,” Liv purred. Her eye opened and it gleamed with eagerness. “I tear out his motherfucking throat.”

***

Amanda clasped her hands before her as she looked across the table at the smiling diplomats from the Republic of India. But she wasn’t looking at them. She was looking at Lt. Colonel Kali and Colonel Ganesha. Neither of the gods looked like gods at the moment. Lt. Colonel Kali looked like most military women who Amanda had met in her time in the office. Stern faced, focused, respectful, and undiplomatic. That was why so many of them clearly radiated a faint sense of ‘I could be somewhere else, doing something better with my life.’ Ganesha, meanwhile, glowed with a kind of wise, approachable calmness. It was a balm after the past few days of meetings with the rest of NATO, Russia, China, and various unaffiliated parts of the UN.

People needed to be reassured that she, in fact, was alive and not being replaced by a doppelganger. Amanda couldn’t blame them, even if their worries had kept her from this private face to face. Next to her sat General Sung. No one else was cleared for this level of intelligence. 

“Before we begin,” Amanda said. “I want to extend my personal gratitude. If it weren’t for the quick actions of Colonel Ganesha, Ares would have likely escaped far quicker.”

Ganesha chuckled, his hand going to the binding that was still clear, even with his dress uniform. “That is quite a polite way of describing being stabbed while we get in each other's way.”

Amanda smiled.

“This wouldn’t have happened, ma’am, if you had been honest with us,” Kali said, frowning.

“Lieutenant colonel,” one of the ambassadors said.

“Quiet,” Kali snapped, lifting a hand that shimmered into existence. Her skin flashed blue and, for just a moment, an anima of raw power radiated around her body. Flickering black flames danced and flowed along her arms and her teeth seemed to sharpen as her skin darkened. Amanda knew that she was just showing her godly side to get  a rise out of her. That didn’t stop her from feeling a cold swell of fear as Kali glared at her. “You kept the nature of Ares’ attacks on the United States secret. If we had known he was not only active but so...” She paused. “Unbound, then we’d have known what to expect.” She shook her head. “Instead, the first time we learn that we’re under direct threat from a god that’s slipped the chains of their dharma.”

Amanda frowned, glancing at one of the ambassadors and General Sung. General Sung shrugged, muttering. “Don’t ask me, I’m a Baptist, Madam President.”

One of the ambassadors sighed. “It’s a complex term, but, you can see it as fate. Cosmic order. The-”

“It’s the chains that bind us to these forms,” Kali snarled, slamming her fist into the table as she stood. “I’m Kali because a billion Hindu believe I’m Kali. Ares should be a goat fucking savage who can’t outwit a fucking plastic bag.”

Amanda nodded. “We’ve told you that he’s been exposed to…” She glanced down to check her notes. Just reading the words ‘power nullification collar, constructed by an alien race known as the Stakosha’ made her feel like she was in some bizarre dream. Before she could continued, Kali made a sound somewhere between a snarl, growl and a curse in Hindi, which made Ganesha cough and start to speak over her.

“While we can agree that mistakes have been made, pointing fingers will not help right now-”

“It’d make me feel better,” Kali muttered loudly enough to be heard over the other god.

Amanda nodded. “We kept this information secret because we were worried that if the world knew what Ares was offering, it’d only encourage people to worship him.” She tapped the manila envelope she had brought. “This contains every piece of intelligence we have from our own services and from the Republic of Babylon, and that includes every Ares cult we have tracked in both our soil and abroad.” She sighed. “By the information provided from Babylon and her representatives, Ares has nearly completely recreated his cult on Earth in terms of size.”

“How is that possible?” one of the younger diplomats asked. He flinched, glancing at Kali – leaving the theory that she was outranked by most of the people in the room in even more of a tatters. But Kali nodded, glaring at Amanda. She wanted an answer too.

“Purgatory has a population exponentially smaller than Earth’s,” General Sung said, sparing Amanda from having to respond to a lower ranked diplomat speaking out of turn. “A tiny percentage of whackos here is equal to a small city state there.”

Amanda nodded. “And now we need to work out a strategy to prevent Ares from getting on some international news network and triggering mass slaughter, or mass conversion, or mass... anything.” She tapped the envelope again. “And here, we have the possible answer. According to our unbound goddess, while an unbound god can shift their powers around, they are mostly moving powers. To become stronger in one area, they need to become weaker in another.” She smirked. “Which means that if we have gods that can respond to Ares’ moves, we can counter them.”

Ganesha glanced at the diplomats. The oldest, most highly ranked diplomat, clasped his hands together. “I will need to confer with my government. Our deities have been a state secret since 1982, ma’am. And a cultural secret for many centuries before that. It will take more than my authority to divulge any more than you have already learned.”

Amanda inclined her head, politely.

As she and Sung waited for the Indian delegation to head back, Sung tapped at his PDA. He was reading reports, frowning as he did so. “Well, we’ve had no luck at tracking down Coyote,” he said. “And the DOD and DHS has no idea where to even begin to look for other native gods, and even less of an idea on how to get them on our side.” He frowned. “And if what Vanderbilt told us is true, they won’t even be much stronger than normal people.”

“What about Wukong?” Amanda asked, rubbing her temples as she waited. A tension headache was settling in.

“Oh, he’s already handed us a list of requests.”

Amanda opened her eyes and caught the PDA that Sung underhanded her. She started to read. Her eyes widened. “No income tax? Does he even live in the United States?”

“He said he would after we hire him,” Sung said, his voice dry.

“I will not sanction giving him a harem,” Amanda said, frowning. “Uncle Sam isn’t in the sex worker business.”

Sung coughed, adjusting his collar.

“The CIA doesn’t count,” Amanda snarled.

Sung, wisely, decided not to comment. “We’ve also got, oh, maybe five million people throwing on costumes, declaring themselves to be the goddess of Hick Junction, Nowheresville, or the warden protector of gangland USA.” He shook his head. “What do we even begin to do about them?”

“We already had a problem with goddamn faith healers...” Amanda muttered.

Their conversation lapsed. Sung glanced at the clock. His fingers tapped on his PDA, waiting for new reports, new messages. Amanda noticed, though, that her old friend’s eyes kept darting back to her, then away. Then back again. Amanda sighed. Time to cut through some more bullshit. If there was anyone she could cut through bullshit with, it had better be Sung.

“Herbert,” Amanda said, looking right at her old friend.

“Fine, fine, okay,” Sung said. “The pilot you pulled out of the storm? Lt. Thrasher?”

“Her name was Thrasher?” Amanda asked, barely keeping herself from snorting.

“Yes, she happened to tell her CO that you went off into the woods with Ambassador Vanderbilt and his wife. Then, when you came back, you, uh…” Sung waved his hand, coughing. “We told her to keep her trap shut, and if she doesn’t, we’ll hit her with every kind of insubordination charge we can fucking dream up. But...” He looked at Amanda. Amanda felt her frustration headache start to come back as she looked down at the brown and black whorls of wood grain that had been varnished and turned into a table. Her finger traced a lighter patch of brown as she considered and discarded choice words.

She looked at Sung.

And what popped out of her mouth was. “You’re jealous?”

“I’m married!” Sung exclaimed.

“I’m the politician, Herbert, I’m the one who's supposed to answer without actually answering,” Amanda said, her voice dry.

Sung looked away. “Well?” he asked.

“Yes. Liam Vanderbilt and I had sexual relations,” Amanda said, her voice soft. “And you know what? I liked it. I’m a woman, damn it. And if Bill Clinton, Lyndon B. Johnson and fucking Kennedy could get away with what they got away with in the White House, I think I can blow one incredibly well hung man on a deserted fucking island and not have it be the end of the fucking world!” Amanda trailed off, then flushed, hard.

The two of them sat in silence – red-faced silence.

Finally, Sung said: “You, uh, have been stewing about that for a while, haven’t you?”

“Ever since I ran for Senate as a widow, people have been trying to make me either sexless or some kind of succubus!” Amanda threw up one hand. “It’s tiring.”

“At least they’re not asking to see your birth certificate!” Sung said.

“Not helping, Herbert.”

The door rattled. Sung and Amanda both got their war-faces back on. When it opened, Ganesha entered. He was in his form of the elephant-headed god. It was arresting. His four arms were held easily at his side and crossed over his belly. He walked forward, glowing and shimmering with his anima. Amanda felt like she wanted to ask him a million questions, all at once. Instead, she watched as he took his seat. He clasped two sets of hands together and inclined his head – his trunk curling upwards to avoid pressing to the table. His tusks glinted in the harsh white light of the meeting room.

“I have come before you in this form,” Ganesha said, his voice musical and deep. “To reflect my true statue and position within the Republic. I am the god of new beginnings. And this is a new beginning, for all of us. This will be the form I shall wear as I greet the United Nations.” He inclined his head ever so slightly. “With you and the United States at my side. We are allies, are we not?”

Amanda breathed slowly out. She hadn’t even realized she had been holding her breath.

“So, you’ll share your, uh, assets with NATO?” Sung asked, leaning forward.

“The entire extant Hindu pantheon is at the disposal of the world, until this crisis is over,” Ganesha said.

Amanda smiled. “How many is that?”

“Twenty one,” Ganehsa said.

Sung whistled, slowly. But Amanda’s brow furrowed.

“Wait,” she said. “I’m, uh, no expert, but isn’t Hinduism a religion with millions of gods?” She smiled. “I wasn’t exactly expecting thirty three million, but twenty one is a bit, ah, low.”

Ganesha smiled, sadly. “Humans tell many stories. But reality must always bow, first, to what is there. Since the discovery of DNA, the Indian government has researched us. They determined the number of humans born with the genetic quirk to make a true god are rare. In this modern age, the actual number that are worshiped enough to create them are smaller still.” He held up one of his four arms. “We have always been aware of dharma. Of our chained nature, tied to a cosmic order that cannot be changed. It is why we stepped away from the forefront of the world after the gods of Europe were banished. It is why we remained in hiding after India was made, first, a colony and then a fractured, independent republic. It was one of our own sayings that brought us from the shadows.”

Amanda glanced at Sung – to see if he had any idea. Sung looked haunted.

“I am become death,” he said, intoning the words. “Destroyer of worlds.”

Ganesha nodded and the reference clicked in Amanda’s head. She could remember the first day she had been told just how easy it was for her to give the order and end the world in atomic fire. It sometimes kept her up at night, shivering and panting, waking from dreams of fire and weeping corpses. She looked at Ganesha, who said: “We knew we needed to do something. But we waited until our own land became able to wield such weapons. And thus, we knew, we had to step in. Our dharma became protecting India and her people from the end of the world until its time.”

Amanda nodded. “And now you’ll protect us from the next threat. But not from the shadows.” She stood and offered her hand to the shimmering god.

“No,” Ganesha said. “Not from the shadows anymore.”

They shook hands.

***

Liam groaned as he walked into the bedroom of his house and sprawled face down next to Meg. His face mashed up against a pillow and he groaned. “Can we hire my mom permanently?”

“Aww, you have some spaghetti in your hair!” Meg cooed, picking at Liam’s hair, flicking some bits of food into trash. “Brax? Or was it Marion? Or was it a cunning alliance of both?”

Liam mumbled incoherently.

“Tsk!” Meg clicked her tongue. “I bet Fizit is handling this far better.”

The door to the room swung inwards and Fizit stumbled in. She groaned, then toppled forward into the bed, landing to the other side of Meg. Meg frowned, her wings fluttering as she drew them even more taut.

“And you call yourselves big damn heroes,” Meg said, shaking her head.

“Meg,” Fizit hissed, putting her arms underneath her, then shoving herself up. She glared down her muzzle at Meg. “You could help. With three of us, Brax and Marion would only have us slightly outnumbered.” Her tail twitched slightly.

“I did help!” Meg said. “I played with Brax for an hour.”

Fizit and Liam both shot one another a look. They had both assumed almost the same position – on their hands and knees, glaring at Meg. From downstairs, Liam could hear a faint crash and an excited ‘whoa!’ from Brax. He sighed, then closed his eyes. Meg rolled her eyes.

“Pfft,” she said, then pushed herself to her feet. She walked, casually, off the bed and dropped down to the floor lightly. “I’ll show you how it’s done!”

And with that, she was out the door, flouncing as if she had just won some major battle. Fizit and Liam both looked at one another again. Liam savored something he rarely got.

Schadenfreude.

The two of them sprawled next to one another. Liam felt like he hadn’t got to say two words to Fizit that weren’t work related since they had arrived on Earth. But as he tried to think of what to say, Fizit said: “I got a report from Babylon. Finally.”

Liam groaned. “Fizit...”

“The State Department have put in new security checks on their gates,” she said, shaking her head.

“Gates?” Liam asked. “There are more than one now?”

Fizit nodded. “They started building the second one the instant you reconnected the first. Anyway, the report-”

“Fizit, come on,” Liam said, sitting slowly up. He shifted so that he sat behind his, well... He had been about to think of her as his wife. He had gotten used to think of Meg as his wife, but Meg hadn’t borne him a child yet. Fizit had. But she and he hadn’t married. They hadn’t exchanged rings. Liam felt a strange impulse to offer – but then recoiled mentally. Two wives? He wasn’t King David. Or Solomon. Or Jacob. Or... shit, there were a lot of men with multiple wives and lovers in the Bible. He shook his head as Fizit continued despite his grumbling.

“The report is really troubling,” she said, leaning into him. This, perforce, made Liam have to start to rub her shoulders. “Immense amounts of magical resources and goblin engineers are being redirected from the surface navy and the Blinking Stars. I’m talking enough that my spies are complaining. And this!” She snapped her fingers. “Free Lord Mary has sent tribute to the Tuatha!”

“We are allies with the Tuatha,” Liam murmured into Fizit’s ear. His hands slipped from her shoulders to her arms. He felt her muscular biceps, then slipped his hands up to her armpits, which let him marvel at the smoothness of her scales. Then his palms inched closer and closer to her breasts. Fizit drew in a quiet, hissing breath, squirming ever so slightly. But she definitely didn’t pull away and she most definitely didn’t say ‘no’ when his hands cupped her full breasts. He squeezed her through her T-shirt, and Fizit crooned.

“Yessss, we trade with them. And this was marked as trade...”

“I trust Mary,” Liam said, quietly. “And you should too. If she’s keeping something secret, it’s because she can’t tell us.” He smiled. “Come on. Let's take advantage of Meg’s incredibly stupid decision and, you know...” His smile became wicked. Very wicked. “Upset my mother a bit more.”

“She’s almost getting used to the idea of you as a conquering hero,” Fizit murmured, her eyes closing as Liam started to really play with her breasts. He squeezed and cupped and caressed them, finding the hard points of her nipples and teasing them, T-shirt or no. Fizit hissed, then gasped, then finally squirmed out of his grip. She turned around, her tail lashing as she put her finger to his chest.

“We should head back to Purgatory to figure this out,” she murmured.

“Later,” Liam said, his hand going to her hand. He took her palm to his mouth, kissing it gently. Then, without quite meaning it, he stammered. “D-Do you ever wish you were my wife?”

Fizit looked taken aback. “I’m not?” she hissed. “I thought Brax was a fairly good piece of evidence to the contrary.”

Liam flushed. “I meant with a ring. A ceremony. All that.”

Fizit smiled slowly. Her teeth were quite sharp. “Yes. You could stand to buy me more jewelry.”

“T-That’s not what I meant,” Liam stammered.

Fizit leaned forward. Her nose bumped against his and her voice dipped into an even more quiet purr. “Liam Vanderbilt. I am your spymaster, the mother of your child, and quite possibly, one of the few people in the world who could kill you without taking a scratch.” Her clawed finger pressed to his throat and Liam felt a shiver of almost erotic terror run from his spine to his balls. His cock surged against his pants as she teased the sharp point of that claw along his skin, letting him feel every crevasse and curve of his throat as if it was a new organ, just by feeling the contrast between razor sharp claw and soft, soft skin.

Fizit’s eyes flickered like molten gold. “Do you think that if I wanted a title and a ring I couldn’t get it?”

Liam gulped. “I am so fucking horny right now, I don’t even think I can speak English, Fizit.”

Fizit smirked. “Exactly.”

And Liam took advantage of the fact that, while he was no longer as wealthy as he was as the Free Lord of Babylon, he was still on a world with plentiful, inexpensive T-shirts. His hands grabbed onto the neck of Fizit’s white shirt and he used every iota of strength he had. The T-shirt didn’t even stand a chance. Tatters went flying and her green and gold scaled breasts bounced as she pounced on him with a raptor-like snarl. Her clawed fingers sunk into the pillows to either side of his head as she kissed him. Her tongue plunged down his throat and Liam grabbed at her ass. His fingers hooked onto her shorts and he tugged. Her tail got in the way.

Fizit reached back. Her claws did to denim what Liam’s sword arm did to her shirt. As the tattered scraps of fabric hit the ground, Liam slapped his hand against her rump, sending a delicious jiggle through her whole body and breaking the kiss. Her tongue slurped free from his mouth and licked from his cheek to his ear in one smooth motion as Fizit rolled her head back. She hissed, her tail lashing as Liam leaned up and bit her neck, grabbing her and rolling.

Fizit snarled and tried to fight back, but she had never been quite as strong as Liam when it came to the upper body. And her legs were far too busy being locked around his hips and grinding her hot, hungry sex against his bulge for her to use any of the astounding muscles that let a lizard leap ten straight feet. Liam pinned her arms over her head as Fizit panted heavily, which set her breasts to heaving in the most delightful way. His grin was wide and eager as he murmured. “Now, how to enjoy you, my pretty little captive...”

“Oh, we’re doing that?” Fizit growled, her eyes flickering with amusement, lust and feigned fury.

“It’s been a while,” Liam said, shrugging.

Fizit snapped her teeth, then spat in his face. It was a remarkably accurate hit – splashing against his cheek without actually getting near his eye. Liam laughed, indulging in his best melodramatic villain, then wiped at his face. “Feisty!” he leaned forward and kissed her. Fizit squirmed, mashing her breasts against his chest as she arched her back and wriggled and generally did the best worst job at trying to escape that Liam had ever seen. Best, in that she was grinding her every soft curve, every sleek limb, against his body in a sensual delight. Worst, in that she never actually managed to get him off her. Her tongue pressed against his as if she was trying to keep him from kissing her, but it surrendered as he pressed more against her muzzle, his hands going to her shoulders, then her back, then her ass, cupping her fiercely.

When Liam broke the kiss, Fizit gasped and snarled. “I’ll never talk.”

“We’ll see about that,” Liam purred. He lifted her ass, so that she was mashed back against the slightly shredded pillows. Holding her up with one hand on the small of her back, Liam drew away and smacked her rump with his palm. Her hips rocked as her tail pressed to the bed, giving some extra support to her lower body and legs. It was a neat trick – a way to get her ass up into spanking range while letting her sprawl comfortably on the pillows.

“Ah!” she gasped, her eyes closing. “Bastard.”

There was a way that Fizit could say the word ‘bastard’ that set Liam’s blood on fire. They didn’t play this game often. But when they played, Fizit seemed to revel in it. And Liam got to do something he hadn’t done since he had lain Neb, the submissive librarian. It felt like several lifetimes ago. But his hand sure knew what to do. His palm cracked against her ass, sending a body-rocking jiggle through Fizit. The jiggle set off patterns of glittering and sparkling from her scales that was nearly as entrancing as the way her belly muscles tightened and her breasts bumped against her muzzle, her head tucked forward against her chest. Her eyes were lidded and she hissed out. “You call that a spank?”

Liam started to slap her ass with a will – taking advantage of the position and Fizit’s own inherent toughness – and soon his own palm was tingling and sparking with the after-sensations of contact with Fizit’s perfect ass. By now, Fizit was twisting her head from side to side, hissing with every slap. Finally, she cried out: “S-Stop! I’ll talk!”

Liam grinned and then slapped her ass once more. Fizit’s back arched and her thighs spread and he could see her scaled sex. It was smooth and hairless and glittered with her arousal, clear juices slicking her mons and making her clit glint as temptingly as an emerald. Liam licked his chops and let Fizit’s  back down, his arm aching faintly with the weight of her body being held up for so long.

She sprawled there, panting.

“So? Talk,” Liam said, slowly lowering himself down, his lips brushing her neck.

“I love you,” Fizit whispered.

Liam smiled, slowly. “Is that the state secret I’ve been spanking you for the last ten minutes to hear?”

Fizit turned her head, looking into his eyes. “When have I said it to you before?” she asked, her voice soft. “I’ve asked you to make love to me. But you can make love to anyone. You have made love to many.” She touched her finger to his chest, her voice husky. “But I’ve never said those three words. And in my line of work, being specific matters.” She paused. “I. Love. You.”

Liam gulped, slowly. “Whoa...”

Fizit’s palm pressed to his chest. She rolled him onto his back. Liam let himself be moved – and shivered as Fizit’s claws slashed out, cutting his pants off of him. Now they were shrouded and surrounded by tatters of their old clothes. But all Liam could see was the smooth grace of Fizit as she swung one leg wide and settled above him, her tail curving and arching around so that the very tip was pressed to the base of his cock, keeping him aimed upwards. Her hips rocked down and her sopping wet sex pressed to the tip of his member. She hung there, looking down into his eyes.

“I love you too, Fizit,” he whispered.

Fizit grinned, slowly. “I knew that, Liam. I am your spymaster. Aren’t I?”

And she sank back. The quiet grunt that escaped her was nearly the most erotic thing Liam had heard all night – it was the faintly shocked sound of a woman, once more, being impressed with his size. He didn’t know if Fizit was faking for his ego or if she had just gone without for far, far, far too long. He didn’t care. What he did care about was watching her rock up, revealing a few inches of slick cock, then rock back down, taking even more of him into her vice-tight pussy. She churred quietly, rocking back up again, then pressed down once more.

Third time was the charm. His thighs and hers met and her tail lashed like a whip as she let her tongue loll out of her muzzle, her eyes closing.

“Yesssssss...”

Liam reached up and caught her hands. He tugged her close and he kissed Fizit deeply. She started to bounce herself along his cock, her silky depths squeezing around him as her hips rose and fell, rose and fell. Each soft slap of skin on scales set off that delicious jiggle in her breasts, and each time she kissed his lips, then broke the kiss to gasp in some extra air, Liam moaned. He slid his hands from her hands to her shoulders to her back, to her hips, marveling at the perfect hourglass of her form, thrusting up into her. As he thrust and thrust, Fizit started to gasp out.

“Now, ah, fuck, that I have your attention, Ambassador,” she crooned, her eyes half closed. “Ah, gods, yes, fuck me!” She closed her eyes, rolling her head to the side. Her grin was wide. “Fuckyes. Ah!” She shook her head. “We do need to discuss the, ah, supply shipments.”

Liam laughed. “God, Fizit, do you ever stop working?”

He slapped her well-spanked rump. Fizit cried out so loudly that Liam actually glanced at the walls nervously. Modern houses weren’t exactly built for soundproofing in mind. Hell, considering this was California, he was lucky they had insulation at all. Then Fizit was rocking herself faster, the bed squeaking as she leaned forward. “Babylon is still our responsibility, Liam. We, ah, are here to ensure her people are safe. Not just, hhh, the United States or the people, ah, fuck, yes, of Earth!”

Fizit bit down on one of the shredded pillows to keep from crying out as another frisson of pleasure shot through her, her sex tightening so much that Liam nearly slipped out of her cunt. As she shuddered, Liam closed his eyes and took advantage of what she was offering him. Nothing like disquieting questions of realpolitik to keep yourself from cumming until your lady was finished.

And she had a point but it felt almost like treason to think it.

Liam closed his eyes. Who did he owe his loyalty to?

The United States? The land he had been born in, the country he still loved, despite everything? Or Babylon, the land he had been given responsibility over, the land he had ushered into a new age?

Fortunately, Fizit took that worry from him by tightening her sex on him like a fist as she climaxed again. Her whole body shuddered as her tail wrapped around Liam’s ankle and squeezed tightly, almost popping his fake foot off as she came. The feeling of her sex and the feeling of her pleasure and the slick heat of her juices dripping along his balls were all enough to send Liam over the cliff and into pure, utter bliss. He emptied himself into Fizit, shuddering as he arched his back and bumped his balls into her.

In the aftermath, Liam sprawled underneath his lover, panting slowly.

“We’ll ask Mary. Later,” Liam murmured.

Fizit nodded, her voice sleepy. “Good.”

The door opened. Meg tottered in, her wings drooping. “No more Legos,” she mumbled, walking past the bed and then toppling to her side. Her wing nearly knocked Liam and Fizit from the bed as she sprawled there. Meg groaned.

“Told you,” Fizit and Liam said.

***

“All systems are online,” Quinn said, looking away from the borrowed United States Air Force laptop. The Babylonian magicians who had deciphered how it worked had set up a fairly simple operating system – it turned out, apparently, translation spells worked on programming languages. Quinn had been fascinated to see lines of symbols like {s and /s and odd words like dir and sys and root transform before her eyes into: “Go here. Do this. Display that. Access this.”

It had let them alter the United States technology to suit their own needs.

“Good!” Kailee said, rubbing her palms together as she sprawled on her chair. Quinn had known, from the instant they stepped aboard the bridge, Kailee would be more in love with that chair than she was in love with anything else. Save Quinn, of course. At least, Quinn hoped she still ranked higher than the chair. It had been carved specially for Kailee, sized to fit her in her smaller form. It could swivel along a bronze post, angling towards each of the consoles in the triangular bridge. It was comfortable, but it looked imposing as hell.

It gave Kailee all the pleasure of being on the wheel with none of the ‘needing to stand’ parts.

Quinn looked back at her screen. She, being the best alchemist on board, was on the Life Systems and Support console. Here, the laptop was literally wired to a set of simple Ancient machines that had been salvaged from the Endless Mine and re-purposed to sniff the air and tell her exactly what was in it. One of the other machines from that mine would produce and control nanites, which would take carbon dioxide molecules and convert them to oxygen molecules. And that was the simple part of her console. It also included the water systems, the radiation detectors, and the like. Looking at the console, she saw that the entirety of the ship’s ice shield was ready.

That had been the final touch, the piece de resistance. The wood and copper hull had been coated with a thick sheeting of ice, which had been frozen solid. Water was an excellent insulator, an excellent radiation absorber, and, in a pinch, excellent ablative armor. And with her alchemical skills, she was fairly confident she could handle ice.

“We’re receiving a radio burst from HQ,” the goblin in charge of the radio set said. Kailee kicked off the floor to swing her chair around. She beamed.

“Put it on!” She rubbed her palms together.

The goblin in charge of the radio set – Lt. Xeno – flicked a few switches. He adjusted a wire. Kicked a bit of machinery. The United States Air Force had had no idea that their communication gear would be re-purposed like this, and Quinn wondered if they would be offended to see such a messy, kludged together mass of different circuits, wires, and crystals. The magical amplifier had been her suggestion – based off the same magic that Kaliee used to channel energy into her riastrad – and it would ensure they’d be linked up to Babylon even at some distance.

“Greetings from Babylon Command, Morrigan’s Kiss.”

Kailee grinned fiercely.

That had been one of the very last requests. Before she fully took command, she had demanded that the ship be given a name of her choosing. The Admiralty had gritted their teeth, but accepted it. And a good thing too; Rocinante was a silly name for a ship.

“Captain Kailee,” a warm, husky, female voice spoke. “This is Free Lord Mary, calling in to wish you all a good maiden voyage.”

“A pleasure to hear from you, ma'am,” Kailee said, her voice practically overflowing with pride.

“This is an unprecedented moment in the history of Purgatory – of the whole solar system,” Mary continued. “A synthesis of three different forms of technology and the blessing of the gods themselves, to do something that the Earth has never accomplished. For the past two years, Purgatory has been in awe of everything we’ve seen from Earth, in stories and songs. Today, we take the first step to make Earth in awe of what we can do.” She sighed. “You may launch when ready.”

Kailee grinned. “Helm?”

Ensign Adisa nodded and started to flick switches.

In the belly of the Morrigan’s Kiss, three spheres began to move. They were gloriously complex things – nested skeins of crystal, with layers of lubrication to allow smooth rotations without grinding and friction. The outer spheres, though, each bore an enchantment. They had enchantments from the gods of wind and sailing and sea – Poseidon had only been the first. The Tuatha and the Aesier had both given enchantments as well. The effect was simple: within the spheres blew an endless wind. But contained within the sphere, that wind roared to no purpose. An endless loop of motion.

The inner spheres, though, contained clouds of nanites, blown about in that wind. They danced, unharmed, around one another in complex patterns that were familiar to anyone who had sneezed into a cloud of dust.

On the helm, Ensign Adisa pressed a button. A borrowed laptop and keyboard sent an electrical signal into a jerry-rigged piece of Ancient technology. That electrical signal sent a command to those nanites. In a single instant, an electro-static charge surged through the inner sphere and the nanites formed into a gauzy sail, adhering to the sphere. By shaping themselves along a complex pattern that had been designed by nearly a dozen magicians using scrying magic, divination from gods, and technical knowledge from a suite of books delivered by Boeing Aerospace as part of a trade deal with the United States, those nanite crafted sails were able to catch the wind.

The inner spheres then moved against the outer spheres.

And the outer spheres, contained within cross beams within the center of the ship, pressed against the ship.

And so, the Morrigan’s Kiss began to move.

They had done quite a bit of experimentation with the trapped winds, asking the gods to dial the speeds up and dial them down. Hurricane force winds destroyed nanite sails. Gentle breezes provided too little thrust to make a measurable impact on the Kiss.

But a headwind that was exactly the kind that Kaliee would have used on the Platonic Sea?

That was enough to send the Kiss gently drifting down, out of the long disused cargo bay-doors of the Purgatory research facility. From the outside of Purgatory, it didn’t seem to drop. Rather, it floated upwards, away from the pitted and scarred surface of the moon Charon. A needle of ice and bronze, a ship of magic and technology, the Morrigan’s Kiss looked like a near perfect shadow in the dimness of the distant sun. But in the minds of Babylon Command, standing about the radio transmitter, it glowed like the spear of Apollo himself.

“We are away, Babylon Command!” Kailee’s voice crackled over the radio. “We can see space outside with the cameras. It’s beautiful! Over.”

“Take it easy out there, Captain,” Admiral Cochrane said, frowning as he turned on the radio transmitter. “We have a few paces to put you through before we move onto an actual mission out there. Over.”

“Aye, aye, admiral! Over.”

***

Cochrane put the radio down. He looked at Mary. She was the only member of Babylon’s command staff not literally beside themselves with joy. Several were clapping. Others were cheering.

Mary, though, looked solemn.

Cochrane frowned. “You did the right thing, Madam.”

“Did I?” Mary asked, her voice bitter. “When Liam finds out what we’ve done – why we’ve done it...” She looked down. “I don’t think he’ll ever be able to trust me again.”

Admiral Cochrane nodded. His eyes drifted from the table of maps and plans. To the red vellum scroll that contained the orders he would send to the Kiss once their shakedown cruise was complete. The name was all that was visible.

Project Ragnarok.

Cochrane sighed.

Liam Vanderbilt would not be happy about this.

He would not be happy about this at all.

Epilogue

Ares rolled five meters before smashing into a tree. The tree shattered into splinters and slowly toppled to the ground with a sound not unlike a dozen firecrackers going off at once. As quiet slowly returned to the forest, Ares sat up, hissing as his palm cupped his shoulder.

He hissed as he felt the burn. Blackened flakes of his shirt crumbled away under his fingertips, and smoke continued to curl and wisp from under his fingers. He slowly stood up and glared around himself. The vast, dark forest that he had landed in was... somewhere. The where was less important than the fact it was several thousand kilometers from where he had been.

Kilometers.

Gods. He shook his head and let out a rueful smile at the memory of trying to wrestle with pygme and pygons and pechys. It had seemed easy enough during the Peloponnesian War, but realizing that units could be segmented into easy units of ten and multiples of ten after millennia of fractions and messiness was like, well, it had like been becoming unbound by the restraints that humans put on him. His rueful smile vanished at that thought. He glared at his wound, willing it to close.

It did not want to close.

He had been in the middle of a talk with a rather unfriendly Russian. Their particular faction, the Communists, had been rather interested in retaking their government. They had been few in number and nearly unarmed, their dreams little more than fantasies. That was what made them such delicious converts. But as he had drawn power into himself to bless them, that four-armed, blue-skinned bitch had literally flown through the roof and started to vaporize the place.

Ares shook his head. He strode forward through the forest, trying to burn off some nervous energy. Slowly, his focus let his skin re-knit and his flesh reform. But he was still missing a good chunk of shirt. He stepped between two trees and emerged, between eyeblinks, in a city called Istanbul. It had been founded literally a decade or two after he had been banished – and yet it oozed with age and antiquity that matched anything on Purgatory. Striding through its streets, Ares wondered if maybe it had anything to do with Byzantium, the city he faintly remembered being here before Istanbul and her mosques.

The question was moot. The furious and the disenfranchised were everywhere and after a time, they began to blur together, as all humans did. They were little better than batteries. Troublesome batteries. But sometimes, they were useful. Such as now, when he arrived at the tiny tailor, tucked between two older buildings. Stepping inside, he smiled.

“Mr. Blacke!” the cheerful, round-cheeked tailor exclaimed.

“Mr. Susskind,” Ares said, his voice clipped. “I’m afraid I’ve torn another one of your suits.”

“I should be more suspicious!” Mr. Susskind chuckled, his Turkish flowing thick and fast. Ares had learned it in roughly two hours. And humans sometimes wondered why he looked down at them.

As Mr. Susskind worked on his suit, Ares let his persona of Mr. Blacke fill the air with some quiet conversation. It was better to let his subconscious mind handle the lies and deceptions, so that he could focus on how to deal with the slight frustration of his every open move being dogged by those damned Hindus. His brow furrowed as he noticed an old magazine sitting on the pile near the chair that he was supposed to be waiting in – save that Mr. Susskind had no other customers.

The cover asked: Is Another Cold War on the Horizon?

The art showed a sleek missile, looming in silhouette behind a bustling city.

Ares began to smile.

“Maybe,” he murmured, “I don’t have to do all the work after all...”