“Our Brother-in-Service has apparently come into poverty,” said the Earth Archon. “He has no gifts, nor anything in your colors, by his own admission. He comes with nothing.”

“On the contrary,” he said, and then seemed to be steeling himself for more. “Might I present to you—”

And then Argon, God of War and Firemaster of the Holians religion, Archetype for humanity and theoretical beacon of hope and grace for his worshippers, said, “Holy fucking shit, that’s Kaiser Willheim.”

Hawk was sure the Archons had scripts for nearly every interaction with their deity; she was also pretty sure this was not on that script. Especially when Argon discarded his cape and rushed the stairs. He left behind a squabble of people, all fighting over his coat.

“Well, yes,” the Archon said, as Earth looked on in disgust. They were soon joined by a third Archon in a red robe. Oh, God. This was getting to be a little bit too much.

“How the fuck did one of you bring Kaiser goddamn Willheim to our world? The goddamn Nexus is blocking the goddamn sun.” Argon, who might as well have been named Adonis, turned in his radiant beauty. He couldn’t articulate worth a damn.

“I assume Nexus is that geode thing,” Kaiser said, as if Hawk had not told him that earlier. “And we came through it.”

“You didn’t dig a hole. We’ve tried for a couple centuries to dig a hole in it. It just grows back. And there’s six of the fucking things, so we can’t figure out which one we need to cut into.”

“It does regrow,” Kaiser said. “And our drill is still having some trouble, but there was a hole.” He paused, glancing once at Hawk and Em, and then smiled. “I think someone or some thing snuck up there and ran off with our girl over there.”

You fucking son of a bitch, Hawk thought, but did not say out loud. Emile clenched up beside her. It wasn’t just that he misgendered Em—in front of a literal God no less—it’s that he did it with harm as a purpose. Just like when he called Hawk “Doctor West” in front of people he wanted to impress, but kept calling her “Mrs. West” or, worse, “Miss West” in front of people who didn’t know she had a degree, he observed Emile’s trans-ness only when it made him look honorable. And now he’d just crammed them into a spot where Hawk either needed to cop to being from Earth, or else allow Em to be hurt, over and over, in a thousand small and infinitesimal ways that nonetheless added up to hemorrhage.

Hawk opened her mouth, the That’d be me, I’m the Earth-Girl on her lips.

The Light Archon interrupted. “Pardon, Lord. Pardon, Pardon—”

“Yes. What?” Said Argon.

“I believe that in the God-world they observe more than just men and women. The outsider on the pillows is neither.”

“Huh,” said Argon, eloquently. Then he shrugged. “Well, Willheim, I hate to break it to you but your hole does us no good. Which means your money is no good.” He began mounting the stairs to the red-and-gold throne. “Which means you are no good. Just another peon. Just another one of them.” He waved one glorious hand at the crowd, dismissing them all in the gesture. Then he looked down at Kaiser and grinned. “How do you like that, Mr. Big? Do you mind if I call you Mr. Big? Because it’s funnier if you do care.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Something made the hair on the back of Hawk’s neck stand on end.

But Kaiser knew this game. Hell, Alex knew this game. A small man given big power tends to react by overreacting. If you didn’t want them to explode—and right now, in the green-and-gold pavilion, that’d be a very, very bad idea—you had to treat them like they were right, right up until you had to burst their bubble. Hopefully somewhere that got innocents out of the splatter zone. And Kaiser leaned in, his posture suggesting subterfuge and the in-crowd. He said, “Arthur Anderson. Right? Two Superbowl rings and then you became Naomi’s gym teacher. How is she doing, anyway?”

Naomi. The name seemed to light a fire in Argon’s eyes. He turned, not to his own Archon but to Earth. “Is word of these outsiders a-wing?”

“As of an hour and a half ago,” Earth answered. Then, in a different, more desperate tone, “You cannot blame me, Lord. My God is your Mother, not you.”

“Mother?” Kaiser said. He was holding his drink in one hand. “Naomi Studdard? Please.”

Argon’s expression did not change, but he knocked the cup out of Kaiser’s hand, from where he stood twenty feet away. Hawk saw it. A wave of the hand, and the glass was gone. And now the hand waved again, and Kaiser began to choke. He put both hands to his neck and looked around in exceeding desperation. What was holding him? It seemed to be only air. And now Argon mounted the rest of the stairs, and loomed over Kaiser exactly the way a God ought to loom. “Let me make this clear,” he whispered. “The man you knew is gone. The woman you knew is gone. The life you knew is over. You belong to us now.” And he unclenched his hand, letting Studdard drop to his knees out of the chair. “I might even decide to keep you myself. My latest pets are struggling with the hardship of my service.” And he sat in his throne. “I’m sick of this affair, now. Bring on the women, and the wine!”

Kaiser crawled to Hawk’s little collection of pillows. “I didn’t mean—” he started to say.

Hawk stepped on his hand, and covered his mouth to muffle the scream.

But the damage had been done. He’d gotten Argon’s attention again. “It seems we need better training. Where is my Mother’s Archon? I want the ministry of her attention. Without her mask.”

The Earth Archon stepped forward. No emotion was betrayed by her body language. She reached up with trembling hands and removed her mask. The eye in her lips blinked to itself, wet and slick with tears. Both mouths were pressed into tight lines. There were spangles of gold and green on her cheeks, and emerald ornaments in her dun-colored hair, and a promise of clear beauty in her nose and cheekbones. But no one could look past what had been done to her.

Argon smiled, contentedly, and turned back to Kaiser. “I remember when my Mother did that. She told a little lie. Not a big one. Just said that an acolyte was doing one thing when, in fact, they were doing another. Either she lied, or she was unknowing, and either way the punishment must fit the crime.”

Em, who was staring in utter horror, said, “What the fuck kind of crime can justify that?”

“She lives, does she not? And is she not beautiful with my Mother’s gifts?” Argon’s voice rose. He was met with a chorus of agreement, and some of the musicians broke out into the first verse of what proved to be a paen to the Archon’s beauty. Argon gestured once, drawing the music short. “Mouths, the better to see with. And Eyes that only speak the truth. Oh, did I not mention that? That’s the hidden gift my Mother gave her servant: She may never lie. No falsehood may pass those…” he glanced at Earth Archon and chuckled. “…lusciously beautiful lips.”

One tear, just one, escaped the corner of the Earth Archon’s mouth.

The Light Archon bent low to Hawk and whispered, light as breath, “Keep your people close and try to reign them in.

“There will be blood tonight.”