Despite looking like it might imbibe and digest the souls of whoever entered it, the security checkpoint – once you got past the wailing – functioned like an ordinary travel station. Backlit by Providence’s fluorescent lighting, the flames looked worse than they were. With Girra keeping an eye on it, we emerged into one of the upper floors singed more by dimensional rifts than fire. The Facilities bypass was stable but struggling.
I found myself in a glass-walled chamber, a wide oblong space occupying the same general measurements as the managerial conference rooms on Floor Alpha. That one, however, hadn’t had half a dozen gods peering in from the outside over the top of surprisingly technical-looking consoles. No exits led out: this was a holding chamber, a more sophisticated and effective version of the checkpoint on the Earth side of the gate.
Girra had stepped through first to mitigate the divine response, but expressions softened further the moment I stepped in. I kept my bearing cordial and face pleasant even as I seethed internally at the unfairness. Knowing I was exploiting it didn’t do much to help.
Before I could get a word out, Girra was waving people towards the gate, which continued to whine behind us. “Someone get a Security contingent out here. Assessment and support teams, too. We’ve spotted an unidentified angelic host, intentions unknown.”
A strong Irish accent – female – crackled back from a set of speakers set high in the walls. Interesting they were using technology. Some kind of anti-divinity field, perhaps, but I could still feel the place of power around me even here. “Approved. We’re picking it up, too. Reach is worldwide, originating in Philadelphia, United States. No news on the origin so far.”
I could have told her a few things about it.
“We need a global stasis,” Girra spoke back. “Any luck reaching Vishnu?”
The goddess – I could identify her now, up behind three of the consoles – shook one of her heads. Brigid, from the Tuatha de Danann. Most of them had survived the initial purge via smiles and charm, only to be picked off later after continual attempts at covert insurrection. Brigid was one of the few who had learnt the lesson.
They had all of her working on the same task for once, which was unusual for the trinities, but made sense for complicated logistical undertakings requiring close coordination. If anything would qualify, it would be a multi-pronged attack on the company. That Facilities had as many people stationed at the gate as they did was already surprising, given how many holes were already in need of patching. They had to be working on a skeleton crew.
“We know where he is,” Brigid replied from the same body, the goth one, “but he’s behind the wall. Anyone who steps out of the foyer gets sucked into it. Catch-22: we need time to develop an approach, and we need Vishnu to provide time. We can’t afford to lose any more people.” She hesitated, all three of her faces scrutinising myself and the demons. They all had slightly different features, with completely different fashion sense. I couldn’t blame her. “Who are these guests? Aside from Baldr, obviously.”
Another body – this one going for cottage core via an absolutely hideous dress that looked like entrenched serfdom had interbred with a cupcake – stood up from the console. It started directing the others into action. Worried glances passed between the affected staff as they hurried past the windows, lips moving in rushed conversation. I welcomed it. Less attention on me was what I needed.
I stepped forward and addressed Goth Brigid. “My retainers,” I answered simply. “That won’t be a problem, will it?”
It was difficult to stay relaxed. A variety of strong enchantments had been moulded into the glass of the chamber, as well as the connecting floor and ceiling, enough to be blinding to those particular senses. It was like staring into a spotlight. Trying to peer too closely resulted in too much feedback to be useful, and mere proximity alone seared the edge of my powers like steam from a kettle. Not enough to be damaging, but enough to be uncomfortable. I didn’t know what they could do, and refrained from testing the waters. Facilities were expecting an incursion, and I wasn’t that kind of specialist. Bluffing would be my best way through.
Goth Brig stared down at me, while the demons remained wisely quiet. “You’ve appeared at a bad time,” she stated, lacing her fingers together on the console, avoiding any controls. “Providence is off-limits to retainers.”
“They’re demons,” I explained, though I already knew what the response would be.
“That makes it worse.” She broke eye contact briefly, shifting to the chair Cottage Brig had vacated, and fired off a volley of typed instructions to some poor recipient while her third body – a more traditionally-suited corporate type – was busy doing the same. A moment later she moved back to what was clearly the comms seat.
“We don’t have the resources to process you,” she said, though the words were spoken in Girra’s direction. “Can this wait?”
Girra shifted his neck in my direction, then appeared to change his mind about meeting my eyes. “Yes, but –”
“Then it waits. Let’s deal with the rogue host.”
I cleared my throat politely. “It doesn’t wait,” I said. “Clearly, you have a diplomatic crisis on your hands. I can help. Your leaders brought me back to smooth over conflicts and tension. I may be a little out of the loop, but it’s still my speciality.”
“I’m not sure diplomacy is the problem,” Goth Brig enunciated, her syllables clipped. “We’re under attack, and I’m not about to share high security information with someone who hasn’t been officially cleared.”
“I know more than you think,” I shared. “Enki, Odin and Legba sent me ahead with their blessings. Girra has the proof on him.”
“Enki is dead,” Brigid said flatly. “He showed up in our system minutes ago, shortly after your arrival. And the whole world saw Odin and Legba at each others’ throats. One of whose throats you ended.”
“A stage performance.” I repeated my earlier line to Girra. “He’s alive and well, as is Odin. It’s not enough to announce the gods and expect everyone to believe straight away. The world needs a demonstration. They need to know we can help them. The problems facing the world – that have always faced the world – present themselves as subtle and benign. And that makes them dangerous. What’s worse: an overt enemy one can fight back against, or an entrenched system of beliefs too accepted to change, even as they hurt their own supporters?”
Goth Brig narrowed her eyes at me from the console and said nothing.
“The first is easy to identify,” I continued. “Fighting the second is an uphill battle, no matter how many powers you bring into the mix. Fighting the second will have people picking sides, dying for ideals over the lives of their peers. We may be old gods, but we’re new to them. We’re challenging hundreds of years of culture and expectations that people won’t be able to put aside. Not without force, in which case we’re back to Providence’s tactics.”
Goth Brig shot a glance at Girra, who shrugged. In the background, I could vaguely see clusters of Security staff and administrators in decidedly un-battle-like suits and office wear pouring in through the chamber doors, faces ranging from apprehensive to excited as they were herded into position by Cottage Brig. Many of the faces turned my way and erupted into awe and pleasure.
I smiled and waved back. “We can’t pretend there’s nothing wrong,” I continued gently, aware my words were being carried through the intercom. “And not just your recent troubles. The state of affairs as a whole. The treatment of lesser immortals. Death. The afterlives. Mortal suffering and powerless. Our suffering and powerlessness. Hoarding of resources. Those are problems we can’t fight directly without causing social unrest, so we have to use a proxy. A larger threat to fight to place everyone on the same side; meet each other on the same page.”
At some point, my speech had morphed from a bluff into something resembling the actual truth; the words less Baldr’s than my own. It was more or less the same speech I’d delivered to various recipients at various stages in as many years, though not in exactly the same words. As Loki, it had been largely shot down.
As Baldr, people seemed to be actually listening. I could see nods of agreement in the crowds behind the windows. Upturned lips and keen shoulders. Even Corporate Brig turned back to observe the reaction in the crowd. Her expression softened upon seeing it. I couldn’t decide whether the double standards were more vindicating or infuriating. So much for rhetoric standing on its own.
“Odin’s the threat,” I explained, continuing past my inner warmongering. “Playing the role of it, anyway. My father knows what’s at stake. He understands the sacrifice that needs to be made. He knows it’s not permanent. Bringing people together against a threat is just a means to the end of the real goal – acceptance of something new. That’s what we all need, whether we realise it or not.” I made a small bow to Goth Brig, keeping my features open and expressive. “I’m here to facilitate. Let me help.”
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Much to my surprise, I straightened up from the bow to a light smattering of applause from my impromptu audience, which all of the Brigids were doing their best to ignore. Goth Brig let out a small sigh. “This is holding up the response teams. We do need more resources. You’re still going to trip the resurrection alarms; the last thing we need is more distraction and panic.”
I wouldn’t, of course, not having been actually dead, and raised a cautious hand to interrupt. “Already taken care of. Enki assured me everything was prepared and ready for my arrival.”
“Enki,” Brigid returned, “is prone to bouts of fancy.”
“And alcoholism,” added Girra.
“And alcoholism.”
“Well, that’s just every pantheon,” I commented, waving it away. “Unless things have changed since I’ve been away.”
“Honestly? Less than you’d think, give or take a few technological advances and permanent traumas.” Corporate Brig typed furiously into the console at the opposite side of the window while her counterpart spoke over comms. “Look, regardless of what you were told, you’re still in the register as ‘deceased’. Even if we let you through, the discrepancy will trip those defences. For some unknown reason, ex-Providence employees have had a nasty habit of coming back for vengeance.”
“There you go, then,” I pointed out. “I was never employed here. Independence credentials assured.”
Goth Brig sighed again. “Fine. We’ll process you. After we deal with the rogue host. Please stand to the side. Girra will watch you. Understand it is for your own safety.”
Corporate Brig reached over the console and keyed in another sequence. Grinding noises filled the small chamber to join the high-pitched whine of the gate in a rumbly polyphonous duet. My heartbeat attempted to rise, and I forced it to stay steady in case it was one of the details currently being monitored.
I was about to have my opening.
Girra, if it hadn’t been for the mind control, would have been a good foil for the real Baldr. As far as conventional understanding was concerned, Baldr was one of the less inherently survivable gods in the power hierarchy. He had access to runic magic and dimensional senses like the rest of our pantheon, but other than that, his main skillset was being pretty and sparkly. Dimensional knowledge wasn’t much help in an average confrontation, and runes, while versatile, generally couldn’t outspeed a ten thousand-degree flamethrower spontaneously erupting from your insides.
But I wasn’t Baldr.
During the conversation, I’d been familiarising myself with the lay of the land. Availability of materials was limited. The place of power I now seemed to be permanently carrying around with me failed to extend past the edges of the holding chamber, no doubt held back by one or more of Facilities’ protections. Even though I hadn’t been able to get a clear read on them, I could tell where they were and how far they extended.
The grinding noise was coming mainly from the gate behind us. I turned in time to catch the corona effect snapping off like a light switch, its flames extinguished and replaced with the more familiar destination of the walkway outside our little Facilities chamber. The alteration registered clearly in the forefront of my senses and I paid attention to it, matching it up with my learnings from past experiences. A little more practice would have been ideal, but I could probably work with it. Magic did tend to be helpful that way.
Cottage Brig stood just on the other side of the new portal, hands on hips accompanying a mild frown as she gestured for me to move backwards into the furthest corner. I did so, compliant and relaxed. Not quite yet.
Forming an orderly queue, the response teams filed into the chamber in single file, many craning to get a good look at me close up. Stint as Sørine aside, I was used to being stared at, but not with quite so much genuine reverence. Even if it had been someone reasonable instead of Baldr’s sorry excuse for a living wretch, that attitude deserved having the bucket kicked out from under it.
I could see the new gate out of the console above, too: a thin, two-dimensional slice taking up space in front of the nearest wall where it didn’t block the walkway. With only one gate open at a time, it served the same function as an airlock. Seemed like overkill, but since I would have abused the alternative, I wasn’t going to judge. Most importantly, the room’s protections didn’t cover the hole leading back to the wider office. The place of power – my place of power – spilled out through the gap, intersecting with a small fragment of the wider office; a trickle through a narrow straw. Even half-depleted, Providence still teemed with divine energy and conduits, every surface humming with them, and many non-surface areas besides. I gave myself over to the place of power, letting it wash through me and I it, and waited.
About half the gods had filed in, and Gia was shifting her weight from side to side. Providence’s response teams – more gods than the space had really been designed to hold – threatened to back us up against the nearest wall. None of the deities nearby looked like they were obviously using their active powers, either, which was unusual. It gave me second thoughts about setting up anything devious. Whether Providence were monitoring the space or had the resources to trigger a backlash – either option could come back to bite us. Swift and brutal would be the way.
As the last wrangled employee placed their front leg through the gate, I made several different changes at once. Folding into gas, I grew and zoomed through the break in the gate, flooding the immediate office beyond. Tru dropped to the ground in a tangle of legs, the impact shaking a bleat out of him as the space above his head ignited in immediate flame. Girra, reacting on cue. It may as well have been a candle for all the damage it did me in this form, however, and its creator could only cover so much ground without also immolating half of his co-workers packed in like sardines.
For a moment, no one else reacted, the surprise taking a moment to sink in. The god with their foot in the door continued their step through forward momentum. Outside the chamber, Brigid froze – all three of her – and in that second, I wrapped my way around both halves of the portal.
Now they were mine.
Dimensions were one of those things I’d always vaguely acknowledged as being there and existing. Not doing anything especially interesting, much like the air, weather and stars. Most of the time, they hadn’t even come up, unless you went specifically looking. Even since getting my powers back in the modern day, they were something you looked at and left to the engineers who dealt with such things.
Now, however, that had all changed. The boundaries sang out to me, clear as my own body, malleable and waiting. Unlike the external office walls, primed with defences, this was a simple door designed for stability.
Making both halves part of me was as easy as breathing. The first gate – the one in the holding chamber – I warped and shifted around and inwards on myself, expanding and bending until the whole thing formed a rough seamless sphere encapsulating the interior of the room it had stood in. Any attempt to escape would only lead to the other gate. I placed the second gate inside the first as a smaller sphere, portal side outwards, collapsing myself inwards to make it happen. This was much harder, the exertion sealing the lock on a closed dimensional space. The part of me still inside tore and broke off at the effort, and I jettisoned it just in time.
But I’d done it. The double sphere, with doors facing each other. Anyone entering either would now only find themselves popping out of the other into the same chamber. A fully encased infinite loop. Not bad for an impromptu plan, if I did say so myself.
Tricking immortals into confined spaces. Classic for a reason. Of course, I was now trapped in Providence along with said tightly packed room of furious deities, but that was a problem for future me to deal with.
It also wouldn’t hold if the portal was switched back. With my sealed part jettisoned, I found myself wholly in the main Facilities floor, the place of power still with me. A little less like looking straight into spotlights out here. I seized control of the console machinery and reformed it into a general mass of powdery goo, leaving Brigid untouched, then jettisoned that part of me too in anticipation of retaliation. With any luck, it would hold the real Baldr off until Facilities got themselves sorted out and managed to make a new gate.
Still in gas form, I zoomed through the remainder of the Facilities level, passing a now greatly-reduced number of gods still at their workshops. Everything I touched joined the console as powder. No sense leaving tools behind to be used against me. Crafters didn’t strictly need materials, of course, but they helped, and removing them bought me time. I left a trail of destruction heading off to the other side of the building as a decoy and made my way to the lifts.
I touched down as pre-Baldr Tez – the version people would still recognise – just long enough to hit the blue LED call button. I didn’t see anyone watching me, but it didn’t hurt to throw another red herring into the mix. One who could plausibly turn into gas. Turning back into human form also alerted me to the fact the normally fluorescent office lighting had changed from its usual white to a deep, foreboding red, and a deep, unsettling siren not dissimilar to Lucy’s ringtone was emanating from some unspecified omnipresent source. An instant later I was back in gas form where both those details could fade back into irrelevance.
The whole exercise had taken only seconds.
I did have two distressed demons yelling in my head via the runes, which I dealt with while waiting for the lift.
You abandoned us? Gia. What happened to ‘under your protection’?
Still the plan, I said to both of them. You’re alive, aren’t you?
Barely. We have about fifteen weapons pointed at us, and those are just the visible ones.
You know, Tru remarked in a droll tone, I’m not even surprised.
I snaked impatiently around the lift doors. If Facilities had thought to lock those down, I might be in real trouble. Shuddering vibrations shook the fixtures around me. Someone was getting violent.
But no. The lift doors opened with a smooth slide, surprisingly empty, and I flowed inside.
Have a little faith, I reassured them, shifting back into Tez as the doors closed. After a moment’s thought (and scanning the lift for security cameras), I changed my mind and went with Odin instead. The extra authority would be useful.
I punched the button for the foyer and sent out a pair of mosquito-shaped visitations, hovering above the centre of the isolated sphere I’d created. I stayed just long enough for a glimpse of the utter pandemonium caused by a high density of panicking deities, and whisked Tru and Gia out of there into the elevator with me, where both immediately staggered and collapsed on the floor.
“There we go,” I told them, grinning slightly as the lift continued its downwards descent. Currents of energy ran past us I never would have been able to sense a week or even a day ago. “Loopholes. Visitations, in this case. Have to love them. I’m not technically moving, so it doesn’t count. Damn, I wish this was the managerial elevator, though.”
“You’re insane,” Gia muttered. She paused, registering my words. “Why?”
Because someone or something was up there. Someone or something Yahweh had wanted to hide, and had Enki afraid. Something that wasn’t Baldr, and maybe coincided with the object of Pakhet’s brief foray into tracking the matter. Whoever or whatever it was, it had something to do with all this, and I wanted to know why.
First, though, would be getting my hands on Siphon’s weapons. And that meant treading a fine line.