Lydia was back on the wall when I woke up the next day. “You’re always in the same place when I walk in. Do you just sit there like a statue all night?”

“I’ve tried to look around this area in ways that won’t call attention to myself, but every time I go out, I feel like there’s something watching me. I am very good at hiding, watching, and detecting things, but whoever this is, I can’t catch them. I’ve frankly never seen this, an entity that could watch me, leaving no trace at all.”

I nodded. “Welcome to the Nergal No-Fly Zone. The miasma kills anything that tries to fly and kills most other stuff that comes in, seemingly at random. This apartment is right on the edge of the Zone, so I can still catch cabs and get deliveries, if I can make them stay low enough, or send them to a building on the other side.

“The attack was… I always have to look this up… yeah, fifteen years ago, 2043. They never told the public how he got summoned, in case some other dumbass decided to try it, but however it happened, a portal opened in Boston Common, and this giant Mesopotamian death god popped out and started wrecking shit - smashing buildings, sending out waves of shadow stuff that killed people and brought them back as zombies.

“He marched this army from Boston Common to the Charles River, punching buildings, making zombies out of everybody inside. People started fleeing the area when monsters started spawning in the river in 2023, so most of the buildings were empty, but he still had a thousand zombies with him when he hit the river.

“Bluestar 1 responded and made it a full-on super fight, with energy blasts and flying heroes and artillery support from the National Guard. They fought him to a standstill for like thirty minutes while Bluestar 7 set up a magical ambush on top of Madison Tower. It was awesome. I mean, tragic because of all the people who died, of course, but awesome to watch on TV. Reinforcements popping in from all over the country, largest collection of Bluestar heroes ever assembled.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Arthur Walton and the original Bluestar 7 used some kind of amplifier thing in Madison Tower and used it to kill him. I don’t know what the spell was, but Nergal just kind of disintegrated and turned into sand.”

“A group of mortals on one of these teams killed a god?” Lydia sounded more impressed than scared.

I nodded. “I think it was Arthur, mostly. Still the most powerful mage in the world, but he’s retired now. Has a tower across town, but he never leaves anymore. I think his wife died.”

Lydia frowned. “I don’t recognize the name.”

“Seriously?” I laughed. “The most powerful wizard on Earth and Hell doesn’t even know his name? Oh shit! Did I just put him on your radar? Did I just get him in trouble?”

Lydia shook her head. “If I don’t know about him, it means he’s already protected by someone. Maybe even an angel contract.”

Arthur probably could have saved me, by the way, if you want to count that as number two.

“Angels do contracts?”

“They’re called covenants when angels do them, but yes. Gabriel only had a limited force with him when he decided to stay behind on Earth, so he routinely makes alliances with powerful mortals.”

“So, the Angel Gabriel is on Earth, but you’re not afraid to say his name?”

“I am very good at hiding from angels, but you should be careful about what names you say out loud. I would not name this Mesopotamian god again, even if he is dead. I think he still haunts this place and maintains some kind of power here.”

“Oh, he’s definitely still around,” I said. “That’s the coolest part. Turns out the term Reclamation Zone is kind of an ironic joke now. They keep trying to fill his old footprints in and build new stuff, but the footprints keep coming back! Any new stuff they build rots and falls down in a week or so, and anything that tries to fly over lower than a jet falls out of the sky. I’ve never had a problem, but supposedly anybody who spends too much time in this place sees ghosts and goes crazy.

“I think my landlord killed himself, but his bank keeps billing me, and nobody’s ever tried to kick me out, even when my rent was really late. I pay the machines, but I think the humans have forgotten that I live here.”

Lydia came at me with a sudden, desperate edge in her voice. “Timothy, do you talk to him? This dead god, do you walk around and talk to him?”

“No,” I said. “I don’t talk to him. But when so many people you love are dead? Sometimes I talk to Mom.”