Begin Deicide part 02 (part 01 in previous journal entry)
****************
The Chief seemed to sense my excitement, and put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly. Relax, boy. This is more than it seems. Ihy is dead, and considering hes an immortal, I think we can rule out natural causes.
I stood up, suddenly, knocking my stool back, suddenly very, very scared. Gods didnt dienoone knew of a god that was killed that had actually stayed dead. Oh, there were legends, and supposedly the blood of a golden hart, when put on an arrow tip, could kill a god, but the gods had killed all of those creatures off an age ago. Not even Yahweh had managed to kill the competing gods, but had been forced to use the expedient of the Prison to remove their influence from the earth. Since they had managed to get out (though theyd been cagey as to exactly how theyd gotten out,) theyd been paranoid, and a dead goda REALLY dead godwould make them even more unpredictable than normal. I stood there, breathing heavily. And what am I supposed to do about this?
The Chief looked at me appraisingly, and then stood up to pick the stool up from the floor. He set it down and gestured absently, waiting for me to sit down. When I didnt, he leaned against the bar and took another drink. Im not sure, Caleb. Hephaestus told the mayor that you were to handle it. Apparently hes even keeping Ihys family out of it, for now. Youre getting quite the favor.
I did everything I could to make my face express my skepticism. Favor? Last time someone in my office got a favor like this, he ended up, well, a vegetable! A slight exaggeration, but it sounded good. Im not gonna do this.
The Chief looked at me for a second. You dont understand, Caleb. Hephaestus apparently is quite intent on you handling it. He said hed protect you, even. He has a lot invested in you, and I dont think he wants to see it wasted. A slight grin appeared on the Chiefs deeply lined face. I think hed deal with this himself, but theres certainissues that require a mortal touch.
Meaning Im expendable and hes willing to send me to find out what managed to kill a god.
Well, yes. But anything that it is possible for him to protect you from will, he will do so.
Hmph. This was a small comfort. But, in the end, I didnt have a choice. And besides, the danger you know is infinitely scarier than the one you dont know. And Hephaestus, though something of a liberal among gods for his personal way of dealing with the people of his city, was still a god, and prone to anger if defied. I sighed, and sat down on the stool. So, details?
The Chief nodded, returning to his own stool, and slid a file folder in front of me. I picked it up, and leafed through it quickly, scanning the pages and pictures quickly. We have one dead god, and a situation that seems to imply both that an assault took place, and that the culprit was either a god or empowered by a god. The death took place sometime early this morning, no later than four am. There are no visible signs of attack on the god; the body seems to be in perfect condition, and is being taken to be autopsied, if we can get away with it.
My eyes bulged. Autopsy! If the family finds outMy words trailed off as I thought about the possibilities.
Then well be protected by Hephaestus, the Chief said with a serious face.
I wasnt convinced. Gods were usually long on promises and short on results, unless they directly tied their power into it, in which case they were stuck and had to deliver on it. That didnt happen very often. Hephaestus was apparently using his influence, not his Power to protect us, which left me feeling rathervulnerable.
Anyway, the Chief continued, we probably arent capable of doing an autopsy. Gods are made of sterner stuff than us, after all. But we have to try. For the moment, the only sign of an attack on him is the look of despair that his face locked into at death.
But if he died of natural causes, then it could just be a reaction to that. Oblivion is a scary thing for anyone. Imagine how much worse it must be for an immortal?
Guess it could be that. The Chief took out another set of pictures and slid them over to me. But he got off easier than this lady.
I looked, and wished I hadnt. In the pictures, from every angle and in vivid color, I could see a raven haired woman slumped against a piano. Blood had dried in runnels from her eyes, ears, and mouth, leaving cracked tracks on her skin. I looked, and looked again, the face, though locked in a mask of sadness, familiar. Is that
Yes, thats Selene. Real name, Sarah Dietrich, age 29, recently semi-famous and semi-single. Looks like she chose the wrong god to barnacle to, though. Whatever got him got her, too.
Something in one of the pictures caught my eye. Can I see the scene?
The Chief grunted. Yeah, sure, why not. This is your thing. He led me towards a back room, with another guard before its door. I pulled on my latex gloves and ducked under the yellow tape, glancing quickly around the room. My first reaction was admiration. The god had good taste. The furniture was sparse, but comfortable, and, surprisingly, all on the same level. No raised dais, no throne. Apparently Ihy had been an egalitarian type of god. I walked around the room, checking it against the pictures. It was untouched, save for the removal of the bodies. The piano, a polished white grand with real ivory keys still had the bloodied sheet music on the stand, and dried blood on the keys. I looked, and saw the music on the stand was Hallelujah, by Jeff Buckley. My lip twitched, Im not sure if it was trying to form a smile or a frown, but I found it rather appropriate. It was a mournful song of bittersweet pain, of silent despair. A prayer for the blessing of death. I studied the pictures again, noting the locations of the cramped fingers. Even in death, they were still pressing down the keys of the final chord of the song. What, I wondered had happened here? Had the attacker forced her to keep playing as he/she/it killed her patron? I shuddered. A grotesque thought, but not an unlikely one. I walked over to an elegant couch in the center of the room. Nothing marked it as special save for a circle of tape around it, but a god had died here. I sighed. No way to avoid it further. I looked at the pictures of the dead god.
It was horrid. Picture something perfect, a rainbow, a snowflake, or something equally beautiful in that precise way. Then picture it being perverted into somethingother than it was meant to be. Something wrong. If anything could drive home the fact that Ihy was dead, this was it. His back was arched unnaturally, and the look on his face caused my stomach to sink every time I looked at it.
A picture of events started to form in my mind. Selene had stayed after a show to commune with her god, possibly playing for him. By some, as yet, unknown means, the attacker came in and killed the god in a way that that assured that Ihy knew he was dying. The woman could have died instantly, but the patterns of the blood on the piano indicated that shed been bleeding for half of the song, at least. Whoever had done this had done it to them both, probably torturing both of them.
Who had the power to torture a god?
*******
Another God, obviously. So now to discover who had motive. I went to Ihys High Priest to find out more about the music gods history. See if there were any ancient grudges, or something equally obvious. I could hope, couldnt I?
The priest, who insisted I call him Bob, was a small, bent man, with the pinched look one would expect from an accountant, not the prime intermediary between a god and his followers.
Bob wrung his hands worriedly, looking around fervently. He looked lost.
Im sorry, Detective Morrow, I really dont know how I can help you. My god has no enemies. He stopped, paled, and looked very small. Had no enemies, I guess I ought to say. None in the lore, anyway. My god was always the one who would play music for his family. He was quite valued for that by many pantheons, in fact. He looked at me, a little touch of the fanatic showing, like a tarnished piece of silver. He had a unique gift. His was to make music resonate with the soul, even more than his mother, though he was not as versatile as the divine Horath. But even gods could feel emotion, as men do, when he performed. And for a human to hear Bob trailed off, lost in memory. He continued, dreamily. He could make you laugh, cry, moan, or sing with just one note. He was always the least pretentious of his family, too. He understood he couldnt directly compete with some of the other music gods, like Apollo. Thats why he opened the club, you know. He felt that in a modern climate, the old fashioned way of demanding worship while holding a stick was, well just that. People have a cynical attitude towards religion, nowadays. But people still love musicso he thought hed lure them with beauty and emotion, and bask in their worship while they paid for the privilege.
I thought for a moment. Why make them pay, I asked.
Because no-one trusts a free gift from the gods, anymore. If they pay for it, however, they will value it all the more.
So, what, did he perform himself? Theres a thought. I would have heard of that, though. Odd.
The little man looked shocked. You expect him to whore himself out like that? You expect him to play for just anybody? I shook my head hesitantly, and he nodded. Right, it would be demeaning. What next? Zeus hiring out for fireworks shows? He shook his head furiously, his face red.
Kind of defensively, I said, Well, you said he was doing things differently
Well, not everything! He did at least that the proper way.
And what is the proper way?
He looked at me searchingly. You say youre in the DAB? Ive never met someone so dense! He blessed a mortal with his gifts, or a form of them, and used her in his service, to act as his tool in this.
I did feel stupid. Selene, I said flatly.
Yes! Not that the bitch appreciated it.
I looked at him piercingly. What do you mean by that?
Bob was obviously surprised y his own vehemence. Well, um, ahwhat I mean to say is that she was, well, sad all the time. I mean, if Ihy had blessed ME with such a gift, I would be the happiest man alive. To be able to effect men in the same way he couldit was an honor beyond imagining. And all she could do is mope. Ungrateful, I tell you!
Something clicked in my mind, but try as I might, I couldnt quite see all of it. Do you know why Selene was there with Ihy when they were killed?
Bobs face blanched when I said those words, his rage sapped by the reality of his situation. No, he said dejectedly. I have no idea. I was scouting for a location for another club yesterday. He was getting ready to expand his plan, said it was time to go to phase two.
I sat forward. Who knew about this expansion?
Bob shook his head. Nobody but me and him. He trusted me with everything, detective. He said that He swallowed. that even though Selene was his voice, I was his hand, and that he would not forget me. Bob looked at me, eyes mournful. He promised, and now hes gone!
Calmly, I gazed at him. Would noone else know of his plans? Would he tell his family?
Bob shook his head in denial. His family doesnt approve of his actions. He wouldnt tell them for fear of sabotage. He held his head in his hands, then looked up, as if surprised. There is one person he might have told.
Paydirt. Who?
Hermes.
*******
Hermes. Mercury. A god of travelers, rogues, and thieves, among other things. As I rode in the cab through the San Francisco streets, holding on tightly as the cabbie went far too fast on those hills for my comfort. It had taken a lot of wheedling to get the budget department to approve the trip, and finally it took the Chiefs intervention to get me on the next flight out there. I had come to see if Hermes would talk to me, or at least respond to my questions via an intermediary. So I was going to his temple, in his new city. I looked at the window warily, and my eye caught some more of the poster I had seen at the airport. They had a picture of a handsome, godly face, with the caption, Hermes! Making your life better every day.
It was a disturbing sight. Hephaestus was a low impact deity. As long as the factories in town were dedicated to him, he was fine. Hermes seemed hell-bent on winning the hearts and minds of every soul in San Francisco. If he managed it, hed be powerful indeed. As it was, though, the posters and other advertisements were ignored by the people, for the most part, leaving the net effect about balanced. The cab pulled into the old Asian district, now a park dedicated to Hermes. Much of the asian population of the city had disappeared after the return, leaving the old enclave abandoned. Hermes had chosen the area for his temple, and had created a park for the people of San Francisco. It was beautiful, I had to admitbut the design was a bit off. You could tell nothing was there naturally, and the trees and bushes were laid out in unusually straight patterns, all exactly the same height and shape.
The temple was certainly not what I expected, though. Hermes had built a Spanish villa of colossal proportions.
I paid the cabbie, got out, and looked up at the stucco wall. Near the doors of the temple, I saw a peddler selling sacrificial fowls, and I picked out a couple of doves. I walked in, holding them tightly by the legs as they flapped their wings in a vain attempt to get away. The PETA had balked when the gods had reintroduced sacrifice, but since a violent demonstration outside the temple of the sun in Aztlan had resulted in the protesters being sacrificed instead, theyd been surprisingly quiet.
I stopped at a directory just inside, and followed the map to one of the altars. I strode towards the altar, steeling myself, watching the simpering priest smile as I approached with my offering. The way he was smiling, youd think they got a commission for each sacrifice.
I had almost reached the altar when I heard a pleasing tenor voice. Hold, Caleb Morrow. I turned, and saw Hermes himself standing in an alcove. Bright, beautiful, almost luminescent, he wore white slacks, his winged sandals, and his characteristic saucer shaped helmet. He had a thin, if very handsome, face, and his muscles were lithe and graceful. To my left I heard a thump as the priest dropped to the ground, kneeling abjectly. I saw an indulgent smirk flit across Hermes face, but then his attention returned to me. So, youre the boy Hephaestus has sniffing around Ihys death. I could almost swear I saw him shudder. He gestured towards the birds in my hand. Release them. That is not why youre here. I let go, and the doves flew up to perch in the ceiling beams. He turned towards a door on the wall, and said, Walk with me, Caleb Morrow.
What could I say? I followed him as he led me into the atrium of the temple. I saw the jealous look of the priest as I left. I bet his commission never included a visit to Hermes private sanctum,
Do not feel too privileged, Caleb. I was surprised, and showed it, though I shouldnt have been. You are here because you seek justice for the murder again that pregnant pause, of my friend. Ask what questions you will. He sat down on a marble bench, gesturing towards a pillow on the ground. I sat, of course. Am I Odysseus, to beard a god in his own sanctum?
A very good attitude, Caleb. Hermes smiled down at me. Now, your questions. I dont have all day.
I cleared my throat, and decided that directness was called for. Where were you on the morning of May 29th between midnight and 6 am, Detroit local time?
One eyebrow rose on Hermes face. Well. Ambitious, arent we? A better question would be, where wasnt I? In a way, I was in every major city in the world, well, the parts that matter anyway. Anytime someone prays to mehe smiled beatificallyI am there.
I sighed. Where were you corporeally?
Ah! Now thats a different question. He gestured, and a servant, a beautiful young woman, came and brought a tray of sliced melons. Hermes selected a piece of honeydew. He gestured in invitation, and I took a slice of cantaloupe. Its juices dripped down my fingers as I ate it. I was here, Caleb, with my High Priestess. If you wish, I will summon her to produce a statement to that effect.
I swallowed the last of my piece of melon. That wont be necessary, Hermes. Your word is enough. For now, at any rate. What have you heard of the murder?
He laughed tightly. Little enough, surprisingly. The family wont tell me anything. And asking your patronhe pointed at mehas resulted only in him he has someone investigating the situation.
Hes not my patron, I said defensively. I didnt have a patron. I couldnt, and stay neutral, which was necessary for my job.
Sure you dont. That indulgent smile again.
Anyway, I said, ignoring it, Do you have any idea why someone might want Ihy dead?
besides him being a pompous upstart who was trying to combine commerce and religion? I nodded, expectantly. No. At my crestfallen look, he said quickly, Caleb, you must understand. You cant really kill a god. A god, any god, is belief made real, and how does one kill belief? Whoever killed Ihy, I dont think it was a god.
Why not?
Lets take me as an example. If I knew how to kill another god, I would never, ever use that knowledge, for fear of someone else figuring it out and doing the same to me. As it is, the fact that someone killed my friend has made me rather skittish.
So, I said, smelling something important, if not a god, then who would have the power to do it?
And therein lies our quandary. For only the power of a god would have even the potential of doing that. Hermes smiled. So no god would dare, and no mortal able. So, the only possible conclusion is that nobody did it.
My mind flashed to an old story regarding a proud Ithacan and his use of the word nobody, but I dismissed it quickly as irrelevant. Too prosaic. I sighed. And yet, we have two bodies on our hands.
Hermes started. Two? Has another of us been killed? Before I could answer, I feltsomething in my mind, ripping through it. Ransacking, searching, tossing it. Finally, I was released and collapsed, gasping on the ground. Hermes sighed with relief. No, a mortal. Selene.
The feeling of something important ate at my mind again. You knew Selene?
Id met her. She was Ihys favorite, though he was rather hard on her. His High Priest seemed to find that favoritism rather frustrating. It was an amusing situation. But Selene performed such lovely, sad songs. Ihy gifted her greatly. So much so that he had to limit when she could use the gift. Those emotions she evokedthe felt so sweet. She performed before Ihy and I alone, once, and we were both crying at the end. It wasnovel. He shook his head. It was a pity she died as well. Even without his gifts, Selene was a talented artist, for a mortal. He looked at me. So, do you have any other questions?
Just one, I said. What did you think of Ihys experiment?
There was a long pause. Ihy didnt keep a proper distance between himself and his followers. He gave a lot of personal attention, and they loved him for it. That love wasnt enough to save him.
I nodded, and stood up to leave. Thank you for your forbearance, Hermes. I must go now, I have a plane to catch.
Hold up one minute, he said, as I stood to go. I held, and turned back. I have a vested interest in this case, so I will give you the assistance of one of my servants. A Sensitive. Youll be flying back to Detroit on my private jet. Hermes grinned. I expect her back by midnight.
*****
I got her back by 11:30, mores the pity. A delightful girl. I could still smell her on my clothes when I arrived at the main offices, where the Chief had arranged to meet me, despite the late hour. I found him in the lunch room, attempting to make coffee. I waited for a moment until he got the machine started. It gurgled and slurped alarmingly.
So, he said, leaning back against the counter, hands against his trim hips. Are you going to tell me why you took an unauthorized person to my crime scene?
I raised an eyebrow. This hadnt been what I expected. Dont you mean my crime scene, sir?
He shrugged, dismissing my concern. Why didnt you get my approval?
I opened my mouth, and closed it slowly before I could say anything stupid, then responded with a cold tone of voice. Im sorry, sir. I wasnt aware that I had to check every decision with you.
The Chief looked at me for a moment, and then shook his head. Im sorry, Caleb. I didnt meant to step on your toes. Im just getting a lot of pressure from higher powers on this. Meaning Hephaestus and/or Ihys family breathing down his neck. Thatd be stressful for anyone. I smiled tightly. Do you want an update?
Gods, yes!
Hermes sent Jennifer, a Sensitive, to check out the crime scene.
What did she find?
I paused. The only power used in that room in the last three days was that of Ihy himself.
The Chiefs eyes closed, and he seemed to sink into himself a little. Perfect. Thats just perfect, he said, his voice full of frustration. So we still know nothing.
Didnt the autopsy pan out?
The Chief shook his head. We tried everything, up to a cutting laser and a diamond saw, and nothing was able to make a dent. His body is still flexible, and besides that awful look on his face, theres nothing to indicate hes anything but asleep.
Are you going to give the body back to the family?
Do I have a choice? It was just as well we werent able to leave a mark, because if we had The Chief shuddered as if Jennifer had run an ice cube down his back. I dont know if Hephaestus influence would be enough in that case. And Im not sure hed intervene, anyway.
I nodded, and poured myself a cup of steaming coffee. I made a face as I took a sip. Weak. Has anyone spoken to Selenes next of kin yet?
Her Husband. No, he hasnt been to their apartment in a few days, apparently., and we havent been able to track him down. Id rather not have him find out from the local news when this story finally breaks.
I can take a look, if you want. I want to find more information about Selene.
Sure. Whatever. It will keep you busy until they get tired of waiting.
I left, slightly disturbed
*********
End Deicide Part 02
****************
The Chief seemed to sense my excitement, and put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly. Relax, boy. This is more than it seems. Ihy is dead, and considering hes an immortal, I think we can rule out natural causes.
I stood up, suddenly, knocking my stool back, suddenly very, very scared. Gods didnt dienoone knew of a god that was killed that had actually stayed dead. Oh, there were legends, and supposedly the blood of a golden hart, when put on an arrow tip, could kill a god, but the gods had killed all of those creatures off an age ago. Not even Yahweh had managed to kill the competing gods, but had been forced to use the expedient of the Prison to remove their influence from the earth. Since they had managed to get out (though theyd been cagey as to exactly how theyd gotten out,) theyd been paranoid, and a dead goda REALLY dead godwould make them even more unpredictable than normal. I stood there, breathing heavily. And what am I supposed to do about this?
The Chief looked at me appraisingly, and then stood up to pick the stool up from the floor. He set it down and gestured absently, waiting for me to sit down. When I didnt, he leaned against the bar and took another drink. Im not sure, Caleb. Hephaestus told the mayor that you were to handle it. Apparently hes even keeping Ihys family out of it, for now. Youre getting quite the favor.
I did everything I could to make my face express my skepticism. Favor? Last time someone in my office got a favor like this, he ended up, well, a vegetable! A slight exaggeration, but it sounded good. Im not gonna do this.
The Chief looked at me for a second. You dont understand, Caleb. Hephaestus apparently is quite intent on you handling it. He said hed protect you, even. He has a lot invested in you, and I dont think he wants to see it wasted. A slight grin appeared on the Chiefs deeply lined face. I think hed deal with this himself, but theres certainissues that require a mortal touch.
Meaning Im expendable and hes willing to send me to find out what managed to kill a god.
Well, yes. But anything that it is possible for him to protect you from will, he will do so.
Hmph. This was a small comfort. But, in the end, I didnt have a choice. And besides, the danger you know is infinitely scarier than the one you dont know. And Hephaestus, though something of a liberal among gods for his personal way of dealing with the people of his city, was still a god, and prone to anger if defied. I sighed, and sat down on the stool. So, details?
The Chief nodded, returning to his own stool, and slid a file folder in front of me. I picked it up, and leafed through it quickly, scanning the pages and pictures quickly. We have one dead god, and a situation that seems to imply both that an assault took place, and that the culprit was either a god or empowered by a god. The death took place sometime early this morning, no later than four am. There are no visible signs of attack on the god; the body seems to be in perfect condition, and is being taken to be autopsied, if we can get away with it.
My eyes bulged. Autopsy! If the family finds outMy words trailed off as I thought about the possibilities.
Then well be protected by Hephaestus, the Chief said with a serious face.
I wasnt convinced. Gods were usually long on promises and short on results, unless they directly tied their power into it, in which case they were stuck and had to deliver on it. That didnt happen very often. Hephaestus was apparently using his influence, not his Power to protect us, which left me feeling rathervulnerable.
Anyway, the Chief continued, we probably arent capable of doing an autopsy. Gods are made of sterner stuff than us, after all. But we have to try. For the moment, the only sign of an attack on him is the look of despair that his face locked into at death.
But if he died of natural causes, then it could just be a reaction to that. Oblivion is a scary thing for anyone. Imagine how much worse it must be for an immortal?
Guess it could be that. The Chief took out another set of pictures and slid them over to me. But he got off easier than this lady.
I looked, and wished I hadnt. In the pictures, from every angle and in vivid color, I could see a raven haired woman slumped against a piano. Blood had dried in runnels from her eyes, ears, and mouth, leaving cracked tracks on her skin. I looked, and looked again, the face, though locked in a mask of sadness, familiar. Is that
Yes, thats Selene. Real name, Sarah Dietrich, age 29, recently semi-famous and semi-single. Looks like she chose the wrong god to barnacle to, though. Whatever got him got her, too.
Something in one of the pictures caught my eye. Can I see the scene?
The Chief grunted. Yeah, sure, why not. This is your thing. He led me towards a back room, with another guard before its door. I pulled on my latex gloves and ducked under the yellow tape, glancing quickly around the room. My first reaction was admiration. The god had good taste. The furniture was sparse, but comfortable, and, surprisingly, all on the same level. No raised dais, no throne. Apparently Ihy had been an egalitarian type of god. I walked around the room, checking it against the pictures. It was untouched, save for the removal of the bodies. The piano, a polished white grand with real ivory keys still had the bloodied sheet music on the stand, and dried blood on the keys. I looked, and saw the music on the stand was Hallelujah, by Jeff Buckley. My lip twitched, Im not sure if it was trying to form a smile or a frown, but I found it rather appropriate. It was a mournful song of bittersweet pain, of silent despair. A prayer for the blessing of death. I studied the pictures again, noting the locations of the cramped fingers. Even in death, they were still pressing down the keys of the final chord of the song. What, I wondered had happened here? Had the attacker forced her to keep playing as he/she/it killed her patron? I shuddered. A grotesque thought, but not an unlikely one. I walked over to an elegant couch in the center of the room. Nothing marked it as special save for a circle of tape around it, but a god had died here. I sighed. No way to avoid it further. I looked at the pictures of the dead god.
It was horrid. Picture something perfect, a rainbow, a snowflake, or something equally beautiful in that precise way. Then picture it being perverted into somethingother than it was meant to be. Something wrong. If anything could drive home the fact that Ihy was dead, this was it. His back was arched unnaturally, and the look on his face caused my stomach to sink every time I looked at it.
A picture of events started to form in my mind. Selene had stayed after a show to commune with her god, possibly playing for him. By some, as yet, unknown means, the attacker came in and killed the god in a way that that assured that Ihy knew he was dying. The woman could have died instantly, but the patterns of the blood on the piano indicated that shed been bleeding for half of the song, at least. Whoever had done this had done it to them both, probably torturing both of them.
Who had the power to torture a god?
*******
Another God, obviously. So now to discover who had motive. I went to Ihys High Priest to find out more about the music gods history. See if there were any ancient grudges, or something equally obvious. I could hope, couldnt I?
The priest, who insisted I call him Bob, was a small, bent man, with the pinched look one would expect from an accountant, not the prime intermediary between a god and his followers.
Bob wrung his hands worriedly, looking around fervently. He looked lost.
Im sorry, Detective Morrow, I really dont know how I can help you. My god has no enemies. He stopped, paled, and looked very small. Had no enemies, I guess I ought to say. None in the lore, anyway. My god was always the one who would play music for his family. He was quite valued for that by many pantheons, in fact. He looked at me, a little touch of the fanatic showing, like a tarnished piece of silver. He had a unique gift. His was to make music resonate with the soul, even more than his mother, though he was not as versatile as the divine Horath. But even gods could feel emotion, as men do, when he performed. And for a human to hear Bob trailed off, lost in memory. He continued, dreamily. He could make you laugh, cry, moan, or sing with just one note. He was always the least pretentious of his family, too. He understood he couldnt directly compete with some of the other music gods, like Apollo. Thats why he opened the club, you know. He felt that in a modern climate, the old fashioned way of demanding worship while holding a stick was, well just that. People have a cynical attitude towards religion, nowadays. But people still love musicso he thought hed lure them with beauty and emotion, and bask in their worship while they paid for the privilege.
I thought for a moment. Why make them pay, I asked.
Because no-one trusts a free gift from the gods, anymore. If they pay for it, however, they will value it all the more.
So, what, did he perform himself? Theres a thought. I would have heard of that, though. Odd.
The little man looked shocked. You expect him to whore himself out like that? You expect him to play for just anybody? I shook my head hesitantly, and he nodded. Right, it would be demeaning. What next? Zeus hiring out for fireworks shows? He shook his head furiously, his face red.
Kind of defensively, I said, Well, you said he was doing things differently
Well, not everything! He did at least that the proper way.
And what is the proper way?
He looked at me searchingly. You say youre in the DAB? Ive never met someone so dense! He blessed a mortal with his gifts, or a form of them, and used her in his service, to act as his tool in this.
I did feel stupid. Selene, I said flatly.
Yes! Not that the bitch appreciated it.
I looked at him piercingly. What do you mean by that?
Bob was obviously surprised y his own vehemence. Well, um, ahwhat I mean to say is that she was, well, sad all the time. I mean, if Ihy had blessed ME with such a gift, I would be the happiest man alive. To be able to effect men in the same way he couldit was an honor beyond imagining. And all she could do is mope. Ungrateful, I tell you!
Something clicked in my mind, but try as I might, I couldnt quite see all of it. Do you know why Selene was there with Ihy when they were killed?
Bobs face blanched when I said those words, his rage sapped by the reality of his situation. No, he said dejectedly. I have no idea. I was scouting for a location for another club yesterday. He was getting ready to expand his plan, said it was time to go to phase two.
I sat forward. Who knew about this expansion?
Bob shook his head. Nobody but me and him. He trusted me with everything, detective. He said that He swallowed. that even though Selene was his voice, I was his hand, and that he would not forget me. Bob looked at me, eyes mournful. He promised, and now hes gone!
Calmly, I gazed at him. Would noone else know of his plans? Would he tell his family?
Bob shook his head in denial. His family doesnt approve of his actions. He wouldnt tell them for fear of sabotage. He held his head in his hands, then looked up, as if surprised. There is one person he might have told.
Paydirt. Who?
Hermes.
*******
Hermes. Mercury. A god of travelers, rogues, and thieves, among other things. As I rode in the cab through the San Francisco streets, holding on tightly as the cabbie went far too fast on those hills for my comfort. It had taken a lot of wheedling to get the budget department to approve the trip, and finally it took the Chiefs intervention to get me on the next flight out there. I had come to see if Hermes would talk to me, or at least respond to my questions via an intermediary. So I was going to his temple, in his new city. I looked at the window warily, and my eye caught some more of the poster I had seen at the airport. They had a picture of a handsome, godly face, with the caption, Hermes! Making your life better every day.
It was a disturbing sight. Hephaestus was a low impact deity. As long as the factories in town were dedicated to him, he was fine. Hermes seemed hell-bent on winning the hearts and minds of every soul in San Francisco. If he managed it, hed be powerful indeed. As it was, though, the posters and other advertisements were ignored by the people, for the most part, leaving the net effect about balanced. The cab pulled into the old Asian district, now a park dedicated to Hermes. Much of the asian population of the city had disappeared after the return, leaving the old enclave abandoned. Hermes had chosen the area for his temple, and had created a park for the people of San Francisco. It was beautiful, I had to admitbut the design was a bit off. You could tell nothing was there naturally, and the trees and bushes were laid out in unusually straight patterns, all exactly the same height and shape.
The temple was certainly not what I expected, though. Hermes had built a Spanish villa of colossal proportions.
I paid the cabbie, got out, and looked up at the stucco wall. Near the doors of the temple, I saw a peddler selling sacrificial fowls, and I picked out a couple of doves. I walked in, holding them tightly by the legs as they flapped their wings in a vain attempt to get away. The PETA had balked when the gods had reintroduced sacrifice, but since a violent demonstration outside the temple of the sun in Aztlan had resulted in the protesters being sacrificed instead, theyd been surprisingly quiet.
I stopped at a directory just inside, and followed the map to one of the altars. I strode towards the altar, steeling myself, watching the simpering priest smile as I approached with my offering. The way he was smiling, youd think they got a commission for each sacrifice.
I had almost reached the altar when I heard a pleasing tenor voice. Hold, Caleb Morrow. I turned, and saw Hermes himself standing in an alcove. Bright, beautiful, almost luminescent, he wore white slacks, his winged sandals, and his characteristic saucer shaped helmet. He had a thin, if very handsome, face, and his muscles were lithe and graceful. To my left I heard a thump as the priest dropped to the ground, kneeling abjectly. I saw an indulgent smirk flit across Hermes face, but then his attention returned to me. So, youre the boy Hephaestus has sniffing around Ihys death. I could almost swear I saw him shudder. He gestured towards the birds in my hand. Release them. That is not why youre here. I let go, and the doves flew up to perch in the ceiling beams. He turned towards a door on the wall, and said, Walk with me, Caleb Morrow.
What could I say? I followed him as he led me into the atrium of the temple. I saw the jealous look of the priest as I left. I bet his commission never included a visit to Hermes private sanctum,
Do not feel too privileged, Caleb. I was surprised, and showed it, though I shouldnt have been. You are here because you seek justice for the murder again that pregnant pause, of my friend. Ask what questions you will. He sat down on a marble bench, gesturing towards a pillow on the ground. I sat, of course. Am I Odysseus, to beard a god in his own sanctum?
A very good attitude, Caleb. Hermes smiled down at me. Now, your questions. I dont have all day.
I cleared my throat, and decided that directness was called for. Where were you on the morning of May 29th between midnight and 6 am, Detroit local time?
One eyebrow rose on Hermes face. Well. Ambitious, arent we? A better question would be, where wasnt I? In a way, I was in every major city in the world, well, the parts that matter anyway. Anytime someone prays to mehe smiled beatificallyI am there.
I sighed. Where were you corporeally?
Ah! Now thats a different question. He gestured, and a servant, a beautiful young woman, came and brought a tray of sliced melons. Hermes selected a piece of honeydew. He gestured in invitation, and I took a slice of cantaloupe. Its juices dripped down my fingers as I ate it. I was here, Caleb, with my High Priestess. If you wish, I will summon her to produce a statement to that effect.
I swallowed the last of my piece of melon. That wont be necessary, Hermes. Your word is enough. For now, at any rate. What have you heard of the murder?
He laughed tightly. Little enough, surprisingly. The family wont tell me anything. And asking your patronhe pointed at mehas resulted only in him he has someone investigating the situation.
Hes not my patron, I said defensively. I didnt have a patron. I couldnt, and stay neutral, which was necessary for my job.
Sure you dont. That indulgent smile again.
Anyway, I said, ignoring it, Do you have any idea why someone might want Ihy dead?
besides him being a pompous upstart who was trying to combine commerce and religion? I nodded, expectantly. No. At my crestfallen look, he said quickly, Caleb, you must understand. You cant really kill a god. A god, any god, is belief made real, and how does one kill belief? Whoever killed Ihy, I dont think it was a god.
Why not?
Lets take me as an example. If I knew how to kill another god, I would never, ever use that knowledge, for fear of someone else figuring it out and doing the same to me. As it is, the fact that someone killed my friend has made me rather skittish.
So, I said, smelling something important, if not a god, then who would have the power to do it?
And therein lies our quandary. For only the power of a god would have even the potential of doing that. Hermes smiled. So no god would dare, and no mortal able. So, the only possible conclusion is that nobody did it.
My mind flashed to an old story regarding a proud Ithacan and his use of the word nobody, but I dismissed it quickly as irrelevant. Too prosaic. I sighed. And yet, we have two bodies on our hands.
Hermes started. Two? Has another of us been killed? Before I could answer, I feltsomething in my mind, ripping through it. Ransacking, searching, tossing it. Finally, I was released and collapsed, gasping on the ground. Hermes sighed with relief. No, a mortal. Selene.
The feeling of something important ate at my mind again. You knew Selene?
Id met her. She was Ihys favorite, though he was rather hard on her. His High Priest seemed to find that favoritism rather frustrating. It was an amusing situation. But Selene performed such lovely, sad songs. Ihy gifted her greatly. So much so that he had to limit when she could use the gift. Those emotions she evokedthe felt so sweet. She performed before Ihy and I alone, once, and we were both crying at the end. It wasnovel. He shook his head. It was a pity she died as well. Even without his gifts, Selene was a talented artist, for a mortal. He looked at me. So, do you have any other questions?
Just one, I said. What did you think of Ihys experiment?
There was a long pause. Ihy didnt keep a proper distance between himself and his followers. He gave a lot of personal attention, and they loved him for it. That love wasnt enough to save him.
I nodded, and stood up to leave. Thank you for your forbearance, Hermes. I must go now, I have a plane to catch.
Hold up one minute, he said, as I stood to go. I held, and turned back. I have a vested interest in this case, so I will give you the assistance of one of my servants. A Sensitive. Youll be flying back to Detroit on my private jet. Hermes grinned. I expect her back by midnight.
*****
I got her back by 11:30, mores the pity. A delightful girl. I could still smell her on my clothes when I arrived at the main offices, where the Chief had arranged to meet me, despite the late hour. I found him in the lunch room, attempting to make coffee. I waited for a moment until he got the machine started. It gurgled and slurped alarmingly.
So, he said, leaning back against the counter, hands against his trim hips. Are you going to tell me why you took an unauthorized person to my crime scene?
I raised an eyebrow. This hadnt been what I expected. Dont you mean my crime scene, sir?
He shrugged, dismissing my concern. Why didnt you get my approval?
I opened my mouth, and closed it slowly before I could say anything stupid, then responded with a cold tone of voice. Im sorry, sir. I wasnt aware that I had to check every decision with you.
The Chief looked at me for a moment, and then shook his head. Im sorry, Caleb. I didnt meant to step on your toes. Im just getting a lot of pressure from higher powers on this. Meaning Hephaestus and/or Ihys family breathing down his neck. Thatd be stressful for anyone. I smiled tightly. Do you want an update?
Gods, yes!
Hermes sent Jennifer, a Sensitive, to check out the crime scene.
What did she find?
I paused. The only power used in that room in the last three days was that of Ihy himself.
The Chiefs eyes closed, and he seemed to sink into himself a little. Perfect. Thats just perfect, he said, his voice full of frustration. So we still know nothing.
Didnt the autopsy pan out?
The Chief shook his head. We tried everything, up to a cutting laser and a diamond saw, and nothing was able to make a dent. His body is still flexible, and besides that awful look on his face, theres nothing to indicate hes anything but asleep.
Are you going to give the body back to the family?
Do I have a choice? It was just as well we werent able to leave a mark, because if we had The Chief shuddered as if Jennifer had run an ice cube down his back. I dont know if Hephaestus influence would be enough in that case. And Im not sure hed intervene, anyway.
I nodded, and poured myself a cup of steaming coffee. I made a face as I took a sip. Weak. Has anyone spoken to Selenes next of kin yet?
Her Husband. No, he hasnt been to their apartment in a few days, apparently., and we havent been able to track him down. Id rather not have him find out from the local news when this story finally breaks.
I can take a look, if you want. I want to find more information about Selene.
Sure. Whatever. It will keep you busy until they get tired of waiting.
I left, slightly disturbed
*********
End Deicide Part 02
by the good donuts, even.