The God Squad made their goodbyes to the two couples, but Thor and Pan were good with staying.
“I want to see the Ark!” Pan said.
“I don't think we're allowed,” Azrael said.
“Aw, come on,” Jesus waved us down the street, in the opposite direction that the others had gone. “What's the point in being king if I can't get my friends backstage?”
“Yes!” Pan punched the sky. “I knew you were gonna be an awesome king. You are the coolest.”
“Thanks, man.”
“It's Pan with a P,” Pan teased.
Jesus grinned. “Pan the man. But nottheMan.”
“That's right. Wait. Is that a compliment or an insult?”
“It's a compliment.” Jesus pulled out his joint and finally lit it. After a deep inhale, he sighed, puffed again, then passed it to Pan.
“No, J, you're the man,” Pan said as he took it.
“But nottheMan.”
“Got it!” Pan puffed.
We headed back to the holy dais or whatever it's called. The place where they kept the throne. Oh, and the Guf, although that's technically beneath the throne. Well, in front of and beneath. Whatever. That's where we went.
After climbing the steps, we passed the empty throne, and I smirked at the also empty space behind the throne, where theCherubim used to fly and taunt Jerry by crying “Holly, Holly, Holly” instead of “Holy, Holy, Holy” as they were supposed to. Their little loophole with the human belief. Jerry was usually too drunk to notice or care. But the Cherubim were gone now, living their best Cherub lives, while the King of Heaven led us past the Guf (I didn't look at the floating souls) and the Throne, into the Home of the Ineffable Light—also known as the J-man's crib. As we entered, I put my gas mask on again. Just in case the trickster had bleached the Ark. Once burned, twice shy.
Our now slightly smaller group strolled down the hallways with Jesus, and I immediately noted all the changes he'd made. It was kinda hard to not notice. First of all, the GRAYEL was in one of the front rooms, taking up a lot of space with its holy, shiny machinery. But that was to be expected. What lifted my brows was the sign above it that read, “God helps those who help themselves. So help yourselves, my friends.” And there was a fancy sideboard next to the GRAYEL with stacks of those red plastic cups you use at parties as well as individual bags of chips, jars of candy, and boxes of chocolate. The J-man liked his snacks. Oh, and there was a recycling container at the end of the sideboard. What Jesus did with those recyclables I had no idea.
In addition to this, the bright, airy rooms were now cluttered with fuzzy rugs, squishy couches, posters from the 60s, lava lamps, bean bag chairs, macrame curtains, and way too much color that was combined in all the wrong ways. One of the rooms was lit by a blacklight, setting assorted paraphernalia aglow. And don't get me started about the greenhouse I spotted through a window.
“Did we accidentally walk into a hippie commune?” Blue whispered.
I glanced back at him and Eztli, both of whom were looking around themselves with a mixture of shock, horror, and a tiny bit of awe.
“It makes him happy,” I whispered back. Then I held up my fingers in a peace sign and said, “Let it be.”
Eztli snorted a laugh, and Blue stared adoringly at her. Oh, how that warmed my heart. I loved seeing my friends in love. Especially friends like Blue, who had gone through so much to find his love.
We went past a dining room furnished with a low table, very Moroccan (loved it), and cushions around it instead of chairs. Then there was a room with very little furniture, only a DJ stand in the corner, mirrors on the walls, and a disco ball hanging above the polished floor. I shook my head and carried on.
At last, we passed through a bead curtain and into yet another make-love-not-war room, heavy on the love. A mattress was piled high with cushions in one corner, a low table held an assortment of . . . let's call them pleasure enhancers, and the ceiling was covered in mirrors. It was the 60s version of Re's bedroom.
“Oh, now this I like,” Re said, right on cue. “J-man, I didn't know you had it in you.”
“I'm a lover, not a fighter.” Jesus grinned. Then he whipped off the cushions and fringed blanket that was covering one of the couches.
Except it wasn't a couch. It was a box about six feet long by two feet across. A gold box. What I had thought were the arms of the couch were four carved Angels, standing two to eitherside of the box and holding bars between them to form handles. Words were carved into the box's sides, but I couldn't read them. They weren't Latin. I was guessing they were whatever Moses spoke. Was that Aramaic or Hebrew? I think it was Hebrew. Whatever. I didn't speak or read it, and it covered the box.
“I'm sorry,” Thor said, blinking his Caribbean quartz eyes. “Is that the Ark of the Covenant?”
“Yup.” Jesus grinned. “I thought I'd hide it in plain sight. I'm tricky like that.”
“As a bench in your love den?” Azrael asked in horror. “Brother, I'm sorry, but what the fuck? What theactualfuck?”
My eyes went wide, but Jesus just burst out laughing.
