I took it from her, frowning at the circle.
“It’s an emblem for them.” She waved to the nebulousothers. “Their prophet wore one for his martyrdom. It was brown, earthy, and?—”
“And I’m no martyr.”
Babbling languages splashed over one another, a river of energy splashing down the hall as the throng awaited me.
I looked at the circlet, then back at the imp. I settled it onto my forehead, unflinching as a thorn bit into the flesh at the crown of my head.
“Kill ‘em,” I said.
Her smile was bigger this time, though her teeth remained behind her tightly shut black lips. “Give them Hell.”
Chapter Fifteen
TWENTY INFERNAL MINUTES
“Avirus is spreading.”
The spotlight made it challenging to look into the eyes of the gods who stared back. A splotch of white caught my eye as I scanned the audience, each slow, careful step turning me until I could soak in the sheer scope of attendance.
Tzipporah was right. Nanook had come to hear what Hell had to say.
“Some of us existed before time. Conceptual, nebulous power shimmered in the nothingness before the first mortal atom exploded. My father, the King, was one such being. His song of worship became one of equality, of independence, of freedom, long before the first mortal fish flopped upon a muddy bank. We’ve carved out places for ourselves in their world. We sliced up Pangea, then partitioned the continents that followed. We found our people. We discovered the power of worshippers. We sampled the glory, the flavor, the heartache, the pleasure, the newness of mortality when we made a name for ourselves among the humans.”
The stillness, given the staggering power contained in one room, was unsettling. They offered me silence. Not even an answering murmur.
A tickle at my brow distracted me. A finger went to my forehead as I wiped the offending liquid from my skin, then inspected the tar-black liquid on my finger. I stared down at what the crown had done, and it was my turn to smile.
“The faith that threatens it has chosen an emblem who was murdered for his message. He taught peace, charity, and acceptance. He destigmatized the woman who sold her body, holding her as she washed his feet with her tears, her perfume, and her hair. He yelled at those who claimed to be holy. He flipped tables in the temples of the immoral. He advocated for kindness toward foreigners, hospitality for strangers, and told the wealthy to give away all of their money, believing that no human with riches was capable of morality.”
Another smile, though this one was born of sadness. “Our Kingdom, Hell, was born out of a fight for fairness. For equality. For respect. We would not be subjugated. We would not be slaves. As such, I don’t think anyone in our realm sees their scapegoat, their teacher, as a nemesis. These thorns I wear today don’t mock their sigil. But the wounding crown does come with a message: you made a martyr out of your champion. Hell has a martyr of its own.”
An ocean of sound lapped at me from all sides. Uproarious applause, shouts of victory— premature celebrations of those who thought they’d get something for nothing. Swirls of starlight, golden glows, turquoise and feathers, gnashing teeth, animal heads atop chosen mortal torsos, metallic shimmers,wings, smoke, and countless other shapes, sights, and sounds awaited me.
I’d done the impossible. Everything, everyone, from everywhere. Worlds collided as the far reaches of known reality and beyond broke barriers to attend my proclamation: nothing in this world or the next came for free.
I hadn’t prepared for this speech, nor did I need to.
Slow, rotating steps allowed me to drink in the holy gathering.
In their silence, I spoke the only truth I knew.
“Friends, new and old. Our welcome has been cut short. Many of us were robbed of the luxury of meeting under times of peace. War is at our door. Some of us are already living the smoldering ruins of this new reality. Powerful gods have been overthrown, threatened, shoved into corners.”
Greek and Roman gods spat, muttered, sneered in heated agreement. Heads across the stadium watched their reaction, bracing for what came next.
“The King of Heaven outpaced us when he adapted to culture. He found a new avenue for his war before we knew what happened. And right now, he’s winning.”
Pregnant, choking silence descended upon the divine throng.
I plucked the crown of thorns from my head.
“We’re immortal. Our hubris kept us from considering how many ways a god can die without being killed. We didn’t even realize we were at war. After two thousand years of toying with humans, flourishing in his role among his people, watching over bloodied weapons and overflowing graves, he turned his sights on something new. The Kingdom of Judah defeated high gods across the map whether or not he bothered to lift a sword.”
A dissonant reaction from the crowd.
Agreement. Questions. Anger.
