I blinked, staring at her for a moment, then nodded. “That’s a fair point. Maybe he’s just … introverted. There doesn’t have to be a supernatural explanation for everything.”
“There was another Mesopotamian god named Zaqar,” said Nathan. “He was the moon’s messenger, and he communicated through dreams.”
“We’re getting too far out into tangents,” I said, shaking my head. “We don’t need to write papers on these people, we just need to find them. Let’s stick with the basics: who else is in Trujillo’s notes?”
Nathan leaned over one of the binders. “In their talks together, restricting the list to Withered we haven’t found yet, Brooke has mentioned Djoti four times, Yashodh three times, Gidri three times, Nashuja twice—that one’s Minoan, kind of cool—and Husn, Dag, Skanda, and Ihsan once each.” He looked up. “That’s quite a list.”
“Start with Djoti,” I said, turning to Brooke. “What does he lack?”
“Eyes,” said Brooke.
I raised my eyebrows. “That’s … pretty straightforward.”
“Does he steal other people’s eyes?” asked Nathan. “Wasn’t there a serial killer who stole eyes?”
“Make a note and come back to it,” I said. “We need to find our cannibal first.”
“What about Yashodh?” asked Nathan. “What does he lack?”
“Yashodh is weak,” said Brooke, her voice suddenly contemptuous. “Even weaker than Nobody.”
Nathan nodded and started writing. “So he lacks strength?”
“Nobody wasn’t physically weak,” I said, putting out my hand to stop him. “That comparison implies something else—mental weakness, maybe? Emotional?”
“People love him,” said Brooke. “Even today. It’s not fair.”
“If he takes people’s love that means he … doesn’t have any of his own?” I struggled to wrap my mind around the sheer strangeness of the Withered’s existence. “He doesn’t love, or … he doesn’t love himself. He lacks self-respect. That certainly fits with Nobody’s psyche, but it doesn’t tell us much about him.”
“It doesn’t make him sound like a cannibal,” said Nathan.
“A lot of cannibals eat people they want to be like,” I said. “Everything from South Pacific tribesmen to … Catholicism.”
“Excuse you?”
“Catholics are a great example,” I said. “They want to become more Christlike, so they eat the flesh of Christ.”
Nathan stiffened. “As a Catholic I’m deeply offended by that characterization.”
“Sorry,” I said, shrugging. “The trouble is, in our case it’s backward: usually the one who loves is the one who eats, but Brooke said they love him. Why would eating people make them love him? Though if he can force people to love him before he eats, so much that they don’t fight back, that could explain why Applebaum died without a struggle.”
“Don’t change the subject,” said Nathan, setting down his pen and cocking his head aggressively. “Are you honestly equating the Eucharist with cannibalism?”
“I read an article on cannibalism a few years ago,” I said. “You can look it up later—we don’t have time to argue about it now.”
“Because you’re going to get eaten,” said Brooke. Her eyes were wide and bright, like she was happy and just trying to be helpful.
“Tell us about Gidri,” I said, thinking back to the next Withered on Trujillo’s list. “What does he lack?”
“He wants to be king,” said Brooke.
I glanced at Nathan. “Isn’t Rack the king?” Back to Brooke. “Are there opposing factions vying for control?”
“That’s a common enough theme in a lot of mythologies,” said Nathan. “The tradition of intrapantheon squabbles might be a reflection of infighting between the Withered who inspired those mythologies.”
“If they’ve been fighting for ten thousand years you’d think they’d have worked something out by now,” I said. “Or just killed each other, with only one person left standing on each side of each conflict.”
“They could have new conflicts,” said Nathan. “I mean, look at them—the Withered are a mess. They used to be gods, and now Meshara works as a night driver in a mortuary. Any glory they used to have is gone. Maybe Gidri’s decided that Rack’s not doing his job as king, and wants to take over.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll kill each other,” I said. “Or maybe we’ll get really lucky and the war they’re starting doesn’t involve us at all.”
“I don’t want to be trapped between two armies of warring demons,” said Nathan. “Your definition of ‘really lucky’ is not the same as mine.” I started to respond, but the door opened behind us, and I looked over my shoulder to see Diana come into the room with a paper in her hand.
“Hello, Lucinda,” said Brooke. “Have you milked the cows yet?”
Diana pursed her lips. “Looks like it’s been a fun day in here. Anything useful?”
“Plenty of good info,” said Nathan. “Probably useful in the long term, but nothing that’s going to help us not get murdered tonight.”