chapter 17
After concluding my chat with Rebecca Dane, I fled north to Flagstaff, grabbed a slice at Alpine Pizza on Leroux Street, and then drove my rental car to a winding forest road behind the mountains on the north side of town. I planted myself in Lockett Meadow underneath a stand of aspens, to think of how best to act now that Inari and her cabal o’ gods had given me the green light to do as I wished. But I couldn’t focus. Lockett Meadow is a popular place, and since the first snow hadn’t fallen yet, there were other people around—only nine hardy campers, mind you, but that was enough distraction for me at the moment.
Every so often I have to get away to a quiet place to think, take my brain somewhere that the noise of the modern world cannot be heard, and seek clarity in an unspoiled environment without a hint of cell phone service. Rebecca Dane’s revelation required a good long think, and I knew just the place. There’s a waterfall in Glacier National Park that they call Bird Woman Falls these days, reachable by car in the summertime only but reachable by me year-round via plane-shifting. I’d bound the trees there long before it was a national park or the falls somehow became associated with a bird woman. It has a view of Heaven’s Peak, snowcapped and jutting defiantly above the clouds. Once I’d shifted there with Oberon, a breathtaking panorama of natural beauty was spread before me, and I didn’t have to share it with anyone. Going-to-the-Sun Road was closed off at this time of the year, so there was no traffic passing below the falls at all. The only noises were the companionable rush of the falls and the friendly whispers of the wind in the trees. I was all alone with my hound.
For five whole minutes.
“Hola, amigo,” a voice called from behind me, just as I was proposing hypotheticals to myself. Startled, I rolled left and turned, old instincts taking over, and searched for the owner of the voice. A short Latino man with a wide smile waved at me, a gold wristwatch band shining on his arm. He also had a gold crucifix on a thick chain hanging around his neck, and this rested on a button-up linen shirt that was entirely out of place on this cold mountaintop in Montana. Of course, I wasn’t dressed for the weather either.
Oberon barked once, as startled as I was. "Atticus, who is that? How did he sneak up on us?"
I don’t know, buddy.
The stranger’s smile was friendly and infectious. He had large, kind eyes. A thin, wispy mustache rested on his upper lip, but a fuller beard ran along his jaw, and his dark hair was long and gently wavy, tied back in a queue. I looked down at the bottom of his chinos and noticed that he had made the impossible decision to wear flat sandals. I wear sandals most everywhere but get strange looks for it—especially in a place like this, where one expects to see hiking boots.
“Hola,” I replied, on my guard. He continued to smile and speak in Spanish.
“Es un placer volverte a ver, Siodhachan.” Then he switched from Spanish to English, speaking with a subtle accent in a rich, confident voice. “To answer the question you were thinking, I did not hike up here at all. I used … other methods. The last time we spoke, we enjoyed fish and chips and a very fine whiskey together in Arizona. I also healed a rather grievous knife wound, after which I gave you some advice that you chose not to follow.”
Whoa. I squinted at him. “Jesus? Is that you?”
He laughed and put his hands in his pockets. “Well, during this particular visit I suppose you should call me Jesus,” he said, pronouncing it the Spanish way, hay-suse. “But, yes, it is I. Do you not like this body I have chosen to wear? I got it from a delightful Mexican woman living in Whitefish. Her name is Gina and she worries about her son a lot, prays that he would love me the way she does. Very few love me as purely as she does, however.” He removed a hand from his pocket and swept it from his chest down toward the ground, presenting himself like a gameshow prize. “This is how she sees me, and I tell you truly, I like the way she thinks. It is an uncommon visualization, and I appreciate the modern quirks. I have this wristwatch, for example. I do not truly need it, and Gina herself is unsure why I’d have one, but she thought it would look nice on me and I cannot argue the point.”
"Atticus, you know this guy?"
Yes. He’s the Christian god, Jesus. You weren’t with me the last time we met.
Jesus was always quick to identify himself using things only he and I would know, so that I wouldn’t hurt myself looking at him in the magical spectrum. Most of the old gods seared my sight a little with the bright white of the magic suffusing their bodies; one of the current A-listers like Jesus would probably blind me if I tried to check him out.
“It is good to see you, indeed,” I said, returning his smile and stepping forward to shake hands. “A very pleasant surprise.”
“Shall we sit and have a drink? This time the drinks are on me.” He reached into his right pocket and pulled out a tall bottle of amber Milagro, an extra a?ejo sipping tequila, which could not possibly have been waiting there before. From his left pocket he produced two small crystal goblets lined with a gold frosting along the rims, which also could not have been clinking around in there previously. He handed them to me while he uncorked the tequila.
"Whoa, this guy is pretty slick, Atticus. What else do you think he has in his pockets? Maybe a thick salami for me?"
I almost dropped the goblets. Gods, Oberon, it’s a good thing no one can hear you. It’s not polite to ask if a man has a big salami in his pants, okay? Especially this guy.
"Why? What does he have against salami?"
Laughter bubbled forth from Jesus as he poured two generous shots for us. “I like your hound, Siodhachan.” He turned his head a bit to address him. “Hello, Oberon. I can hear what you say as well, and I tell you truly, I have nothing against salami itself. It is best to know when to keep your salami in your pants and when to pull it out, however, and even my priests have had some difficulty with that issue. Fortunately for us, there is little doubt regarding the right course of action in this situation.” He pulled a long soppressata from the same pocket that had produced the goblets. “I imagine this should take the edge off your hunger. Siodhachan, would you oblige us both and unbind the casing so that he may eat it?”
"Oh, great lakes of gravy! Thanks, Jesus! Atticus, why didn’t you introduce us before?"
Jesus laughed again. “You are welcome, Oberon. And, if I may answer, I rarely visit, so your friend did not have the opportunity to introduce us before now.”
I unbound the casing so that it fell away from the meat, and Jesus gave it to Oberon. With my hound happy, the two of us strolled back to the edge of Bird Woman Falls and sat cross-legged on the ground with our tequila, admiring Heaven’s Peak. We said cheers and clinked glasses.
“This particular drink did not exist the first time I walked around on the earth,” he said. “But, then, neither did Mexico exist as a nation. Have you not noticed, Siodhachan, that for all we lose and regret in the long course of history, there is always something new to love?”
“I have.” The tequila was certainly new and lovable, a smooth mellow burn down the throat, not like the sharp punch of blancos. We might have licked our chops, except that Oberon was doing enough of that for all three of us.
“So tell me why you are here, Siodhachan,” Jesus finally said.
“I was going to try to figure out what you are up to, because I learned that you are one of the heavy hitters in a gang of gods that was asked to look after me. You’re the guy who told Inari where to find me in the Pyrenees.”
Jesus finished his drink and poured himself another, topping off mine while he was at it. “I have always appreciated your ambition.”
“Ambition?”
“Yes. You may have heard before now that I tend to work in mysterious ways. To try to figure out my designs is ambitious.”
“Shall I simply ask you what they are instead? Jesus, what do you have planned for me?”
“The irony of all those people saying that I have a plan is that I do not plan so very much. Other gods have their plans as well, and so does every creature walking the earth, and they all have free will. It ensures that virtually no one will ever get to say, ‘It’s all going exactly as I planned.’ Instead, let us say that I can see multiple futures and prefer that certain ones come to pass while others do not. It so happens that your decisions and your actions play a vital role in ensuring that the best futures of a poor lot come to pass.”
“I remember you saying something similar to me before. You also said that had I remained meek, I would have inherited the earth.”
“Yes.”
“That haunts me.”
“I understand. But if I may make a suggestion, my friend, let it rather instruct you. We are far past the time when everything might have turned out well. We are now in crisis management, hoping that things will turn out badly instead of much, much worse.”
That was a sobering message, even under the influence of fine tequila. “But Inari said I must act now, not remain meek. Move against Loki and Hel.”
“She did not expressly say that. She said you are free to move against them if you wish. You are also free to do nothing. We merely removed our injunction. I thought that may have not been made clear enough by Inari; hence, my visit.”
That was a mite exasperating, but I understood his position. Free will is hardly free if you go about commanding people to behave as you wish. Still, Jesus wouldn’t be here if he didn’t hope to help me somehow. He could have had Brighid or Odin tell me, or Inari could have sent a kitsune or used any number of methods to clarify that I could do whatever I wanted. So this was my chance to ask him anything. I could perhaps nibble at the edges of this problem until I could see a way to take a larger bite out of it. “What about your adversary?” I asked. “Does he not have a role to play?”
“He is indifferent in this matter, which is fortunate for us. Ragnarok is not his preferred apocalypse, you see. His ego requires that things go according to his plan, and thus he is already thwarted. He is sulking and sitting this out, as are the dark forces of some other pantheons who do not wish to follow Loki’s orders.”
“Good news. Speaking of which, maybe you could give me some more. What ever happened to the widow MacDonagh? Hel told me her soul went on to the Christian lands, but I’m not sure I should trust Loki’s daughter.”
“You should not. But in that particular case she spoke the truth. Let it not trouble you; Katie is at peace and with me.”
I sighed and felt lighter. That burden had been taken away. “Please give her my love. I miss her.”
“I will. She misses you too. You were a blessing to her in the sunset of her life.”
We started in on round three, and I felt the buzz coming on. Jesus didn’t appear to be affected by the drink at all. I began to worry that I would fail to ask the right question. You always think of the perfect thing to say after the moment’s passed, and I could sense that this moment would end soon. So of course I asked something pointless.
“Jesus, why involve Inari at all? Why didn’t you visit me earlier?”
“She wished to meet you. When you had need of healing and could literally go anywhere in the world to do it, she was flattered that you chose Japan. She likes you.”
I didn’t think she had expressed any affection for me, but said, “All right. What I can’t wrap my head around is your ultimate goal—the nine of you together. You’re obviously working toward something big, but I don’t know what it is. I mean, Odin has sacrificed a lot. Heimdall and Freyr and Thor, all dead, his Valkyries too—”
“Is Thor truly dead?” Jesus interrupted.
“What? Are you kidding me?”
“I am asking a question. You know that certain members of the Irish pantheon have been able to act from beyond the veil, and you suppose that the Morrigan can as well. Their active worship by humans gives them the power to manifest at will, even though their flesh has passed on. And I, too, am an example of this truth. I died more than two thousand years ago, yet here I sit, drinking tequila with you. I can manifest when I wish in any form chosen by a worshipper—I am a god created in many images. Why do you suppose it would be any different with Thor? He is still actively worshipped throughout Scandinavia and in pockets of Iceland. The same is true for Heimdall and Freyr. So what has Odin lost, truly?”
If Odin could still count on Thor to come back and fight in Ragnarok but had also recruited me to fight in his place, then he had snookered me pretty good. It made me wonder, though, why Thor hadn’t shown up yet—to bash my head in, if nothing else. “But … where is Thor? Valhalla?”
“That’s a question you should ask Odin.”
“Oh!” The answer came to me—or at least part of it. Thor probably wouldn’t show up at all until it was over. Those dead gods were lying low as a matter of long-term survival. It would be impossible to return after Ragnarok if large portions of their believers were wiped out. Odin had them on a Die Now, Live Later plan—and he’d been open with me in sharing his hope that I would die horribly in Ragnarok, as a matter of justice. And if he himself fell in the final battle, why, then, Thor and the others would remain and carry on if they just sat it out. Since the old prophecies of the Norns weren’t in effect anymore and Odin didn’t know who’d be left behind afterward, he wanted insurance that someone from the Norse pantheon would survive.
I realized I’d gotten sidetracked. “Okay, okay, sorry. Back to your ultimate goal.”
Jesus shrugged. “It is not so very complicated. There’s a big fight coming, and we want the good guys to win.”
“I remember that you said I had a whole lot of pain coming.”
“Yes.” The kind eyes turned to me and filled with sympathy. “I am sorry, but it is still to come.”
It had already been cold on that mountaintop, but I shivered for the first time.