Wrath of the Ancient Gods (Rise of the Ancient Gods Book 4) by Craig Robertson

Author:Craig Robertson [Robertson, Craig]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Publisher: Imagine-It Publishing
Published: 2019-05-03T06:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-FOUR

Meanwhile in hell …

“It's simply impossible,” spat Jéfnoss with overflowing bile. “I cannot have,” he stopped to readjust his neck. Since he re-reattached his head, there'd arisen issues, “been killed by a secretary. Gáwar, sure. But a secretary? I'll never live this down.”

“Well, since you're still dead, I'd say you won't have trouble living it down.” Dragmire chuckled at her wit.

Her voice was in striking opposition to her appearance. The rich, tenor tone she spoke with was warm and playful. Physically, she was hideously revolting. During her life, Dragmire had been referred to as or teased to be a puddle of vomit, a pot of boiling turds, and, most insensitively, rotting clotted blood. Fetching she was not. But, powerful she was, very much. Truth be told, she had been one of the few of her ancient race left. The Quilamo had ruled a handful of star systems in the early universe. To be fair, they were an amoeba-like species, not puddles of anything. But they had flowed and they had smelled awful, so they were the butt of endless jokes. Their lack of charm was more than offset by their psychic abilities. They could not only read minds, they could wipe them clean. The Quilamo could also spit a venomous acid a prodigious distance with incredible accuracy. Let us just say, no one taunted them twice.

As an aside, she had been, in life, one of the twelve gods of home economics. Her particular speciality was in deep seasonal cleaning. Go figure.

“I find this whole death thing to be overemphasized,” whined Jéfnoss. “I mean, I feel fine, I still look good, and I enjoy each day as it comes. Why, during the very little time I spent back among the living, I was perfectly at home.”

“Jeffy,” as Dragmire called him, much to his chagrin, “you're a disembodied spirit. How is that almost like being alive? Honestly, sometimes I think you have your head on back—” The rest of her sentence froze in her mouth. Jéfnoss was uber-sensitive concerning any reference to his head, neck, or their union.

“But being noncorporeal didn't seem to be a negative, you know, back home.”

“Back home? Since when did you get all folksy? You never thought of the land as home when you lived there. I recall you saying it was a desert in terms of its citizens, culture, and cuisine.”

“In hindsight, it wasn't all those. If I'd lived a bit longer, I really think I could have made it a better place, one I'd have enjoyed.”

“Hello. Your idea of improving the place was to kill each resident and devour them. I believe demolition was you favorite past time, and massive explosions were one of the few things that put a smile on your face.”

He could only shrug by way of response.

“I know I don't need to ask if you're going to try to go back again. I know you, way too well, you OCD demon. I also know you'll be needing my help, again. Let me state up-front the price.

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