Stewie's back! Goooooo bunny!
Chapter Fourteen
"Greetings, Gabriel," the tall man in the formal tunic clasped forearms with the archangel and smiled. "Kerberos, leave it!"
"Yo, Hades," Gabriel grinned, reaching up to pat the gigantic dog, "Don't mind her, she's just showing me how much she missed me! Aint ya, girl?" Kerberos wagged her tail, and leaned down to give Gabriel one last loving lick.
"We were so pleased to hear that your Father had called you back," the god of the Underworld went on, "Persephone was worried for Kali. In fact, you may be in for something of a tongue-lashing on the topic..."
"I've been to see Madam Hot Stuff, and she's forgiven me," Gabriel forestalled him.
"That is just as well," confided Hades, "Although you may get something of a lecture, nonetheless."
"I almost got more than a lecture from Isis," Gabriel gestured at his armour, "I thought we were going to have a serious diplomatic incident there for a moment..."
"We're having one right now!" yelped Crowley, as he staggered to his feet with the two smaller pups still romping around him, expressing their love, "Call your bloody dogs off!" He scowled and brushed himself down. With a squawk, Dennis bounced awkwardly into the air, and landed on his shoulder. Crowley sighed.
"Allow me to introduce my nephew..." began Gabriel.
"The demon, or the bird?" asked Hades politely.
"Oi!" yapped Crowley.
"Heh heh, pigfucker," chortled Dennis, bobbing his head in amusement. "Polly wannan uncle!"
"Be fair, Crowley," shrugged Gabriel, "One of my kids is a serpent, one is a wolf, one is an eight-legged horse, so it's a reasonable question. They understand complicated family trees, and Daddy Issues, here."
"When you've been eaten and regurgitated by your own father, you learn not to make assumptions," nodded Hades. "I don't know how many times I said to Lucifer, 'Go and make peace with your brother Michael, because one day, your father may eat him, and he'll be gone, and it will be too late'."
"He shared the baklava that Persephone sent him with Michael, in The Cage," Gabriel informed his friend, "So you can tell her that she had a hand in starting the process."
"That will please her enormously. But we have met before, have we not, King Crowley?" Hades grasped Crowley's forearm, not seeming to mind that his sleeve was soaked with doggy dribble."
"You have?" Gabriel's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"Yes, unfortunately," grumbled Crowley, "And the canine welcome was just as uncouth."
"You are welcome in my house," Hades led the way to his residence, "Seffy will be glad to see you again, Gabriel, and I look forward to an update on how Kerberos's litter are doing, Your Majesty."
"Shouldn't we be asking about the dogs?" Crowley muttered to the angel.
"We will," Gabriel assured him, "But we have to eat first."
"I thought we were on an urgent mission!" snapped the King of Hell.
"We are," Gabriel replied, "But, well, first, we gotta eat. It's just a Greek thing, okay? You visit, you gotta eat. Even if you're on an important mission, you talk about it over food. Persephone won't let us leave until we're stuffed to the point of bursting. It's just the way they do things here. If the cosmos were collapsing, Zeus would be like 'Brothers and sisters of Olympus, we must act to prevent this immediately! Just as soon as we've had a couple of courses of seafood, a meat snack, and pastries with the coffee'. It's just how they roll."
"Polly wanna pastry!" enthused Dennis, flapping his wings and whacking Crowley about the head and shoulders.
"Ow! Ow! Stop it, you bird-brained... bird!" he protested, trudging along in a resigned fashion.
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"Polly wanna kourabiethe!" enthused Dennis, as their hostess put another shortbread cookie in front of the vulture. Persephone smiled to see her guests enjoying the sweets.
"Astonishingly, I must agree with Dennis," nodded Crowley, somewhat cheered by the proffering of delicious pastries and good coffee, "These are wonderful, madam, you have a true talent. Eeeeeep!" He let out a little squeak as he felt something damp on his leg; one of the dogs had worked its muzzle into his lap, and was looking up at the cookie he held with big brown eyes. "Stop it! Shoo! Shoo!"
"Ohhhhh, ditch this guy and marry me," crooned Gabriel around a mouthful of baklava, "My family's just as screwed up as yours, so you'll feel right at home."
Persephone laughed. "You should've seen the fuss my mother made when I eloped with Hades," she told them, "She would have an absolute fit if I left for a different pantheon altogether! Besides which," her expression turned stern, "What sort of a friend would I be if I did that to Kali? After the heartache you put her through. You're lucky you're still in one piece, after you just showed up like that. Isis is not at all happy with you, Taz still thinks you should be thrown from the highest pyramid, and Artemis wants to use you for target practice."
"You know about our, er, travels, already?" asked Crowley.
"The Sisterhood," sighed Gabriel. "Their network runs faster than the speed of outrage. It defies Einsteinian physics."
"Athena considered training her owl to assail you," Persephone added. "Given her patronage of warriors, and the fact that your Waiting dog once pulled out some of its tail feathers, I would not take the threat lightly."
"Great," griped Gabriel, "Not content just to call me a pig, she wants to play Angry Birds for real."
"Heh heh, pig...lover," Dennis rasped, suddenly capable of minding his language when he didn't want to offend the person who kept putting sweet treats in front of him. "Polly wanna interesting conversation! And some baklava."
"So, just how much grovelling do I have to do, exactly?" whined Gabriel. "It would be a whole lot more efficient if we just got you and your galpals all together, then I can grovel to all of you at once. You can throw your drinks in my face, slap me, and, and, and, owl me, and tell me what a selfish thoughtless asshole I am, then let me know when total grovellage has reached satisfactory levels."
"I'm sure that Kali will notify you when you have made it up to her," Persephone waved a hand dismissively.
"Heh heh, Richard cranium," chortled Dennis over his sweets.
"Now tell me about your Infernal Pack," Hades enthused, turning to Crowley, "I'd have picked Ippeas as the Alpha, he was certainly biggest. Did you convince your Dominican to train them?"
"Oh yes," Crowley lapsed into glumness again, "What a happy, playful bunch they were, with teeny weeny cute little eyes, and teeny weeny cute little ears, and teeny weeny cute little Hellhound puppy teeth that ruined a perfectly good suit. Dominican Dean renamed the biggest one Chevy, and got them fetching Damned souls. Of course, he used me as a training aid, and that suit will never perform surgery again, either..."
"In fact, it's one of that litter that brings us to see you," Gabriel cut in, "Not that a few rounds of dolmades and pastries aren't reason enough."
"I was wondering what the child of Yahweh's Adversary was doing travelling with one of His firstborn," admitted Persephone. Crowley squirmed a little to have his familial connection with Lucifer recognised.
"We're on a mission from dog," stated Gabriel, "Or more accurately, after dog. We got a Waiting soul and a full-blood Hellhound gone visiting, and we're trying to catch up with them. That's how we almost ended up going mediaeval on the Field of Reeds..."
"You don't mean Belisario, do you?" interrupted Hades, smiling broadly.
"Yes! Yes! That's him!" confirmed Crowley, pushing one of the huge pups' nose away as it gave up on emotional blackmail and went for distraction tactics by shoving its tongue into his ear. "Yeeeeek! He was Belisario, aka Belisarius, Alpha Hound of the Infernal Pack, before that thieving Winchester bastard summoned him away, abducted him and turned him into a Hunter's dog, the miserable arsehole. Stop tasting me!" He dropped a bit of almond pastry crust, and the dog followed it.
"Has he been here?" asked Gabriel.
"Yes, he has," replied Hades. "Very recently. I do like to receive visits from Kerberos's whelps. We don't lose interest in them just because they've left the kennel. I remember him when he was born, a tiny little ball of fluff, the very image of himself..."
"Image of himself?" echoed Gabriel, confused.
"Jimi Senior is his own great-grandfather," sighed Crowley, "The breeding of supernatural dogs is very complicated. I've seen his pedigree. It would've made M.C. Escher dizzy."
"Very precocious, too," Hades went on, sounding as proud as the breeder of any prize-winning animal, "Weaned himself onto Damned souls when his eyes were barely open..."
"Well, that precocious little ball of fluff is stampeding through the pantheons, causing mayhem and uproar," griped Crowley, taking out a handkerchief and dabbing fruitlessly at the drool marks on his suit, "And worst of all, he's taken my poor bewildered little Gedda with him..."
"One of his grand-whelps?" asked Hades. "One of Kerberos's last litter, the smallest bitch-pup? I thought I recognised her."
"Yes! That's her!" Crowley confirmed, "My dear little Gedda! Oh, my poor lost little doggy."
"Oh, that's a Nordic name," smiled Persephone, "Did you name her for someone in your uncle's Aesir family?"
"Er, it's short for Getoutofit," Crowley explained, "But she's been led astray by that marauding monster, corrupted by that incorrigible idiot, drawn into peril by that rampaging reprobate..."
"She's been cuddled and fed treats by half a dozen other pantheons and made herself right at home wherever she goes," Gabriel rolled his eyes at Crowley's melodramatics. "But we really do need to fetch them; Jimi should be Waiting for his Hunter, and a Hellhound on the loose, even one as adorable as Gedda, has already caused a stir that will have Danael writing curt notes for a fortnight, and poor Denariel the Guardian of Companions writing scrolls of apology. Then Castiel will have to countersign for any cleaning expenses."
"Are they still here?" asked Crowley anxiously.
"I'm afraid not," Hades smiled, "They romped around with Kerberos and the pups, and I'm afraid I did indulge them a bit..."
"They stole the gyros off the spit," Persephone reminded him, "And Gedda made herself right at home in a tray of galaktobouriko – ate half of it, then fell asleep."
"Where did they go?" demanded Crowley.
"I cannot say," Hades told them regretfully. "It's not the first time Belisario, your Jimi Senior, has come to visit. He comes, then he leaves."
"Just like his Hunter," griped Crowley, as Gabriel elbowed him viciously and Dennis chortled.
"However, I could summon the Sibyl, and ask her," Hades suggested.
Persephone let out a groan. "You know she mainly does gossip columns and celebrity watching these days," she complained, "For the Aegean Oracle. If you want to get anything useful out of her, you have to wade through pages and pages of who's wearing what, who's fatter than whom, and who's appeared where as a bird to trying to impregnate which unsuspecting virgin with twins. And she can't even speak plain Greek."
"Well, as an oracle, she's supposed to speak in convoluted riddles and complicated symbolism," Hades pointed out.
"It's got nothing to do with riddles," humphed Persephone. She turned to her visitors. "The thing about her living in a bottle? It's a figure of speech. There are some days she's had so much to drink, she should slosh when she walks. Look, she's nice enough, and great fun at a dinner party, she's such a terrible gossip, but the minute she opens her mouth and starts to describe what she's 'seeing', well, it's all English to me."
"Nonetheless, she is our best lead," Hades reminded his wife, "So I shall send for her." He gestured to a servant, who left, presumably to call for the presence of the obtuse oracle. "Meanwhile," he smiled widely, "Tell me, Gabriel, when was the last time you hit the water?"
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As the speedboat tore past on the Styx once more, Crowley grudgingly returned the wave from the two water-skiers whizzing along behind it. Grumbling to himself, he sauntered along the bank until he found the ferry pulled up out of the water. A glum-looking figure sat, wrapped in a dark cloak, glaring out over the river.
"I suppose they'll throw your timetable out by at least an hour with this aquatic idiocy," commiserated Crowley, sitting down. He took out a flask, took a drink, and passed it over.
"I'll be lucky if I get away with just that," sighed Charon, taking the flask with a small nod of thanks. "I'll have to clear the backlog before I can get back on track. I just can't risk being swamped again. It was chaos last time. The Blessed Dead never think to ask their relatives to dress them in lifejackets for the journey, that's for sure." He passed the flask back. "So, how's tricks?"
"My dog's been abducted by her grandfather, Hell's Hierarchy want to kill me, and now I have a posse of Egyptian gods who'd cheerfully feed me to their crocodiles," sighed Crowley. "And to cap it all off, I've been adopted by one of Kali's vultures, who thinks he's a parrot."
"Pigfucker," rasped Dennis amiably by way of greeting.
"How do," Charon nodded to the bird. "So, business as usual, then," he shrugged. "Still, it's a mark of favour that your aunt let one of her sacred vultures leave with you, so she must hold you in high regard..."
"My what?" Crowley's eyes bugged.
"Your aunt," repeated Charon. "Your Aunt Kali. She is, you know, as consort of your Uncle Loki. Or Gabriel now, heh heh, and didn't he ruffle some feathers when that came out..."
"Is there anybody in a pantheon anywhere who doesn't know about this?" asked Crowley sourly. "I thought it was Kali's female friends who did the networking!"
"It's all over the glossies," Charon told him, reaching into the beached ferry to pull out a dog-eared magazine. The cover bore a headline in huge block text:
HE'S BACK – AND THEY'RE BACK TOGETHER!
Crowley snatched the publication. "What the... 'Exclusive to the Aegean Oracle, via The Sibyl'," he read, "And this - 'The Dancing Lady of Death reunited with her Trickster True-Love – we reveal the amazing angelic twist to their raunchy reunion!'." He riffled through a few pages. "What's this? 'Isis Vows Revenge On Absent Angel – I'll Feed Him To The Crocodiles, Threatens Beauty Of Egypt'." He turned a few more pages. " 'He's My Boy – Lucifer Acknowledges Successor'... 'Royal Romp With The King Of Hell: Sultry Sigrun Tells All!..." he dropped the magazine as though it had bitten him.
"So, she's your aunt," repeated Charon, with a grin.
"What the hell is this?" demanded Crowley, horrified, as Dennis fluttered to the ground and began to peck through the pages.
"It's the Sybil," Charon explained, as Dennis ruffled through the offending publication. "She's worked out that nobody really wants to know what's going to happen at some non-specific time, to some non-specific person, at some non-specific place; they want to know the juicy stuff that's happening to celebrities right now. People just love gossip; that doesn't stop once they're dead. And once you're dead, gods and goddesses are your celebrities. She's syndicated. They've got sources everywhere." He gestured to the magazine. "There's a very good recipe for roast pork in there, from your Great-Aunt Freya, and an article on beast-whispering from your Aunt Hel..."
"OoooOOOOoooh," Dennis leered, peering at one of the pages. "Pigfucker! Dangling from the torch sconces? Polly wanna watch!"
Crowley let out a sad little noise. "This was just supposed to be a diplomatic mission to find my dog," he sighed, "It was never supposed to include being molested by vixenous vikings, being assailed by a foul-mouthed fowl, having to dodge an avalanche of severed heads, awkward family reunions, having my suit ruined, being threatened with transformation into crocodile poo, or discovering that I'm fodder for a trashy magazine!" He drooped. "I suppose Xochi's chocolate beer was good, and the roast duck was delicious... you don't think that'll get written up as some tawdry encounter?"
"Probably," said Charon philosophically, "But don't take it too seriously. The Oracle is pretty tame, really. It's Playgoddess or Metropolitan you have to watch out for: they have centrefolds, and their seers have all been trained in anatomical drawing."
"Lucifer's bum," humphed Crowley.
Charon clapped him on the shoulder, and passed across his dog-eared roll-up. "We could go and have some lunch in Rome while these morons tire themselves out," he suggested, "Good food, good wine, voluptuous women..."
"Probably best we don't," Crowley replied mournfully, taking a long drag on the smoke and watching the water-skiers make another pass. Gabriel unfurled his wings, and rose into the air, his own version of paragliding. "It'd be splashed all over a cover somewhere as our Roman Holiday Man-Date, and I'm afraid that right now I just couldn't cope with that."
Poor Crowley - when trashy tabloids hit Hell, his afterlife will become even more uncomfortable...
You can find out all about Kerberos's puppies going off to be trained as Hellhounds by Dean in 'In Dog We Trust', including Crowley's suit-wrenching introduction to the little doggy who would adopt him.
A number of years ago, there was a jumps racehorse Down Here called Richard Cranium; how that one ever got approved beggars belief. Same goes for Far Call; surely these people should say these names out loud before they approve them? Or at least do a quick net search – that way, Blue Waffle might never have got through. They make Waikikamukau look positively tame.
I think Stewie can see the finish line on this one, so cheer him on with a review, because Reviews are the Delicious Greek Pastries To Snack On While You Tut With Disapproval Over The Glossy Magazines Of Life!