Chapter 5: Land of Gods and Monsters
A knocking drew Castiel's fractured attention back to his vessel.
He opened his eyes with effort. The prison was a darkened chamber that seemed to sway unsteadily, making the chains ring. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling. Unusually, it was lit, although its effect was lost among the heavenly glow that Castiel was unwillingly emitting. He could see that the heavy, rusted iron gate was open. The man standing just outside the door was knocking on it, quite tentatively.
He wore plain clothes and had an unimpressive physique. If it wasn't for his grotesque face… no, a mask, Castiel realized. It was a welding mask. Castiel had seen men wearing those in the past, to protect their eyes and faces from flash burn and hazardous sparks. However, he had never seen anyone use such a device to protect themselves from heavenly power.
"Hello Brian," Castiel finally spoke. For it could only be the Zanna.
"Hi there." Brian waved from the threshold, voice slightly muffled. He seemed reluctant to enter the chamber. His covered face bobbed a little as he scanned Castiel's form, from chained wrists to chained wings. "Are you in any pain?" he asked in a soft voice.
"Why… are you here?" Castiel said with great effort.
"Um, I thought you wanted to know how the kids are doing. Okay, that is, they're doing okay. They're happy," Brian said. "I just thought you wanted to know." He fiddled nervously with his helmet. "I'm sorry we had to put you through this, I didn't realize it was this bad." There was a heavy sigh behind the mask. "But we're doing the right thing, you've got to know that, right? The kids always come first. I know your people didn't want to help, and that's not your fault. You're Castiel, everybody knows you care about humanity. So you of all people have to understand, you have to."
"You… don't know." Castiel closed his eyes for a moment, focusing all of his attention on his vessel's ability to speak, knowing he had to be clear, to bring the message across. "You don't know you're hurting them-"
"What? No!" Brian exclaimed, scandalized. "No, never. We're Zanna. We don't hurt kids, not ever." He stepped into the chamber finally, all nervousness gone. Finger poised as if to poke Castiel in the chest, he said, "I'm doing my job. Do you know how many times I had to watch my charges…" Brian gave a shuddering breath. "Until this whole situation with the undead is resolved, and the world gets better, I'm going to make sure my kids get to be kids."
"They don't want to… stay." Castiel pushed the words out. "The others...where... do they... go?"
"Um, back. Of course?" The Zanna sounded baffled. "Or anywhere else they want to go. I'm always hoping more will want to stay, we try so hard to give them a good home… But we take them back if they don't want to stay, of course we do."
"We? Not… you?"
"We all have our little functions," a new voice suddenly exclaimed, causing Brian to jump, startled.
"Y'know how it is with management, nobody tells you anything, really." The newcomer rolled his eyes. It was Castiel's normal visitor, a portly little man who today was dressed in a garish combination of gold, red and green. He was carrying giant garden shears in one hand, the sight of which caused Castiel's feathers to shrink close together. "Brian you silly goose, what are you doing back here?"
"Tal." Brian looked as guilty as a huge blank mask could look. "I was just explaining the situation to Castiel-"
"Pfff, you'd be better off explaining table manners to werewolves," the short man said, waving his hand dismissively. He walked into the chamber and grasped Brian's shoulder, bodily steering him away. "Come on now, you've got work to do. What were you saying about that little one from that group in Atlantic City? No need to bother old Castiel, can't you tell he's busy?" He pushed Brian out the exit, waving him away merrily. The iron gate closed with a heavy clang.
Tal's smile remained as he turned his attention back to Castiel, but there was something strained in it. His breath was fogging, despite the comfortable temperature in the room. For the first time Castiel sensed an aura of anger in him. Not a Zanna, Castiel thought to himself. Not with that air of malice hiding under the cheerful mask.
The chubby, friendly visage wavered, and suddenly Castiel was confronted with an older face: naked skin pale-blue and bloated, like a corpse that was left in the water and forgotten, eyes bulging and mouth full of razor sharp teeth. The vision snapped back, giving way to a silly little man in suspenders and colorful clothes.
"Tlaloc," Castiel sighed, dismayed, for he suddenly knew exactly what had happened to those missing children. The Aztec gods were always fond of human sacrifices. Tlaloc, more than his brothers and sisters combined, preferred the young.
"Aw, shoot," Tlaloc said, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's always harder to hide when I'm cranky." He pointed the shears at Castiel. "Which is your fault, by the way, I can't believe you turned the whole thing off and on again. Now the Zanna's going through a nervous breakdown. He's already started asking too many questions. Still, we're having fun while it lasts."
Tlaloc stepped closer. "I'm not a bad guy, you know? I like to help people."
"You...eat... children," Castiel said roughly.
"Not all the time!" Tlaloc protested. "We all have to eat. I mean, not you." He patted Castiel's wing. "But most of us." He grumbled, "you angels have it easy. You come in ready-made neat little packages. But my kind? Humans created me. They decided what to feed me, and they decided to forget me. And let me tell you, starving to death is not cool."
"Your kind died… out."
The Aztec god nodded. "True. I was dead-slash-asleep for a long time. Imagine my surprise when I woke up to all of this." He gestured vaguely. "A couple of humans were hiding out in a museum, someplace with lots and lots of artifacts from the good old days. A fight broke out - naturally - and someone managed to bloody one of my statuses, enough to wake me up." He chuckled. "Boy, they were not expecting that."
Tlaloc sighed sadly. "I got by, after that, but I was always so very hungry. Humans just don't want what I can give them these days. Rain? Fertility? Not really in high demand in today's market. And the few souls they are willing to part with? Eww, the things are so heavy with corruption, I might as well starve."
He perked up and added. "But then you showed up! I was just about to eat that yellow girl. She drew you in, remember? Man," he exclaimed. "Your kind's just bursting with power. I could've stored hundreds and hundreds of sacrifices in you, back in the old days. Nowadays the pickings are slim. The Zanna's been helping with that. Though lately he's been bringing more and more strays along. Yuck. Still, I'll be sorry to get rid of him."
Castiel closed his eyes. The old god was using Brian to bring him children, whose souls were young enough to be unburdened and without much corruption. Castiel sensed that many of the children taken did not fit that description anymore. A few had taken lives already, in self-defense or otherwise. Yet the act of bringing them to the god, even unknowingly, must be enough to measure them as sacrifices.
"I'm probably boring you. You know how it is, as the years go by, you get wistful." Tlaloc stepped behind Castiel, running his fingers along the displayed feathers. Castiel's wings, the only exposed part of him that was truly him, shivered.
"I'm sorry I have to do this," Tlaloc told him. "Honestly, I am. But I can't have you flying after me if you ever get loose. It's just a precaution, you see?" The shears made an ominous sound as they opened. "Also, your little stunt with the lights got me thinking: I'm pretty sure I can keep you running just fine without the extra juice. Thanks, by the way." Castiel felt him position the shears over one of the long flight feathers. "Tell me if this hurts, will you?"