"I want t' t'ank ye all for havin' the Bograts here tonight. For most a yeh who's never heard a' us we'll have a wee introduction: This here is our baby brother, Aiden," the lead singer held his hand out to the lead guitarist, who waved. "On accordion, me brother Caderyn. Don' make fun of his accordion. Seriously, Caderyn, we need this gig. Caderyn? Ye listenin'?"
The accordion player made a show of adjusting his instrument.
"They have an accordion. That's so fuckin' lame," Nathan growled.
"On th' fiddle, me eldest brother Padraig!"
Nathan didn't know there were such things as electric violins, but the sleek black instrument Padraig held was plugged into a stack of amps behind him.
"Da always liked him best! Dirty fecker," the lead singer announced.
"They're dudes? You're sure?" Pickles whimpered. "They don't like, have horns n' shit?"
Nathan sighed and took the drummer's face in between large hands.
"Pickles. Dude. You are fucking high right now. You are tripping balls, in fact. Those are just a bunch of Irish jackoffs. You said you'd heard their music before and liked it."
"I am? I did? I did say that, right."
"On bass, me other brother Fion!"
The huge man waved to the crowd.
"An' last, but definitely least, on drums, Oengus!"
Oengus resembled the lead singer the most, even though the drummer seemed to have skipped shaving for most of the week and was content to let his black curls run wild.
"An' o' course, I am Phooka Aughisky!"
Nathan cast a look over at Toki. The young Norwegian had a strange gleam in his eye as he watched the Bograts launch into the charming Irish ditty 'Fuck You, I'm Drunk', followed by 'Kiss My Irish Ass', 'Ugly Drunken Woman', 'We Will Fight' and at least five different songs called 'Traditional Irish Drinking Song'.
"Afters de gig, I gonna says 'Hi' to hims!" Toki shouted. "T'anks him for de wishes ands all . . . see how he's doings."
Again, Nathan noticed a certain . . . sparkle in the band's rhythm guitarist. Like . . . . oh god . . . . oh god no . . . that wasn't healthy.
"Goddamnit, Toki, he's not a leprechaun! He just tricked you into sleeping with him! And even if he was, you just whored yourself out to him!"
"Ats dat points I would has sold myselfs for a hot shower ands a sandwich, Nat'an," Toki said in a strangely calm voice. "Phooka turneds my life around. And he was really gentles, too."
Nathan looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. Not because of the thought of gay sex, although he might have reserved half of a shiver for it later, but because of Toki's casual confession of being a willing prostitute. The young Norwegian seemed so silly and carefree it was hard to remember that he'd been through some shit with a capital 'S'.
"It's not healthy," Nathan growled. "I mean, if you . . . . huh . . . . like this guy, I'm just sayin' . . . expect to be disappointed. Not that I want you to be."
Toki's eyes widened and he gave the frontman a long look.
"N-Nat'ans, you . . . you's is cool if I likes guys, toos?"
"Eeehhhhhhhhhhgggggghhhhk," Nathan moaned. "Fuck. It's like . . . . fuck . . . I don't wanna watch you make out or anything, but shit . . . it's your life, you can fuck guys if you fuckin' want to, I guess."
"Oh, Nat'ans!" Toki threw his arms around the lead singer. "You don't knows whats its means dat's yous accepts me!"
"Oh God, don't fuckin' hug me!" Nathan growled. "If you're gonna come out of the closet or whatever I don't want pictures of you hugging me. It's gay." He thought about that statement. "Literally and figuratively."
"Oh, Nat'ans! If you ams accepting, everybody elses has to! Fucks yeah, I coulds gets fucked tonights!"
"For the love of fucking God," Nathan moaned in misery.
A Gear popped his head into Murderface's hotel room to check on the bass player.
"Oh, his Lordship puked," the Klokateer observed.
There was vomit across the bed and floor. The bed itself was vacant and the hood could hear the shower running.
A cleaning team came in and started to scrub stomach grease off of the floor. As they were working, a tall figure came out of the bathroom.
"Have this room ready for a seduction by the time I return," he ordered before sweeping out of the door.
The Gears paused and looked at each other before peering curiously at the door.
"'A seduction'? What did His Lordship mean by that?"
His companion didn't answer, just kept staring at the door.
"I mean . . . clean, sure, but . . . like should we get some roses 'n' shit? Wine or something? Isaac Hayes on the stereo?"
"'Seduction'?" The first Gear finally offered. "What happened to his lisp?"
As much as Nathan detested the very thought of it, he was starting to feel grudging admiration for one of the Bograts.
Lame as it seemed at first glance, playing the accordion looked really fuckin' hard.
You had like, a little keyboard on one side and a whole bunch of other little buttons on the other side and then you had to do the actual squeezebox part. And Caderyn played it fast enough to duet with his little brother on lead guitar.
And he was head banging at the same time; you'd think he'd bash his forehead on the accordion.
Also, - and Nathan probably noticed this because he was a lyricist himself - they were really sneaky with the lyrics. The instrumentals sounded like something the Beach Boys would sing, but the songs were called 'Wicked Suicide' and 'A Place for Hell'. The six brothers rocking out cheerfully while middle-aged tourists danced, singing:
'We get suicidal my soul
Sui - ci - dal
We get suicidal my soul
Sui - ci - dal
We get suicidal my soul
Sui - ci - dal'
Also, Nathan noticed they were steadily getting harder. The first volley of songs could be mistaken for Beach Boys/Jimmy Buffet songs if you didn't actually listen to the words, but as the audience connected with the band and got drawn into the music, things only got harder and darker.
Phooka discarded his microphone and held up a set of bagpipes.
The audience howled.
Twenty minutes ago eighty percent of this crowd had never heard of the Bograts. Now they sounded ready to start a riot over listening to the lead singer play his bagpipes. Caderyn dropped his accordion and picked up a banjo. Twenty minutes ago, Nathan would have sneered at the use of a banjo. Now he could have sworn the opening chords of the bagpipes were trying to bypass his brain and march straight to his feet with an order to dance.
Most of the restaurant was on its feet, dancing wildly and head banging. And this was a tour group of middle-aged Americans. Nathan just got the feeling he should back out of this crowd. On the way out, he grabbed Toki and Pickles by the shoulder and dragged them along.
Toki tore out of his grip and rushed back into the throng.
Pickles clutched tightly to his frontman.
"Dood . . . ." he sighed. "I gotta get some more of dis shit, 'cause I swear dose doods are fairies . . . ."
'Hey nana, hey nana, hey nana, hey nana hey na', Caderyn sang.
'!' Fion howled in a voice straight from the depths of Hell.
And somehow Nathan knew Pickles wasn't using slang for homosexuals. He knew the drummer meant actual fairies from Ireland. And not nice fairies, either. The kind they were thinking of in the 'We dare not go a-hunting for fear of little men' sense. Also, Nathan knew from his perusals of ancient texts that before fairy-hunters went out to ply their trade, they got fucking completely, Pickles-level wasted to protect against fairy Glamour.
It was very possible that the drummer was the only one present who could see the band on stage for what they really were.
. . . . now that Nathan realized that, they all had very pointy ears.
. . . . . . . fuck.
The vast majority of the lyrics were pure nonsense of the 'whey-hay- and up she rises' variety, but with six burly dudes roaring out the backbeat, you just got the feeling that your ass was about to be kicked. Somehow even the fiddle player managed to be intimidating.
"Hey. Heeeeeeeeey. Skwisgaar!" Nathan hissed.
Skwisgaar was standing in the doorway leading into the bandstand. The tall Swede rocked gently to the beat, ignoring all else around him. As Nathan watched, Mr. Humphries ran up and tried to push around Skwisgaar. When the lead guitarist swayed to the left, Matthias tried to shove around him, only to be trapped against the doorway when the Swede swayed back to the right. Matty tried to scrabble around Skwisgaar on the left, only to have the guitarist squish him against the pole on the other side. This happened a time or two more before the small blond let out a frustrated snarl.
"Get out of my way, you Swedish dildo-licker!" Matty howled against Skwisgaar's back.
The small immortal lunged back with one arm and a glowing, golden shaft appeared in his hand.
JB pushed through the crowd behind the two men and raised a hand.
"Matty! Is that a good idea?" she squeaked in a surprisingly high voice.
Matthias ignored her and stabbed the love arrow into Skwigaar's back. The world's fastest guitarist stopped swaying to the beat.
"Uh . . . ." Johnny Betty muttered. "Is . .. . uh . . . is that supposed to happen?"
Matthias looked up to see the supernatural weapon lodged in Skwisgaar's back, spitting sparks.
"Um . . . they usually dissolve by now," Matty said.
A long-fingered hand reached over Skwisgaar's shoulder and plucked the offending arrow from his back.
"Uh . . ." Matty said, backing away.
A certain glow overtook the guitarist as he studied the love arrow casually before turning to look at the young godling. One of the Swede's eyes now blazed brightly while the other was a black void.
"Oh . . . . . . oh shit . . . ." Matthias breathed.
"Tell me, little one," Skwisgaar purred in flawless English. "Was this what you were trying to do?"
The Swede flung the arrow towards the stage.
"Phooka! Hey, Phooka! Remembers me?" Toki crowed, climbing up onto stage.
Phooka looked down at the Dethklok guitarist, letting his chanter slip from his mouth. The love arrowed thudded solidly into the kelpie's chest and dissolved. Matthias could feel the new love taking hold in his husband's heart.
JB's jaw sagged open.
The American Cupid fought against the instinct to throw himself at the being in Skwisgaar's body and scream: 'Why did you do that, you fucking dick?' because Cupid was suddenly the newcomer in this particular game and every movement was a test. And when you failed this kind of test, you didn't get to come back and try again later.
Somehow he managed to tamp down the blind rage and sighed, straightening his suit.
"Thank you," Matthias said way more calmly than he felt. "I almost lost my head there."
"In more ways than one," the Old God confirmed.
Matty hoped the little chill that ran down his spine didn't show.
"I really can't let little things like that break my concentration," the American Cupid stated. "I mean, we are all on the same side here, aren't we?"
"We're all on our own side, Little One," Skwisgaar stated. "That is what it means to be a God. We just both to happen to be facing the same foes."
"My enemy's enemy is my friend," JB offered.
The god possessing Skwisgaar looked over at the new Ixchel like he had never seen her before. A small smile tugged at his lips.
"A virgin fertility goddess and a heart-broken God of Love," he observed. "Why would I consider an alliance with the likes of you?"
Matthias stared up at the one-eyed god. The one-eyed god sneered down at Matthias.
"Look, let's just save some time here; why don't you boys just whip 'em out and measure 'em?" Johnny Betty inquired.
Matthias tore his gaze away from the elder god. JB was managing to look completely and utterly bored.
"Excuse me?" the one-eyed god inquired.
"We all know how this is going to end; you're going to sit there and bash Cupid for being the new kid on the block and Cupid's going to defend himself as politely as possible 'cause he has class and I'm going to have to sit here and watch you two posture like roosters. Men."
"You must be Ixchel," the elder god said, taking her hand and kissing it delicately. "Your last incarnation was an uppity woman as well."
JB bared her teeth in a grin.
"Why thank you! And you must be Odin. Or do you prefer Mr. Wednesday?"
"It wasn't a compliment," Odin said.
"Maybe not to you," JB returned cheerfully. "It's always good to know I'm pissing off the right people."
This earned a grudging snort of amusement.
"You hope to mildly irritate me to compensate for me taking away your compatriot's one true love?" Odin cast a glance at Matthias, who watched the tall pair impassively.
"Yeah . . . he's a love god; you think he can't fix it?" JB asked. "You just spilled coffee on his suit."
Nathan suddenly tore through the doorway, shoving Skwisgaar/Odin against JB/Ixchel in his headlong rush to the stage.
The elder god didn't move away from the young goddess.
"Well, if I only irritated dear Cupid, perhaps you'd like to find somewhere to become better acquainted, Ixchel."
Every iota of her being below the waist screamed 'Fuck yeah, let's do this!' However, JB had never let her loins rule her head and she didn't plan to start tonight.
"You meant to hurt him, though," she pointed out. "Me and Cupid have been tight for a long, long time. The great thing about being an uppity bitch is you get to have standards. So I'm going to tell you something I bet you don't hear a lot, Odin: No."
JB wasn't aware of Matthias wringing his hands together in worry. If she could have moved, she would have wanted to do the same thing.
"If your standards are going to remain so high, you will stay a virgin sex goddess, Ixchel," Odin announced.
"I'm okay with that," JB said pragmatically. "If I had to choose, I'd rather be a frigid bitch with pride than an easy fuck with none."
"Interesting choice for a fertility goddess."
"Hey, in an ideal world, I'd have lots of really great lovers who respected my power and gave me my space. But if I had to choose sex or respect, it's respect every time."
Odin gave a grudging little smile. Then, abruptly, the blazing blue/black void eyes were gone, replaced by the soused gaze of Dethklok guitarist Skwisgaar Skwigelf. For just a moment, a pattern of blue swirls and dots around ancient runes glowed around the guitarist's left eye.
"Heys, gorgeous, yous wants-" Skwisgaar started.
JB tossed him aside, suddenly looking a lot less calm.
"Holy Shit," Matthias began in what was probably a less-than-comforting tone. "Are you okay?"
The new goddess was visibly shaking as she groped her way to an empty chair and sat down.
"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod . . ." she whimpered.
"I wondered if you knew who the fuck you were talking to!" Matthias hissed. "Talk about posturing like roosters! I could take fucking lessons from you!"
The love god pulled a golden cigarette case from his vest pocket, followed by a gilded Zippo. He lit up a cancer stick and took a deep draught. Matty glanced down at his shaking friend and held out the lit cigarette.
"Here. It'll make you feel better."
"D-Don't smoke . . ." JB's eyes, wide and unfocused, finally calmed enough to look at her friend. "I - I didn't know you did."
"They aren't regular cigarettes," Matthias said. "It's not weed, either, don't give me that look!"
JB delicately took the cigarette and puffed on it experimentally. Her stance calmed in an instant.
"You know the Love-In-Idleness flower? The one the fairies use for love potions? That's this stuff," Matty said, retreiving another one for himself.
"It smells like cupcakes baking," JB observed, taking another toke. "So . . . um . . . . what are you going to do about that?"
The young goddess pointed to the stage, where Toki was holding Phooka's hand and talking excitedly to him. The kelpie looked half-flustered, half-pleased at the attention and fiddled with his bagpipes nervously.
"He always wanted to learn the bagpipes," Matthias sighed.
"I mean - you can fix it, can't you?"
"Yeah," Matty said listlessly.
An arrow appeared in his hand. Unlike the shining, golden arrows he previously used, this one was dull, gray lead. The arrowhead - previously smooth and shaped like an inverted heart - were now jagged and curved. It was still shaped like an inverted heart, but a gap zigzagged up from the point, making it the symbol of a broken heart and also looked like something you never, ever wanted to get hit with.
Matthias put his cigarette in his mouth and a complicated compound bow in shades of pink and white appeared around the ugly arrow. The American Cupid pulled back on the bow, taking aim on Phooka's heart.
The kelpie was still focused on Toki. The Dethklok guitarist leaned in to whisper something in one pointed ear. Phooka's expression flickered to one of closely guarded hope. It was the expression of someone who's life basically turned to shit but now there was glimmer of light through the cesspool. Experience up until now stated that the light at the end of the tunnel was probably a train but maybe, just maybe, it was something nice this time.
Matthias lowered his bow.
"I can't do it," he admitted. "He looks too happy."
"Are you serious?" JB yelped. "That's Phooka! You two belong together!"
The bow and arrow disappeared from Matthias's hands.
"What right do I have to break his heart again?" he asked, turning away from the scene.
On stage, Toki was tackled by Nathan, who proceeded to drag his bandmate off of the stage, yelling about waiting until the gig was over.
JB flicked away her cigarette and stood. She was not about to let Matty make a mistake this big. One little hiccup in the grand plan was not about to -
"Goddamnit, Toki, if you're going to come out of the closet, don't fucking do it on stage!" Nathan thundered.
The audience howled at this declaration, but not as loud as Toki himself.
"I wasn'ts goings to comes out publicslys at alls, Nat'an! I fuckings kills you!"
Toki punched Nathan, who punched him back, knocking him into Phooka. It was against Irish tradition to be near a fight without being involved in it directly, so Phooka dropped his bagpipes and slugged Nathan. Several Gears rushed on stage and started beating the kelpie. The rest of the Bograts abandoned their instruments and charged into the fray. The concert descended into a riot.
JB sighed. Okay; one or two little snags in the grand plan . . . there probably wasn't a whole lot she could do at the moment. In the middle of a screaming riot probably wasn't the best place to convince Phooka to talk it over with Matty.
The young goddess retreated to a safe distance, where other clear-headed people were watching the fireworks. Well, maybe clear-headed wasn't a good word; Pickles was sprawled in a chair, too.
Murderface was approaching the group. At first JB thought he was going to get Pickles, but the bass player was making a beeline for a dumpy, red-headed woman. She saw him coming and sighed.
"For th' last fuckin' time, I didn't steal your damn-" she began.
JB didn't get to learn what Murderface thought was stolen, for the bass player seized the redhead, dipped her over his arm and treated her to a kiss so passionate and epic she expected to see Atlanta burning in the background.
When the pair finally parted, the red-head's blue eyes were wide.
"B-Ben?" she whispered. "Wh-What did you do?"
"Dixie, my darlin'," 'Murderface' purred in a cultured Southern accent. "When have you ever known me to not take what I wanted?"
Dixie didn't answer as 'Murderface' swept her up into his arms and carried her towards the hotel proper.
"Wow," Pickles observed. "This is some really good shit."