Here's the Christian chapter, everybody! Glad with how this one turned out. I think it's my favorite chapter of this little side story, so I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know what you thought in the reviews!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters (except the OC's) Percy Jackson & The Olympians, Heroes of Olympus, or Trials Of Apollo. All of that belongs to Rick Riordan.
6. Believer Of The Church
Sigurd had never been to America.
Sure, he'd heard all about it. He'd seen pictures of the big cities, the attractions, the food, etcetera, but he'd never been. Never really had a reason to.
But now he has one. It may be his most important mission yet. Recruiting the Christian pantheon.
Now, Sigurd's not going to pretend that statement doesn't sound insane. It does. For one, it's the most popular religion on the planet. Well over two billion people follow it, which is about a quarter of the world's population. And that's a relatively low number historically. Years ago, nearly the entire world applied themselves to the belief.
And of course, Sigurd saw the appeal. It was probably the most...mainstream religion, if he had to put it a certain way. It's the easiest to get into, and perhaps the easiest for a common person to believe. There's one book, it's a long one of course, but there's only one. Not several texts that don't even remain consistent with one another. It also has an interesting idea about forgiveness and redemption. Reading the Bible, Sigurd found out this was in fact the core of the belief, which fascinated him. The goal isn't to fight at all, in fact the goal is to show compassion to your enemies, and even pray for them. He found it oddly intriguing, even if he didn't agree with it.
He'd never given any of it much thought until all of this pantheon stuff happened. He knew it would be wise to see what he could do, but then he had to argue with himself and ask a lot of questions. Firstly, Christianity is a monotheistic religion, one of the main three, the others being Islam and Judaism. So that means they don't have a swarm of gods, they only have one. The god of everything. The good stuff, like creation, happiness, healing, peace...and the bad stuff, like death, destruction, and sickness.
Before he ever read anything, he'd heard talk about the figure called the 'Devil.' Sigurd figured he was an opposing god, maybe the god of hell, like a Hades type figure. But come to find out, his power pales in comparison to God himself, and he's not a god. He's an angel, that once followed God. He was perhaps the best of them. According to the text, his name was Lucifer, and he was the most beautiful of all angels, powerful, and led the others in song and worship.
But the story goes that the attention and power he had grew an ego, and he tried to overthrow God, taking some of the other angels with him in the process. God, being invincible and omnipotent, simply cast Lucifer and the angels to the Earth.
Sigurd was fascinated, because it's unlike most other pantheon beginnings. So many concepts are introduced, so many stories with different lessons are weaved throughout the massive book.
Another thing that took him off guard was that, according to the book, Hell was never meant for people. It was always meant for Satan. And Satan himself doesn't actually rule or reside in Hell, he resides the Earth. One of his many names is 'the Prince of the Air' which confused Sigurd, until he realized it meant that he inhabits the very air around you. Just two things that stuck out to him.
He could go down several rabbit holes, but the point is, he finds the entire thing rather interesting. And he can hardly believe such a thing exists. Not because it sounds crazy, no, it sounds about as crazy, or even less so, than his own pantheon, or the Greeks. It's because there's so much going on in all of them, that there can be no way they coexist with each other. Maybe in the same universe, on different planets, but on the same planet? It just sounds impossible.
The only thing he's interested in, is allies. Power. He needs power. He has Viraj now, which is a great step. Viraj is very strong, and Sigurd trusts him. Now he needs somebody else to back that up. There aren't many feats performed in the Bible by God himself, like the other heads of pantheons, but in the beginning, it describes his creation of the Earth in depth.
Now, if he created the Earth, he created the moon, and the surrounding planets, and the universe, and the entire multiverse, maybe even further. Sigurd didn't know, and he didn't know how that correlated with all the other tales of creation. Of Primordials and abstract beings like Ananke or Chronos or Chaos, but he assumed if the Christian God was completely omnipotent, which is stated throughout the entire book, then he's at least on par with those beings, and most likely even more powerful. The ability to do literally anything in an instant is, well...unstoppable. The best you can do at that point is a stalemate, if you have the same ability.
But, like before, the fact remains that he had no children. Other than Jesus, but that's kind of tricky to say, because it's implied that Jesus is just an avatar of God. He's flesh and blood, yes, his mortal death proves that, but he had powerful abilities, so it was like he...hosted God. It's difficult to describe, but it's like God took a piece of himself and made it human. Doesn't count as a demigod. He didn't have sex to create Jesus. In fact, a virgin gave birth to him.
So that puts Sigurd in a bind. If there are no demigods, then it's going to be pretty damn hard to recruit any Christians to help him. He can't recruit angels, because they're practically the same. Untouchable, unreachable beings that have their own business going on. No children either, at least...not in a long time. It's mentioned briefly near the beginning that some of the fallen angels cast out of Heaven had relations with humans, spawning giants. Sigurd found that interesting. Angel plus human equals giant. Go figure.
But apparently that doesn't happen anymore. So what can he do? Are there believers blessed by God that have abilities? Sigurd spent a short period of time watching preachers "heal" people, and perform "miracles" when in reality it was all for show to attract attention and swindle money. It made Sigurd sick, some of the religious leaders he'd seen.
He'd been to several large churches and listened to sermons from famous pastors. They talked a good talk, and the messages seemed genuine and powerful...but then came the scam. Sigurd understands the idea of the offering plate, and he's not against it. It's donation. They don't force you to give. But his problem comes from what they do with that money. Instead of giving back to the community, or helping those in need, you know, like their book says to do, the pastor instead uses it to buy a nice car. That, or a private jet. They love their private jets.
He'd wanted to reveal it all and bust the scam, or deliver justice somehow to these thieves, but he thought better of it. If their God was real, and what was said in the book was true, justice would be delivered at some point. Sigurd would call it karma. Like, do something bad and something bad will happen to you. That sort of thing.
Besides, it wasn't really his place. He didn't need to juggle two different things at once.
He did take some of that precious money though. A little telekinesis to the rich man's wallet was enough for him to live on while he kept looking, and he didn't feel bad about it in the slightest.
It had been months since he'd arrived, and he'd travelled all over the country, but found nothing that really caught his eye. He began to wonder if he was even in the right spot. He assumed America would be the center of the pantheon, like the Greeks, and it certainly had a lot of believers, but nothing that could help him in his fight for Ouranos.
Ah, who was he kidding. He shouldn't have even tried. He should've known there would be nothing supernatural or concrete to it, but he got excited because he assumed a God with omnipotent power...must have some very dangerous followers.
He couldn't blame them though. It would be selfish to do that. They just wanted to beleive, they wanted hope, and that was fine. They were just living their lives, as they should. If anything, they're normal. Sigurd's not. Sigurd is trying to find warriors to fight a god that up until last year, he thought a myth. Yeah, he's weird.
However, at his breaking point, at the end of his road, right when he said 'after this, I'm moving on.' Something happened.
He went to Alabama, one of the southern states, and tried something different. He went to a smaller church in a smaller town, and decided if he could find anything different there. It was his mistake really. He needed more variety. He had just assumed that bigger and fancier meant better. But honestly that's rarely the case.
The problem was, it was a Thursday, not a Sunday. So, there would be nobody in attendance, naturally.
Sigurd stood on a sidewalk across the street. It was the definition of a small town. Maybe a couple of thousand people in its population, a few stores, a few restaurants, a barber shop, a bar, and just generally, a little bit of everything. It was cozy, and Sigurd liked that. It's the kind of place where everybody knew everybody.
And the church seemed to reflect that. Sigurd had only been in town for a night. He checked in to a tiny off the roadside motel and got a lot of odd looks. No different than any of the other places he'd been to, but somehow here, he felt obligated to blend in. So he got the simplest, cheapest set of clothes he could find. A faded, military green t-shirt, tattered jeans, old tennis shoes, and a trucker's hat. When he'd looked at himself in the mirror, he almost laughed. Sigurd rarely laughs, but the sight was so silly it almost brought it out from the gut. The hat covered his red hair almost completely, the shirt wasn't so loose that it was uncomfortable, but it hung well off his skin and had a couple of holes in it, and the jeans looked like they'd been dragged through the mud. But judging by the way other people in the south dress, he was fitting right in.
People were hard workers down here. He noticed that. Not too many on their phones, which he appreciated as well. They didn't really worry about materialistic things or the way they looked. They just...woke up and did their job.
He hung up his cloak and cutlass in the room's closet and walked about a mile down the street. That's where he was now, staring at it.
The church was small. Maybe as big as an average high school auditorium, made of brick, and that which wasn't brick was painted white, all topped off by a steeple with a bell inside.
It was maybe a hundred feet from the next place to it, which was the laundromat, surrounded by a patch of grass just large enough to support it, and a small line of trees at the back. It had a small playground for children, and a cemetery for the dead. Interesting layout.
Sigurd figured it wouldn't hurt to get a closer look, and maybe see the interior, if it wasn't locked. So far, he'd found nothing. He was willing to do whatever at this point. Besides, he had nothing else to do today.
Sigurd looked both ways and walked across the street. Entering the other sidewalk, he found someone sitting on it, near the entrance walkway of the church. He...hadn't noticed them before. He was looking in this direction, yet he never saw the man. It surprised Sigurd, because as he got closer, the guy was quite noticeable.
He sat on his rear on the concrete, just inches away from the road, with his legs tucked underneath him. He looked like a mummy. Literally, underneath his worn, black coat, faded jeans and boots, the man was covered from head to toe with white cloth wrappings. As if someone stripped him naked and went in a circle with a huge roll of cloth. It covered absolutely everything, not a trace of skin could be seen.
Sigurd couldn't figure out what he was doing, until he saw the small cup next to him, with a few coins in it. He was homeless, begging for money. That was odd, he had no sign. Usually homeless people on the road had a sign or something.
Sigurd felt sorry for the man and felt a bit compelled to help him out. Give him some of that money he took from the pastors, and just talk to him a little, show that he cared. You never know, that could be what keeps them alive another day. As grim as it sounds, in some cases it's true.
He walked up and pulled out all the remaining cash he had left, about two hundred dollars, and put it in the cup.
The man turned at the noise and looked inside. When he saw what was in there, he almost jumped in disbelief. He reached in and grabbed the fold of money, holding it up to the sun and peering at it, almost like it wasn't even real, it was an illusion.
When he held it up, Sigurd got a view of his face. He was wrong, not all of his body was covered. There was a very small space, where the beginning of his nose and one of his brown eyes was uncovered. Sigurd noticed that around that eye, the skin was charred black and wrinkled. The sign of severe burns.
That's why he covered himself up. He'd been burned badly.
When the man overcame his shock, he spoke, "Am I dreaming, sir?"
Sigurd shook his head, "No, it's real. I want you to have it." He gestured to the spot next to him, "May I sit?"
The man nodded, letting out a huff of disbelief. "You can do whatever you want, man. You can make me your personal assistant for the day, I don't care."
His voice was deeper, but kind. Sigurd noticed that he had a slight accent, a bit southern, but a certain drawl to it in the way he said his r's. He couldn't quite place it.
"I just wanted to help, that's all." He shrugged, "I wish I could give more, but that's all I've got."
"Hey man, don't even worry about it. I really appreciate it." His exposed eye blinked nervously, "You sure you want me to have all of it? I mean...that's a lot of money. I don't wanna-"
Sigurd cut him off, "Not at all. You need it, I don't. That is all there is to it."
The man shook his head, still in awe. "Well...thank you, sir."
Sigurd could tell he was a good man. The fact that he was trying to give it back told him so. He stuck out his hand, "I'm Sigurd by the way, nice to meet you."
The man shook it, and Sigurd noticed that he had a firm grip. Firm, even for a demigod like himself, yet it didn't strike Sigurd at the time to make note of it.
"James." He said, "James Moffitt."
Sigurd nodded, "So you've lived here long?"
James sighed, "Whole life. Not a bad place to be raised though. Not bad at all." He couldn't side eye Sigurd, because he was facing him with his covered one, but Sigurd could tell that's what he was doing. "You're not from around here, are you?"
"Not at all." He almost smiled, "I'm from Sweden. The name and accent probably gave it away."
James shrugged, "Never been outside the state, sir, so I wouldn't know. To me you look just like anyone else."
"Well, normally I'd be wearing a hood and cloak. But I figured that would get me a few odd looks around here, so I decided to be more...in style."
James chuckled, giving Sigurd a scan with his good eye. "Yeah...I can tell. You got the hat on wrong."
Sigurd reached up to touch it, but didn't try to fix it. "I do?"
"Yeah. You're wearing it too tight, it's damn near covering your eyes." James reached up and loosened it, that way it was more comfortable on Sigurd's head. He hadn't realized he'd been covering his entire forehead. He figured the purpose of hats was to block the sun from your eyes.
"There you go. Now you look like a proper redneck."
"Is that a compliment?"
"Ah, take it how you want it, sir." James gestured to himself, "Guess you've already noticed that I don't really fit in. I look more like I should be in one of those graves out there than on the street."
Sigurd heard the resentment in his voice, "You look normal to me, James. I wasn't going to bring it up."
"Oh, don't worry about it. I know it looks weird. I get told everyday by everybody."
"They don't know how to look inward." Sigurd tightened his lips, "That's a rare ability these days."
"Ain't it the truth." James said.
Sigurd heard James's stomach grumble, "Are you hungry?"
"Ah, I'm used to it now. I've gone days without food plenty of times."
"Well you don't have too today." Sigurd said, gesturing to the cup, "Why don't we talk more over lunch? I don't have anything to do."
James thought about it and looked longingly at one of the family restaurants down the road. "Ain't had a burger in a while..."
"Come then." Sigurd said, standing up. "I suppose since the money is yours now, it's...your treat?" He gave a single laugh.
James got up too, taking the cup with him. "Huh, never bought anyone's meal before. Guess this'll be a first."
Sigurd and James found a seat near the back. It was a small grill, with booths and bar tables. Sigurd had never been in such a place before.
"You mentioned a burger before. Are they good?"
James raised the skin above his eye, "Huh? You've never had one?"
"I'm a foreigner, remember?"
"They don't have burgers over there?"
"Well...I'm far from civilization, if you know what I mean."
James nodded, "Oh, you live out in the country."
"Something like that." Sigurd contemplated telling him everything. It had been a while since Viraj, and he hadn't told anybody about it since. It was kind of getting to him, and he didn't realize how much weight it took off of him to talk about all of this. It was like a dose of relief, sharing the craziness with someone else.
But he bit his tongue. They both ordered and sat in silence for a minute. Whenever someone new would come in, they would stare right at James, give an odd look, and then turn away.
"Yeah I know they're looking." James said, "It always happens. Never was one for attention seeking, and I'd honestly rather be out of the spotlight, but...times ain't been easy. I hate begging, but I gotta do something to survive. Nobody'll hire me, nobody'll hardly look at me, really."
"I'm sorry. That's...unfair. More than unfair."
James pointed towards the church behind Sigurd, through the glass. "But ever since I was a boy, since my daddy took me for the first time, I've been going to that church. That's the only place I feel welcome in. The only place where people don't talk behind my back or look at me like I'm a freak."
"That's good." Sigurd noticed that under his coat, he could see a cross necklace around James's neck. Seeing that, he decided to reveal a little, "You know, I've been...looking at churches myself, and it always seems genuine on the outside, but as you get more involved, you find out about the corruption."
"Oh yeah, them preachers that are only in it for the money. I hate that stuff." James nodded, "Ain't like that for us though. I guess we're just lucky. Or us small town folk is different." The waiter brought them their drinks and James took a sip, "So you said you looking for a church? Why not check ours out? We welcome any visitors anytime."
Sigurd waved a dismissive hand, "Oh no, I'm not...a Christian." He was wondering if he should play along and learn more, or be honest and upfront. This was the first real, genuine interaction he'd had with a believer, so he didn't want to ruin it with his mumbo jumbo. However...he was on a tight mission here. If he didn't make a move soon, all would be pointless.
So he decided to throw caution to the wind. He probably wouldn't beleive him anyway.
"I'm actually more...Nordic, in belief."
"Huh?"
"I believe in the Norse gods. Odin, Thor, you know."
James just nodded, not weirded out or offended by it, which surprised Sigurd. "Oh, okay. So...what brings you here then?"
Sigurd swallowed hard, and probably loudly. He wasn't sure if he should do it, and he probably shouldn't. But in the next second, his mouth betrayed him.
"Listen James, I'm going to tell you something, and it's going to sound crazy. But I need to let it out. I've been cooped up with it for months, and I need to talk about it, even if you don't believe me."
"Uh...alright."
Sigurd took in a deep breath. Guess he was really doing this, then. "I'm actually a demigod, James. I'm the son of Odin, and I'm looking for warriors to help me fight a godly threat that could destroy the world. Warriors from other pantheons and religions, like the Mayans, the Japanese, the Hindus, all of them. I think our only chance is to ally ourselves together to take it down. The threat is a Greek sky god named Ouranos."
By the time he was done, he'd said it in one breath. James just looked at him, wide eyed.
"James?" Oh what did he expect? For him to instantly understand? If he was in James's position, it would've sounded like nonsense to him too.
Suddenly James said, "I-I gotta go."
"What?"
James got up quickly and walked out of the restaurant. Sigurd jumped up to follow.
"James, I know this sounds insane. I'm sorry for scaring you! I just needed to-"
James turned around and help up a hand, "Man, just...stay away, alright. Please, stay away."
Sigurd put up his own hands, "Okay, James. Okay. I'm not going to do anything, see? I'm not going to hurt you."
But Sigurd didn't even know he'd taken a step forward. That must've been some sort of trigger, because James's eye went wide and he yelled. After that, it was all a blur to Sigurd. He remembered seeing James's cross necklace glow a bright yellow light, and it blinded Sigurd, inducing a horrible, searing pain up the sides of his head. He hit his knees, and then woke up in his motel bed hours later. He knew it had been that long because when he jerked open the door, it was dark outside.
Sigurd went back inside and sat on the end of his bed, trying his best to figure out what and the hell happened. The memory came back to him slowly. He had explained the tip of the iceberg to James, then he said he had to go and shot up. Sigurd tried to follow, but when he got too close, there was this...very powerful light that knocked Sigurd out.
How did he end up on his bed then? Did James take him here?
Fool, that's the last question you should ask. You should be asking what that light was. Was it an angel protecting James? Was it something completely different? Was he actually witnessing, for the first time, some strange power from a believer?
He had to find out.
The next day, Sigurd walked across the street and looked for James at the church, but he didn't see him. He wasn't in his spot on the sidewalk, he wasn't inside, he was nowhere to be found. He even asked some of the people he saw in town. James being as noticeable as he was, he figured someone had spotted him. But no, nothing.
So Sigurd waited until Sunday, when church service was held. He decided that if James was as dedicated as he seemed, he would be there. Sigurd would catch him and ask him what happened.
Sunday came, and Sigurd followed the church sign's instructions to be there at ten in the morning. He was there. The place was full, with about fifty people or so, but no James. Sigurd hardly even paid attention to the pastor's sermon; he kept looking at the door. But nobody ever came through after it started.
Once it was over, and everyone was piling out, the pastor stood next to the door and shook everyone's hand, telling them goodbye and being generally friendly. Sigurd made sure to placed himself last so he could question him.
The man was short, old, and had white hair plastered on top of tan skin. His suit was nice, but not new. Sigurd could tell the man had owned it for decades.
His smile was genuine, and his handshake was gentle. He even had a charming southern accent to top it off. "Sorry I didn't welcome you before, we always love having visitors. Hope you'll come back and join us."
Sigurd nodded, "I'll definitely consider it." He then cleared his throat, "Pastor, I had a couple of questions to ask you, if you don't mind."
He didn't look puzzled at all. Instead, he actually smiled, like he loved hearing that statement. "Of course! I may not have all the answers, as...none of us really do, but I'll certainly do my best."
Sigurd chuckled. The pastor thought he was going to ask more about the Bible and such, but Sigurd wasn't here for such a thing. Not today at least. "I appreciate it, but that's not what I mean. I have a couple of questions about James Moffitt."
Now he looked confused. "Oh...how do you know James?"
Sigurd started walking slowly towards the pulpit, the pastor took the hint and followed. "He was the first person I met when I arrived. We talked a bit, and he invited me to come today. But he wasn't here."
"Oh, well I don't know what could be wrong. Maybe he was sick?"
"He seemed well enough yesterday when I spoke with him."
The pastor sighed, "Well, I don't know what to say. James is a good man, he's a devout Christian...here every Sunday, he's selfless, he tries to help people when he can..."
Sigurd decided to be more forceful with his questions. "Have you ever noticed anything...odd about him. Hm? Has he ever done anything that you would consider strange?"
He raised an eyebrow, "Are you talking about the burns?" The pastor grumbled, thinking Sigurd's comment rude. "Sir, we don't comment on others' appearances, we only look at their heart. Like God does. James was in a horrible accident at a young age, it nearly burned him alive, did burn his parents alive, but he made it out okay. He's had those marks his entire life."
Sigurd hadn't known that. He kept a straight face, despite hearing the horrible information. "I don't mean the burns. I mean his actions. Has he ever performed a miracle? Or something that you would consider otherworldly?"
The pastor's face hardened, but at the same time, he wouldn't look Sigurd in the eye. He was clearly uncomfortable. "I think it's best if you leave, sir."
Sigurd blocked him from moving, "He did something yesterday. At one point, he seemed to get...frightened, for no reason, and when I got too close, there was a bright light that knocked me unconscious. Has he ever done anything like that in the time you've known him?"
His eyes were wide, and for several moments, he said nothing. Sigurd didn't either, he waited patiently for the man to speak. Finally, he had to sit down on the pew, sweating profusely. He was on the verge of passing out.
"He has little control over it." The pastor whispered, "It's gotten worse..."
Sigurd sat down next to him, "What's gotten worse?"
The pastor was staring at the ground. When he spoke next, it was monotone. "His family...was in a car accident. His mother, father, and brother all died to the flames."
"But James survived."
The paster shook his head, "No...he didn't."
Sigurd raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean? He died?"
"I was there that night. The fire department came, the police, everybody. It was horrible. The entire car was on fire. It rose so high we thought the trees above it were going to be lit aflame next. When they finally got it calm enough to where they could drag the bodies out...it was far too late. James and his entire family were burnt to a crisp."
The horror on the man's face told Sigurd that he remembered it well, and it still gave him chills. He continued, "But...something crazy happened. As they put the cloth over James's face, there was this...bright light that came from his eyes. They glowed, nearly blinding all of us. It...took up the entirety of the forest, and it seemed to wash everything away. The flames, the darkness, and I'll never forget this part, it's the weirdest thing to all of this. I swear over the years, everybody that was there has told me they never saw this...maybe I'm the only one."
"What did you see?"
He shivered, "I saw demons. I know that sounds insane, but I swear it on the Lord. I saw giant shadows with claws and wings in the flames light, and they were coming after James. At least three of them. But when that light shone from his eyes...they were gone. Screeching and hissing all the way back to the darkness."
Sigurd's own eyes had widened a little. He couldn't believe it. James's story was incredible, and it made sense as to why he was able to do what he did yesterday. James was...blessed. At least in that moment, he had taken some kind of diving power and exuded it. That had to be the case.
Sigurd reached out and put a hand on the man's shoulder, "Thank you, sir. I'm sorry for bothering you and making you talk about that, but I had to know. It's important."
"Is James in trouble?"
Sigurd got up and shook his head, "No, not at all. I'm just...concerned, that's it."
With that, Sigurd left the man in his seat, and walked out of the church.
That night, Sigurd sat in his motel room, trying to think on what to do next.
James hadn't been to his sidewalk spot all day. Sigurd had no idea where to look, because every time he tried to use world sight, James never popped up. He didn't know any of the other places he might stay, he didn't have anybody else to ask, so he was in a mess.
It was about ten at night, when Sigurd said screw it. He tried once more to use world sight, and if it didn't work, he was going to bed. He'd have to come up with a new plan later.
Closing his eyes, he let the radar come up in his mind. He was surprised to immediately see an enormous yellow dot surging near the church. It was so bright and intense that Sigurd felt himself growing a headache.
He let it go quickly and put his hand up to his head. That had...never happened before. He had never been physically hurt by looking at another's location, even with Matt. That had to mean something.
Sigurd threw his legs over the bed and got up, putting on his cloak this time, and making damn sure that he brought his sword too. Not that he would be able to do anything if...well, he didn't know what would happen. It was better to be safe than sorry though.
He slammed the door shut and ran out of the motel into the night. Across the street, he could see the church under the near full moon. It was bright out, and everything could be seen clearly, not to mention the street lights helped a lot.
Sigurd sprinted across the road and turned when he met the sidewalk. He planned on running the entire way, right up to where he spotted James's spirit, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the man himself.
He was on his knees in the small cemetery behind the church, his head lowered.
Sigurd changed his mind and started walking now. He assumed James wasn't going anywhere, and the last thing he wanted him to do was run, or teleport, or whatever. He wanted to talk to him and try to get to the bottom of it all.
It seemed like an endless journey, the hundred or so feet to the man, but he finally made it. Before Sigurd initiated the conversation, he glanced down at the grave James was in front of.
It read Moffitt. Two names. The one next to it also had the same name. It was his mother, father, and brother. In his hand, he was holding a picture of an African American family. A tall, thin man with his arm around a shorter, plumper woman. Next to her, stood a little boy, and in her arms was a baby inside a clump of cloth.
"James." Sigurd greeted, his voice barely above a whisper. He was walking on thin ice here. He remembered yesterday, and he didn't want a repeat. It only took a single move to render Sigurd out cold, he couldn't imagine what a killing blow would do. It would...well, kill him. Easily.
But James didn't run or shout or emit blinding light, he just looked up at Sigurd, his exposed eye full of emotion.
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to talk. You don't have to be afraid."
"I'm...not afraid. I just wanted to be alone."
Sigurd knelt down next to him, and James flinched at the action. "James, it's okay, I understand. I promise I do."
At that, the Christian's face distorted with fury. "You know what it's like, do you?! You know what it's like to be a freak?! To look like this?!"
Sigurd tried to keep his face as sympathetic and calm as possible, but on the inside he was high alert. One wrong move and he'd die.
"I don't know what that's like. I'm...not going to pretend to know what you're going through on that front. But I know what it's like to be different, to have powers and abilities that you don't quite understand. Where I'm from, I was accepted for it. Here, I'm guessing you're not. I don't know that, I'll admit, but I do know what it's like to wield that kind of strength."
James shook his head, on the verge of tears. "Being a black man is bad enough...but then looking like this, doing the things I do." He glared at Sigurd, "They're terrified of me! The people in that church are too! They...they treat me good, but they're scared. I know they're scared. They don't know how to differentiate my power from God's to a demon's."
"It's hard to control it, I know." Sigurd said, "Power is always hard to control, especially in that quantity. But James, you are not a freak. There's more people like you, like us, out there. They would never see you as a freak."
"W-What are you talking about?"
"The other pantheons. Remember how I talked about how I was Nordic yesterday?"
"Yeah..."
"Well, it goes a bit further than that. All the gods that you heard about growing up, like Odin and Zeus, they're real. All of them are real. Your God is real too, most likely. They all exist together in the same universe, and they have children." Sigurd put a hand to his chest. "I'm one of them."
James was blown away. He looked like someone just thumped him in the eye. "B-But that's impossible. They can't all be real..."
"You think those stories just came out of nowhere?" Sigurd asked, "Like how the Bible came to be? Those are words of your God. We have words of our own, from a long time ago. I've met my father, and he's real. They're all real, I can prove to you." Sigurd reached out his hand and with telekinesis, took James's photo and whirled it around, not damaging it, but wiggling it to show off his ability.
James was shocked beyond belief, "W-what are you doing?! Are you-"
"I'm controlling it with my mind. I can do that, James, because I'm a demigod." He let the picture fall back into his hands. "You can do things too, not because you're a demigod, but because, I'm guessing, that you're blessed."
"B-Blessed?"
"Yes. I heard about what happened that night from the pastor. The night of your accident."
James blinked hard, as if he saw a flash from that night himself. "That was a long time ago."
"I know it's hard to talk about, but what do you remember? What happened from your eyes?"
He started talking instantly, "It had rained the previous night...and we hit a puddle." He chuckled humorlessly, like the one little thing that caused it all was so ridiculous. Which it was. "We hydroplaned into a bunch of trees. I...remember everyone being thrown forward, the sound of metal crashing, a bunch of blood flying all over the place. After that it all comes in a blur...the smell of gas, fire all over the car, screams...lots and lots of screams."
Sigurd nodded, not sure where this was all going. He's pretty sure the last thing James would do is join him now, but he could give it a try.
"I rose up in the sky, and I saw this bright light. It wasn't just a light though, and it wasn't the sun either, it was...alive. It was like everything revolved around it, and it told me everything was going to be okay."
"It told you that?"
"It told me that it wasn't my time yet, that I still had much more to do on Earth. It...told me that it was going to send me back, and it was going to give me a gift."
Sigurd put two and two together easily. That had to be his God talking to him. In the Bible, it's never described with form. It's described that their God made humans in his image, so that would imply that he looked human, but it's also implied that no person that's alive has ever seen his true form. So he could very well just appear as a blinding light. Or whatever he wants.
"That's when it started. All the weird stuff, all the blackouts. I've never been able to control it. Never."
Sigurd, "It doesn't have to be that way. You can learn. You can do good things with it."
"But nothing good comes of it!" James shouted, "If it's God's will...or if he gave it to me...then why does it make everyone hate me? Why do the demons come after me all the time?"
"Demons?" Sigurd said, then he remembered what the pastor mentioned, how he saw demons approaching James the night of the crash. "Oh..."
"Whenever something like this happens, they always come after me. They always get close to killing me, and then...they're gone. I don't remember anything, but they don't hurt me after that."
"You mean-" Sigurd cocked his head, "-You mean when you...blackout, as you call it, the demons come?"
"Yeah."
"And yesterday, you-"
His face went slack, "Ah shit."
As if on cue, the temperature dropped in the air to something damn near freezing, the wind rustled the leaves and Sigurd gained a burning taste in his mouth, like iron.
A ringing started in his ears. At first it was annoying, but seconds later it was agonizing. He made a loud grunt, but it didn't relieve any of the pain.
"Agh! What the hell?!"
Suddenly, James was beside him, clamping a firm hand down on his shoulder. Oddly, his touch seemed to almost siphon the pain away, even dulling the shrill ringing an octave.
He had to shout to get Sigurd to hear, "Go! Go, now! They're coming!"
Sigurd was smart enough to put the puzzle together and identify who, or rather what was coming. Demons. Not just any, but Christian demons. If Sigurd was curious about their power, now would be a good time to find out. They could be surprisingly weak, or very strong, as expected.
As much as he wanted to bolt, he forced his feet to stay planted. "No! I'm staying here!"
James looked at him like he was crazy. Maybe he was. "Are you insane?! They'll kill you!"
"I'm involved now! I got you into this mess! You used your powers because of me, so now I'm going to help!" It's the least Sigurd could do.
James's head shook vigorously, the temperature kept dropping, and Sigurd's entire body felt like it was melting. "You don't understand! They'll kill you! It doesn't matter how strong you are!"
The grass was blowing wildly to one side. All the streetlamps were getting dimmer and dimmer, until finally, they blacked out completely, leaving nothing but darkness. Sigurd stared at it. He couldn't feel a presence, but he knew there was something evil lurking there. It made no noise or move yet, but he knew it was getting closer.
"Then I'll die." He said, not wanting to, but accepting it, nonetheless. "I'll die for this cause."
"Are you insane?!" James shouted, his head moving back and forth, trying to decide what to do. He tugged on Sigurd's arm, "In the church, now!"
They sprinted towards the doors, and the invisible demons came with them. Sigurd felt the wind grow stronger, the burning sensation in his mouth grow more painful, and his legs turn to jelly. With every step they closed the distance, the more it made Sigurd feel weak, like he just wanted to take a nap and let them do whatever they wanted with him.
If James hadn't been there, he might've fell on the stairs and let them. But he tugged him inside and slammed the doors shut, twisting the lock furiously until there was a click. The doors rattled once and then stopped.
James's breathing was heavy, out of fear. "They can't come inside."
He didn't sound convincing. Sigurd swallowed hard to get that burning taste out. "Are you sure?"
"...It worked before. They didn't bother me when I came inside." James looked around and nodded, but his good eye was wide. "They don't like anything to do with God. It hurts them."
"I read that." Sigurd confirmed, standing up, albeit shakily. Odin's beard, they had this much of an effect on him, just by their presence alone? Perhaps they were indeed as powerful as he thought. "I read it in your book. Even the word of your God is enough to harm them, right?"
"So it says." James had to hold onto a pew to keep from shaking, "B-But I'm not sure. Every other time it gets down to the part where I'm about to die, where they're about to slice me in half and drag me to Hell with them, I blackout. I blackout and...wake up, completely safe."
"It's your God." Sigurd says, "He's been protecting you your entire life. He blessed you with these abilities."
James looked like he might've believed it, on a better day. Right now, he just shook his head, "He should've let me die that night. At least I could've gone to Heaven with my family, instead of being stuck down here looking like this."
"It doesn't matter how you look. You can do good with your abilities. You can save the world."
"What? From that Ouranos you talked about?" He said coldly.
So he remembered? "Yes, actually. You could help a lot, James. You're strong, but more importantly, you have a good heart."
James just stared at him, and then there was another rattle at the door, harder this time.
The poor man looked conflicted, like he just wanted to ball up and stay there. "I'd just screw it up. I...I can't help you. I can't even open the door and face these demons."
Another rattle.
Sigurd wasn't worried about them. "You can. You've done it before, since you were a child. With each passing day you gain experience, and a better understanding of what it is that makes you special. Not just your powers."
James looked at the ground, not wanting to believe it.
"That's what you have over them. There's only one of you, James. There are tons of them. They're the same. Blindly following someone that's already failed them. They'll never learn, but you already have. Prove it to them."
"I..."
"Do it, James!"
James gritted his teeth, and throwing all caution out, he let out a powerful shout. Running forwards, he crashed into the door and slung it open.
Immediately, both he and Sigurd were yanked out of the church. Not one hand touched them, but they were pulled forward several feet and thrown in the grass next to the sidewalk.
Sigurd reached for his cutlass, but paused when he saw what was standing before him.
Finally, he could see them clearly. Three demons had taken form, and they looked unlike anything Sigurd could imagine. They were no longer just shadows and shapes, they were ugly, physical, very real monsters.
Varying in size, too. The two on the outside were seven feet tall apiece, while the one in the middle was Sigurd's height, fat and plump. Their skin was black, leathery, and lined with scales all at once, like the mix of a shark and a lizard. They were unnaturally shaped, deformed in the chest area, mismatched in proportion with long arms, short legs, skinny chest, broad shoulders, long neck, small head. It was like everything that could be wrong with them, was.
Their faces were nightmarish. They had empty, black holes for eye sockets. Literally. Not just circular shadows, but swirling pools of darkness. Their mouths sat too big on their faces, with sharp teeth showing even with them closed. They could easily have gulped Sigurd up and ate him without even chewing if they wanted. No expression, just emotionless and blank.
Sigurd caught their stench, and thought he was going to throw up. Before he had the chance, he felt an indescribable pain flare up his stomach, then his chest, and throughout his entire body.
Sigurd screamed loudly, waves and waves of agony pulsing all over his nervous system. "AGHHH!" He howled. He looked down and should've passed out from the gash he saw. It covered his entire torso, blood and black smoke gushed out of his skin. His eye darted up to see the demon on the left side had charged him, faster than he could dream of seeing, and sliced him with long, thin claws. Claws that hadn't been there before.
"NO!" James shouted. The demons laughed, an inhuman, rumbling sound. Like a series of avalanches and alien garble.
"Ah..." Sigurd whined. He was going to die. He just knew it. He had seconds to live, and that would be it. He'd never felt any pain like this before, not to Thor, not to Ymir, or any of the monsters he'd faced. No beating, no poison, no cut could compare.
"SIGURD!"
James was on his feet in a flash, his face distorted with fury. The bindings on his face had been torn off, the remains clenched tightly in his hand. He'd ripped them off, revealing a heavily burned, charred, black face, with his eyes and lips grafted over several times.
He said nothing. His eyes began to glow yellow, brighter and brighter they got, until it was like standing inside the sun's core. Sigurd squinted to see what was happening. The demons were on their knees, screeching and howling in pain. Steam came off their bodies, it was like...they were being burned.
One of the demons, the dumb one, most likely, jumped at James. It's long, wolf like feet left the ground and its claws came out, ready to slice his head off. But James just held out his hands and caught the demon by the shoulders. As soon as he made contact, the demon's dark form began to disintegrate and melt. It made a horrible, deafening sound, like a pack of dying animals.
It vanished in smoke, and James wasted no time in grabbing the fat demon by the neck. It screamed and shrieked, beating uselessly against James's wrist.
The other demon however, figured if it could at least take one of them out, it would be a success. So it lunged at Sigurd, slobbering in anticipation. Sigurd was barely able to lift his arms up enough to maybe shield his face from getting torn off first. But James let go of the fat demon before it was even done melting. He bent one knee and slid forward without even making any movement, to Sigurd's eye at least.
It was beyond speeds Sigurd could comprehend. James moved so fast the demon didn't even know what happened to it. He had run clean through the demon's body, leaving an outline right in the middle of its chest. It went away with the wind before it could even blink or make a noise.
The entire thing lasted maybe...ten seconds. Maybe less. But it was over. Silence ensued.
Well, silence except for Sigurd's painful screams. The cut hurt worse than ever, and when James rushed over, moved his cloak out of the way, and tore open his tunic, Sigurd got a blurry look at just how awful it appeared.
The cut looked like it came from a werewolf. Three separate gashed, each two and a half feet long, ran up Sigurd's front torso, steaming with heat and forming dark cracks in the surrounding skin. It was eating his lifeforce away by the moment.
But James didn't freak out, or even worry. It was like someone else had taken over, and he knew exactly what to do. He gently pulled off his cross necklace and laid it on Sigurd's wound.
Like snapping a finger, the wound began to close up. As soon as the steel made contact with Sigurd's melting skin, his gash closed up, the cracks went away, and he felt sweet relief. To him, it seemed like an eternity of pain. Like he didn't even know what normalcy felt like. Sigurd was ready to tell James to just put him out of his misery.
But it was all gone. Sigurd's breathing calmed enough to where it was silent again. He stared up at his new friend in disbelief, "Odin's...beard, James. That was amazing."
When James's eyes dimmed to brown, he didn't pass out, like Sigurd expected. He stared at Sigurd's stomach, and almost whispered the words, "I...I did it."
It got louder, and more excited, "I did it! I...I actually did it! Holy crap! I had control!"
Sigurd got up with James, wincing, as the pain hadn't completely left yet. "What do you mean? You didn't black out?"
James shook his head, "No, not at all! I was there the whole time! I touched those demons and they vanished! I...I actually freaking did it, man!"
Sigurd cracked a small smile. "I told you. You can do good. It just takes the right moment."
James nodded, and then gave a sheepish smile, "Look, sorry for freaking out yesterday. It's just...well, I guess after tonight you kind of get why I was a little paranoid. And what you said was a little freaky too."
"I know. It's a lot to take in, a hell of a lot. But if you're willing to listen, I'd be more than happy to explain it to you."
He didn't even offer James an opportunity to hesitate, he was on a roll. "And if you want nothing to do with it, then that's fine too. I can't blame you, it does sound like a bunch of nonsense to anyone sane, I suppose. I'll leave the town, but I'll never forget you. You saved my life, James."
James thought about it, with his hands on his hips. He inspected the ground for a second, then waved his finger in the air.
"Whaddya say we get burgers tomorrow?"
Sigurd nodded, a lighthearted huff leaving his nostrils.
"Sounds good."
Sigurd told him everything.
The burgers were good, Sigurd had to admit. He'd have to come back and try more sometime. But he could hardly focus on the delightful taste, he had mountains of stuff to explain and even more to answer James's questions.
It took forever. They sat in that booth long after they'd finished their food, talking. But finally, Sigurd had explained it, and James understood. He'd told him about the Greeks, his own Camp, Matt, Matt's friends, Ouranos, the veil that blocks mortals' view of their world, Diego, Konstantin, Viraj, all of it. He had gotten down to every last detail.
Now they sat there in silence, Sigurd waited patiently for James to respond to it all.
"You know...I believe you, Sigurd. I really do. It's too insane not to believe it."
"I wish it weren't true." Sigurd bit his tongue in anticipation. "Does this mean..."
James nodded, "I'll help you. If this guy's going to try and destroy the world, kill innocent people...then I can't just sit around begging for money while it happens. I want to use my abilities for good. It's what God wants. It's what my-" He stopped abruptly.
Sigurd started to say something, but James found his words and spoke them confidently.
"It's what my family would want. If they were here today, they'd say go for it."
Sigurd smiled broadly, so hard that it hurt his cheeks. "Thank you. I'll owe you forever, James. I mean that."
"Nonsense. We met for a reason, man. It's God's will. This was supposed to happen." James gestured to the empty plates, snickering, "And that reason was so I could introduce you to burgers."
Sigurd laughed, for the first time in forever, he thought. All this time, he'd missed Arya, he'd missed his camp. He'd been homesick. But now he forgot about all that, just for a moment. He wanted to thank James again, but held off.
The Christian leaned closer and murmured, "Think we're pissing off management. We've been sitting here for four hours, you know."
Sigurd scooted out of the booth, "Probably should get going then."
"What do you want to do?"
Sigurd clicked his tongue, "Well, I think I'll stick around for a little bit. At least until Sunday."
"Sunday? What do you mean?"
"Well, I think we both owe it to your pastor. When I spoke with him...I think I may have accidentally frightened him."
James groaned, "Oh no, that poor man. What did you say to him, Sigurd?"
"I...wouldn't worry about it. The point is, we can make it up to him Sunday, right? I'll go with you to service."
"But...why? I mean, all the gods exist together, but you worship a different one. You'd still go?"
Sigurd sighed, and patted James on the back. Suddenly he wasn't in a small-town restaurant anymore, he was in the snow, looking up at his mentor's smiling face.
"An old friend of mine once told me something; It's always smart to gather wisdom from all places...even those you'd least expect to get it from."
(000)