Under strict orders for silence, Gia and I warped in to the penthouse while I used my visitation to distract Tru from the fact he was being tampered with. It still felt weird having two of me in the same general proximity, especially since only one could see the other, a bit like having an eyelash stuck in my eye casting ghosts I couldn’t brush away.

I put up with it while Gia hid behind the nearest wall with my physical body and tapped at a conjured laptop. The sound paused for a moment as her eyes raked over the holes left by Tru’s explosion and the conspicuous sheets said housemate had tried to cover up the later bloodstains with, but a jab from my elbow got her going again.

“You should come and see this,” I called out to Tru with the duplicate, waving him over towards the glass fence. “I heard you like angels.”

There were more of them in the sky now. Three of them, with a miniscule dot in the distance heralding the appearance of a fourth.

He cracked an eye open at me again. I’m a sheep, he complained.

“You’re a demon sheep who can crash global financial markets,” I amended for him. “Major difference.”

Gia’s heart was beating loudly enough I could hear it from the visitation. I peered over her shoulder and found her hesitating at the password input.

Use ‘Aerial Space Kitten’, I advised, and refocused on Tru. “Before you start writing therapy receipts, we already know the way out of this,” I reminded the demon lord.

The other eye opened. One of Tru’s ears twitched forward, which made him twitch more generally in surprise, causing more ear twitches in a cycle that threatened to get out of hand. He scrabbled to his feet. You do? What is it?

“Exorcisms. I told Lucy the experience would come in handy.” I looked at Gia, who closed the lid of the laptop with a troubled expression. It vanished from her hands. “But that’s for later.”

Cancelling the last visitation, I stepped out from behind the wall, sliding the penthouse door open in the process. Tru bolted inside without a moment’s hesitation and skidded to a surprisingly dignified halt as he came face to face with the other demon lord. His eyes snapped to the rune on her palm.

“Greed, meet Envy,” I introduced them, watching them size each other up – or down, in Tru’s case. “Tru’s my housemate. It’s been going very well, aside from the sheep thing and a minor case of explosion. Gia’s an analyst we hired who went mad from Helpdesk tickets and then broke the world into pieces.” I didn’t wait for a reaction. “Right now, we are the only people who can see things for what they are, and I need you to trust me or it’s about to get far, far worse.”

How can it possibly get worse? Tru grumbled.

I strode over towards the kitchen, where Lucy’s soul jar still rested in a drawer undisturbed radiating energy. “I could show you,” I said, feeling the weight of the demons’ full attention on me. Surreal, to have it after so long. “But I’d rethink that request if I were you.” I opened the drawer and tossed the hip flask lightly from one pale, beautiful hand to another, effortlessly integrating it mid-trajectory. “Unlike Yahweh, Baldr won’t be satisfied with negligence and authority. He won’t stop until he’s as close to omnipotent as he can get, and then there won’t be any hope for the rest of us.”

And then for once, maybe there really wouldn’t be a way out. If fate truly was coming into the picture, I supposed that made it – and any of its pawn-shaped allies – my natural enemy.

“Baldr, from the myths?” Gia asked.

I waved a hand at my face and let my tone do the explaining. “Surprise.” I almost cracked again, but calmed my physical nerves and managed to hold it together.

I could see they hadn’t put it together completely yet, but I had what I’d come for. My glance shifted to the windows, where more dots were joining the distant horizon.

“Let’s go,” I said shortly. “And follow my lead. We won’t get to do this twice.”

Well, not unless we went for the failsafe. But if that happened, it was unlikely the dominoes would stack the same way again. I found myself hesitating, unsure if I was making the right decision. I was still missing something. I never had found out who the hidden manipulator had been, or their agenda. Whether they’d used me as a patsy to restore Baldr, or for some other, hidden purpose. Though it seemed hard to believe now it could have been anything but the former. I’d known it had been bad news; I should have trusted my instincts.

Although – I looked at the two pairs of eyes staring back at me in arguably misplaced expectations of responsible guidance – I didn’t want to. All the time reversal in the world wouldn’t erase the knowledge Baldr was out there, waiting to come back at a moment’s notice, even if I could somehow go all the way back before he was born. And the loss. The loss was the main thing. How long before this would become Lucy’s ninth conversation?

I’d had enough.

Enki’s coordinates to the office back door opened into, of all places, an airport security checkpoint. Clad in shades of grey, it sported a dreary row of zigzagging queue tapes, now emptied out, interspersed with official-looking signs dotted around in Malay and English. Wide, smeary windows overlooked a series of operational runways disguising the fact one section of the amenity had been closed to the public. It was the kind of unimaginative response I could picture coming from a team of resigned technicians rigging up a last-minute workaround to the latest unexpected system failure. That said, even the average HR employee tended to stand out with a bad case of protagonist syndrome; an effect further enhanced here by the fact everyone else was mortal, dressed in a military uniform, and looking mildly discomforted by the giant whining corona occupying the nearest metal detector.

I recognised two of Facilities’ more reliable experts, Girra and Ilmarinen, bored and preoccupied respectively, on either side of the machinery between the goons. In a nearby corner, a small monitor hung from the ceiling replaying the Roman Baldr infestation, and it took a few seconds for enough eyes to turn from it to me to make the connection.

I was lucky there wasn’t a seer-instigated team waiting for me. Who knew how long the grace period would last.

“Hi,” I said brightly in English, raising a hand to display Enki’s dangling lanyard while keeping the other clutched around an unhappy demon sheep. “I hear I’m supposed to wave this at things. Well, I’m waving.” I jiggled the ID.

The effect was immediate. I found myself quickly pincered by the Facilities flunkies in varying shades of surprise and delight, and gently ushered away from the place I wanted to go. I’d arrived before Baldr, at least, and scanned the crowd for faces he might know. With the possible exception of Ilmarinen, one of the Fins and easily the most unassuming individual among current company, I didn’t think so. I gave him an extra-friendly smile, just in case.

“Er,” he said, with a glance from side to side at his colleagues, “welcome back? You picked up the language fast.”

I beamed at him. “A housewarming gift from Papa Legba. If only he hadn’t needed to disappear.” I wasn’t going to be able to cover that one up, seeing as it was being rebroadcast in front of me as I spoke. I was making a televised appearance, too, for the second time in days. This time as Odin, on his knees and humiliated. How that was going down in the office, I could only imagine.

“About that.” A hand fell on my shoulder, and I turned my smile on Girra. Like most fire specialists who’d avoided Helpdesk, an administrative type, given their main source of modern fuel was resentment. One of the fields that hadn’t aged well. The shorter man tilted his head at me under a long mop of thick black curls. “What happened there?”

I felt a mental nudge from Gia at my side. Should I do the thing?

Not yet. This was the balancing act. “The plan happened,” I said to Girra, raising my voice so the immediate group could hear it. Unlike Baldr, I had to work for his advantages. “It’s only temporary.” I let an earnest smile crack over my face like Lofn might, innocent and animated, and leant forward into the group. “Can I trust you with a secret?”

“Well,” said Ilmarinen, looking uncomfortable, “how can you expect us to answer that before we know what it is? You attacked a senior executive, even if he did go after Odin first. There must have been a good reason, but it helps if we know what it is.” He gestured at the lanyard still dangling from my fingers. “And there’s the question of where you got that.”

I glanced at it in mock surprise. “Well, your friend gave it to me when he gave me directions. It’s a seal of admission, isn’t it? Why else would I have it?”

Which they now couldn’t answer properly without making unflattering accusations about everyone’s favourite undeserving deity. No one wanted to be the first to say it in company, lest it make them look bad in front of the rest.

“Listen,” I continued excitedly, motioning for them all to huddle round, including Gia and the sheep. The former ended up squashed next to Girra and endured it with a rather fixed professional deportment. Meanwhile, I put my arms across everyone’s shoulders with Baldr’s signature confidence and bounced gracefully on my toes. It was where the accuracy ended. Furthering the lie made me want to throw up on principle, but at least I could shift the symptoms away. “News has a way of filtering down to the dead,” I continued, “even after your rulers tried to do away with it. Their hands were tied in the matter. Look at Enki. He was distraught.”

The looks on their faces told me I’d gotten it right.

I continued. “Unprecedented tragedy grips the worlds – which aren’t even worlds anymore. Just the one. I don’t know how you can stand it. If only I’d been there when my pantheon fell, perhaps I could have said something to change the course of history.”

No one’s going to fall for this, Tru said from under my arm. He wriggled in the crook of my elbow, which served to remind the Facilities crew he existed.

“That’s very sad,” Ilmarinen acknowledged, in a tone suggesting he hadn’t been paying attention. He tried and failed not to look at my housemate. “But we’re still going to have to put you in quarantine. Why do you have a sheep with a glowing rune on its foot?”

“Because he’s very cute,” I professed, to the backdrop of Tru glowering. “And also a demon, as is my other assistant. Symbolic representation is an important early step to reconciliation. You see,” I explained, “during my afterlife tenancy, I’ve been consulting your executive team. Legba, Enki, my dearest father – they all voted I step in before it got any further out of hand. Words are no longer enough for meaningful action. So we act. Recognition of lesser immortals is a start. So is concrete evidence of immortality. Legba volunteered for the public demonstration. Once the public sees it work, no one has to be afraid anymore. Or at least less afraid.”

In a rational world, there was a convincing argument to be made that the recent increasing prevalence of concerning global disturbances might contradict that statement. It was also a good thing there’d been no close-quarters microphones – or interpreters – around to play back Baldr’s actual words on the replay monitor, or the ruse might have been scuppered. Going for me, on the significant upside, was the fact the real Baldr had done the deed. And the real Baldr could do no wrong.

“Of course,” Girra muttered on cue, shaking his head. “They should have warned us. But why aren’t they here in person?”

Ilmarinen backhanded him lightly over the head. “Maybe because they’re all busy dealing with the sequential attacks on the business.”

“Attacks?” I adopted a wide-eyed expression. “That’s going a bit far, isn’t it? Using Yahweh’s own tactics against him doesn’t seem like an encouraging forward step.”

The HR flunkies glanced at each other. “You’ve been away a long time,” said Ilmarinen. “Too long.”

“Exactly why you’d think people would have learnt something.”

Girra snorted. He wriggled out of the group hug and glanced over to the security gate in time to catch one of its flaming tendrils attempt to ensnare one of the standby military personnel. A flick of his wrist brought it back into line. “It’s a noble cause.” He reached a hand towards Tru, as if to scratch him on his little woolly head. “He is a cute boy, isn’t he?”

Ilmarinen intercepted the hand. “Er,” he reminded his colleague, “demon. They’re people. Treat them with respect.”

Girra shut his mouth with an audible snap and smiled the thin smile of someone recognising their faux pax and how it would haunt them sporadically into the coming decades. He focused on Gia instead. “Well, then. What’s your area of expertise?”

Gia drew herself straight and cleared her throat slightly. “In our culture,” she intoned professionally, “it’s considered impolite to ask.”

Forget sand or water. All it took to quench a fire god was embarrassment.

“Anyway,” I intervened, capitalising on the diversion, “Enki gave me this so I could go on ahead. What are we quarantining for? Do you still have plagues these days?”

Ilmarinen answered, since his companion appeared to be busy trying to crawl into a metaphorical hole. “Maximum security. Really, we shouldn’t be letting anyone in.” He motioned for me to hand over the access card, and I passed it over. Still had Odin’s as backup.

The technician stared at it for a few moments, turning it over. He ran a finger down each side, gave it a brief shake and held it up to an ear, before nodding and stashing it in his breast pocket.

“We’ll run you through checks. You’re also not on our system, and you’ll trip resurrection protocols. There’ll be a wait while we sort it out. But I’m not sure the demons will be accepted. To be honest, I have concerns for their safety.”

Gia shot me a worried glance.

That was a problem. “They need to stay with me,” I said firmly. “I promised them my protection, and I meant it.”

Ilmarinen appraised me for a moment. A worried smile crossed his face. “You do your legends justice,” he observed, ushering me towards the still-wailing metal detector. “A warning. Providence feasts on folk like you. If it doesn’t upfront, it will eventually. Please. Leave your friends at home. Nobody here saw them.”

“I’m coming,” Gia insisted, stepping forward. A few of the goons raised their firearms in her direction.

Ilmarinen waved them down and slung me a brief sideways glance, before holding eye contact with the Italian for half a minute. Gia’s hands moved to cup their opposite elbows, gripping harder the longer the exchange went on.

I resisted the urge to poke my nose in and turned my attention back to the ceiling monitor now showing Grace’s tide of wishes. It was a lot bloodier from this angle, well past the point censorship regulations would normally have kicked in. Lingering close-ups swept over some of the messier details. Baldr had gotten to the media, then.

That hadn’t taken long.

“It’s worth it,” Gia said at last, breaking off. She shook her head and sidled half a step closer to me. She followed my gaze, balked at the footage, and quickly turned back to Ilmarinen. “I’ll take my chances.”

The god of artifice wrung his hands in obvious frustration. “And you?” he posed to Tru, who stiffened in surprise at being considered.

What is there left to go back to? my housemate said sourly.

“Life,” Girra interposed, having finally located some of his misplaced dignity. “Don’t throw it away out of principles. You’re lucky.”

Commotion on the tarmac outside the windows caught my eye, where a tangle of airport staff were gesturing wildly at the sky above the runways. More angels dotted the atmosphere, wings spread, close enough I could see their faces. I stepped back a smidgen, positioning Gia as best as possible between myself and the window, but they didn’t seem to be on the hunt. They moved purposefully, drifting with an idle speed at odds with the rapid coverage they were generating, eyes fixed on some unknowable destination. It gave me an ominous feeling.

Girra noticed it too, making a double-take at the sight. He elbowed Ilmarinen. “Are you going to take this, or shall I?”

The artificer followed his gaze and blanched all the way to the brown roots of his hair. “Those aren’t ours.”

“Your job, then.”

“Go get backup.”

“And leave the gate unattended?”

“Not if you’re quick.”

Girra grit his teeth. “Alright,” he said. “All of you come with me, and don’t say we didn’t warn you.”

I smiled as he led the way, smoothing down the fabric of my silks and embellishments, and gestured at Gia as though typing on a keyboard. “A noble reception. We’ll do our best to live up to it.”