Jane thought they’d manifest outside their offices, or somewhere inconspicuous in the main administrative building. It would’ve given her time to discuss the situation with Kay or any of the other dozens of workers. But that would’ve made too much sense, wouldn’t it? Instead, when she and Death reappeared in the Underworld it was in the meeting room, and right in the middle of three celestials and their attendants.
“Let’s go find Kay and—” she said, cutting off sharply as she took stock of her surroundings. Three important looking figures—one man and one woman—stood or sat in various states of attention. The first man was the tallest, broadest, and gave off a faint, golden glow. The expression he made at Jane when she looked at him could only be described as “regal,” and all the adjectives that accompanied it—serious, haughty, and unimpressed.
The woman was somehow everything that Jane had wished she could be at some point in her life. She was elegant, graceful, and exuded an aura of beauty in a manner that suggested she never had to try. But when she caught Jane’s stare, a small quirk of her mouth belied a sharp, subtle intellect.
The last man—
Wait. Woman?
The last woman lounged in one of the seats, idly flicking a coin with her thumb and catching it. Except every time she did the coin changed—first it was copper, then gold, then a dull iron, then black, and so on. She smirked openly at her, catching the coin and rolling it over her knuckles before clutching it in her palm. When she uncurled her fingers, an apple rested in its place. She winked.
“Oh, thank every god there is. You’re back.”
Jane turned. Kay stood behind her, face aswirl with a myriad of attempted expressions and practically vibrating with anxiety. “You would not believe how crazy this has been.”
“Osiris,” the first man said, addressing Death. “May we continue?”
“Please allow me to make introductions first,” Death said. “My lords and ladies of the Council, I would like you to meet Jane, the sharp mind behind the Underworld’s latest endeavors. Jane, I would like you to meet three of the celestial council’s oldest members. This is Lord Horus, king of light.”
The glowing man briefly quirked his eyebrow at her, barely even glancing at her.
“Lady Aphrodite, Goddess of Love.”
“I prefer Chaperone of Love nowadays, Hades,” Aphrodite said.
“My apologies,” Death said with a nod. “And this is—”
“No no, allow me,” the last woman—or rather, man—said. Jane balked. Tom Hiddleston sat grinning back at her, wearing a business suit and twirling a ballpoint pent around his finger. “Loki, Trickster God-slash-Goddess and parttime understudy for Marvel.” He straightened his tie. “There are worse mortals to look like, honestly.”
“I thought you said the Councilors don’t have sexes?” Jane directed at Death.
“We do when we want to,” Loki said.
“Yes, yes, let us please move on,” Horus said irritably. “As I was saying before you went to fetch your pet, we demand access to your afterlives, Osiris.”
“May I ask why?” Death asked.
“We would like to ensure that each afterlife correctly falls under the purview of our domains,” Aphrodite said, steepling her fingers. “We feel as though it no longer makes sense for you to shoulder this burden alone any longer, dear. You’ve done so much already. We would like to help.”
“I sincerely appreciate the offer my fellow Councilors, but I have help. I have Jane,” Death said, resting one hand on Jane’s far shoulder. “She, and Kay, and every other soul I have recruited thus far have been nothing short of notable. They have taken the chaos of my realm and are bringing order to it.”
“I thought this place smelled less fun,” Loki said, now in the form of an adolescent boy with a petulant expression.
“Nevertheless, we must insist,” Horus said. “Given that afterlives have always existed on the edge of Aaru’s and the Duat’s domain, we must lay claim to our half of responsibility and ensure that these souls are properly cared for.”
“You doubt my ability to do so?” Death said softly, growing very still. A tremor ran through Jane from where Death rested their hand, and she had to grit her teeth not to shy away.
“I do,” Horus said bluntly. “You have mismanaged it thus far.”
“I was giving the souls a choice,” Death said sharply, eyes aglow. “A soul does not get the chance to choose how they are born, nor oftentimes how they die. I wanted them to take their unlives and make them how they desired them to be!”
“We know that you love them, dear,” Aphrodite said. “But you don’t get to decide their afterlives: they do, through the beliefs they follow, the choices they make, and the realms they are born to. It was foolish to think the souls would put effort into making something meaningful here when death has no meaning. They need a guiding hand.”
“And we aim to give them that,” Horus said, lifting his chin.
“This is my realm,” Death said, lifting their own chin in defiance. “The only say you have is what I allow.”
Horus arched an eyebrow. “For now. The Council may not see it that way.”
“My lord and lady?” Jane interjected.
Horus looked at her with mild shock as though surprised she would dare speak. Aphrodite watched her expectantly. Jane gulped. “Why are you demanding this now of all times?”
Horus frowned. “Were you not listening, human?”
“I was, my lord, which is why I asked. Death has been doing this job by themselves for millennia. You could have chosen to help them at any other time. Why now?”
“Have you any idea what it is like to rule a domain, human? We are each nearly as busy as Osiris at all times. We were completely unable until recently.”
“And why would that be, my lord?” Jane pressed. Was it her imagination, or did Horus briefly flick a glance at Aphrodite?
“Enough of this! What business is it of yours? Why must I answer to a human?”
Death raised their scythe and pounded its end into the floor. “Because I demand it,” they said. “You will not dishonor me in my house, nor that of my second in command.”
The room quieted. Loki whistled. “Haven’t seen Hel like this in a while.”
“Please, my lord,” Jane said. She stepped forward, leaving Death’s protective embrace. “This has been my business—our business—for the last year, which might not be much to a great being such as yourself, but it’s a lot to me. I just want to know the circumstances behind why someone would take my work from me.”
Horus really did glance at Aphrodite this time. Aphrodite gave a gentle shrug of her shoulder. Horus blew from his nose. “Circumstances allowed for it.”
“Was it because of all the infrastructure we’ve put in place recently?” Jane probed. Horus and Aphrodite said nothing. Loki chuckled. Jane continued. “May I propose something?”
Aphrodite regarded her. “What, child?”
“Please give us more time to work. A year is nothing to you, right? Give us a year to flesh out the afterlives. We’ll build each one according to any specifications you and the other Councilors give, and afterwards, if you still feel as though we’re doing an improper job, we’ll cede some control over to you.”
Death started. “Jane—”
Jane waved Death off. “This is only a proposal, not an offer. I imagine you will need time to think it over, right?”
Again, Horus and Aphrodite shared a glance. The latter pulled the corner of her mouth up in a small smile. Horus turned back to Jane and nodded once. “We will consider your proposal. Privately.”
Jane bowed low at the waist. “Thank you.”
“Indeed,” Horus said, nodding once to Death. He and Aphrodite began to glow, and in a flash, each disappeared with their attendants in tow.
Jane righted herself and blew a long breath. She walked to the table and shakily collapsed into the nearest chair, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. “Fuck me,” she murmured.
A laugh made her jump, and when she turned, Loki was sitting next to her in the form of a woman wearing a business suit that matched Jane’s. She clapped. “Bravo. Góður. Vidunderligt. What a lovely show, human.”
“Why have you remained, Loki?” Death asked, stepping beside Jane.
“Hm? Oh. I don’t care about any afterlife. I just came to watch.” Loki reclined in her chair, flipping her coin again. “A good decision on my part—that was so much fun.”
Jane eyed the Councilor of Discord. She grinned back at her and said, “Go ahead. Ask.”
“Ask what?” Jane said.
“The real question on your mind. The one you don’t want Horus and Aphrodite to hear.”
Jane took a deep breath and chanced her question. If there was anybody capable of being flippant and treacherous it would certainly be a celestial of chaos “What’s the real reason they came? What are these ‘circumstances?’”
Loki sat in silence for several moments, watching her coin rise and fall with every flick of her hand. Finally, she caught it and brandished it, holding it between two fingers. “See this coin?” When Jane nodded, Loki casually reached out and peeled the metal off the coin with a flick of her wrist, revealing a dark center beneath. She popped it into her mouth and chewed. “Mmf. I love chocolate. Great mortal invention—probably the best. Makes for awful currency though, doesn’t it? A great treat, but awful to leave in the bank. It’ll go stale in a month. And once I eat it, it’s gone forever.”
She spat into her palm and raised her hand. A dismembered eyeball stared back at Jane, making her recoil. Loki laughed, and the eyeball in her palm blinked. “Horus and Aphrodite certainly looked serious, didn’t they? Really powerful and smitey. Isn’t it so funny how something could look like one thing, but be something else entirely?”
“Loki,” Death said, “I must regretfully request that you please leave now. Jane and I will have much to discuss after this… development.”
Loki tutted, but shrugged. “Just promise to come visit me sometime, Helly-belly. Everyone else in our family is so stiff, but you’ve always been the life of the party.” Grinning at her own joke, Loki pressed the eyeball in her hand into her forehead. She turned to Jane, closed her normal eyes, and flashed a wide smile as she began to glow. “See you later, Jane.”
Loki disappeared, leaving Death, Jane, and Kay alone together. Jane shook her head. “What the hell was that about?”
“’Looks like one thing but means another,’” Death said. “If I were to guess, I believe that Horus, Aphrodite, and possibly others on the council who have become largely unworshipped may wish to sway the souls of those seeking reincarnation.”
“Sway for what? How would they do that?” Kay asked.
“By instilling a subtle notion within a soul that they should be worshipped prior to said soul’s reincarnation. This would make the soul more likely to worship them in their next lives.”
“What good would that do?” Jane asked. “They’re celestial beings. It’s not like they need worshippers, right?”
“You are correct,” Death said. “The number of worshippers do not affect a celestial’s powers. But no one, not even a celestial, wishes to be forgotten. And all have a touch of pride, if I may say so.”
Kay shook his head. “What do we do now then?”
“I have some thoughts, but I would like to hear what Jane may be thinking of first.” Death and Kay both looked at her. Jane sighed.
“Now,” she said, “I take my damn PTO.”225Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJ3E2emShQv
225Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuMQA1zuV5A
Author's Note
Hi everyone! Its been a long time since my last update, hasn't it? Two back-to-back weddings, birthdays, familial/work/friendly obligations, and working on getting a book published tends to suck out all the free time in a person's schedule. I frankly haven't had any time to sit down and write until today, but I'm hoping to get back to a semi-regular schedule sometime soon. I hope you all are still enjoying Death and Jane! Thank you for your patience!
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