Chapter 14 Declan
DECLAN
“Where are we?” Veronica muttered, peering through the window.
We’d returned to the park a couple days before to get my car, which meant we no longer had to drive around the rust bucket.
The temperature had risen a bit, and the snow and ice had turned back into rain.
The windshield wipers slapped back and forth in a manic rhythm, but even so, I had a hard time seeing where I was going.
“This is Sucellus’s temple,” I said, swinging the car into a spot in the deserted parking lot.
“Dec,” Veronica said. She’d started calling me by my nickname, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it. “That’s an abandoned strip mall.”
“Not abandoned. There’s a nail salon over there,” I said, gesturing through my side window.
“Seriously? A god—like a real god—has his temple in the remnants of a defunct Dollar General Store?”
“I think it was actually a Dollar Tree, but yeah. This is a guy who hasn’t had a significant number of worshipers since around the time Hadrian was building his fucking wall across England. You lose a little wealth and status without believers. Come on. Let’s do this.”
We got out of the car and ran to the overhang by the doors, getting soaked in the process.
I hadn’t been here in years. Not since I’d dealt with a shifter who’d married a lady witch.
He thought she’d been seduced and kidnapped by either an incubus or a deity.
Turns out, he’d been partly right. It had been one of Sucellus’s priests who had tempted and seduced the poor woman with ancient mysticism tricks.
After having his fun, he’d sent her home before I managed to locate her.
Once she’d told me what happened and who’d done it, I’d come and demanded reparations for the couple.
Sucellus had eventually agreed to a monetary gift and also cast out the offending priest, though only after a long and arduous argument with the deity while he stood before me in a glowing and brilliant form of pure energy and light.
It had been one of the strangest days of my life, and that was saying a lot.
I pushed the door open, glad Veronica was here. Unless I was very mistaken, I’d need her soon. Plus, as safe as the townhouse was, I felt better having her with me.
“Hello?” a voice called out from the gloom.
We’d stepped into the dusty, rundown store. A pair of checkout stands stood cloaked in cobwebs, the conveyor belt covered in a thick layer of dust. There was a slight chance the voice was from a squatter or someone who’d decided to hunker down here, but it wasn’t likely.
“Are you the priest of Sucellus?” I said, calling out toward the back.
A pause, followed by quick, shuffling steps.
Out of the back room emerged exactly what I’d anticipated, but by Veronica’s gasp of shock, she’d been expecting to meet some wizened old man in a robe.
Instead, a young man roughly Veronica’s age stepped out, wearing a white toga that hung from one shoulder.
A smear of blue paint marked his handsome face in a diagonal stripe from his forehead to his chin.
“I am,” he said. “My name is Malkinius.”
Lie. My gift pinged through my head. I sighed. It seemed some gods still had their acolytes take on new names when they went into service with them. It was such an old-fashioned tradition that I had to force myself not to roll my eyes. “What’s your real name?”
He blinked and ran a hand through his long hair. “Uh, it’s Sloan, actually. How did you know—”
“Look,” I said, leading Veronica toward him, “long story short, I have some questions for you and Sucellus, if he’s here.”
Sloan shook his head, eyes wide. “The lord isn’t here. He’s a god. They rarely mingle on the earthly plane.”
“Uh huh,” I said, glancing around to get a view into the back. I knew that was a lie. I’d met enough of them to know that a few of them liked to stroll among humans. “Is he in Vegas, Monaco, or The Shadow Streets?”
Sloan looked offended. “He abides in his halls above, as is warranted by his station.”
“Sure,” I said. “How long have you worked for Sucellus? I don’t remember seeing you last time I was here.”
Sloan straightened, thrusting his shoulders back and lifting his chin with obvious pride. “I’ve been an acolyte of the Lord Sucellus for four years. I’ve taken over all priestly duties.”
“Good. I need to know everything you know about the Freedman family. Sucellus is their patron god. At least, I’m ninety-nine percent sure of that.”
“I’m sorry,” Sloan said, a businesslike smile appearing on his lips. “The lord does not give out that information to…” His gaze flicked over me and Veronica with withering disdain. “People like you.”
Veronica snarled. “What do you mean people like you?”
Sloan scowled, obviously offended by the way Veronica addressed him, but I thought it was funny and had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing and making it worse.
I knew how this would go. Priests and priestesses were always so devout that it was nearly impossible to ask for anything.
Though, the state of this building gave me a hunch that I thought might play out.
Sucellus was a god of fields and forests, of shepherds and fertility, and boundaries and property.
Far from the most powerful godly duties, but no slouch either.
Even now with his influence waning, he was still strong enough to level a town if he was pissed enough.
Even though almost all the older deities no longer had day-to-day duties or tasks, that didn’t remove their ego and self-confidence, and by association that of their priests, acolytes, and followers.
“Look, Sloan—can I call you Sloan?”
The man’s sanctimonious frown, vanished, and he looked both uncomfortable and nervous. “Well, my new name is supposed to be Malkinius, but—”
“Yeah, that’s no good,” I said. “I think Sloan sounds less ridiculous. Anyway, do you handle all the paperwork for the Sucellus temple?”
“I do,” he said.
“What other duties do you have here?” I asked.
“Basic offerings. I maintain all of the lord’s files and journals, I organize his histories, edit his ongoing memoirs—”
“Memoirs?” I said. “The guy’s been around for, like, fifty thousand years.”
Sloan nodded. “Longer than that. He is the greatest of the gods. He is of time immemorial. The tome is up to seven hundred thousand pages so far. The previous ten priests began the work, and I intend to finish it. I also handle most of his correspondence with other deities. I handle the offerings, the blessings, and tithes, along with several other duties.”
Without asking, I took Veronica’s hand and strode toward the back, leaving the decrepit storefront behind.
“Sir?” Sloan yelped, hurrying after us. “You didn’t ask permission to—Sir, you need to stop.”
While much nicer than the spiderwebbed trash heap out front, the real temple was less grand than one would expect. The golden altars looked a bit tarnished, the lavish bed no longer had silk sheets, and the other living areas had a shabby quality to them.
“Sucellus was absorbed into the Roman pantheon, wasn’t he?” I asked. “Back a few millennia ago?”
Sloan straightened his toga, but his brows knitted together in a frown. “The Romans tried.”
“No, they succeeded,” Veronica said, a bright smile appearing on her lips. “I remember this. I actually read about it in Stolen Pantheon: How Roman Magi Absconded with Deities Not Their Own.”
Who the fuck makes something that long-winded the title of a book? I thought, but kept my mouth shut.
“It wasn’t the Roman government,” Veronica went on.
“It was the underground Roman Magi societies who did it. They used their magical power and the strength of the Roman gods to basically steal away all the Celtic gods, among others. It was a whole thing, lots of stuff got mixed up and confused. The Council of Gods in 76 AD tried to…work…out…” Veronica trailed off when she realized Sloan and I were looking at her like she’d lost her damn mind.
She shrugged helplessly. “Sorry. I was studying that at school a few days ago. It’s, uh, fresh in my head.”
“Yes,” Sloan said, and flicked his eyes back to me. “As your friend said, the Lord Sucellus was unlawfully brought into the fold of Roman influence.”
“That’s what I thought,” I said. “When’s the last time you paid the licensing fees to the Roman Pantheon Council?”
This time, I watched the handsome young priest’s left eye twitch involuntarily.
“I’m sorry?” he said, his voice artificially sweet.
“You heard me,” I said absently, still casting my gaze around the altar and temple, even though I’d already seen all I needed to.
“The Roman Pantheon Council. Sucellus is a member, whether against his will or not, it doesn’t change the legality.
Fees and dues are expected and required.
A percentage of the monetary value of any offerings, correct? ”
Sloan’s lips pressed into a thin line. It appeared my hunch about Sucellus’s finances was right.
“Lord Sucellus has never acknowledged the absconding, as your friend’s book puts it.
He never asked nor wished to be made an official part of the Roman Pantheon.
Everyone knows he hates Mercury, and Juno still owes him for the temple her followers looted in 87 BC.
Never once in his illustrious life has he accepted what happened. ”
“Doesn’t matter, buddy,” I said, finally pinning my eyes on him once more.
“Sounds to me like ol’ Sucellus hasn’t been keeping up with his taxes.
Last time I was here, the place was a little dated.
But now? Looks like life is getting rough.
Interesting what happens when you lose followers.
I’m guessing, what? Eight years past due on his fees? ”
Sloan’s shoulders slumped and his stony face fell, becoming a mask of sadness. “Ten years.”
I could almost feel victory around the corner.