Kinich gnashed his teeth. "Our laws are-"
"Laws shmaws!" Penelope barked. "We're changing them. This is bull crap!"
"But-"
"But nothing," she interrupted. "You and I lead the House of Gods; you and I are husband and wife." She cupped his cheek and lovingly gazed into his eyes. "Haven't you learned, baby, that there's nothing we can't do together? We're meant to change the world. And it's time for the gods to evolve."
Máax smiled. Penelope was a gods' send. Such a smart, smart woman. And a perfect match for his brother.
Fate rose from her seat at the end of the table in her belted little dress and white boots, looking like her usual snotty, uptight self. "Well, you need a unanimous vote to change a divine law, and you're not getting mine. Our laws have worked just fine for tens of thousands of years, and I see no need to change them simply because it's convenient."
She is so predictable. Well, here goes.
"Are you sure about that, Fate?" said Máax.
Fate glanced at him or the chair, he wasn't sure. "Of course I am."
"Because," he said, "our laws state that they can only be changed by a unanimous vote of all fourteen deities. You are not a real deity, are you?"
The room collectively gasped, and Fate's face paled. "I-I have no i-i-idea what you mean," she stuttered. Her eyes shifted from side to side.
"Fate?" Penelope said. "What's Máax talking about?"
Sitting behind Máax, Cimil raised her hand. "Ooh. Ooh. I know! Call me. Call me!"
Penelope looked at Cimil, then at Fate. "Fate?" But Fate looked at the floor. "Okay, Cimil … I call on you."
"Did I say something?" Cimil's eyes widened innocently. "I think it was Máax's turn to speak."
Penelope grumbled, "Máax? What's going on?"
"Don't you dare, Máax!" Fate barked.
"Fate is not a deity," he said. "She's a fake."
Ashli watched with fascination as the strange drama unfolded. The redheaded lady, Emma, had insisted she come to this trial this morning. Why? She didn't know. She didn't know a lot of things, actually. But she did know she'd gone off the deep end because this could not be real. The people who sat at the front of the room were a combination of surreal and beautiful, bizarre and scary. The men, all the height of basketball players, were the most gorgeous male specimens she'd ever seen and built like armored tanks. The women were ten times prettier than any Victoria's Secret model, but dressed in everything from summer frocks to beehive hats. The courtroom was also filled with a strange brew of individuals-more large, beautiful men (many in leather pants), soldiers in black who looked like mercenaries, and a few hundred women of all shapes and sizes standing in the back. But what boggled her mind most was how all eyes were glued to an empty chair … a chair that spoke.
I must be seeing things. And one might assume that would be enough to win the prize-an extended vacay in a pretty padded room, but oh no. This was like that Magic Bullet infomercial she'd just seen on television this morning. But wait! That's not all. There's more!
So what was "more"?
Ashli wanted that chair.
Yes. Wanted. And not as in, she wanted it for her dining room or kitchen. Oh no. She wanted it like a woman wanted a man. From the moment it spoke, she ignited and a strange frenzy of lust flooded every inch of her needy, crazy body.
If it's the last thing I do, I will sit on that chair and show it my naked body. Yes, something about the chair's voice engulfed her in a spell of seduction and temptation.
Yep. I've ingested shrooms. If only I could remember why. Drugs are so uncool. Dirty martinis on the other hand … I think I like those.
But regardless, she wanted that damned stinking chair.
The chair spoke again, and she held her breath as did everyone else inside the room, though she suspected it wasn't for the same reason.
"Fate," said the chair, "was born of divine origins, as were we all, but she is not divine, only immortal."
Fate, with her short white skirt, and bows and arrows, pointed at Máax. "Liar!"
Máax laughed with a deep, hearty chuckle. "Fate, this is your chance to come clean. I suggest you do so-perhaps the court will take mercy on you."
Fate's blue-green eyes narrowed. "I have no idea what you mean," she said innocently.
"So be it," he said. "Everyone, Fate cannot see one's fate, guide one toward their fate, or create fate. She has absolutely no powers and never will. She has been faking it all along, lying to everyone." That, in itself, was a punishable crime given that Fate had consulted on thousands of matters during summit meetings over the millennia. They had based many important decisions on her words.
"That's a lie!" Fate stood from her chair.
"Nope! No it's not. Fate is a lying, evil cow." Cimil clapped. "Why do you think I like her so much?"
"Shut up, Cimil!" Fate barked. "You crazy bitch."
Penelope held out her hands. "Whoa. Fate, is this true? You have no powers?"
Fate became very silent, but Cimil chomped at the bit to spill the tattletale beans. So she did. "According to my sources, Fate is a dud. A bad egg. The Universe has rejected her. In fact, she's no more powerful or divine than a regular old human, except that Fate will live forever."
"How do you know this?" Penelope asked.
"Well, that my friends, is the furry little dingleberry all its own, the rotten stench to be revealed shortly as I'm the next batter up. But if you want proof, simply ask Fate to show us her gift."
"That proves nothing!" Fate screamed. "K'ak still awaits his flagship gift. Zac just found his. Not having a gift does not mean I'm not a deity."
"So you admit you've been lying? You have no powers?" Penelope asked.
"I admit nothing. And may I remind you that I'm not the one on trial here. Máax is!" Fate huffed.
"Yes," Penelope agreed, "but for a law that's outdated, unjust, and should be changed."
"Well, you still need fourteen votes to change a sacred law," Fate pointed out, "and the way I see it, you're not getting it. With or without me."
Cimil raised her hand. "Ooh! Ooh! I've got the answer to that one, too!"
Penelope looked at Cimil with extreme apprehension. "Cimil?"
"Ashli is numero fourteen!" Cimil clapped wildly.
Now Máax was lost. "Cimil, you're not helping me. In fact, I was planning to leverage our sacred policy, which states that any law found to be impossible to execute or uphold shall be null and void."
Cimil made a pouty face. "But my angle is way sweeter! Come on! Give it a try. If my little romp through the village of Get the Fuck Out or Shut the Door doesn't satisfy your drama tooth, then we can always backpedal. Come on. Don't you want to hear my big news? Dontcha? Dontcha? Huh? Huh?"
"No. Not really," Penelope said.
A cold brick settled in Máax's stomach. What was Cimil up to? What had she meant about Ashli being number fourteen? "All right, Cimil. I'll play. Tell us your news."
"Say please!" Cimil popped her fist on her waist.
"Cimiiiil?" Máax growled.
"Okay! Hold your hookahs!" Cimil hammily cleared her throat. "Máax's bond with the Universe has broken, and his soul has now fully bonded to Ashli. Two lights, one soul. And as we all know from experience, once that occurs, all sorts of fun things happen-did I ever tell you about the time General DiConti was PMSing with Helena?" Cimil slapped her knee, laughing hysterically, tears forming in her eyes. "Oh, gods! He didn't know if he wanted to cry or boink her!" She clutched her belly. "Then there was Kinich who lived inside Penelope's body-Rarrr! Talk about kinky! Then Emma and Votan with their Vulcan mind melding-"
"Cimil. Enough," Máax interrupted. "Get to the point."
Cimil grinned, her turquoise eyes sparkling with giddiness. "From the moment Ashli met you, her light began pulling your power. She is now officially the Goddess of Love as it has always been destined to be."
Impossible. "Why do you think Ashli is the Goddess of Love?"
"Ask Ms. Forget-Me-Yes over there. Ashli popped her good."
All heads swiveled toward the Goddess of Forgetfulness who wore a short metallic-silver tank dress and white go-go boots, her blonde hair in Princess Leia spirals over her ears. "It's true. Ashli hit me with something. It felt pretty good."