The Master Plan Revealed

Itzcoatl, the Obsidian Serpent, son of mighty Quetzalcoatl and soon to be ruler of this sorry mammal-ridden planet, was not pleased. He tromped back and forth across the length of his and Suzy’s kitchen and raged at the stupidity and audacity of the warm-bloodeds. “How dare they even attempt an attack on my person!” he seethed. “What did they hope to accomplish? Suicide?”

His “priests,” Lamar Balboa and Rosa Terranova, remained mostly silent throughout Itzcoatl’s tirade. Tirades were the norm for a god. They avoided looking at him by shooting death-glares at each other. Constrictor Lamar was leery of the “Poison Puta,” and sidewinder Rosa had no use for venomless squeezers. Sadly, they were the only snake-shifters in Talbot’s Peak, and so had been pressed into the service of the snake god.

Lamar hoped to save the planet. He wasn’t sure what Rosa wanted. Husband number 7, maybe.

“It was an accident,” Lamar spoke up now. “It wasn’t directed at you. The local bruja cast a spell and things got out of hand.”

“Yeah,” Rosa chimed in. “It only affected horses’ asses—”

“Horses and asses,” Lamar hurriedly overrode her. He jabbed Rosa hard in the ribs and earned himself a hiss from her and a glare from Itzcoatl. Which would hurt more, he wondered, rattlesnake fangs in the neck or getting immolated? “I don’t know why it affected you. She’s not that good of a witch.”

“Obviously not, to think her little spell would cause a god more than a moment’s distraction. Still, I can’t allow this insult to go unpunished. Swallowing her alive should do the trick.”

“You can’t. I mean, she’s gone. She and her family left town. Hey, your godship, no harm, no foul. She won’t bother you again.”

“Shit,” Rosa muttered. “I ain’t bit a witch in ages.”

“Nevertheless,” Itzcoatl continued, "this incident has brought to my attention the need for decisive action. If one mammal tried to strike at me, others could as well. I must strike first.” He stopped pacing and posed regally before his unwilling—at least in Lamar’s case—minions. “The time has come for me to conquer this world and declare myself its ruler.”

“No!” Lamar said. “I mean, I thought we were going to wait until New Year’s.”

“The time for waiting is done. Let the Age of the Serpent commence. Daughter, fetch my mate.”

“No need.” Itzcoatl’s wife, Suzy, stepped into the kitchen. Lamar had managed to alert her by phone on his way over, after he received the god’s headache-inducing summons. They’d both lived in fear of this moment for close to a year. Suzy assured him she had a plan. It better be a good one, Lamar thought, because I got nada.

“Wife, prepare,” Itzcoatl boomed. “We journey forth to rescue this insipid world from the mammalian plague that infects it. Today dawns the age of the—”

“No. We’re not.”

The Obsidian Serpent shut up in mid-proclamation. He stared down at her, this human woman with the blood of gods who was barely half his size and, compared to him, powerless. Mierda, Lamar thought. She’s going to die. He’s going to flame her right in her own kitchen. The first sacrifice in a bloodbath that would see the destruction of the world.

Itzcoatl stared at her. He did not strike. He did not lash out He’d been married for a while now, and knew better. Instead he asked, with deadly quiet. “And why, my precious golden treasure, must we delay this world’s subjugation yet again?”

She smiled up at him. “Because I’m pregnant.”

# # #

Tongson was not surprised when the fire in the hearth suddenly flared up higher than normal. He settled back in his chair and spoke the ritual greeting. “All hail the mighty Feathered Serpent.” To which he added, “Hello, old friend.”

“Greetings to you and yours, Spirit Bear,” Quetzalcoatl hissed from the fire. “I bring you tidings. The threat of Itzcoatl has ended. His favored mate is with child. They have retired to the Serpent Realm to raise their brood. By the time they return to this plane, if they ever do, centuries will have passed. Perhaps my rash son will have gained maturity in that time. Conquering a world is exhilarating, but ruling it is a bugger.”

“Fatherhood changes a man,” Tongson said. “Let’s hope it changes gods as well. Running after toddlers should curb his impetuosity. Or at least tire him out. So that was Suzy’s plan?”

“The woman knows her man. He’s already annoying the other spirits with his incessant boasting. He’ll be lucky if they let him live long enough to witness the birth. Which reminds me.” The fire dimmed as the Feathered Serpent’s presence withdrew. “I’d better return to the jungle and make sure the rest of my offspring still sleep. We don’t want any of the others awakening and getting ideas. Especially the Rainbow Serpent. She always gets cranky when she’s hungry.”

# # #

“Well, shoot.” Rosa pouted. “What are we supposed to do now?”

“Gee, I dunno,” Lamar said. “Go back to our lives, maybe? I don’t know about you, but I’m going home to fuck my boyfriend silly. Or fuck my silly boyfriend. Either works for me.”

“Easy for you. You got somebody. I’m broke and out of a job. I was looking forward to being the power behind the throne.”

“Forget it. Itzy had a wife for that. Anyway, you know snake gods. They tend to eat their followers. I say we get good and drunk, find a bed buddy and give thanks to every other god out there that the world may belong to the mammals, but it’ll still be here in the morning. If you like, you can start right here.” Lamar began to rummage through the cubboards. “I know where his wife kept the good stuff.”

God and Man (for lack of a better word)

The room was noisy and dimly lit. It stank of liquor, mammals, and the desperation of mortality. In short, it mirrored the world Itzcoatl now found himself in. He’d awakened from centuries of slumber to become the ruler of this?

Why fight it? The state of the world, and this place in particular, suited his current mood perfectly.

He bellowed for more grog. The mammalian servant brought him a tankard and was wise enough to leave him in peace.

Itzcoatl scowled at the sweaty shifters spasming across the dance floor in time to the pounding music. He ought to rip a few hearts from their rib cages. Or swallow some raucous drinker whole. Perhaps that would cheer him.

What was the use, though? This world was overrun with the smelly little pests, like maggots on a corpse. If he chose to conquer it, what exactly would he be getting?

He downed half his drink at a gulp and glowered at the dancers on stage. One was a snake. Such a one should be preparing to serve as his priestess under the new regime – or priest, he amended, as his senses saw beyond the pink wig and padded dress. Instead he writhed for the amusement of drunken mammals in a bar. Perhaps, Itzcoatl mused, he ought to simply destroy this entire world now and be done with it.

The dance, and the loud, awful music, finally ended. The dancers hopped off-stage to mingle with the customers. The snake slithered in his direction.

Just shy of the table, he stopped. His eyes grew huge. The pink wig slipped askew, so quickly did he drop to his knees. “Dios mio!”

“I’m no one’s god,” Itzcoatl rumbled. “Not in this mammal-blighted world.” Still, the touch of proper worship – finally! – brightened his mood somewhat. He slapped the back of the chair beside him. “Come, sit.”

The snake scrambled onto the chair and desperately tugged his dress into a semblance of decorum. Its high-riding hemline made such an effort futile. “Excuse the outfit. We don’t get many gods in here. Hell, we don’t get any gods in here. You know I’m a guy, right?”

Itzcoatl nodded. “In ages past, your kind were revered as seers and prophets.”

“I’m not much in the seer department. That’s Gypsy’s thing. I just like to dress up. If I’d known you were coming I’d have set up an altar. I’ve got one at home, for Quetzalcoatl. Mice and everything.”

A faint smile, his first in hours, touched Itzcoatl’s lips. “You eat the mice yourself, I assume.”

“Well, the Feathered Serpent doesn’t seem to want them. Shame to let them go to waste.” The snake coiled his body more comfortably on the chair and patted his wig back into place. “At any rate, you’ve come to the right town. Talbot’s Peak is a magnet for the weird. There’s only one reason a god would come to Dante’s. You got woman problems.”

“The affairs of gods are none of your concern.”

The snake continued to watch him with his smug, unblinking stare. Itzcoatl glowered back. They stalemated. The Obsidian Serpent relented first. “She is my mate,” he growled. “She carries the blood of the Feathered Serpent. We are destined for each other. Yet when I tried to claim her, she refused me.”

“Claim her, as in … ?”

Itzcoatl’s glare chilled the ambient temperature by at least twenty degrees. The snake nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I take it you’ve been away from the world for a while.”

“Women long for a strong hand to master them. The world could not have gone so far awry in my brief time asleep.”

“Kicked you in the hidden assests, did she?” The snake grinned at Itzcoatl’s startled stare. “Thought so. Just because I don’t sleep with women doesn’t mean I don’t knoq them. Your intended’s a daughter of the Feathered Serpent, verdad? That makes her a goddess in her own right. No snake goddess worth her scales is going to go down without a fight. Would you really want one who did?”

This gave Itzcoatl pause. The notion had not occurred to him. Of course his Suzy was a warrior, as were all children of Quetzalcoatl. The urge to battle coursed through their veins. “I see now. It’s a fight she wants. It will make her ultimate surrender all the sweeter.”

“Whoa! Hold up there, my divine amigo. There’s fights, and then there’s fights. We’re not like the furries. We don’t need to resort to anything as gauche as brute force, do we?”

“No. We do not.” Slowly Itzcoatl smiled. The snake in the dress recoiled slightly. “You are wise for one so young. When this world is mine, I will set you high in my council.”

“Um, that’s really nice of you, but I’m happy where I am. Spying on the mammals,” he said in a conspirator’s whisper. “It’s a dirty job, but somebody’s gotta do it.”

“Indeed. What is your name, little serpent?”

The snake hesitated, as if weighing lies, and finally answered, “Lamar.”

“Lamar, you have earned the gratitude of Itzcoatl, the Obsidian Serpent. Name your most desired boon and I shall grant it.”

“Thanks, but I’m good, really. How about if I down a mouse in your honor tonight?”

“That will be sufficient.” Itzcoatl rose abruptly. “This planet and its plague of mammals may continue, for the time being. My mate awaits.” He strode across the dance floor, shouldering patrons aside with arrogant abandon, and out of the bar. His exit sparked a lot of glares, but no one tried to stop him.

Lamar spotted the half-empty flagon on the table and drained it. Quzetzalcoatl’s feathered ass, that was too damn close. You never wanted a god indebted to you. Definitely not a snake god.

Gypsy hurried over to the table. “Lamar, are you all right? Something horrible was just in here. I’ve got this awful feeling – ”

“It’s okay, chica. It’s gone.” Itzcoatl’s departure had taken all memory of the god with him as well. Already the ambiance on the dance floor reflected immense relief, as if a bomb had been defused and removed. Lamar stared perplexedly at the empty flagon. “I don’t know why, but I’ve got this crazy impression I just saved the world.”

Suzy Q

Another day, another second grade. Suzanne Coates hefted carriers into her van in the elementary school's parking lot. No one, not even the school custodian, had volunteered to help her. "You make them nervous, babies," she cooed to her charges. "Don't let it bug you. The children think you're awesome."

Her charges weren't bugged in the least. But then, reptiles weren't normally given to huge shows of emotion. School students, college zoology majors, museum curators, it was all the same to them. Give them a rat every couple of days and they thought life was peachy. Suzy had a few nervous nellies back at the rescue center, but she never brought those on public outings. Only the non-biters got to go on field trips.

She'd just placed the last carrier in the van and was about to shut the door when she realized she was being watched.

Suzy froze. Her tongue flicked briefly over her lips in a lifelong automatic gesture. She'd checked the parking lot before she started loading up, and seen no one. Her hand crept toward her pocket and the pepper spray she carried at all times. Too many break-ins at the reptile rescue center by animal smugglers and activists had left her paranoid on her charges' behalf.

She wasn't the only nervous one. Richard the iguana circled his carrier, making high, thin noises she'd never heard from him before. Homer, the laziest snake on the planet, had coiled himself into a corner and peered through the carrier's mesh, more alert than Suzy could ever remember seeing him.

Chiquita, in contrast, slid languidly around her carrier, making low, whispery hisses. Her movements reminded Suzy of ... no. No way. Snakes weren't that complex. But damn, she'd swear the way the albino python slithered around looked almost ... seductive.

A sudden hiss that hadn't come from any of her reptiles made Suzy whirl around. The author of the hiss stepped forward. Suzy's tongue washed over her lips again.

Good God, the man was gorgeous. She thought at once of an ancient Aztec warrior, brought to vibrant life. Tall, well-muscled and slender as a snake, just the way she liked her men. Smooth-as-scales copper skin unmarred by scars or blemishes. No body hair. Suzy couldn't stand body hair; it was so ... bestial. Head hair, though, that she liked. His fell like an ebony waterfall past his shoulders. It moved as if stirred by an invisible breeze, or like the flutter of feathers. Each tiny movement sparked a cascade of rainbow colors through the black. Those colors were echoed in his wide, unblinking eyes. Were they gold? Were they green? Were those really slitted puplis? She teetered on the brink of falling into them.

The need to breathe, and the slitted pupil question, finally broke her fascination. Suzy slid a protective half-step closer to the van and shut the door. Nobody was getting his hands on her babies without one hell of a fight.

So far he'd said nothing. He stood utterly still and stared at her. Chiquita got like this when she had her eye on a rabbit. Suzy swallowed thickly. "Can I help you?"

At the sound of her voice the warrior sighed. A smile appeared, full of perfect white teeth. "Like birdsong," he said. He started toward her.

"Stop right there." Suzy took up a defensive stance and assessed her chances. She had her pepper spray and her self-defense training from the Y. A few narrow escapes from reptile thieves had sent her to the gym, where she discovered her own unexpected, sinewy strenght. If she struck fast and hard enough she could take him by surprise. He had no weapns on him that she could see.

He had no clothing on him either. Son of a snake, he was naked. How the hell had she missed that?

He froze at her warning. A scowl replaced the smile. His tongue darted out, imitation of her own habitual gesture. Her gaze instinctively dropped below the belt, or where a belt should be.

More than a belt was missing. Her menacing Aztec had no spear. A smooth expanse of skin stretched from sculpted thigh to sculpted thigh. Not so much as a hint of a dangler. Where was she supposed to aim her knee?

"This is sudden, I know," the warrior spoke, "but it was meant to be. You are a daughter of the mighty sky god, and I am -- "

"A woman?" Suzy blurted. "You're a woman?"

Nonplussed, he gawped at her. Slowly his stare followed hers down below. His dazzling smile reappeared. "Ah, of course. We are not mammals, to parade our shortcomings before all strangers' eyes. The scaly folk keep our deadliest weapon safely tucked away. You wish to see? Of course you do. All brides want to know if their husband will bring sufficient attributes to the marriage bed. Practical. I like that."

He set his muscled legs apart. The slit between them peeled back. A wedge-shaped head emerged, followed by a thick,coppery body. Suzy half expected to see a forked tongue poke out of it.

"This really isn't necessary," Suzy said hastily. "I don't need confirmation. You need some pants. That thing needs a leash. And I -- "

The anaconda between his legs reared up to study her out of its single blind eye. Suzy backed against her van, unable to look away. "Oh my god."

The Aztec beamed. "Precisely."

Where the hell were the cops when you needed them? Assuming the police would even bother booking someone over a minor infraction like indecent exposure. This was, after all, Talbot's Peak.

Nor was he indecent. Quite the knuckle-biting opposite.

Suzy made a choking noise. Her legs trembled. "What do you want from me?"

"What all men want from a beautiful woman. Your acceptance of my troth." He held out his hand. "Join with me, my bride. We are meant to be. It is destiny."

"Who the hell are you?"

A little indentation appeared between his brows. "I am Itzcoatl, the Obsidian Serpent. And you are -- " He peered at the logo on the side of her van. "Suzy the Snake Lady. Is this a description, or your sacred title? Are you a priestess of the Feathered Serpent?"

"Rick hired you to fuck with my head, didn't he?"

"I know of no 'Rick.' I know only that you are for me. We are meant to rule this wrold together, our coils entwined through eternity."

Great. A naked nutcase, coming on way too strong. However, he'd been nice enough to provide her knee with that hefty, unmissable target. Suzy struck like one of her snakes, with blinding speed and deadly accuracy.

So much for godhood.

With the "Obsidian Serpent" coiled upon himself in a well-muscled ball in the street, Suzy threw herself behind the wheel and sped off in a squeal of protesting rubber. The minute she got home, she would lock her door and alert the police. Then she'd phone Rick and give him the verbal version of what she'd just delivered to his flunky. Three months after a nasty breakup and he still couldn't just let it be? The nerve of some people.

# # #

The world Itzcoatl intended to rule gradually came back into focus. He picked himself gingerly up off the street. His nut-pouch throbbed in agony like a heart ripped from a sacrifice's chest. He'd forgotten these fleshly monkey-suits came with limitations.

Feathers of the sky god! He'd actually made a mistake. The divine essence of Quetzalcoatl coursed through his intended's veins. Of course she would be a warrior. That did not, he thought with gritted teeth, excuse such mistreatment of her lord. She deserved chastisement for her sin. Preferably delivered from a distance.

He levered himself upright and swayed on naked feet. His teeth flashed briefly, in spite of the pain. No serpent could have made a quicker strike. Or a more well-aimed one, he thought ruefully. The Snake Lady would prove a most able queen of creation, once he schooled her into showing proper deference.

He eased his abused spear-shaft back into its pocket and peered up the street. Her noxious chariot was long gone, but her taste remained on his tongue. He would find her again, and approach her again. More cautiously this time.

Shifting form from man to giant snake, Itzcoatl rose into the air. The encounter had taught him much, including the need for discretion. This was a new and possibly dangerous world, even to a god. His feathers shimmered to match the light around him, rendering him unseen. Now cloaked from mortal eyes, he soared in pursuit of his mate.

Snakes Alive!

Itzcoatl, the Obsidian Serpent, soared steadily northward across the world that would soon be his. The sun glimmered on his ebony feathers, striking sparks of rainbow colors that sparkled like flashes of glass. At one point he executed an elaborate loop-the-loop, the coils of his body twisting upon themselves until they threatened to knot his wings. A plunge from this height would not kill him, of course. Nothing in this world could kill a god. It would, however, prove most annoying.

Why not display his joy? Awake again after millennia of slumber, the son of Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent, stood ready to claim this land and his worshippers once again. Granted, the planet had changed radically from the jungle empires he remembered. The little mud-monkeys appeared to have abandoned their stone pyramids in favor of great soaring towers of glass and steel. Itzcoatl approved of this change. These cities sparkled, bright and sharp as fine-honed knives, and quested toward Heaven itself. His worshippers had become mighty warriors in the centuries he’d been asleep.

And the number of them! This new world teemed with sacrifices. One congested city alone would feed him full for decades. No more waiting around for the priests to haul his meals up to the altar one at a time. Itzcoatl hissed in glee. So many little monkeys, all his for the taking.

Now all he needed was a mate.

Where had all the feathered serpents gone? Where all gods go when they sense their end approaching: into the genes of their followers. More than one of his kind had taken on human form to enjoy earthly pleasures with their worshippers. Somewhere among the endless multitudes of upright monkeys walked descendants of Quetzalcoatl.

He suspected it was her scent that that roused him from his slumber, and driven him out of his den in the bowels of the ancient temple. She was already gone by the time he emerged. He sent his forked tongue questing in the air, tasting its myriad currents. Godhood left a unique tingle on the taste buds. The mate he sought had definitely come this way.

The feathered serpent hissed. She’d certainly come a long way. He’d left the Venezuelan jungles behind some hours ago. Mexico’s scorched, spare landscape was already an unpleasant memory. Where in the name of the sun was the female headed? He hissed again. After this extended chase, she had better be female. He ceased his gambols and settled in for what looked to be a prolonged flight.

He knew he worried needlessly. Of course she would be female. He would dazzle her with his beauty and his prowess in the air, and she would instantly accept his proposal. He was a son of the Feathered Serpent. What woman could resist a god?

# # #

Itzcoatl came to earth beside a marsh and assumed his human form. He didn’t like this place. The trees had odd little leaves like tiny green needles instead of proper fronds, and the chilly air lacked the soupy humidity his kind had always favored. He’d heard about the frigid lands of the north but had never bothered to visit. If his mate sought privacy, she couldn’t have picked a better hiding place. Still, the sooner he claimed her and got her back to the jungle, the better.

He stepped barefoot to the edge of the water and raised his arms. “Brothers and sisters,” he announced, “your lord has arrived.”

His declaration was received by silence, broken eventually by a single gulp from a bullfrog. Itzcoatl hissed. He had no use for amphibians. For half their lives they looked like fish, and he had less use for fish. On the other hand, many frogs meant many snakes. So where were his brethren? Perhaps his magnificence blinded them?

A turtle poked its head out of the scummy water, blinked its sets of eyelids at him, and submerged again. No further comments issued from the bullfrog.

Itzcoatl frowned. This world wasn’t turning out quite the way he’d imaged.

Finally. One of his distant northern cousins shushed through the short grass by his feet. Itzcoatl extended a welcoming hand. The timber rattler shied away. Irritated, he snatched it up. The snake’s tail gave off a warning buzz.

“Brother,” Itzcoatl addressed it, “I am new to your land. I seek my true mate. Have you seen her?”

The rattler snapped at his arm. Its voice, in the language of the scaly folk, said Buzz off!

With a deft twist Itzcoatl snapped the rattler’s neck. He then swallowed it whole, tail first. It had, after all, been a long and strenuous flight. He smacked his lips. “Boring conversation anyway,” he decided.

# # #

With no help forthcoming from his rude northern relatives, Itzcoatl tasted the air again. There certainly were a lot of odd smells up here. His sensitive tongue picked out the bloodlines of many different gods. Mammalian mostly, with Lobo and Coyote predominant. Many spirits resided here. Which god predominated? Unless, of course, they were awaiting the arrival of the one true spirit lord.

His mate had done well to choose this place after all. This was a land of ancient power. It and its inhabitants would serve him well.

His tongue found her scent, stronger than ever. This close, he was able to determine his quarry was indeed a female, and bursting to the brim with the blood of the sky god. Splendid! With his tongue to guide him, the Obsidian Serpent marched naked up the road toward Talbot’s Peak, and his most glorious destiny.