Page 24

But all that stuff he said — you hang around corpo types enough and you pick up on how they love to throw around their stupid buzzwords. Circle back, touch base, synergize — you learn to tune it out after a while when so much of it starts to sound meaningless.

And then sometimes the words stand out a little too well. Worship. Tithes. Devotion.

It was the Goddess of the Valley all over again, her magical talent made all the more powerful by the blind, zealous faith of her followers. Every magpie she added to her flock fed her, adding to her stock of arcane essence. Some of them even died in the Battle of the Basement, sapped of the life force that they’d willingly donated to their mad goddess.

And that was when it clicked.

“Faith,” I said. “Somehow, some way, you’re generating power from all the stuff you sell.”

Loki tapped the tip of his nose, his grin stretching wider.

“Funny, isn’t it? How I, of all the radiant personages in my pantheon, made the most of myself after all this time.”

I thought of Freyja and her gemstones, of the summoning magic she transmitted across great distances from the suffocating confines of her crystalline prison. But I said nothing. Was this why she wanted to link with me so badly? If she molded my mind and I devoted myself to her hard enough, could she feed on my faith, too? To become her servant, her worshipper, or her familiar — the thought made me shiver.

Morrow’s words from all that time ago came back to me. “Do you believe in fairies?”

“The temples are empty, gentlemen. No. The truth of it is that the temples are gone, replaced in this age by all the many, many distractions of modern human life. Now you worship your phones and tablets and televisions, the black voids you feed your attention while you receive so precious little back.

“The gods have grown weak and hungry in an age when humans only go fervent and feral over the newest technology, the tastiest new twist on fast food, the very silliest new viral video. Too many of my brothers and sisters have withered away from lack of worship, attention, or even acknowledgment. Who speaks the names of dead gods when they have already been forgotten?”

Nomicon Valley. This whole place was built on names, every corpo keeping its own precious record. Was this why Loki had muscled his way into the city? Was that why the corpos collected these names, as little power as they held? So that someone — anyone — would remember, so that something — anything — would never truly cease to exist.

For a moment I thought I spotted a glimmer of sorrow in Loki’s eyes, but it was swiftly replaced by a glint of malice.

“I refuse to be forgotten. My name is still well remembered today, but the Thorpes too have maintained a long and powerful lineage. Their names are all my names, too, as is every last one of my fabulous franchises. No god is dead for as long as someone speaks one of his many names. Love for Happy, Inc. is adoration for Loki. It’s all faith in the end, really.”

The god parted his arms.

“I wish to live forever. That is why I built my own temples.”

This went farther back and deeper down than Morrow, Scrimshaw, Sakamoto, and I could have ever guessed.

“And now you have your charms, too,” Morrow said, carefully keeping his composure. “You’ve fattened us humans up on all your goods. The faith keeps coming. Why risk your perpetual drip-feed of power on, what? Random, useless trances?”

Houston had said something about docility, how repeated trances could hypothetically be conditioning the charm-wearers for something bigger. Something worse.

Loki laughed again. This time the laughter was boisterous and bold, a villain proud of his monologue and his masterwork. I know I said that letting the talkative keep talking was a great way to learn new information, but this guy really, really loved the sound of his own voice.

“And why should I tell you everything and spoil the surprise? Surely I should leave something for you to discover for yourselves. Play along. Try and guess the mystery as you watch the movie. All play and no work? You very dull boys.”

“You know some of your charms are defective, right?” I said, trying to bait him. The twitch in the corner of his eye said I was at least mildly successful. “The charms that say ‘Happy’ — they’re not like the others. They disintegrate after they go off.”

Loki waved one dismissive hand. “Single-use charms. And what of it? Do you recall your attackers experiencing lapses in short-term memory? They’ll think they just lost a charm over the course of going about their day. It only means that people will buy more to replenish. Profit.”

“Or they self-destruct on purpose,” Morrow said. “They’re meant to leave no evidence. The other charms just dull someone’s personality and tranquilize them. The ‘Happy’ charms, the ones that drive people berserk — you don’t want anyone researching them, reverse engineering them. Because you’re testing how violent they’ll make their wearers before you churn them out at an even larger scale.”

“And what about the moon charms?” I asked. “There’s a full moon coming. What happens then?”

Another derisive chuckle. “Do your own homework, children. I’ve told you enough. We at Happy, Inc. are delighted that you’ve taken such keen interest in our fine line of products, our brand new charms and charm bracelets most of all.”

What the hell? From villainous monologue to sales pitch? I watched in disgust as the ribbons of Alexandra Thorpe began to wrap themselves around Loki’s body again, entombing the god and transforming him into Happy, Inc.’s giantess CEO.

“Remember,” Alexandra said. “Happy Links bring happy thinks.”

I cringed. “That’s a terrible tagline, you know.”

“We’re still workshopping it. I should have the marketing department flogged.”