Unlike “Hotel California,” I didn’t have any problems leaving once I’d checked out.  Of course, I often thought of the line, “You can check out any time you like,” to refer to being in control of your own destiny when it came to deciding to shuffle off the mortal coil (another euphemism.)  I would then combine it with some “Phantom of the Paradise”-esque contract.  (When I was younger, I’d often add “Everything excluded shall be deemed included,” as fine print to my notes at school.  It was a rare teacher who noticed, and even rarer that they knew the reference.)  I didn’t buy the button, “Death does not release you,” though, because that just underlies the ultimate fatalism of many religions.

Those morbid thoughts consumed me (not so literally, thank goodness) on the ride back, as I considered Ereshkigal, Ani-lbo, and Hel versus Hades/Pluto, Yeng-Wang-Yeh, and Arawn, and the gender discrepancies involved.  I probably really only had the Shadow King on my mind.  My dreams and my conscience were both full of bits that needed digestion, although speaking of such, I did have to make an extra stop because ice cream really isn’t for breakfast.

It occurred to me about two hundred miles out that there wasn’t a Shadow Queen.  I didn’t stop in the middle of the road the way such epiphanies always seem to hit me, because I then spoke Sylvia’s name aloud.  I hit the steering wheel again and swore.

I checked the time and called Ed.

“I figured it out.  Mars needs women.”  If that didn’t tell Ed who was calling, merely naming myself would have been at best a let down.

“Says you,” he replied, immediately.  “Although Heinlein did kind of brush off men who liked men in Stranger in a Strange Land by deciding that his uber-civilized alien would find it unnatural.  I’ve read a lot of fanfic that disagreed.”

“Rule thirty-four.  Fine.  Shadow Kings need the womenz.”

“I’m in ur psyche stealin’ ur anima?” he tried.

“Well, if he likes the witches, who better to hang out…as?” I asked.

“Huh.”

“Yeah, I know, I’ve got a point.  Hey, have you ever seen me as the type to have a badger on my head?”

“I don’t need drugs, E.  I’ve got conversations with you.”

“Am I an afterschool special?”

“Better than an afternoon delight,” he teased.

“No, see, it makes sense.  He’s after Sylvia, right?”

“Uh, yeah, I think that’s why he was in that house.”

“No, really.”  I hit my steering wheel again.  “Okay, fine, it was right in front of me the whole time and I insisted it wasn’t just a bunch of trees, it had to be a forest.”

“Be careful, you’re almost making sense now,” Ed reminded me.

“Dude.” I tapped my fingers against the wheel and tried to get my thoughts in order.  “He can’t have Maggie.  If he was in my head, it’d be obvious.  But I wanted Sylvia, so he wanted Sylvia, and then maybe he got the -cubi in because he wants to birth a new god.  Or a new goddess.”

“I want a new god, one that does what it should? One that answers my prayers said at night, one that smites my enemies so good?” Ed filked, musing.

“How do gods mate?” I asked.

“Oh man, try the internet for that one.”

“I mean procreate.”

“I’m not backing off my original answer.  Zeus was creative, but not as much as Loki, if I recall correctly.”

“Right.  But what about gods of the underworlds?”

“Oh.  Um.  Persephone was stolen, wasn’t she?”

“Right.  I thought I remembered something about Anubis having a wife.  I know he had a daughter.  Anput.  Qadesh.  These names kind of circle around in my head, but I don’t know for sure.  And I’m driving so I can’t look it up.”

“Voice recognition systems for the win, eh?”  Ed sighed.  “I don’t know, E.   Where do you go from there?”

“That’s just it.  The wheels are turning, and I’m afraid of where the road leads.  What if he needs a female aspect in order to rule a new land?   I said then that he’s making some sort of power grab, and that’s kind of weird.”

“Taking this whole conversation as real and not part of a gaming session is kind of weird.  What, he’s running for President?  I’m voting for the lesser evil.  Hold on a second.”  He put his hand over the speaker and talked to someone in the background, while my mind raced.

-Cubi procreated in dreams, succubi stealing the seed and incubi sowing it, leaving its victim pregnant with the possibilities.  It wasn’t a nine-month gestation, either, as it had to do with the connection to the Outside, not the physical.    The Shadow King was an old power, and rare was the human that could birth a demigod.  If the -Cubi got something out of the deal, could they take the Shadow’s seed and plant it, instead?

I caught myself thinking, “Not in my Sylvia!” and then frowned.  Not my Sylvia.  And not using Rohana as a midwife, a thought that occurred and was discarded as quickly as possible.  Of course, there was a whole coven who could do the trick in a pinch, couldn’t they?

“Okay, I’m back,” Ed said.  “So he gets married, has a baby Shadow and rules a magical kingdom somewhere far away from us, right?  Why are we worried?  Doesn’t this kind of stuff happen to like hundreds of weird creatures every day?”

“Yeah,” I said slowly.  “He’s just been too connected to me and my friends to not be worried, I guess.”  My mind started winding down, or at least the anxiety decreased.

“Mom says come on over on Sunday for chicken.”

“Sounds like a plan.  Can’t miss her chicken,” I said, almost automatically.  “She’ll want to find out what’s happening.  She was in my dream, you know.”

“Yeah.  Everyone at work said they had weird dreams during the morning meeting, but dreams suck to try to tell to other people.  The best you get is, `Well it was weird,’ like your subconscious is normally straight.  Heh.”

I rolled my eyes.  “So you’re saying my subconscious is queer?”

“Hey.  Your dirty thoughts can stay right out of my side of the fence, mister.”

“Your side of the sewer, you mean.”

He chuckled and we got off the phone, while I focused on driving.