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enlightening. Please welcome my brother, Seth.”
    The Egyptian god stood up from the table in front of us and walked on stage. The whole crowd seemed to gasp as he turned around. His eyes burned like hot coals, a fiery red that seemed out of place on his aged and graying face. The only thing giving him a r espectable air was the freshly pressed black suit he wore with an annoyed sense of dignity.
    Isis shook his hand and gave him a soft smile before taking her place next to her husband, Osiris, and their sister, Nephthys, Seth’s wife. The fact that they were all brothers and sisters didn’t seem to bother them, or stop them from marrying each other. Whatever floats your boat, I guess. As long as it doesn’t sink mine.
    The Egyptian council position was a joke. The only traces left of the faith were mashed into the compost heap of new age paganism. The Egyptians were the last of the a ncient faiths failing to accept their decline and merge their sliver of territory with Summerland before they lost it altogether. Why they were still in the voting ring was beyond me.
    “What an honor.” Seth bent over the podium to speak into the mic rophone. “I hope to do many great things for Eternity.” It sounded more like a threat. The sinister smile he directed at Grim only confirmed my opinion.
    Yama, one of the Hindu council re presentatives, stood next. He looked perfectly groomed in his red suit, even if it did clash with his green skin. Yami, his wife, sat at one of the closer tables with tears in her eyes, glad that he would be going back to Naraka, the Hindu hell, with her.  
    “Thank you for the wonderful e xperience I’ve had this past century. Please welcome, Meng Po,” he said with less enthusiasm than Isis had.
    The crowd hesitated in shock before applauding Lady Meng as she made her way on stage. The Hindu deities almost never shared their council seats.  Grim’s face har dened as the old woman reached the podium. She gave a small bow and took her chair without giving a speech. Everyone at the first row of tables collectively sighed, like they had been anticipating a reenactment of the punch bowl scene on a larger scale.
    Munkar and Nakir, the two Islamic angels on the council, flew the short distance to the podium, sprinkling the first row of tables with a feathery shower and earning them a stern look from the ir prophet.
    “Thank you,” began Munkar. “It has been a true pleasure working with the council. And it is a true pleasure to introduce the two taking our places, Ridwan and Maalik.”
    My jaw dropped. Maalik would be living in Limbo for the next hundred years. Guess a vacation wouldn’t spare me from him after all. The angels stood up from our table and walked to the stage. I frowned, wondering how long they had known, and clapped with everyone else. Gabriel grabbed my hand as Maalik took to the podium.
    “Thank you. I believe there is much we can do to benefit Eternity,” he said. His eyes rolled over the crowd and paused on me for a brief moment before he took his seat with the council.
    Vishnu, the second Hindu represe ntative, stood at the podium last. He adjusted the microphone with all four hands and smiled. As old as he was, it amazed me that he still enjoyed showing off his extra limbs so much.
    “It’s been a magnificent century here in Limbo City. Please welcome to the council my good friend Shiva’s wife, Parvati,” his excited voice boomed over the crowd.
    Grim had been wise to let Vishnu finish the ceremony. Parvati drew everyone’s attention. She was as beautiful as the next goddess, but that’s not what mesmerized the older deities in the crowd.
    Before the war had ended, Parvati’s popularity among her human followers had become entwined with that of several other goddesses, merging them all into one deity before the soul matter could be controlled. Depending on what the occasion called for, she would become the appr opriate goddess. During the war, the appropriate goddess