by Devon Monk
“I’ll keep it in mind. But with our girl, it’s more likely she’ll have her nose so deep in a book, she’ll forget part of college is meeting people—boys or girls—and having fun.”
“She’ll figure it out.”
He smiled. “Yeah. Edith and I are thinking about a road trip. Route 66. Maybe next year, or the year after. We’ve thought about it for years. Might be time to finally go. Have some fun of our own.”
“Eat the weird stuff, make faces in your selfies, and send a postcard, okay?”
He chuckled. “Will do.”
I turned and nearly ran into a unicorn wearing dark glasses.
“Oh. Delaney,” she exclaimed. “Imagine seeing you here. Isn’t this a surprise?”
“What are you doing?” I hissed.
She leaned forward and put one hoof by her ear. “What’s that? What are you whispering?”
“Take human form, Xtelle. Before someone sees you.”
“You need a form?” Walt asked from behind me.
I pivoted. Smiled. “No, I’m good.” I held up the envelope. “Thanks again.”
He waved and moved over to help a woman looking for the restrooms.
“He didn’t notice you,” I said.
“I am certain he must have.” Xtelle sounded offended and also like she was lying.
“No. He didn’t.”
I was walking toward the little coffee shop. Even though I hadn’t gotten a message from any new god that wanted to come vacation in Ordinary, I usually checked to see if one might be in the area and looking to contact me.
Xtelle trotted behind me, huffing and muttering, and—I noticed—not turning a single person’s gaze. She shoved up alongside me.
“He’s just stunned into silence by my magnificence.”
“Uh-huh.” I waited for the young, beanie-wearing couple coming our way to comment on my horned pink pony, but they just walked past me like Xtelle didn’t exist.
Or like she was invisible.
“Clever.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She lifted her nose, and her sunglasses slipped askew.
She looked ridiculous. I carefully locked down the smile that threatened to break out.
“Invisibility,” I said. “No one else can see you, but you can pester me.”
“I’m not pestering. Demons know your name, Delaney.”
“So?” I moved closer to the wall, crowding her up.
“Even though you’re a pedestrian, plain, boring, rule-abiding, mostly-mortal, you aren’t quite as stupid as we’ve heard.”
“Thanks.” I changed my trajectory once again, and she had to pull up fast or risk running into a potted plant.
She did neither of those things. Instead, she just trotted right through the plant.
Okay, that was different.
“Also, you aren’t quite as ugly or pasty as everyone says. Your teeth could use work, and those tiny boobs…”
“What do you want, Xtelle?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
We were close to the bathroom, so I sped up, opened the door long enough for her to precede me, then stepped in behind her and threw the lock.
“This.” I waved my finger in a circle. “You following me because you want to talk to me. Wrap it up.”
She shimmered and became just that little bit more solid looking, her eyes flashing pink for a moment before returning to the fake sweet-as-spring blue.
“You won’t let me into Ordinary to talk to you, so this is my only option. Although,” she glanced around the restroom and curled her lip, “it’s very…you.”
“The dragon pig is right outside in the parking lot.”
“I don’t know what that has to do with…”
“Ten,” I said.
“You are so tedious!”
“Nine.”
“I want to visit Ordinary. And stay.”
“Why?”
I shouldn’t consider her request, not after all the havoc she’d caused. But the rules of entering Ordinary were too long established inside me. If a supernatural wanted in, all they needed was Reed approval. We didn’t even ask most supernaturals to sign contracts, like we did for the gods.
Demons were the exceptions. They preferred breaking rules and sowing chaos. It was in their nature. Above all else, Ordinary was a vacation town. A place of rest and relaxation.
Demons had to sign a contract binding them to the rules of Ordinary. But the only demon who’d agreed to sign that contract was Bathin, Xtelle’s son, and Myra’s boyfriend.
He’d only agreed to it a month ago when he’d almost lost everything, including my sister.
I found it hard to believe that after centuries of breaking laws and ruining souls, Xtelle wanted to settle down to a nice quiet beach life.
“It’s…you won’t believe me,” she said. “You’ve already made up your mind.”
“This is your chance to convince me to change it.” I rolled my finger again.
“Fine. I…liked it in Ordinary. Okay? Are you happy? I enjoyed myself in your stupid backwater town.” She was breathing hard, challenge in her eyes. Then, a little softer, she added, “I want to enjoy it again.”
“You entered into Ordinary on a lie, told us you were a pink unicorn who had lost her herd.”
“I am a pink unicorn.” She trotted a circle, swished her tail, and glanced over her shoulder so the horn sparkled in the fluorescent light.
“I’ve seen your real form, Xtelle.”
She finished the turn so she was facing me again. “You really haven’t, Delaney. I’ve taken thousands of forms, a million million faces. This form is as real as any other. Sometimes I think it’s nice just to be a pink unicorn for a while, don’t you?”
That sounded dangerously close to real emotion, the sort of weary fatigue I’d heard from gods and immortals. Beings who had been alive long enough that the living of life had become a chore instead of a joy. It was one of the reasons gods and supernaturals liked Ordinary. It was a way to have a fresh start, to be something else for awhile, to be someone else.
But that wasn’t enough for me to let a demon—correction: another demon—into my safe little town.
“You’re going to have to give me more than that. Why now, Xtelle?”
“I’m tired of the everyday of my kind. Torture, trickery, temptation. Boring. But Ordinary? What a shiny little jewel. I want to spend time there. I want to swallow it whole.”
Her hoof came up to her mouth, and her button eyes went moon-wide. “Did I say that out loud?”
“Yes. Thank you for being honest about wanting to devour my home. My answer is no.”
I unlocked the door behind my back, then held it open for her. “Run along now like a good little unicorn.”
I wiggled my fingers in a tiny wave.
“You are a pain in my neck, Delaney Reed.”
“I have that on a T-shirt and a cup.”
She snorted, which shot pink glitter out her nostrils. The sunglasses had fallen all the way down her nose, so I could see the humor in her eyes.
She might think Ordinary was a fun new place to cause trouble, and she might want to swallow it whole, but it was obvious she had fun bothering me too.
“You are insufferable,” she proclaimed.
“Thank you. Good-bye, Xtelle.”
She tossed her head and pranced toward the door, doing a parade two-step I’d seen at the State Fair horse competitions.
“You. Are. The. Worst,” she said, step-step-stepping. “I. Don’t. Like. You.” Step-step-step-swish.
I laughed, and she neatly butt-checked me as she pranced out the bathroom door and into the carpeted hallway.
For a moment, I kind of wished she weren’t invisible, because she was acting like such a stuck up diva, it was a sight to see.
Then the moment passed, and I angled toward the coffee shop again.
The hiss and gurgle of the espresso machine grinding throu
gh orders, and the delicious, rich scent of coffee and caramel, made me pick up my pace.
The coffee shop was small. Even though it was in a casino, they’d tucked it far enough away from the machines and the hubbub that it felt like a nice quiet retreat.
I took my place in line behind two other people who didn’t appear to be together. One was ordering the most complicated cup of tea I’d ever heard of in my life, and the other was tapping his phone with both thumbs.
I scanned the tables. Two young guys who looked like they were between jobs but had the family inheritance to make up for it were arguing over football. One couple in their thirties, both with hair dyed goth black, scanned a screen, laughing.
But it was the single figure who sat in the booth by the window that set off all my Spidey senses.
She was a goddess.
Beautiful too, her hair pulled back in a thick knot, her eyes the color of burnt amber, and her skin a rich brown. She raised one eyebrow at me, and I nodded.
When a god wanted to talk, it was best not to make them wait. I took a step away from the line, but she shook her head and made a little shooing motion. She wanted me to get on with my order before joining her.
So I did. The guy on the phone didn’t even speak to the Barista, Erika, who called him by name, smoothly scanned his screen, and grabbed his cup for his order.
He shuffled to one side, eyes on the phone as he waited.
“Hi. Can I get a dark roast with room for cream?”
“Sure thing, Delaney. How’s it going?”
“Good. Thanks. How about you?”
She poured my coffee while I tugged a few bucks out of my wallet.
“High Tea Tide Saturday,” she said. “I’m excited for that. Have a fancy dress picked out and everything. We have new desserts and drinks we want to try out.”
“Bertie has you on the vendor list, right?”
“We filled out the forms months ago.”
“Then I’ll see you there.”
“I’ll save you one of our new chai-pumpkin cream scones.”
“Sounds amazing. Thank you.” She dropped a vanilla-coated coffee bean on top of the lid and moved on to the pack of women who had filed into the room.
I popped the bean in my mouth and headed to the goddess.
“May I have a seat?” I wasn’t sure which goddess she was yet, but it was best to be polite when having coffee with beings of ultimate power.
“Please do.” Her voice was easy and kind, and I found myself wanting to sit across from her for hours just to hear it.
God power. I was not immune, but I was pretty resistant to it. I could only imagine what effect her voice would have on a regular mortal.
“I’m Delaney Reed, the Bridge to Ordinary, Oregon. As you might know, I come here every Thursday to pick up mail and messages. Did you have a message for a deity inside Ordinary?”
That wouldn’t be unusual, but it would be very old school. There was a time when my grands and great-grands had to memorize, word for word, every message some god wanted to pass along to the deities vacationing inside Ordinary.
Every one of them complained about it in their journals. Guess who got blamed if they got one word wrong?
The almost-war between Eirene and Živa had changed the oral tradition to pen and paper.
That was how it still worked today.
“No, not a message,” she said. “More curiosity about the place.”
“Sure. What do you want to know?”
“How blue is the ocean from the shore?”
That was not what I expected, something so mundane.
“Ordinary’s ocean changes almost moment to moment along with our winds, weather, and seasons. Sometimes the water is as green as jade, other times as blue as sapphire. To be fair, it runs gray a lot of the time, storms whipping it into white foam edges.”
She picked up a glass that seemed to have water in it. But just like demons, gods could make a person see what they want them to see. For all I knew, she was drinking the cosmic honey from some planet in some universe I’d never heard of.
I took a drink out of my own cup. Just plain ol’ Earth coffee, which I’d put up against any drink in the heavens.
“You like it very much,” she said.
“Coffee?” I asked, wondering if she had read my mind.
“Ordinary. You love it.”
“Yes.”
“Enough that you have suffered for it.”
I held very still. But my heart pounded, drum-drum-drumming. It was fear, it was sorrow. It was knowing gods could see more of me than I could hide: my mistakes, my regrets, my bruised up soul.
“Suffering isn’t my first choice.”
“I see that.”
I waited. This was a part of the job. To get a feel for the gods and goddesses who wanted to vacation. To help them understand what living life as a mortal was like, especially if they’d never tried it before.
I’d have to check the records, but I was pretty sure she’d never been to Ordinary.
“May I ask which goddess you are?”
“I’d enjoy you guessing.”
I took another sip of coffee and studied her. This wasn’t easy. If I’d ever Bridged her power before, I’d recognize her in a dark room, blindfolded. But I’d never met her.
God power could be sensed in different ways by different beings. My Dad had seen it—bright and twisting, blinding in beauty. I could see it, not as well as my Dad, but oh, how I heard it—clear and aching, rolling through me like a primordial chorus. It could be deafening. So when I was outside of Ordinary, I kept my god senses on mute.
I opened my senses to her. Carefully, slowly, ready for that rush of sound, that cosmic shout.
But instead I heard silver, bright and pastel, a soft, distant green fire. Her power was a song made of the arc of sky blushed by dawn, a held whisper between night and day.
I exhaled and dropped my guard. This goddess was gentle, beautiful. A guiding light, a star, a path.
“Tala?” I asked. Tala was the Tagalog goddess of the morning and evening star.
“Yes,” she said with a soft smile. “How did you know?”
“Despite what my sister Myra might tell you, I have studied up on deities and their powers. Spent all my life doing it, actually. You’ve never been to Ordinary.”
“No.”
“Do you want to go there now? Vacation?”
She swirled the glass again, and I caught a glimpse of stars rotating, throwing off galaxies of dust, fire, spinning in a distant dark.
She sipped. The glass was empty now, no water or whatever had actually been filling it. With one tiny sip, she’d drained it dry.
But when she set it down, the glass had immense weight. It looked as if it had fused to the wood of the table and the earth below it.
Tala had made a decision.
“Is Death there?”
“He…um…is. Do you want me to take him a message?”
Those eyes, brown and glinting with star fire, pulled up at the corners as she smiled. “I think I’d rather deliver it in person.”
“So that’s a yes for some fun in the sun? Vacation time,” I explained when she frowned slightly. “Beach, sunshine, relaxation.”
“It sounds very wholesome.”
“It can be. There are some rules you’ll need to follow if you’re going to stay.”
“Of course.”
“And you will be expected to follow all mortal laws too.”
“I understand.”
“Only by my approval may you enter, only by my approval may you stay. I can kick you out at my discretion.”
Her fingertips tapped on the table, a soft, rolling motion.
“Acceptable.” She nodded for me to continue.
“I will Bridge your power and give it to the goddess who is currently storing the powers. That responsibility changes from deity to deity once a year. If you stay long enough, you will be expected to store the powers for one year.�
�
“Who is caring for the powers currently?”
“Frigg.”
“Acceptable.”
“You must get a job or otherwise be involved in the community. One of the original intentions of Ordinary was for gods and goddesses to experience a mortal life. That means you’ll need to follow mortal norms.”
“A job.”
“Or volunteering.”
She nodded. “What else?”
“You’ll need to choose your name.”
“I think Talli would be fitting, don’t you?” A small smile played across her lips.
She was teasing me. None of this seemed like news to her. “You’ve been thinking about this for some time, haven’t you?”
“Many years.”
“Excellent. You need to sign the contract. Let me call my sister and have her bring it over.”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, but before I could dial, a manila envelope landed on the table in front of me.
“Hey, Delaney,” Myra said.
I glanced up. Myra was the middle sister out of the three of us. While my build was athletic and lean, hers was curvy and compact. The most I ever did with my hair was pull it back in a braid, and I didn’t bother with makeup.
Myra liked the rock-a-billy look, short straight bangs, and a bob that brushed her shoulders. She did that cat-eye thing with eyeliner and got it right every time which completely baffled me because there was no magic involved.
Her lips, which were currently curved in a smug smile, were a deep, deep red.
“I was headed out to the derby meeting,” she said, “and thought you might need this.”
Myra’s family gift was that she was always in the right place at the right time. So her turning up wasn’t really a surprise.
Still, it was always cool to see her gift in action.
“Myra, this is Tala. She’ll be vacationing in Ordinary. Tala, this is my sister, Myra Reed.”
Her eyebrows went up. “Keeper of the Library?”
“Yes,” Myra said. “Our father passed it on to me. Why?”
“You are also the lover of the demon Bathin?”
One of the drawbacks to the Reed lineage was that our skin was pale enough to blush like crazy. Hot spots slapped Myra’s cheeks, and she tipped her chin up defensively.