Hell's Spells (Ordinary Magic Book 6)

by Devon Monk

  “Clean up in the bread section,” he croaked over the store’s PA system. “Clean up for Miss Delaney Reed.” Underlying that tone was the unspoken again.

  “Why is Ryder mad at you, Boo Boo?”

  I shrugged. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be shopping for last-minute lasagna.”

  I must have sounded frustrated enough his uncle tendencies took over.

  “All right. You are not cooking lasagna.” He moved me to one side, dropped his basket in mine next to the dragon pig and took over driving.

  “I can make las—”

  “You’ll try to make it perfect, except somehow it will catch on fire. Or explode.”

  “Lasagna explodes?”

  He stopped the cart and gave me a look. “Remember the potatoes?”

  “That was only one time! Okay two. But lasagna is easier than baking a potato.”

  Crow wasn’t listening. He was taking the aisles at a speed that made me stretch my legs or switch to a jog. He pulled up sharp at the deli counter.

  “No,” I said.

  “Hold your horses.” He studied the options behind the curved glass display cases, the cart blocking a young man with an armful of toilet paper who was trying to squeeze past the kiosk of pretzels and hummus.

  “Sorry.” I shifted the cart so the kid could get through.

  “Baked lemon pepper chicken, some of that pasta salad with the peas…” Crow looked over at me. “Peas?”

  I gagged.

  Crow grinned. “Oh, yeah, extra peas, no, a little more. A little more. And…good. Those rosemary garlic rolls too. Thanks, Heath.”

  “There,” he said. “All taken care of. The baked chicken is delicious, and you can serve it cold if you want. Now you go pick out a dessert.”

  I glanced toward the baking aisle.

  “No. Nothing from scratch, nothing out of a box. Hie thee to the bakery section. That-a-way. Cheesecake, pudding cake, donuts, pie. Baked by someone who knows how to turn off an oven before the fire department shows up.” He made shooing motions.

  “I can bake,” I muttered to the dragon pig. It just oinked and wagged its tail.

  “You’ll have plenty of time to sulk in the bakery department.” Crow dug around in his pocket and held up a bottle cap for the dragon pig. It pecked it out of his fingers in one quick swipe, chewed and swallowed.

  “Stop bribing my pig,” I said.

  Crow laughed and made more shooing motions.

  I worked my way back to the bakery, much more slowly than the speed-run-power-walk Crow had just performed.

  Chicken wasn’t a bad idea, and serving it cold left some leeway if Ryder got delayed. I pulled out my phone and checked for messages. None.

  I thought about calling him again, decided that was too much, but maybe a text wouldn’t be a bad idea in case the job site was too noisy for him to hear his phone ring.

  Dinner tonight? Picking up enough for two. Dessert too.

  I read it over again, added a little heart and sent it before I did any more second guessing.

  “All right,” I said to absolutely no one, “what dessert says, ‘Hey, we need to talk’? Pie? Crullers?”

  I took my time to case the joint. I waffled between the key lime pie and the raspberry sour cream pudding cake. Finally decided on the cake, which would go well with whipped cream.

  I toted my bounty back to the deli aisle, but Crow wasn’t there. A quick scan down the rows, and I finally spotted him by the wine.

  “Dessert.” I dropped the plastic box of cake and spray can of whipped cream next to the dragon pig. “Are you done sticking your nose in my personal business?”

  “Hardly. Beer—he likes the Haystack, right?” Crow held up our local brew made by Chris Lagon—our local gillman.

  “Wine—you like red, right? Not what I’d pair with chicken, but it will make the lemon pepper pop.” He put a bottle of red with a boring label in the basket.

  “Good-bye, Delaney,” I said. “Didn’t mean to take over your life like you aren’t an adult who has been shopping for herself since she was seventeen. Didn’t mean to treat you like you don’t know how to put one simple meal on the table.”

  Crow grinned, and there was a flash in his eyes. Not god power exactly, because he’d put that down to vacation here, and I knew it was stashed out at Frigg’s place. But all the gods had a little something that made them stand out from mortals if you knew how to look for it.

  Crow’s looked a lot like bossy busy-body.

  “Maybe it’s that attitude of yours that’s pushing him away,” he mused.

  “Watch it.”

  “Or your cooking skills. The lack of them.”

  “Go away.”

  “Or that your job gives you more power than him, and his masculinity feels threatened.”

  “Now you’re just—”

  “My masculinity feels just fine, thanks.”

  I couldn’t help it, my heart went all fluttery. My cheeks and neck seared hot as a fire-red blush rushed under my skin. Ryder had that effect on me. Ryder had had that effect on me since we were in grade school.

  Crow gave me a big wink. “Ryder, I didn’t see you there.”

  I turned. It took me several seconds before I had the brain to speak.

  He wore dark blue flannel over a grey Henley that hugged the muscles of his broad chest. He’d ditched the Carhartt jacket and shoved both sleeves up his arms to show off his strong forearms.

  Streaks of sun-bleached blonde threaded his brown hair, making those green eyes of his sparkle like slow-flowing water.

  He looked like summer and warm sand and everything I’d ever wanted in my life.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Hey.” He glanced away from me to assess the basket. “Looks like someone’s got plans.”

  “I do. Have plans.”

  “Aw…isn’t this sweet? You two kids are just the bee’s knees.”

  “Go away, Crow,” we said at the same time.

  He chuckled. “See you two around. And Ryder? Stop making my girl sad. Or I’ll make time in my schedule to have words with you.”

  Great. An over-protective almost-uncle threat. That was just super great.

  Ryder shot me a look. “You’re sad?”

  “If there’s a chance to stir up trouble, Crow’s got the spoon. You know that.”

  “Sure,” he said, though the way he said it meant he also knew Crow liked it best when the trouble was based on truth. “You…” He took a breath and changed tactics. He stepped forward and took both of my hands in his. “Dinner sounds great. Thanks for the beer.”

  “Crow picked out the beer,” Crow called out from halfway across the store.

  “Right,” I said. “Can we agree to keep the gods out of this?”

  “What gods?” He returned my smile.

  “All of them,” I said. “I’d like to have a nice meal with you and no one else.”

  The dragon pig oinked.

  “Dragon pigs and Spuds excluded,” I added.

  Ryder was still smiling, but a shadow crossed his face. I waited, not ready to jump to some kind of conclusion. Not ready to think he was already figuring a way to cancel the date, a way out of it.

  “Uh, one god,” he said.

  “Which?” Calm. I was calm. The ocean in summer, no wind, no waves calm. The sand blown clean and smooth, not a footprint to be seen calm.

  “Mithra.”

  Now there was wind, waves, churning sand.

  “Mithra is joining us for dinner?”

  “No not, well, in a way, but no. Not…um…physically.”

  “‘In a way’ because you’re tied to him, or because he’s trying to use you to do something he wants? Like get into Ordinary without having to follow the rules. Like ruling Ordinary.”

  “He’s a god of rules, Delaney.”

  “Oh, I know. He’s a god of contracts who tricked you into signing a contract with him. A god who hates that a Reed is standing in his way of taking over a town he won�
�t even enter legally.”

  Ryder cleared his throat and glanced around to see if we were gathering a crowd. Okay, yeah, I’d been a little loud.

  I followed his gaze and noted both Odin and Frigg trying to look very interested in quiche and dog biscuits, respectively.

  Frigg, a trucker hat on backward, her button-up short sleeve with FRIGG’S RIGS embroidered across the pocket, glanced over at me. She tipped her chin at Ryder and held up a bag of treats, offering to peg him in the back of the head.

  I took a breath, held it for a second, searching for that calm water, that smooth sand somewhere inside me.

  “Delaney.” Odin pushed his cart between us, forcing us to step back. “Ryder.” Odin’s eye patch was forest-green leather today, the band tight enough it made his wild gray hair go mushroom shaped at the top.

  He was a trickster god, but also a god of wisdom and poetry, among other things. Here in Ordinary, without his power, he was a chainsaw artist. And not a very talented one.

  “Odin,” I said.

  “Did I overhear a dinner being planned?” He focused his one eye on Ryder and leaned toward him. “Something special going on tonight?”

  I frowned.

  Ryder cleared his throat. “Delaney and I are having a nice dinner. Alone,” he added. “Just a nice dinner.”

  “Just a nice dinner?” Odin asked. He threw a look at Frigg, and I thought I caught her dragging her finger across her throat in the “kill it” signal, but she scratched at her collarbone instead.

  She flashed me a toothy smile.

  “Well, that’s nice,” Frigg said, louder than needed. “You two have a nice, private dinner. C’mon, Odin. Let Ryder and Delaney,” and she upped the volume just a bit, “have a nice private dinner.”

  There was a split second of silence in the store, then I heard shopping cart wheels spin and clack, voices mumble, and the general commotion of people moving through the store toward the exits.

  Odin made a short humph sound then reached around Ryder and snagged a six pack of Pirate Stout. “Have a good dinner, you two. Frigg?” He held up the beer. “Cold one?”

  “I’m not buying a statue,” she said.

  “Did I say I wanted you to?”

  “Every time I see you.”

  He aimed his cart toward the check out, and Frigg strolled along next to him.

  “I can find someone else who likes beer,” he grumbled.

  Frigg chuckled. “You are so easy sometimes.” She tossed a bag of chips into Odin’s cart, plucked up a jar of salsa, hesitated over cheap queso, then grabbed it.

  “Oh, and Ryder?” Frigg spun. She was walking backward, still pacing Odin. “Don’t be such a jerk to Delaney, or Crow won’t be the only one having words with you.” She waved, turned, then they were around the corner and out of sight.

  Ryder scowled. “How am I the bad guy here?”

  I bit back a small smile. “Gods, right?”

  He cleared his throat. “Any chance we can go back to being annoyed at Crow? Maybe add whatever that was with Frigg and Odin?”

  “Yeah. I’m still angry about Mithra. But you know that, I remind you about it enough. And Crow’s always been a little…” I wobbled my hand back and forth to show he was walking a thin line too.

  “We’re good then?” he asked.

  “We’re good.”

  We stood there like a couple of dorks, staring into each other’s eyes.

  Then a woman, who was not a god, came down the aisle. She had a cell phone pressed to her ear and was reading off every brand and name in an east coast accent.

  “Dinner, right?” I asked, uncomfortable with how hopeful it sounded.

  “Yes. Absolutely. I just have to deliver one thing. No, don’t glare. It’s a part that didn’t get out to the job site and they need it ASAP. I’ll be back in an hour, hour fifteen tops.”

  “Great,” I said, and it didn’t sound great at all. “I’m off at four. Plenty of time.”

  “Delaney.”

  “No, it’s good. Works with my schedule too. Dinner at five.”

  “I could take it out there maybe in the morning…”

  “No. Go. I’ll keep the chicken warm and throw the beer mugs in the freezer.”

  He paused, eyes zagging to measure my mood. “You sure?”

  “I’ll see you at home, Bailey.” I closed the distance and gave him a kiss on the cheek which felt a little weird, but I just couldn’t shake the sadness sitting lead-heavy in my stomach.

  He gave me one last puzzled look, which I couldn’t decipher, then raised one eyebrow. “You know we’re okay, right?”

  That was a landmine I refused to set off in the middle of a grocery store. I smiled. It was fake, but I wasn’t sure he would notice.

  “Sooner you leave, sooner we get chicken,” I said with forced levity. “Fair warning, you’re eating all that salad. It’s full of peas.” I stuck my tongue out and that seemed to erase the worried look on his face.

  His hands, which had been clenched at his sides, relaxed, the lines at the corners of his eyes smoothed out. “Hour, hour and a half,” he said, relieved.

  “Drive safe.”

  I watched him go, enjoying the swing of his toned shoulders and the way those work jeans cupped his ass and made his long legs look even longer.

  “Think he’s going to get home before midnight?” I asked the dragon pig. It oinked.

  “Yeah, me neither.” I sighed and headed to the checkout.

  The glass of wine was still half full. I’d taken three sips from it, just to see if Crow had any idea how to pick out wine.

  He did. It was delicious.

  When eight o’clock rolled by, I stabbed a piece of cold chicken with a fork and ate it over the sink. Then I packed away the food and placed the beer mugs back in the freezer.

  The wine glass was still on the table, a testament to the “soon” that hadn’t come.

  When nine o’clock rolled around, I lifted the glass, took one more small sip, then poured the rest of it down the drain.

  I ran the water, staring as the deep maroon liquid went crimson, rose, blush, and was gone. Diluted into nothingness. Weaker than water.

  Was this how our days would go? Moments of something wonderful watered down by the mundane until we were thinned out, invisible?

  I turned off the water and dried my hands. Maybe that was the way other relationships ended, but not mine. Not with the man I’d loved for so many years. If we were going down the drain, we weren’t going down without a fight.

  Spud and the dragon pig were sprawled across the big leather couch taking as much room as physically possible. Both were sleeping, a soft buzzing snore coming out of the dragon pig.

  “All right, you slackers, scoot to one side. We’re gonna watch a movie.”

  Before I could wedge my way into the corner of the couch, my phone rang.

  “Delaney,” I answered.

  “Perhaps you could assist me.” The voice was stuffed up, as if the speaker couldn’t get any air in through his nose.

  “Than?”

  “Yes, Reed Daughter.”

  “You sound different.”

  “I am aware.”

  I pushed the dog’s butt. He rolled over, leaving about three inches of couch free. I wriggled in next to him, crossed my legs and picked up the remote. “What can I do for you?”

  “I require your attendance.”

  “Oh…kay. Where?”

  “At my abode.”

  I just sat there with my thumb stuck in the down position on the remote. The TV flashed soundlessly through channel choices.

  “You want me to come to your house?”

  “Did I not just say as much?”

  “You did, no you did. All right. That’s— Why?”

  “If you would come, we could speak in person.”

  Alarm bells went off. Death might be a lot of things—and he was. But he was rarely cagey about what he required of a person.

  “Are you all
right?”

  “Quite.”

  “But are you in danger?”

  “Delaney.” The sigh said it all.

  “If there’s someone in your house holding you at gunpoint just say you want pepperoni with extra cheese. If you’re tied to a chair, tell me to add pineapple. And if it’s more of a hostage situation, tell me you like the thin crust so crisp a fly can crack it.”

  “I regret this immensely.”

  “Is that code for something? Something embarrassing? Do you have a body part stuck in something, or something stuck in a body part? Did you accidentally handcuff yourself naked somewhere? The roof?”

  “If I had—” And then the weirdest thing happened. He sneezed. “If I wanted—” He sneezed again. “Good-bye, Reed Daughter.”

  He hung up, the little click as loud as a coffin lid slamming in place.

  “No,” I said. “No way. You’re not getting out of this that easily. Plus, you invited me to your house.”

  I sprang up and put on my coat and boots in a flash. I grabbed my purse. As an afterthought, I detoured to the cupboard for a can of chicken soup, a box of tissues with the menthol lotion in it and—after dithering for a second—decided not to pack the cold chicken.

  My phone rang again.

  “Yo.”

  “Are you okay?” Myra asked.

  “Yes. Well, Ryder stood me up, but I’m good. Why?”

  “I just had this overwhelming urge to call you. Are you doing something stupid?”

  “Maybe. I’m going to go visit Than. At his house. He sounded sick.”

  The length of the silence was telling.

  “I know!” I said. “Finally. I’ll take as many pictures as I can.”

  “Wow, is he…I mean I know he can’t die…”

  “He sneezed. So…allergies? Cold? Wanna put some money on it?”

  She laughed. “No. But take some cold medicine just in case.”

  “Oh, good idea. I have soup.”

  “You didn’t make it, did you? Because I’d hate to be the sister of the woman who killed Death. Think of the headlines.”

  “Har-har. It’s in a can.”

  “Only one can of water. They mean the can it comes in, Delaney.”