by R. J. Blain
I made a happy noise and filled the plate with food.
“One cannot be an ancient god of death,” Than said to Frigg, “and not have met many people as they passed through the underworld.”
Frigg nodded. “Mayans?”
“Lovely people,” he replied. “With rather strong opinions on how the drink should be consumed.”
“I can see that. Is a second cup out of order?”
“Not at all.” Than refilled her cup.
These two weren’t in any kind of hurry, so I ate chunks of cheese and little round cuts of bread, olives, and cherry tomatoes until the hunger pangs were gone.
“Okay,” I said, dusting my fingers on the napkin on my lap. “We need to get to the power transfer. But first, you said something about a storm?”
Frigg popped a cherry tomato in her mouth and chewed. “Yeah. We’re really going to get hammered today.”
“You mean tonight?”
She frowned. “Didn’t you get the emergency weather update?”
“My phone’s broken.”
“Oh, I thought you knew. Here.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket, unlocked the screen, tapped it, and handed it to me.
I read through the National Weather Service update. We had a winter storm rolling in on us faster and harder than they’d forecasted yesterday. We’d have sustained winds at seventy miles per hour and gusts well over a hundred miles per hour.
“Well, crap.” I rubbed at my forehead. “All right. I need to check in with everyone, make sure we’re as prepared for this as we can be.”
Frigg took her phone back. “What about that vacation?”
I bit my bottom lip. I really wanted that vacation.
“I want to go.”
“You should.” She reached over and patted my hand. “What did you decide on?”
“Cabin in the mountains.”
“Oh,” she said, knowing what I’d already figured out.
The storm we’d had last night had dropped a lot of snow in the mountains. The one tonight would mean closing the passes.
If Ryder and I wanted a chance at the hot tub, at peace and quiet, just the two of us, solitude at a little cabin out in the middle of nowhere, we’d need to leave now. Or as close to now as possible.
“Well?” Than asked.
“Well what?”
“Are you going on vacation, or are you going to let a minor weather event stop you?”
“It’s not minor.”
He waved one hand. “In the history of storms, it will not deserve an asterisk’s worth of ink.”
“Weather won’t stop me,” I said. “But I’m not going to be stupid either. Driving into a blizzard is stupid.”
“There’s no blizzard yet. Passes are still open,” Frigg said.
“Perhaps if you hurried?” Than suggested.
I closed my eyes for an extra beat. “I have been hurrying. It’s you two cocoa freaks who are dawdling.”
“That’s true,” Frigg said. “I am a cocoa freak. So are you ready to get this show on the road?”
“I am,” Than said.
“Do you have the vessel?” I asked.
“I do,” he said.
“And you, Frigg, do you have the porting vessel?”
“Right here.” She plopped the bobbin from her spinning wheel onto the table like this was a game of poker and she’d just upped the ante. “Let’s see it,” she challenged.
Than took his time placing all the little silver pots on a tray. He rose and settled them behind him. Next was the carafe. Then he brushed off the tablecloth, and finally, he sat back in the chair.
“What are you going to use for—” I asked, but stopped suddenly when, with a flourish of his hand, he deposited the vessel he intended to use for carrying all the resting god powers onto the table.
The silence became a living thing.
“That’s a toy.”
“You have keen observation skills, Reed Daughter.”
I studied his face. “You’re serious? This is what you want to use to hold all the powers?”
“I was told it should be easily hidden, durable, and if possible, portable.”
That was true. All of it. “Is this durable enough?”
Than raised one eyebrow. “It is more than it appears to be, Reed Daughter.”
“Delaney,” I absently corrected. “It better be. Because this looks like the Grim Reaper stuffy Jean gave you.”
I didn’t dare touch it, but the little stuffed toy stared up at me with its big, green, sparkling eyes, fluffy, black-cowled robe, stitched-on smile, and a wee scythe clasped in its tiny white hands.
“I think it’s adorable,” Frigg said. “It’s nothing anyone would expect to hold power which makes it perfect. Let’s do this.” She tapped the tabletop with a fingertip.
“Now you’re in a hurry?” I teased.
She shrugged. “That storm is going to mean plenty of tow jobs. And I want to get some grocery shopping in before it hits.”
“Milk and bread?”
“Storm staples,” she agreed. “So if you’re okay with all this?” She waved at the toy and Than.
I nodded. “You’re sure this is where you want to keep all the powers?” I asked, giving Than one more chance to change his mind.
“If it is insufficient, I will adjust when it is once again my turn in the rotation,” he said.
“Okay,” I said, “that can work. You made sure it can withstand the powers?”
“I may be new to guarding these powers, Reed Daughter, but I am a very old god.”
“Which is neat, but hey, a yes or no will make all the difference here.”
“Yes,” he said very clearly. “It will withstand the powers.”
The rain rattled against the roof and windows, just a scattering of drops. But I knew it was going to become a deluge soon.
“All right.” I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath. There wasn’t really a ritual or ceremony for this. Usually, the other deities liked to come and watch, because they were judgmental about how their own power was handled by other gods.
“No one wanted to be here?” I asked Frigg.
“I put out the call and no one replied.”
I nodded and got on with it. “Than, do you promise to guard and keep hidden the god powers of Ordinary for the whole of one year?”
“Yes, Reed Daughter.”
“Will you allow any deity to come to your shop, allow them to see their power, or reclaim their power at any time, day or night, as long as you are present?”
“Yes.”
I nodded. “Frigg?”
She picked up the bobbin, held it between her palms and whispered something beyond my understanding that sounded like spring’s thread weaving through winter’s warp.
Then she tipped the bobbin in her fingers and it pointed down toward the fuzzy little Reaper.
Powers aren’t liquid and don’t follow the rules of gravity. But they do follow the will of the gods. If Frigg wanted the powers to pour out of the bobbin, they were going to pour out.
I didn’t see power, not the way my father had. But here, with so many mingled together, they filled my vision, bright and burning—twisted ropes, strings, cords—vibrant and alive.
But the song of god powers, that, I could hear. It rose, filling the room, filling the world, filling me with a wild, driving melody that soared to horizons and realities beyond my imagination.
Voices called: laughter, passion, singing, shouting. Lyrics slipped jewel-bright through the song, weaving between life and death, the poetry of creation carved upon each rush and ebb.
Power strummed over my skin, stretching my breath, zinging through my bones like sweet lighting until I was the sky, the void, the silver-shot stars with only a single, thin, crystalline thread connecting me to this earth.
It was heady.
It was overwhelming.
It was wonderful.
Then there was here and yes and home, home, home, the son
g fading and fading as the powers settled, quieted, and were once again at rest.
“You okay, Delaney?” Frigg asked.
I blinked until my eyes could focus on the little room again, waiting for the afterimages of those massive powers to disappear.
“Good,” I croaked, as I accepted the glass of water she handed me and gulped it down. “It’s always such an experience.”
She patted me on the shoulder. “Thank you for making time for this today.”
“Sure,” I said. “No problem. You headed out?”
“Yep.” She snagged up the bobbin and dropped it into her pocket. Then she stood. “You okay here? Both of you?”
I looked at Than who sat exactly across from me. His hands were folded on the table in front of him, long, bony fingers slotted together, just inches short of touching the little Reaper toy.
Than’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with dark flame.
“I’m okay,” I said. “Than?”
His face shifted, just slightly, the corners of his eyes relaxing, the skin near his mouth smoothing. “I, too, am well. Shall I see you out, Frigg?”
“Naw. I can see the door from here. So I’ll just leave you to it. Later, babes!” She strolled out of the room, her boots solid on the old wooden floor, the click of the lock shifting, the bell over the door tinkling.
Then she was gone, leaving nothing behind but a fresh swirl of salty air.
I waited a minute or so, but Than just stared at the stuffed toy, not even breathing.
“Do we need to talk?” I asked.
He inhaled, exhaled, and something seemed to settle in the room, like the barometric pressure, or gravity, or the god of death who was now looking after every other power in town.
“We could,” he said. “Is there something you wish to speak about?”
“How are you feeling about the powers?” I nodded toward the stuffy.
His gaze swung down to the toy, then back to me. “It is… not a feeling that is important. Rather the uniqueness of these powers coexisting without massive destruction is… interesting.”
“Interesting?”
“Refreshing.”
“That sounds good.”
“It is.”
I blew out a breath. “Good. For a minute there I thought you were going to go back on the deal and tell me to find someone else to watch over the powers.”
He tsked, then plucked up the toy and carried it as if it didn’t weigh anything, as if it didn’t carry the powers of reality and destruction, over to his desk. He placed it right back on the same shelf I’d seen it on yesterday.
“I gave you my word.” He turned back around. “Whatever have I done to make you assume I had no follow through?”
I grinned. “Nothing. Thanks for that. And thanks for this. Looking after the powers.”
“Yes, well, it is required for one to live in Ordinary, and I see no reason to leave.”
“Because you like me,” I teased, standing up and helping stack cups.
He made another small sound.
“Because you like Ordinary,” I pressed.
This time he gave me a tolerant look.
“And you like that Tala is here now and wants to be your girlfriend.”
“Aren’t you running late for a vacation Delaney Reed? Somewhere out of town and out of cell service?”
I chuckled. “Why? You tired of me already?”
“You have no idea.” But those eyes of his. They were all sparkle, sparkle, sparkle.
“Say, I was wondering,” I said, as we carried the dishes to the little sink in the corner. “Can I ask you a favor?”
“Other than keeping the powers for a year?”
“Yeah, other than that.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been trying to figure out who to ask to watch the dragon pig while I’m gone.”
“I see.”
“I was going to leave it to Myra, but she’ll be taking over most of my job duties at the station when I’m gone. I know she won’t let it into the library, so if she needs to do a research project, there will be no one to keep an eye on it.”
“Obviously.”
“Jean could take it, and she asked to, but she has her hands full dealing with the demon-farm-animal-love-triangle thing with Xtelle, Amy, and Pan.”
“Of course,” he said.
“And I know it’s a dragon in pig shape, so it doesn’t actually need a keeper, but I’d feel better if someone could make sure it doesn’t eat something important.”
“Important?”
“Yeah, like a building.”
“Noted.”
I waited, hoping I’d put out enough bait. I had no idea if Than and the dragon would get along for any length of time, but there was one other benefit to dragon-sitting. I hoped he’d caught onto what it might be.
“And what of the dog?”
Bingo.
“Spud?” I asked like he hadn’t even crossed my mind. “I guess I’ll need someone to look after him too. He does love being with the dragon pig, though.”
“I see.”
“They’re practically inseparable. I’d hate for Spud to have to spend a week all alone without his dragon pig buddy. But really, it’s too much to ask one person to take on responsibility for both critters.”
“Yes. It is too much.”
“Oh. But will you at least watch the dragon pig? Poor Spud is going to be so lonely locked away in the rent-a-kennel place.”
“You are an abysmally poor actor, Reed Daughter.”
“Hey! I’m great—I mean, I wasn’t acting.”
“Yes, to the dragon and to the dog.”
“You’ll watch them both?”
He sighed like I was just the most annoying thing in the universe. I had to bite back a smile.
“Yes. Both.”
“Thank you!”
“And in return, you will owe me a favor of my asking.”
“Wait. No. That’s not how… Maybe I could ask Hatter…”
“No. You will not ask any other, since I have agreed. But now you owe me, Reed Daughter.”
“You did that on purpose,” I said.
“Whatever are you talking about?”
“You made me think I was manipulating you into watching the dog and dragon and really you wanted to ask me a favor.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“What’s the favor?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Mean,” I said, though I didn’t really mean it. “This vacation better be worth it.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “You will never know until you actually take it.”
“I know. I’m going. I am. But there are a bunch of cursed items out there.”
“I heard.”
“Probably more than Crow told me.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“It’s hard,” I said. He waited while I sorted my thoughts. “Hard to leave everyone else behind to mop up the mess.”
“Life is messy, Delaney Reed. So is Ordinary. That’s rather the point.”
I grinned, because he wasn’t wrong.
The door jangled and we both looked. Ryder glanced around the shop, his gaze taking in all the whimsical, predatory kites.
“Laney?” he called out. “You here?”
“In the back,” I said. Then, to Than: “Thank you.” I stepped forward and, on a whim, hugged him.
Hugging the god of death was a little like wrapping ones arms around a glacier, a stalagmite, the emptiness of the void. He was cool to the touch, hard, and didn’t move a millimeter.
“This is the part where you wrap your arms around me too,” I muttered into his shoulder. “It’s called a hug.”
Finally, his arms moved and crossed together behind my back. “I know what a hug is,” he muttered into the side of my hair.
I squeezed him once and stepped back. “Couldn’t tell,” I said. “I think you might need more practi
ce.”
He wasn’t blushing. I’d never seen him blush. But there was higher color under his skin. I thought he might be pleased.
“Perhaps I do,” he allowed. “Mr. Bailey,” he said, looking over my shoulder. “I understand you and Delaney are leaving on vacation soon.”
“No,” Ryder said. “I think that’s off the table now.”
The rough tremor in his voice caught my attention. He was freaked out, his eyes wide, his hand, where it was braced on the wall, shaking.
He wasn’t just freaking out, he was terrified.
“What happened?” I ran to him, looking for blood, frightened that he was hurt and how bad it must be.
My emotions were all over the place, and my brain seemed to grind to a halt.
“Are you hurt?” I pressed my hands to his hands, to his arms, to his face.
“No, I’m fine. But we have to go. We have to get out there and help them.” He gripped my wrist and yarded me out of the shop.
The wind slapped cold and sharp, the gusts shattering rain.
“What?” I said, running to keep pace with him. “Help with what?”
“It’s on the beach,” he said. “Cursed. Item. Beach.”
“Are Myra and Jean there? Are they in danger? What item?”
“Yes, yes.” He threw open the passenger door to his truck and shoved me in before sprinting around to get behind the wheel.
Spud and the dragon pig were in the back seat. Spud barked once, excited about whatever it was that was making his man act so crazy. But the dragon pig growled.
I’d never heard it growl like that. Not even for demons.
“It’s okay,” I said, even though I was trying to think of what could be worse than demons. “It is okay, isn’t it?” I asked Ryder.
He had the truck in gear and was high-tailing it down the back roads, aiming for a beach access that would allow us to drive out onto the sand.
“I don’t know. It’s huge.” His eyes were still too wide, his color off.
“Okay. It’s going to be okay. What is it? What’s the cursed item?
He took a hard right and barreled down the paved beach access, out over the river stones, and onto the sand.
“Holy hell,” I said, my hand tightening on the dash as I braced for the bumpy ride.
There, rising out of the ocean, storm clouds whipping behind it, was a creature so huge so…monstrous it stole my breath.