Chapter 18
Myra gave us the details that had come over the wire. Four men had rented a small boat up in Astoria. One of those men was the guy Ryder had known and spoken to at the bar. The four of them had seemed to think crossing the mouth of the Columbia River in rough swells would be a safe and good idea.
It wasn’t. The mayday was called in, but even though the Coast Guard scrambled, by the time they got there, all they found was a capsized vessel and four dead bodies.
“Could be just an accident,” Jean said.
Yeah, none of us thought that was true.
“Who’s killing them, Rossi?” I asked. “Who has declared war on us?”
Rossi’s eyes were still that terrifying red and black. “A dead man.”
That might have been a threat or might have been the truth. I didn’t have a chance for any follow up questions because the crunch of wheels on wet gravel filled the air, and between one blink and the next, Rossi was gone.
All the other vampires similarly disappeared, fading into mist that was lost to the rain and drizzle.
“He knows who it is, doesn’t he?” Jean asked.
“I think so.”
Myra was watching me. “You have an idea who it is too.”
I nodded.
“How bad?” Jean asked.
“All the bad.”
“Shit,” Myra whispered. “Did you find the god powers?”
Car doors opened and slammed shut. Footsteps coming our way.
“Please tell me we have some kind of win in all this,” she said.
“Yeah, I’ve got them. Jean, do you mind handling Trillium?”
“Sure. Are we going with mugging? Robbery? Drunken brawl?”
“Let’s go with mugging. Nothing Dave would have seen or heard from inside the shop. Oh, and pull the video before she gets hold of it.”
“I’ll get the video,” Ryder said.
I nodded. He might not know about everything that happened in Ordinary, but he knew enough now that I didn’t think he’d do anything to compromise the video.
He jogged to the bait shop, and Myra fell into step next to me as I headed to the Jeep. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, sure. Just another boring day in Ordinary. I need coffee. With a side of coffee with coffee on top.”
Trillium spotted us, but Jean cut her off with a quick greeting. “Trillium, glad you could make it out here. I’d be happy to answer any questions, but can’t let you any closer to the scene of the crime until we’re done gathering evidence. You know the drill....”
Trillium cast one more look over at Myra and me, then focused on Jean.
Myra walked over to my Jeep with me. Her cruiser was parked right next to it, light bar spinning a lazy pattern of reds and blues.
She pressed her hand against my arm, and squeezed tight enough I stopped.
“Why is Ryder the warden? Did Mithra force him to take it? Did he steal it from you? Did you give it to him? Didn’t you warn him what it could do to him? This isn’t good, Delaney. You realize it puts him in a higher position than us.”
Everything—the standoff with Mithra, the deal to get the god powers back, Sven’s death, Jame’s broken body, Ben’s kidnapping—twisted up inside me. I was tired, and tired of not getting ahead of what felt like one disaster after another.
“It doesn’t make him our boss!” That might have come out a little louder than I intended. I toned it down a bit. “Just like none of the gods are our bosses, just like none of the creatures are our bosses. We’re our bosses. We’re still the law here. Both as police officers and as the Reed family. Ryder “the warden”,” and yes, I did the ironic quote fingers, “can just suck it if he thinks he’s going to boss us around.”
“Feel strongly about this do you?”
“Terrifyingly so.” That was so true we both gave each other the “me too” nod.
“So...coffee before the next disaster hits?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Have to get the powers back to the gods.”
“Still haven’t heard the story there.”
“Mithra was just how we expected him to be: annoying and demanding. Made a lot of threats, reminded me who he was and how hard he wanted to tell us all what to do all the time.”
“He threatened you?”
“Naturally. With the warden position. I said no. Ryder said yes.”
“Yeah, I can see that. What I can’t understand is why.”
I shook my head, searching the front of the bait shop for Ryder. He was still inside looking for the video. “I don’t think he understands what he just did. He doesn’t even believe in gods.”
“That doesn’t matter when a god believes in you.”
I sighed. “I tried to stop him.”
She moved her hand to my shoulder and gave me a squeeze. “I know. Do you want me there when you hand back the powers?”
“Yeah, I think that would be good. Could you pick up Crow? We can meet at his shop.”
“They’re not going to let him store the powers.”
“I know. Odin’s up next, right?”
She nodded.
“Okay, so we should all just meet out at Odin’s place.”
“I’ll gather the gods. You get some coffee on the way.”
“That works. I think Piper should be there too.”
“You really want to do that to her?”
“I’d rather she be revealed to all the gods when we’re there to run interference than one-on-one when we’re not.”
“True.”
Ryder strode out of the shop and headed toward us.
“Why don’t you come with me,” Myra said. “We’ll drop the video off at the station and lock it up.”
Ryder looked my way. “Okay with you, boss?”
It was so normal, so not like the last few hours, that I almost smiled with relief. “Yeah. Good. And come along with Myra to Odin’s. You’ll want to see that dog-and-pony show too.”
He hesitated, his body language sort of bent my way as if he wanted to touch me, or hug me, and had decided halfway through that he probably shouldn’t.
“Sure,” he said. “See you there.”
They got into the cruiser and I slipped into the Jeep. It might have been more comfortable to put the water bottle of god powers in the cup holder but I was feeling a little paranoid about letting it even that far out of my sight. So I kept it in the inner pocket of my coat, slid the seatbelt in a mostly-comfortable position over my chest, and headed toward the first drive-thru coffee shop in Ordinary.
~~~
Halfway through a quad-shot latte, I pulled onto Odin’s property.
He wasn’t out with his chainsaw, which surprised me a little since it wasn’t raining. Not that everything wasn’t still soggy as a broken wash machine’s spin cycle, but there was a little bit of sunlight shouldering through the clouds just in time for the day to be slipping toward sunset.
Seemed like it’d be a perfect time to hack out a few more flat-face bears and one-winged owls.
The other gods weren’t there yet, but I knew it wouldn’t be long. I parked the Jeep and crossed to Odin’s house, the cleansing perfume of green and wet and pine filling me.
Tucked beneath a small forest of tall Douglas fir trees, the house wasn’t much bigger than mine. Cedar shakes painted brick red, shingled roof about three years past needing both new gutters and some moss control efforts, it didn’t give off a welcoming feeling exactly.
Neither did the two headless wooden bunnies on the porch on either side of the door.
Or at least I thought they were bunnies. Beavers? I tipped my head. Nope. Ravens.
I knocked on the door. Didn’t have to wait very long for it to open.
“Delaney.” Odin glanced over my shoulder as if expecting someone to be there.
“Crow’s with Myra,” I said. “They’re on their way over here with the rest of the gods.”
He grunted and stepped aside so I could step in.
The outside might have looked like a graham cracker house that had been left out in the rain—a little soggy and soft around the edges—but the interior was quite the opposite.
The wood walls were polished to a soft gold glow. Furniture was mahogany, and the artwork leaned a bit Nordic and tribal, some from local artists, some from Odin’s personal collection that either had never been seen by human eyes, or if it had, probably belonged in museums.
It was clean, uncluttered without giving up the impression of cozy, and something about the place made my shoulders drop.
Anyone in town might expect to find a bachelor’s pad, maybe even expect unmatched socks to be balled up in the corners, or microwave dinners to be stacked on side tables. But it was nothing like that. It felt relaxing, refreshing. A retreat from the world.
Which, I supposed, was exactly why the gods had come to Ordinary. So it should be no surprise that Odin’s house was a home, and a very comfortable one at that.
“Coffee?” He was already moving toward the kitchen.
“Yes, thanks.” I drank down the rest of my latte and walked over to the stone fireplace on the opposite wall. It stacked up to the second floor which was basically a loft space that covered two sides of the upper story.
“You found the powers,” he said. “Mithra have them?”
There was no reason not to tell him the truth. “Did you know all along that’s where they were?”
He came back into the room with two huge ceramic mugs shaped like tree stumps and handed one to me.
“When they were taken outside Ordinary. There was a...sense of his disapproval I got through my power.”
“Could have told me.” I took a sip of the coffee, which was so rich it almost tasted alcoholic.
“Not my job.” He settled in the easy chair. “So Crow’s leaving town?”
“He has to. And that means you’re up next for storing the powers.”
He nodded, like he didn’t really care about that. “Never thought you’d let a warden in Ordinary.”
I didn’t ask him how he knew about that. He was a god. Just because he was on vacation didn’t mean he had no lingering abilities. Or maybe he’d heard it from someone else. Didn’t need god power if you were friendly with the town gossips.
“It wasn’t my idea, trust me.”
“Ryder?”
I nodded. “He’s also a part of some kind of welcome committee for supernaturals in the world and Ordinary in particular. Government agency.”
“Huh. That explains some things.”
“Like what?”
“Like why he came back here.”
“Couldn’t it just be because he likes the town he grew up in and wanted to come back?”
“It’s a big world, Delaney. Ordinary, in nature and design, isn’t really a very interesting place, all things considered.”
He was being awfully even-tempered about all this. “You told me Dad waited too long before he chose a side.”
Odin drank coffee, his one good eye watching me over the rim of the mug. I noted the bottom of the mug said: “#1 Beaver Bait”.
I lifted my cup to see what logging slang was painted there. It said: “Ask about my Butt Rigging.”
“Really? No pecker pole jokes?”
“There are more mugs in the kitchen.”
“My dad,” I said. “What did he wait too long to choose?”
Odin put his cup down, and studied me in that way the very old gods do, especially the ones who have known me since I was a baby. It was sort of a mix of patience and concern, like they weren’t sure I was old enough to handle what they were about to say.
“Immortality.”
Okay. That was not what I expected. We Reeds lived a long life. Well, those of us who didn’t drive off cliffs. There was one great-to-the-nth aunt who was said to have hit one-hundred and fifty years of age. I didn’t know if that was true, but most of the Reeds were capable of rolling into the early one-hundreds at least.
It was either gift, curse, or by-product of being a part of keeping Ordinary vacation-ready for the gods.
But immortality? That had never been on offer.
“What’s the catch?”
“Why do you think there’s a catch?”
I wasn’t used to Odin doing the wise-man thing. I was more used to him doing the gruff, crazy chainsaw artist thing.
“Because Dad didn’t immediately say yes.”
“True. But he had lost a wife. Had three young daughters to raise. Death changes every man’s heart.”
“Is that something I will be offered?”
“Immortality is generally only offered to a bridge. That’s you, Delaney.”
“So Myra and Jean?”
“Immortality isn’t their destiny.”
Already I was seeing the downside to this offer. Did I want to live long enough to see my sisters, maybe even everyone that I loved die? Would it be worth it to keep Ordinary safe?
“Who or what will give it to me? If I said yes. Not that I am. Saying yes.”
“A god. Of your choice.”
Something about those words felt ominous.
“And what do I owe to a god who would hypothetically offer me immortality?”
“That would be between you and the god in question.”
“Would you give it to me if I asked for it?”
“You’d have to ask me.”
“Did my father ask you for it?”
“Your father never asked anyone for it. Then that choice was taken from him, and it was too late.”
“Was he killed? Was that accident not an accident?”
Odin picked up his coffee, took a drink. There was something else in his gaze this time. I thought it might be regret.
“That is a question I can’t answer.”
“You mean won’t answer. You could know, could find out if you wanted to.”
He turned the cup in his hand. Balanced it on the arm of his chair. “I’m a god. Well, not right now, but...” he shrugged. “There is very little that can be hidden from our kind.”
“If I wanted to know if his death was an accident, would you tell me?”
“Maybe. Or not.” He ran a hand over his bushy hair, causing it to spring up even higher. “Until you decide to ask me that when I am a god, the possibilities are fluid. Every second, every breath, every action and inaction affects the future. If you ask me, if I decide to tell you, when you ask, when I decide...it all muddles the outcome.”
He’d have to pick up his god power to answer me. I wasn’t sure I was ready for him to have to walk out of Ordinary for a year. After all, I’d come here to ask him to look after the powers for the next year.
“Okay, new question. If I accept immortality from a god, then I’d be bound to that god, wouldn’t I? Just as if I had accepted the warden position, I’d be bound to Mithra.”
“That’s how it works, yes.”
Poor Ryder had no idea what he’d just gotten himself into.
“I wouldn’t have ever accepted the position as a warden.”
“I know. Your father never said yes to Mithra either.”
“He said it would change what we stood for as Reeds. What we did to help keep Ordinary ordinary.”
“Your father was a wise man.”
I was silent for a bit, drinking my coffee out of the tree stump not because I needed more caffeine, but because I needed a moment to swallow the emotions that rose with Odin’s quiet assessment of my dad.
For all that Odin was mostly a cranky old chainsaw artist, he was also a god of wisdom. It meant something when he said things like that. Nice things.
“Was he right?” I asked, my voice a little smaller than I’d expected. “There’s a cost to it, isn’t there? Some huge horrible price to pay for being judge and jury over the town.”
“Probably. But the warden isn’t exactly judge and jury over Ordinary.”
“Devotee to Mithra, the god of contracts. How is that not a judge and jury position?”
“Warden is an overseer. A supervisor of contracts, deals, and agreements. Doesn’t mean warden gets to lay the law down on everything. That’s what that badge of yours is for. He just gets to point out who’s cheating.”
“Great. So I’m the strong arm and he’s my boss?”
He gave me a brief scowl. “Why are you in my living room complaining about things I have absolutely nothing to do with? Another god’s minion is of no matter to me.”
Like I said, cranky.
“I need you to look after the powers for a year and a few months.”
“Crow finally got himself kicked out of the place.”
“He should have left three months ago. I’m correcting that mistake now.”
“Mistake?” He hrumphed. “Might be just as well to have him out there for the year.”
“So he’s out of your hair?”
A clever edge slipped into his eyes. “He’s a trickster. Don’t you think this might be exactly what he wanted to happen?”
“No?”
“How many stories of tricksters have ended with the trickster not getting what they wanted?”
Exactly zero came to mind.
“This isn’t a story,” I said. “This is real life.”
“And the tricksters of the stories are based on whom, exactly?”
“He probably wrote all those stories and just made sure he was always the winner. As a matter of fact, some stories say you’re a devious, inscrutable trickster yourself.”
“Your point is?”
That maybe I shouldn’t really trust you either.
Yeah, well if I started thinking that about Odin, I might as well think that about all the gods. Stories were stories. What the gods did as gods wasn’t necessarily what the gods did on vacation.
“My point is I need these powers hidden, locked away, and safe. It’s your turn to keep them.”
The sound of cars arriving interrupted us.
“You invited all the gods out here to witness this, didn’t you?”
“Only the ones who wanted to make sure their powers are going to be taken care of.”
He sighed a particularly put-upon sigh. “Fine.”
Engines quieted as cars parked, the creak and slam of doors opening and closing.
“Hera wasn’t wrong,” Odin said, his eye owl-bright, burning blue, watching me.
“That there’s a war coming to Ordinary?”
“It’s already begun.”
It didn’t exactly come as a shock to me, though it wasn’t the cheeriest news I’d ever gotten.
“Sven murdered, four dead vampire hunters, Ben missing, and Jame left beaten and broken? Yeah, I didn’t think it was the start of parade season. Rossi and Granny are about to throw down.”
“The vampires and werewolves have never really been at peace. More like a cease-fire. That is not the war you should fear.”
“What war should I fear?”
“The war for dark magic.”
Okay. That was new.
“Dark magic? That’s a thing?” As far as I knew whatever magic there was in the world was just that: magic. Not light, not dark, not good or bad, or any of the other defining characteristics we humans applied to such things.
“I want you to give me your word on something, Delaney.”
So much for getting the confirmation on dark magic.
Outside, the sound of footsteps were coming closer to the house. I could hear conversation, some grumbling, some laughter. But I could not for the life of me look away from Odin’s steady gaze.
“Promise me you will be very, very careful in the upcoming days.”
It was such a weird request I just frowned. “I’m always careful.”
“Be more careful.”
“Why? How?”
“Because you are a target. And any way you can be, obviously.”
Obviously. So helpful.
Then the door swung open—apparently none of the gods nor my sister and Ryder felt like knocking.
I, however, felt like someone had just thumped me hard in the chest.
Odin complained, loudly and at length that he didn’t like his house being violated by everyone in town who didn’t know how to wipe the mud off their boots, and why hadn’t anyone knocked, and it wasn’t like he was going to keep the powers inside, so get the hell out of his living room.
It all sort of washed over me like an ocean wave, while I sat there, his previous words a boulder trapping me flat to the ocean floor.
Myra caught my gaze over the crowd of quickly departing gods, and I gave her a wobbly smile. I pushed up to my feet, my hand falling to the bottle of powers still in my coat.
It was still there, one problem solved and almost off my to-do list. That was good, right? Something positive had come out of this day? I could deal with the war, with dark magic all in good time.
If I had time.
“Are you all right?” Myra asked as I headed toward the door. Piper was next to Jean, looking a little wide-eyed, but trying not to show it.
“Enough. I’ll tell you after we’re done. Let’s get these powers put away.”
Her light blue gaze shifted across my face as if looking for injury or lie there. Finding neither, she nodded. “Ten bucks if you can guess where he’s going to keep them.”
It was a thing we did. It was childish. We did it anyway.
“In a hollow log.” I said.
“Gasoline can.”
“Tool cabinet.”
“Chainsaw.”
We had followed the crowd of gods out to wherever Odin had decided to stash the powers. Past a pile of discarded wood lumps that looked like they’d been mauled by a herd of mutant woodchuck termites, around his garbage can, burn barrel, and into the corner of his back yard that ended at the tree line of what seemed to be endless forest.
Right there, shining like a drop of molten silver between an old elm and older ash tree, was an Airstream travel trailer.
“Trailer,” I said, even though our guesses were up. “Didn’t even know he had one.”
He not only had a trailer, he also had a big gray V-8 pickup parked in front of it with vanity plates spelling out SLEPNR.
Odin himself opened the door of the trailer and flicked on a light. The interior seemed to shine in gold, and in the falling light of day, it made the whole thing a lot more mystical than a travel trailer should be.
I’d never seen the inside of Odin’s trailer, but what I could see from the door looked like all the wall space was taken up with shelves and shelves of books.
Huh. Not really what I’d expected.
“All right, all right.” He came back out of the trailer, wiping his broad, nicked-up hands over the jug in his hand.
No, not a jug. A growler.
“Let’s do this.” He crooked one finger into the handle and sort of waved the growler toward me.
“A growler.” That was, I think, Aaron.
“Old family heirloom. Got it in Norway.”
It was earthenware, a nice brown and green glaze, the words WELL OF WISDOM were written across it.
“You can buy that at Bi-Mart,” Zeus muttered.
“Doesn’t matter, does it?” Odin said. “I’m keeping the powers. They stay where I say they’ll be safe, and I say they’ll be safe in this jug.”
The gods shuffled a little as a slight mist started pushing down from the tree tops.
“That’s correct,” Ryder said.
Every head turned to him. He looked just as shocked as anyone else that those words had come out of his mouth.
Then all eyes shifted to me.
“Deities, meet Ordinary’s new warden. Warden Bailey, these are most of the gods of Ordinary.”
“Ha!” Crow yelled, and pointed at Ryder’s face. “And ha,” he added, swinging a finger my way.
I was tempted to swing a finger at him too. The middle one.
“Piper, meet the gods in town.”
She nodded and smiled like they were the best tippers she’d had all week.
“Piper is a demigod. Just thought you should all meet her. Mithra made her take the powers. She’s sorry about it and promises it will never happen again.”
She hadn’t actually promised that, but I was pretty sure she would, if asked.
“Wait,” Crow said. “Demigod. So who is her parent?”
No one moved. Someone chuckled uncomfortably.
I guess I had expected Poseidon to step forward, to recognize her. But this vessel who held Poseidon’s power was at least four Poseidons past the one who had fathered her.
Then: “Oh.” It was a soft, surprised sound. And Poseidon—the current Poseidon—stepped forward toward her.
He was a skinny guy, tall enough he had permanently hunched shoulders as if he needed to make himself shorter than he was. His hair was black and pulled back in a ponytail away from his long face. His eyes were wide and shifted between the colors of the sea.
“Piper?” He held his hands out, looking for recognition on her face. “I see you. I see you now.”
She took his hands and smiled up at him.
“Oh,” he said with soft wonder. “You’re beautiful.”
Piper blushed and that flush of interest in her eyes wasn’t a look a daughter should give her father. Which, technically, he wasn’t. Her father. That man, that vessel had died years ago. This man, this Poseidon was, well, he wasn’t my type, and while he was much older than he looked, so was Piper.
Were they falling for each other? Was it incest if they were, technically not even related? Was this just another grand way Poseidon was screwing things up?
My head hurt.“So,” I said to break up the insta-love going on because I could not deal with that right now. “Let’s get these powers stowed.”
I pulled the water bottle out of my coat and walked over to Odin. There wasn’t a ceremony involved in moving the powers. Well, no more than what was happening today, which was that most of the deities liked to come out and watch the powers actually be transferred.
Not that gods were untrusting of their fellow deities.
No, it was exactly that the gods were untrusting of their fellow deities.
“All righty.” I held up the water bottle that sang, hummed, thrummed with power. I still didn’t know how Piper had shoved it into a water bottle, although if Mithra had given her the bottle, it might make more sense.
Odin uncorked his growler of wisdom.
“Odin, do you promise to guard and keep hidden the deity powers of Ordinary for the length of one year plus four months?”
“Yep.”
“And you’ll let any deity come to your trailer, and will allow them to see their power, or reclaim their power at any time, day or night?”
“Yes, but not unless I’m present.”
“Right. Good. Everyone okay with that?” I looked around the group.
They looked...well, bored mostly, except for Poseidon who couldn’t tear his gaze away from Piper. It wasn’t like this was the first time we’d done this yearly hand-over.
“Crow, get in on this.”
Crow walked over to me, looking like he expected the powers to bite. Which, maybe they would.
He took the bottle away from me, then tipped it into the spout of the growler.
Power isn’t liquid. It doesn’t really follow the rules of gravity. Power does, however, follow the will of the gods, and the rules and contracts of Ordinary.
My father said he saw the powers as bright flaming colors. I see light, yes, but it’s soft and indistinct, more like a rainbow caught from the corner of my vision. What I do sense is the song.
Power, this much power, all mixing and colliding, created music that swooped down beneath my skin, pulling my pulse and breath and blood and bones to reach, to stretch, to feel the universe strumming through me.
My heart settled into the beat of the powers, my thoughts picked up and braided into the rising, falling, beauty of voice, chorus, song, song, song...until there was no time, no space, nothing but sound.
“Well, shit,” Crow said.
I blinked. Blinked again. I’d lost some time. The gods were all gone, and foggy mist had descended on the forest floor. My mouth was dry and so were my eyes, as if I hadn’t blinked or swallowed for an hour.
I did both, wincing at the pain and wiping away the tears at the corners of my eyes. Ryder and Myra were still there, Ryder looking like he was trying to decide if he had to burn his atheist badge, Myra looking steady and calm as she offered me a can of ginger ale.
“Thanks.” I sipped the cool soda. “What’s wrong?” I asked Crow.
“I have to pick it up.” He was staring at the water bottle like a kicked puppy. “I don’t want to go back to work.”
Odin humphed and forcefully flipped the stopper back into the growler, locking it down with a little metal lever.
“You broke the contract with Ordinary,” Ryder said. He walked over and stood next to me, staring at the water bottle with an inscrutable look on his face. “Your...power...uh, you have to take it back.”
Crow raised his eyebrows and looked over at me. “Really? You gave him the warden job? What were you thinking?”
“It wasn’t my idea, okay? I told him not to take it.”
Crow shook his head. “You do realize this makes him your boss.”
I grit my teeth and narrowed my eyes at Crow.
“Come again?” Ryder said. “Boss?”
“We’ll talk about it later,” Myra said.
“Take your power back, Crow,” I said. “You like being a god, remember?”
He huffed an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. Whatever. It’s not like anything interesting is happening here anyway.”
He tipped the water bottle over his left palm. A faint wash of black and silver twinkling with blue and green poured over his skin for what felt like forever, frozen outside of time. A brace of voices poured out with it in a joyous, devious blend of treble and bass, unexpectedly sweet, and funny.
And then Crow was no longer just my friend Crow. He was Raven, the trickster god.
“Well, it’s been fun, my chickies.” He tossed the water bottle to Odin and started walking.
“That’s it?” I said. “I just saved your power from the clutches of another god, and I don’t even get a decent good-bye?”
Raven turned back around, a grin on his handsome, godly face. “You know I love you, Delaney.”
“I know you love to mess with me.”
He held his arms wide. “Come to Uncle Raven, Boo-Boo.”
“And here I thought you couldn’t get more annoying.”
“Come here.” He made grabby signs with his hands. “Come here.”
I closed the distance between us, totally not looking like a sullen toddler.
“Are you going to miss me?” He asked as he folded me into a big hug.
“No,” I muttered against his shoulder.
“Liar face. You’ll be crying in your cupcakes.”
“From relief. That you’re finally out of my hair. And my cupcakes.”
He squeezed me a little around the shoulders. “About the war,” he said, suddenly quiet and serious. “You know I have your back.”
I opened my mouth to ask him what he knew about the war, what he could tell me, but he released me and took a quick step over to drop a hug on Myra, then slug Ryder in the shoulder.
“You dog, you,” he said while Ryder rubbed at what I figured was going to be a spectacular bruise, if the sound of the impact was anything to gauge it by. “Getting tied up in things way beyond your understanding. Really, really stupid. Try not to die!”
And with that, Raven simply wasn’t there anymore.
Ryder went absolutely still. “He disappeared.”
“‘People come and go so quickly here’,” I quoted.
“I’m not in Kansas anymore, am I?”
“So very not, Toto.”
He gave me a faint smile. On the one hand I felt a little sorry for him. He was running out of ways to cling to his old beliefs. That wasn’t easy on anyone.
But watching him sort through the events and facts, even when they seemed impossible or were very clearly violent, in such a calm manner made me feel like maybe it hadn’t been such a bad idea to let Ryder in on the town’s secrets.
“Now get off my property,” Odin said. He walked into his trailer and slammed the door leaving us in the fog and damp.
“So,” Ryder said. “That was fun.”
And even though I didn’t expect it, it made me laugh.