“We know,” I said.
“So that’s the emergency meeting of deities?” she asked.
“Yeah, he was smart enough to get everyone on board as soon as he found out they were gone.”
“Well...” he hedged.
“You did call us as soon as you knew they were gone?” I asked.
“Almost as soon as I knew.”
“How long did you wait?”
His gaze drifted up to the ceiling. “Maybe an hour, tops? I called a few gods first. Thought they were screwing with me. Asked them if they’d taken them.”
“Who did you ask?” Myra moved over to her desk, pulling out a pad and pen.
“Death, first.”
“Why Death?” she asked.
“He’s new here. I’ve tricked him out of more than one soul over the years. I mean...a lot. He might look refined and restrained and smart, but he’s fallen for the same bait and switches for centuries. I thought he might want to get back at me for some of that.”
“And?” I asked, trying to connect the image I had of Thanatos—humorless and infinitely more interested in the little details of living a mortal life—with the idea of pulling a prank.
Could not brain my way through that.
“He said he’d never break contract with Ordinary in such a way.”
“You believed him?”
He nodded. “Death has a thing about contracts. Then I called Eris, Ares, Bishamon, Apep.”
Goddess of discord, God of war, God of warriors and punisher of evil-doers, and God of chaos. Looked like he’d covered most of the obvious bases.
“Nopes all around. So I called Poseidon.”
“What?” Myra asked. “Why Poseidon?”
“Because when doesn’t he screw up? Do you know how many times Poseidon has died? Not just died, but died stupidly and accidentally?”
Not that most people made it a point to die purposely, but he had a point. Poseidon’s power had changed hands five times in recent history because the mortal—both males and females—who tended to pick up that power, were always too confident about their ability not to drown.
Then they always drowned.
Just three months ago during the Rhubarb Rally, Poseidon had almost drowned when drinking a toast to the blessing of the Rhubarb Regatta.
But dying a lot didn’t mean Poseidon was after the god powers. Nor that he had the ability to pick up all of them, move them, and find a place to hide them.
“Seems a little out of Poseidon’s M.O.,” I said.
Crow rolled his eyes. “Ask any of the gods. Most of our biggest disasters have happened because of Poseidon.”
“He’s the god of the sea,” Myra said. “I’m not convinced he’d want anything to do with stealing god powers.”
“Yes, well you haven’t been alive for several thousand years. God of the sea is klutz of the universe. He probably tripped and somehow fell on the oven latch and let all the powers loose and doesn’t want to get blamed for it. Trust me, he’s a suspect.”
“Trust you?” I put down my coffee. “Because you’ve given us so many reasons to do so?”
“Hey, I helped you find your ex-exboyfriend so you could give him Heimdall’s power.”
“He’s still an exboyfriend, and you picking up your power to help me find him is what got you into this mess. You should have just left Ordinary for a year. Like the rules say. Like Hera and Thor did. Like everyone does.”
“But I like it here,” he whined.
“Of course you like it here—it’s a vacation.”
“What kind of consequences are we going to have to deal with from him not picking up his power?” Myra asked.
“Good question,” I said. “If we’re lucky—and we never are—maybe all that will happen is the powers will have been stolen.”
She was still frowning. “It’s in our job description to mete out punishment to the god who breaks the rules of Ordinary.”
“Is there precedence for this sort of thing?”
“No,” Crow said.
“I’m sure there is,” Myra said. “But I’d have to look it up.”
“Do that.”
“What?” Crow said. “I thought you were my friends.”
I raised my eyebrows at his fake outrage. “We are. But like it or not, once we find the powers, you’re going to have to deal with the consequences. We have a job to do—look after Ordinary and make sure everyone plays by the rules. And you do have a job to do, Crow. A power to wield. You can’t ignore it for eternity.”
“You’re not going to kick me out of Ordinary are you, Delaney? Throw me off of my Native land.”
Yes, the mortal Crow had been born full-blood Siletz. Technically, well, and literally, this was his Native land. But the rules of Ordinary applied to all our citizens, no matter their race.
“I’m going to follow the rules laid down by our ancestors. Just like you should have.” I was getting tired of telling him this. I started toward the door. “Myra, stay here until Roy comes in. Keep an eye on Crow. I’m headed out to talk to Rossi.”
“I thought I was supposed to stay with you,” Crow said.
“No, you’re supposed to stay under our custody. Make yourself useful around here and handle some of our filing or something.”
“Filing? You do know I’m an artist, right? I’ve won awards. I hire people to handle my paperwork.”
“I’m sorry. I assumed you wanted to be useful. How about you spend the day in the holding cell.” I glanced at Myra. “That position’s open for important artists, right?”
“Always.”
“Fine.” He gave a dramatic sigh. “I’ll do your menial labor. But don’t think I won’t talk to the tribe about this. Using a Native boy to do your grunt work. I’m feeling oppressed.”
Myra gave him a bland look. “Please. Wanna talk oppressed? Woman in a man’s world here.” She pointed to the badge on her chest. “I’ll be happy to put my three-quarter pay and glass ceiling against your cut of the casino profit, successful business ownership, and godhood.”
He grinned. “Gotta love that Reed spirit. Marry me? I’m a successful business man, you know. We can be oppressed together.”
Myra rolled her eyes. Then, to me: “Call when you get to Rossi’s. Call when you leave. I’ll get hold of Jean so she knows what’s going on.”
“Okay. You got Apocalypse Pablo’s statement?”
“Yep. It’ll be on your desk by the time you get back.
“Good.”
I gathered up my coat and a beanie, shivering a little as I slid into the cool and damp of them.
“I could loan you my hat,” Crow offered.
“No.”
“It will keep you dry. C’mon. You know you want it.”
“I don’t want it. No one wants it. It’s stupid and isn’t even a funny joke.”
“Fine. You obviously don’t understand fashion. Have fun being wet and so last year, beanie head.”
I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him. “Bye, Myra. Don’t shoot him anywhere he’d sue us for.”
“Got it,” she said.
I ducked out into the rain and trudged to the Jeep.
Chapter 3