“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.”