by Devon Monk
“I’ll wear a dress!”
Her shoulders immediately lowered, and she nodded. “Of course you will. Good. I will see you at the pavilion at exactly six o’clock. No later.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“You will also be there,” she told Hogan.
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
Bertie gave us both one last look, probably to decide if we were lying, then smoothed her hands down the riot of lace and flowers. “Excellent.” She surveyed the crowd around us, found her next target, and was off.
“So, see you at the crowning, eh?” he asked.
“I guess so.”
The day got warmer, the crowd switched from hot tea to iced, and pastries became ice creams and sorbets and bonbons.
Everyone was too blissed out on all the free sugar to cause any problems, and other than traffic—both foot and vehicle—being about triple what we usually got on a pretty Saturday in October, everything was buzzing along like normal.
I still hadn’t seen Myra or Jean, though Hatter waved at me from where he was carefully rescuing a kid’s balloon out of a tree.
I looked for Ryder, too, but he was absent. I wanted to be angry at him for that, but all I felt was a sort of acceptance. He had pledged his fealty to Mithra, and that god would do anything to make sure my life was complicated, messy, and…lonely. Unless I gave Mithra rule over Ordinary.
Since I would never do that, I had to get comfortable with a relationship that was complicated, messy, and sometimes lonely.
The dress was where I’d left it, folded in the bag I’d intended to use to take it back to Cheryl. I pulled it out, shook it a little to free the skirt.
“Damn it,” I said. Because I did like it. Even if it reminded me of Ryder and how our relationship was a little off the rails. Even if it reminded me that though I was living with the man of my dreams, I was still a little lonely.
“Time for a fresh start,” I said out loud. “You’re going to be my Bertie dress. My event-going dress. The thing I pull out that means I’m doing my job, and damn prettily, thank you.” I gave it another shake, not sure I could make it feel like a uniform, but determined to try.
“Let’s do this.”
I stripped, took a quick shower to slough off the day’s sweat and magic, slung on the dress and brushed my hair. I braided it back, took it all out, thought about leaving it down, then went for the middle ground and pulled it to one side in a loose, messy kind of braid.
Shoes. I had running shoes, my work boots, or flip flops.
“Sorry, Bertie.” I couldn’t imagine having to deal with crowd control or some other emergency in flip flops, so I put on my work boots.
They looked…well, it could be worse.
The little plant Than had given me drew my eyes. I’d been good about keeping it watered. But just in case, I stuck a finger in the soil. It was damp. And right there in the middle, a tiny green sprig curled up out of the dirt. Whatever it was, it was starting to grow.
“Good job, buddy,” I said as I turned the pot so the indirect light from the window fell on the tiny leaf. “You got this.”
I made sure I had my phone and keys. On the dresser, I found the envelope I’d picked up Thursday at the casino. I groaned. So much had happened, I’d forgotten to deliver it to Bathin.
I tucked it in my pocket just as a message buzzed on my phone. I tapped the screen. A text from Jean saying she and Myra were already at the crowning and had saved me a place. She added a little emoji of a fancy dress, a crown, and the barf face.
I grinned, sent her the thumbs up, then checked for anything from Ryder. Nothing. I dropped the phone into my pocket and nodded. That was about right.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Crowning,” Jean mused, sipping from a Puffin Muffin travel mug. “I get it now.”
I looked away from the stage where a table was set, long-stemmed flowers scattered across the white lace tablecloth. In between those flowers were silver stands, and on each of those was a type of tea and pastries.
Off to one side, on a golden pedestal, sat a crown. It was made of golden leaves and vines, the flowers pegged in the center with jewels. It was costume jewelry, but it was still a crown and looked very fancy. Next to it were two smaller crowns, silver and copper, simple rings made of leaves, no jewels or flowers.
There was also a mic up there. The background was taken up by a lattice of wood and fairy lights.
I had to admit, for a quickly constructed stage, it somehow carried a fairytale vibe.
“What did you think crowning meant?” I asked.
I had a cup of coffee too. Jean had insisted on it. Since I’d replaced lunch and dinner with my weight in pastries, the unsweetened, but cream-added, coffee was perfect.
Really, everything about the day was perfect: the weather, the soft breeze, the crowd that was still upbeat, excited, happy.
Jean wore this gorgeous orange print, boho maxi-dress with a swooping turquoise hem. She gave me a crazy grin and a wink. My other sister was walking my way in a 1940s-style navy blue dress that showed off her curves, her demon boyfriend looming behind her and scowling at anyone who gave her the side eye.
Hogan worked his way over too, looking sharp in that jacket, his smile for Jean filled with adoration.
I smiled at each of them and tried not to scan the crowd for Ryder. I knew he wasn’t here. Was probably off doing errands for Mithra. I knew I had to get comfortable with that.
“Hey,” Myra said. “Wow. I can’t believe you’re wearing a dress.”
“Like it?” I stuck my hands in the pockets. “It has pockets.”
“You look amazing,” she said.
“You do,” Jean said. “Like it was made for you. It’s perfect.” Then Hogan was behind her, and she spun to give him a big hug.
“Shh…” Myra said. “Pay attention. Here we go.”
Bertie strode across the stage. She lifted the microphone from the stand and thumbed it on.
“Hello, everyone. Welcome to Ordinary’s first High Tea Tide. I am so happy to see you all here on this beautiful day.” She smiled, and it was softer than usual, kind.
She really did love these things, and I was glad for it. There was something satisfying in seeing people find their place in this oddball little town. Bertie had not only found her place, she’d thrived in it. In doing so, she had made our community better.
“I hope you’ve enjoyed the amazing teas and treats brought to us by all the vendors. Let’s give them a hand.” She led the applause. Everyone joined in.
I leaned toward Myra. “Where are the judges?”
“Shh.”
“This festival, like so many others, would not be possible without our amazing volunteers.” She clapped, and everyone followed suit, looking around for the suckers. Several people lifted their hands to acknowledge they had survived said volunteering.
“I’d also like to take a moment to give thanks to our law enforcement. When a small town hosts large gatherings, it is an extra task of safety brought upon our officers’ shoulders. A task they handle with aplomb and humor. Please join me in thanking Chief Delaney Reed and her officers.” Bertie clapped. Jean, Myra, and I all waved but I couldn’t see Hatter or Shoe in the crowd.
“Delaney Reed, everyone,” she said. The applause raised for a moment. I waved and smiled some more, then the crowd quieted, turning their attention back to Bertie.
“Oh, crap,” Jean said. Her hand pressed against her breastbone. “Something.”
“Doom twinge?” I asked, glancing around the crowd for whatever disaster she had sensed.
“No, not exactly. Not…no.” She narrowed her eyes. “I think something, though.”
“I need a little more than that, Jean,” I said. “Is something dangerous about to happen?”
Myra grabbed my arm. “Beach. Now.”
Since her gift was always being in the right place at the right time, I let her drag me through the crowd, Jean, Bathin, and Hogan right behind
us.
Once clear of people, Myra kept on walking, down several blocks toward the ocean. “You can let go of my arm,” I said. “Myra. Mymy. Let go. I’m with you.”
She glanced at me, as if just noticing I was still there, then nodded. “You have to be there. Promise me. Whatever this is about, I know you have to be there.”
“Couldn’t keep me away with a ten-foot club,” I said.
“Beach, right?” Jean said. “I mean…uh…I think that way? Down the stairs?”
That way was one of the public beach accesses that jagged back and forth down and down to the beach below. Here, the grassy hill on either side blocked much of the view both up and down the beach.
Once we hit the sand, we wouldn’t be able to see what was coming. It was a great place for an ambush.
“Move,” I said to Myra, pushing her behind me.
“You don’t have to— Fine.” She let me pass. I was wishing I had my gun on me. Damn Bertie and her fancy dress. Damn Cheryl and her perfect salesmanship. Damn this town for choosing this one moment, on this one perfect day to screw everything up.
But then, it wouldn’t be Ordinary if something ridiculous didn’t happen right in the middle of another ridiculous event.
I patted my pocket. Nothing but the phone and the letter I still hadn’t given to Bathin.
“Here,” I said, shoving the letter at Myra, who glanced at the name on the envelope and handed it over her shoulder to Bathin.
“Who’s it from?” she asked.
“I don’t know. A god, probably. I picked it up at the casino Thursday.”
Thursday seemed like forever ago. As my boots clomped a steady beat down the stairs, everything that had happened since Thursday rolled through my mind.
Ryder making breakfast, Ryder leaving quietly in the mornings, coming back quietly in the night. The stolen Heartwood, the missing Feather. Than’s planting room, all the mistakes carefully cared for, and maybe not really mistakes at all.
Growth is growth, after all.
My breath went steady and even, my gaze searching the sand below. Nothing to see. A normal beach with footsteps denting the sand, lots of traffic since the last high tide. The sound of town fading and fading with each step, the ocean hush rising and rising, as if someone had their fingers on two different volume buttons and was adjusting them in time.
Faster then, the flash of images. Ryder’s eyes, the hurt in them, the anger. Mithra’s mocking, his demands as he tried to use our connection against us.
The demon Avnas’ quiet admission of love for Xtelle, accompanied by his pained look as she trotted in with a god in goat form.
More. The needle and ink, the Valkyrie’s knife, Than’s ridiculous spider slippers, and Tala, her serene mischief, his awkwardness.
It all spun together, these last few days, and for a moment, it was like I couldn’t get enough air in my lungs.
All the world was happy—the tea, the treats, children laughing, families walking hand in hand. My sisters were happy, Jean and Hogan building their life out of bright, quirky colors, Myra and Bathin stepping a dance of patience and passion, of darkness and heat.
Then there was me and Ryder. Except when I thought about us, all I saw was a drawer full of notes. An empty bed. And apologies that never turned into changes.
We needed change. We needed to find a way to break Ryder’s connection to Mithra, though I had no idea if it was even possible.
I was on the last turn of the stairs. No more time for moping, no more time for worry. With smooth efficiency, I switched into cop mode and pushed everything else aside to focus on the beach. On the surroundings and possible threats. Jean had said she didn’t think it was a doom twinge, but her grasp on her gift wasn’t as well practiced as Myra’s.
She might be wrong about how bad it was.
The first thing I noticed was the paper scattered in the sand. Just a small piece here and there, caught on the rounded rocks, half buried. They seemed to be in a line, a path of little multicolored bits.
Then the breeze picked up, and the paper stirred. One flipped.
It wasn’t just a piece of paper. It was a paper star.
I slowed, taking in the scatter of white, silver, gold, and pink. All of them stars, all with the words “I love you” written across them in Ryder’s handwriting.
“Wait,” I said, my head spinning and reality doing a poor job of keeping up. “Wait.” Softer this time as I pieced the clues together.
Ryder was doing something romantic. Apologizing? Maybe this was the dinner we’d missed, the time we’d missed.
Or maybe he’d been planning to do something romantic and it had gone wrong.
Jean’s quasi-doom twinge could be about Ryder.
Was he hurt? Was Mithra forcing him to do something against his will? I hadn’t sensed Mithra in town, but I’d had a demon attached to me for weeks and hadn’t known it.
Now I really wanted my gun.
“Uh, Delaney?” Jean said. “You mad?”
“Hold up,” Myra said. “Maybe you should just—”
“Screw this.” I strode through the sand, no sense of subtlety, no worrying for what might be waiting for me once I stomped through paper stars and sand, once I turned that corner enough to finally see the whole, wide beach.
I didn’t even care that I didn’t have a gun. I didn’t need any weapon other than the blood in my veins and the power of this place I called home.
“What in the hell…?” The words died on my lips.
Dozens of driftwood poles were stabbed into the ground to create a natural grove-like design. Instead of branches, bits of twisted wires arched outward. Hanging from each copper and silver wire, strung on silk ribbons, were paper stars.
Hundreds of them stirring on the soft wind.
Distantly, I registered there was music. Noticed, absently, Hatter and Shoe there, playing guitars.
Those things, all taken in a flash, at speed. Those things ticked off a list, as if I were cataloging a crime scene, or setting a place to memory for later investigation.
Because while none of that—
—lovely—
—stuff mattered right now, there was one thing that mattered very much.
One person.
Ryder Bailey was wearing a suit. It was a green so dark it was almost black. That contrast with his golden skin and mossy eyes made me stop, welded in place from the heat that flashed through me.
Ryder Bailey was wearing a suit.
His hair had been styled too, brushed and held into place with enough product that the wind wasn’t tossing it around wildly like when we used to walk the beach in the mornings.
He’d put some time into that hair and into his beard, which I noted he’d trimmed.
Ryder Bailey was wearing a suit, and the look on his face was just as stunned as mine. Then it shifted, flashed with something deep and passionate, before simmering down to nervous energy. Energy that made him shift his feet and tighten his hand around something in his palm. Tighten his hand so hard, knuckles popped.
Ryder Bailey was wearing a suit, on the beach, with stars all around him. He held a small box in his hand. Bells were ringing somewhere inside of me, but my heartbeat was too loud in my ears, louder than the ocean.
“Delaney,” he breathed, like he’d been waiting to say the word so long, it was worn down, roughened, then polished to a fineness. He visibly swallowed.
Time went spongy. I knew I should respond, I knew I should do something, but I was drowning in the roar of my heartbeat. I was drifting away from my bones.
Ryder Bailey was wearing a suit.
“Delaney?” Myra’s hand landed on my shoulder, just her fingertips. It was enough. It was everything. The world snap-crackle-popped back into place.
“Yes.” I had no idea who I was answering.
The song Hatter and Shoe had been playing ended. The wind shifted a bit, but was still soft, still gentle. The sun was beginning to go down, and the light was as rich as
amber, thick enough I could taste it, honey and sea salt.
People were gathering now, I could see their movements in my peripheral vision. I recognized them. Crow, Odin, Frigg, Athena, Zeus. Than and Talli were there, as were Ben and Jame, all of their clan around them. The vampires showed up, the entire family, including Old Rossi, in suits, tuxedos.
I’d never seen my town look so fine.
“You look beautiful,” Ryder said. He took three steps. I counted each one against the thudding of my heart, against my breath which was going short and fast.
“So do you,” I said, not even recognizing my voice. It was a happy voice, it was a soft voice. It wasn’t pinging between disbelief, hope, and fear like my thoughts.
Was this an apology? Just a gift, a romantic…whatever this was?
He had a small velvet box in his hand.
My sisters were here.
And they were wearing dresses, almost zinging with soft exuberance. Images, clues, filtered through my mind. Jean laying her head back on Hogan’s shoulder. Myra wrapping her arm around Bathin’s waist, a dreamy look in her eyes. As if they knew something romantic was about to happen.
Another clue: Bertie making me change into a dress. Would she go so far as to make everyone in the entire town dress in formal clothes just to force me into it?
Well, that answer was easy: Yes, of course she would.
So she must have known about this too. It was why she’d made me meet my sisters at the crowning. It’s why the big event was so late in the day, much later than Bertie liked to wrap things up in October.
My thoughts pinged back to it again and again. Was this a romantic apology? Or was it… a proposal?
“Delaney,” Ryder said again, smoother this time. The nervous energy was still there, radiating off of him like sunlight. Sweat pricked across his forehead, a drip tracking the edge of his temple, all the way down to the hard edge of his jaw.
“I’ve loved you for what feels like forever,” he said. “Since the first time I saw you punch Jeff Baron for stomping on the good box of crayons. I thought to myself, ‘She’s so cool.’ And brave. And thoughtful. Because after you punched him, you found the other crayons and made sure everyone had enough. Even then, you were making people feel safe.”
