by Devon Monk
“Are you naked?” His voice was low, warm, teasing. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’d been drinking.
Whoa. Not what I’d expected. I pulled the phone away from my ear to glance at the screen, then pulled it back so I could talk.
“Are you drunk? This is Delaney,” I said. “Police Chief Delaney.”
“I know.”
Nothing but the soft sound of his breathing and a background noise I couldn’t quite place. Cars? Voices?
“I’m at work,” I said, happy that the words came out steady. “I don’t know where you are, or what you think you’re doing, but don’t call me like this, Ryder.”
“Wait. Delaney.” His phone moved and a whoosh of wind gurgled down the line. “I thought you’d be in bed...”
A horn honked, and then another. A bus or something bigger...subway maybe, clogged up the background.
Where ever he was, it wasn’t Ordinary. And from the slight softening at the end of his words, I’d say he was either exhausted or under the influence.
“Are you all right?” It was the best I could give him. Just because he broke my heart didn’t mean I shouldn’t worry about his well-being.
That was sort of the job description of being police chief. I’d be just as concerned for anyone else’s well-being in Ordinary.
Liar, my heart whispered.
“Hell, I didn’t think. What time is it?” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“Ryder? You need back up?”
He chuckled a little at that, then the sound behind him grew louder, like maybe a lot of cars had all roared to life inside a parking garage.
“No, thanks. I’m good. I just. I wasn’t thinking. Sorry about that, Chief. Should have listened and had the extra orange and cookie. Dizzy. What time is it? Oh. Morning.”
“Ryder?” That slightly defeated tone in his voice kicked spikes through my heart. He sounded like he was saying good-bye. Like he was making a last call before being shipped off into something dangerous.
But Ryder was an architect. He didn’t lead a dangerous life.
“I’m good. And Delaney? It’s really nice to hear your voice. Sorry I...just sorry.”
He hung up.
He hung up on me.
My heart rattled back into place like a dropped dinner dish, swirling, swirling to a ragged clatter.
Why had he called me? Why had I heard fear in his voice, or if not fear, worry, tension?
Why had he sounded like a man who’d been given his last phone call and had decided to waste it on a woman he’d dumped?
Why was I still staring at the disconnected screen on my phone?
I was dimly aware of Odin dragging his arm away, the door shutting, the room quieting. I looked up.
Dozens of gods were staring at me.
Neat.
More than half of them looked like they could read my mind and knew exactly all the things I was thinking about Ryder. How much I still cared for him even though he dumped me. How much I wanted to be his friend–no, how much I wanted to be more than that. How much my heart would jump at the chance to have him again, even though my mind knew that could never happen.
He had dumped me while I was lying in a hospital bed, shot. There was no chance for us, he’d made that clear. And I wouldn’t let him hurt me again. I was done being burned by the men I thought loved me. I was fine being alone and didn’t need to share my crazy life with anyone.
Then why did the sound of Ryder’s voice make me so lonely?
I pocketed my cell and tipped my chin up, the drip of rain slithering from my long braid down my back. “All right. Where’s the emergency?”
I did a quick head count. Twenty-five deities in the room. I knew them all, from Athena to Zeus. As per the rules of vacationing in Ordinary, they all had regular mortal jobs and gave back to the community in some way.
Death, who went by the name, Than, was the newest god to give this vacation thing a whirl and had been in Ordinary for the last three months. He stood off to the right of the room, close to the glass blowing furnaces Crow used to make his glass art, and where Crow taught tourists how to make their own fragile, molten treasures.
Than was tall, thin to the point of gauntness, and austere in his manners. Today’s outfit was a bright pink shirt with the outline of Bigfoot centered above words that said: UNBELIEVABLY ORDINARY. Over that, he wore a black Hawaiian shirt with what I hoped were oddly phallic geoducks. If not, then he needed an X-rating on that shirt.
His black hair was shaved close to his skull, and his eyes missed nothing as he silently considered each and every deity in the room. When he met my gaze, his expression was quiet and intense, studying me. He blinked once, a slow closing of that invasive gaze, and I found it suddenly easier to breathe.
He didn’t smile—he never smiled—but there was the glimmer of wry humor in the angle of his eyebrow. He was enjoying this turn of events, this new, ordinary life he was living.
The gods could live, work, and even fall in love in Ordinary. However, procreating while in Ordinary was not allowed.
So far, none of the gods had wanted to have kids during their vacation time which meant, so far, I hadn’t had to ban any of them from Ordinary.
The other deities shuffled and shoved Crow forward into the center of the room. They formed a half ring around him. None of them seemed happy to have been dragged away from their jobs and lives for the man who now stood in the middle of the room.
“Crow,” I said.
“Delaney Reed.” He gave me a smile that looked like he’d just swallowed needles. “Good of you to come.”
“You called. We’re here. What’s the emergency?”
He wore a white T-shirt under a flannel hoodie. The white shirt brought out the coppery darkness of his skin and made his brown eyes glow beneath artistically messy black hair. He stuck his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.
“There’s a...situation.”
I waited for him to continue. We all waited. It was uncomfortable.
“Get on with it!” Odin yelled.
So much for order. A crack of thunder rattled windows and made the blown glass items shelved around the room shiver.
“The...uh...there’s a problem.” Crow’s gaze fixed on me. He was sweating, a sheen across his forehead and upper lip. His eyes held an emotion I was pretty sure was fear.
I’d never seen him look this way before.
Never.
“It’s okay.” My instincts went red alert. “We’ll figure it out. What’s the problem?”
“The...uh...the...powers?”
I didn’t know why he was asking me something about the powers. He had them. Locked up in the old furnace in the back corner of his shop. Once a year, all the god powers got moved to a new keeper. That person was always a god, and since the stored powers moved around, even the strongest rivals couldn’t complain about some god unfairly having say over where their power was, and how it was being guarded.
“I know of them,” I said dryly.
“They’re sort of...” he shrugged.
“What does that mean? Use your words.”
Twin droplets of sweat traced downward from his temples. His clenched smile looked like it would crack a molar.
“How about you show me?” I suggested.
He nodded, stiff as a shadow puppet, before he walked off to the furnace.
“It’s...not as bad as it looks.” His hand hesitated on the latch.
“Just open the oven, Crow.”
“I called you.” As if making that point was important. “I called everyone as soon as I realized.”
“Realized what?”
He pulled the old metal door open, hinges grinding.
The furnace was empty. Cold. No god powers flickered there like flames made of crushed stars. No god powers sang there in the voices and orchestras only I seemed to be able to hear.
The furnace that should be filled to roaring with the power of each and every deity in this room was em
pty.
“Where are they?” I said into the hush. “Where are all the powers?”
Crow shook his head. “I have no idea.”
~~~
Little known fact: a room full of angry gods sounds a lot like a bingo hall fight. There was a lot of finger-pointing, insults, charges of cheating, grudges, moral lapses, and bad fashion choices. None of it had anything to do with the matter at hand.
“Enough!” I yelled from near the empty furnace. Crow was hiding behind me.
Coward.
Not that I was much of a shield against a couple dozen pissed off deities, but frankly, I was probably the only one in the room who didn’t want him dead.
“Let’s take this one step at a time. First, can any of you sense where your power is?”
A few of them shook their heads. A couple got far-off looks in their eyes as if they were trying to unsuccessfully pull up an old memory.
“No one?” I asked.
Zeus, who was dark-haired, tan-skinned, and kept his goatee trimmed and gelled, lifted one hand, long fingers spread. He was dressed in an elegant charcoal suit that probably cost more than I could get for my Jeep. He ran a high fashion and fancy decor shop for clientele who liked that sort of thing. Even here in this little beachside vacation town on the edge of Oregon, he did brisk business.
“Let me explain,” he began, and I braced for a lecture. “Each of us knows that our powers are here. Within the boundaries of Ordinary.” He didn’t stop and look around the room, but I did.
No one nodded, but they weren’t arguing either.
Progress.
I gave Odin the eye. He always argued with Zeus. But even he was silent, thick lips pressed in a tight, thin line.
His silence sent a roll of dread through my stomach. When Zeus and Odin weren’t arguing, things were really going to the dogs.
“We know the powers are still together,” Zeus continued. He took a breath, considering what to say next. “But without breaking the contract we have all signed to become citizens in Ordinary, there is no more we can do to find our powers.”
The only deity who seemed minutely surprised by that was Death, who simply made a small, curious sound in the back of his throat.
Yeah, I had the contract memorized too. There was no drawing upon god power for any reason, for any emergency, life, death, or otherwise while the deity remained within the confines of Ordinary. When a god wanted his or her power back, that transfer was handled by a member of the Reed family. Specifically, me.
And once that power was picked up, the deity was required to leave Ordinary for a full year, no backsies.
That’s when it clicked. Someone in this room had broken that rule and remained in town even though he’d pulled on his power.
I glared at Crow. “How did you do it?”
“Do what?” His eyes darted everywhere but my face. “I didn’t steal the powers. Why would I steal them when I already had them? My power is gone too. I don’t know where they are. I didn’t do anything!”
His voice went up and up. I’d never seen him this freaked out.
“You have to believe me, Delaney.” He wiped his hand over his mouth and finally, his gaze met mine. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
I could feel the anger, the frustration of all the people in the room like a dozen palms flat against my back, pressing me forward, pressing in to crush Crow.
I squared my shoulders and took a breath to calm down. Being angry wasn’t going to solve anything. What I needed were facts, options, and action.
And maybe some back up. I considered calling in Myra and Jean. Between the three of us we should be able to keep this gathering from turning into a bloodbath.
Or maybe I should hide Crow somewhere like in a holding cell before the gods put two-and-two together and realized that just because Crow was a trickster and his power had certain flexibility when it came to rule-following, his actions had started these dominos tumbling.
“Raven,” Odin grumbled, using Crow’s god name, “Answer her.”
“I thought I did.” Crow’s wide eyes asked for my forgiveness. For my mercy.
It was hard to see him like this, my friend. My almost-uncle. Even though he was technically more related to the gods in the room than he was to me, I was the only shield between him and the casually—creatively—vengeful deities at my back.
“Facts,” I said in my calmest police chief voice. “Let’s start there, okay?”
Crow nodded.
“Three months ago, you picked up your power to help me find Cooper Clark so that I could give him Heimdall’s power.”
“Yes.”
“The other gods who picked up their power to help me find Cooper were Hera and Thor.”
“Yes.”
“Hera and Thor left town for a year, according to the contract.” As if to punctuate that statement, thunder thumped across the sky, rattling windows and shelves.
“Yes,” Crow whispered.
“You came back to town. You gave your power back into hiding. You broke the rules.”
For the first time that day, I saw something other than fear on his handsome face. His eyebrows dipped and his mouth twisted a sideways smile. “Broke is kind of strong...bent, maybe?”
“Broke is exactly strong enough. Because it’s the truth. That’s the thing that is the opposite of what you usually do.”
“Rude.” His eyes flicked over my shoulder at the room full of angry.
“Okay. Okay.” He stepped out to stand beside me, though still back far enough I was between him and most of the room. He raised both hands, pleading for his brethren to stay calm.
“I broke the rule. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I had my power back and that high, that invincibility of being filled with power...” He bit his bottom lip and shook his head a little. “You all know what it’s like. I hadn’t picked up my power in years. Decades.”
Lightning strobe-lighted the room. Thunder cracked and growled.
“I let it get away from me. The temptation. The possibilities of what I could do with my power, and what my power could do...if I let it.”
Someone, I thought maybe Ares, swore.
“This isn’t my fault. Not really. Not me, Crow. It’s my power, Raven’s power’s fault. Three months with no backlash? It tricked us. I’m as much a victim as you are.”
The room dissolved into the bingo-hall shout-down again.
I let them all get it out of their systems.
Crow sidled sideways to get more of me between them and him.
“Nope.” I pressed my hand on his upper arm and felt the damp heat of his fear radiating through his thin shirt. “They’re not going to kill you. That would get them kicked out of Ordinary for good. They, apparently unlike you, follow the rules in the contract.”
I turned. “None of you will kill Crow, because if you do, I will haul you in for murder and then banish you from town for the rest of your existence.
“Since you all know he’s complicit in the misplacement of your powers, I will consider each and every one of you a suspect if Crow shows up dead, injured, or sporting so much as a new hangnail. The law is here for a reason, and I’m here to enforce it.”
A few feet shuffled. A few voices swore. Finally, Frigg spoke up. She was just under six feet tall, yellow hair pulled back in a single ponytail that fell against her heavy flannel jacket. Her jeans were frayed near the knees, and a smudge of grease streaked one thigh. Her shirt had her towing company’s logo over her heart: Frigg’s Rigs.
“All right, Delaney,” she said calmly. “We know how to follow the rules. And the rules say since Crow picked up his power, he gets kicked out for the next year.”
“I agree.” Crow made an offended noise. I ignored him. “But first we’ll have to find his power so that he and it are out of Ordinary. Was your power in that oven too, Crow?”
He nodded.
“Then we have to find the powers before we can kick him out.”
Frigg inh
aled, exhaled. “Well, crap.”
My thoughts exactly.
“So what we all need to do now is stay calm and start looking. Where could the powers be? Who might have taken them or,” I held up my hand to cut off speculation, “could the powers have moved on their own accord, or been drawn away by some other natural or supernatural force?”
The silence was worse than the grumbling. Thunder rumbled, quieter this time. Maybe Thor was done drowning us with his displeasure of having to stay out of town for a year.
Zeus sighed. “Where do you suggest we begin searching, Delaney?”
A few of the gods threw deadly glares toward Crow, but I was pretty sure they wouldn’t fire up the murder wagon.
Yet.
“We start with Crow staying with me.”
“What?” he protested.
“Under protective custody, if you come with me willingly. Under arrest if you don’t.”
“Well, seeing as I have so many choices...”
“No choices,” I said. “You have no choices.”
“And then what?” Frigg asked.
“I’d like all of you to let the police handle this. No tearing this town apart on your own.”
The room exploded into complaints and groans, and a few outright strings of curses in languages I didn’t know.
Was someone swearing in Pig Latin?
I spread my stance, hands tucked on the front edges of my belt.
“We’ll look for the powers. We’ll question any creatures who might know where the powers could be. We have the resources of the entire town, mortal and creature at our call. You all have businesses to attend. As long as the powers remain in Ordinary, you continue your vacations just as if we knew where the powers were.”
“You expect us to do nothing?” Hades spoke from near the back of the room. Hades was built like an ex-football player, wide at shoulders, thick through the chest. Even in slacks and sweater vest pulled over a pale orange button down shirt, he looked like he could break someone in half with a pat on the back.
He ran the frilly little beachside bed and breakfast where each room was decorated in literary themes: romance, mystery, western, historical, fantasy. For a god who ruled the cool, impersonal underworld, he was a happy, I’d dare say even soft-hearted man.
