by Devon Monk
Which meant I knew he was putting pieces of a puzzle together right now, something about the god powers, something about the ring, and something more.
“The gods don’t leave their weapons lying around where anyone or anything can pluck them up.” He rested against his vehicle, rocking it under his weight, his thumbs tucked in his belt loops.
“True.”
“Most gods lock those weapons away.”
“Also true.”
“Stealing a weapon like that is…” He shook his head.
“Impossible?”
“Yes. Even touching a weapon like that is problematic.”
“Why do you say so?”
“God power, by its very nature, is something most living beings can’t really handle. Certainly not in large doses or for any duration. A god weapon laid bare is even more destructive than this.” He shifted his fist so the silver ring glinted dully. “How were they delivered?”
“Cardboard boxes, no postal markings, two red ink stamps.”
“What were the ink stamps?”
“A red feather and a circle with a line through it.”
A robin called out, its liquid song reminding me of spring rain and mossy creeks sparkling like diamonds.
“Alchemy? The circle with a line is salt. Represents the body. Red feather…could be flight? Fire? Blood, of course, or transformation?”
“Does that add up to something to you? Point to anything?”
“Not really.”
“Talk to Myra about it. She’s doing research. Do you know any demons who would try this?”
“To move a god weapon against the god’s will, without the god knowing would take massive power, or incredible subtlety.”
“So you don’t think a demon is behind this?”
“Oh, I think if a demon wanted to transport a god weapon, they’d find some way to do it. But to show up in town and deliver the weapons without you knowing we had another demon in Ordinary? Much less likely.”
“Do you think your mother or uncle did this?”
He didn’t immediately answer. I wondered how many past actions he was running through his head. How many other betrayals and double crosses and schemes and deals he had seen his mother and uncle Avnas make over the years.
“It would have to be royalty. Demon royalty. The level of magic demon royalty can wield is far beyond a more common demon. My mother is…was,” he corrected himself, “the queen of hell. And my uncle the king’s knight. They might have the power to slip into a god realm.”
“But?”
“It’s a hell of a risk.” His cool gaze met mine. “Stealing god weapons and leaving them on their doorstep is either a power move to show the gods they are not as mighty as they think they are, or someone’s trying to stir up suspicion and hatred. Make them angry enough to leave town.”
“Or someone wants to arm them,” I said, throwing out the third, less likely option.
“Against what? Against who?”
“I have no damn idea,” I said. “If you think of anything that would help us figure this out, I want to hear it.”
“All right,” he said. “Myra said a car fell out of the sky. Have you figured out what’s behind that yet?”
“We’re working on it.”
“And we’re saying?”
“Microburst. Happens every once in a while around here. Oregon and its crazy weather.”
“Good to know.” He pushed away from his car and took a couple steps toward the house. “Oh. Ryder said he was looking for a venue.”
“For?” I opened my car door. The faint scent of coffee and the shampoo and soap Ryder used, wafted out of the Jeep.
“Your wedding.”
“Right. Yep. Wedding.” Even I heard the crackle in my voice.
“Delaney.”
“No.”
“You’re not having second thoughts are you?”
“Of course not.”
“It’s just one vow,” he said. “Then eternal bliss. You aren’t getting cold feet about a tiny little vow are you?”
“No vow is little,” I groused.
He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Marriage is a beautiful joining of lives.”
“Marriage is a changing of lives.”
“Of course it is. It’s love,” he said. “Marriage should be the easiest thing in the world. Everyone does it. Why even normal people do it. And if normal people can do it, then surely you can too, right?”
I scowled. His laugh was, warm, teasing. But I was still annoyed.
“Go eat a cat, Bathin.”
“You have your dress, right? And the flowers picked out? Have you written your vows or are you going traditional? My goodness, who is going to officiate this momentous day? I bet every god in town wants in on that action.”
I swung into my Jeep, and then very slowly, and very maturely flipped him the bird.
He laughed harder, waved, and turned back to the house.
I sat there, his words looping through my mind. Life changing. Vows. Promises that would transform everything about us.
Promises we would have to perform in front of people. Maybe most of the town. It was easy. Something normal people did all the time. Just a normal event that any normal person could pull off. My palms started sweating and my stomach flipped.
“Oh, gods.” I rested my head on the steering wheel. “I am so screwed.”
Chapter Eleven
“No,” Ryder said. We were sitting on the tailgate of his truck in Frigg’s parking lot, watching the cars go by. The sun coasted down the sky’s curve toward the horizon, all the light deeper gold now, the shadows brushed in purple. I’d spent several hours at the station trying to track down anything I could find on the falling car and had come up empty handed.
“It would be easy,” I said. “And fast. We wouldn’t have to make so many choices and spend so much money and deal with so much…” I waved my hands around, “cheese.”
His arms were braced on either side of his thighs, and he leaned forward just a bit, fingers curled over the edge of the tailgate. I snuck a peek at his profile to see if he was wavering.
He was not wavering. But gods, even in profile with the sun limning his strong, straight nose, the stubble of his jaw, the curve of his lips, even angry, or maybe just frustrated, he was beautiful.
“We’re not eloping,” he said. “It’s not in me, Delaney. I need a ceremony, an event. Even if it’s a small one.” He glanced my way and saw something in my expression. His hand came up and fingertips smelling slightly of dust and wood shavings traced my cheek, then tucked a stray bit of hair behind my ears.
“I know you’re stressed about it. Worried,” he said gently. “But I got this. Trust me. All you’ll have to do is show up and remember to say ‘I do.’ You trust me, don’t you?”
“I do.”
He grinned. “See? Just like that. You already have your lines memorized.”
“You don’t think we’re going a little fast?”
“Fast? You know when I first fell in love with you? Do you know, Delaney?”
“When you found out what an amazing cook I am?”
“You are a terrible cook.”
I squawked and pushed his shoulder. “I’m learning. I’m getting better. I did eggs.”
“You destroyed those eggs. Incinerated them.”
I laughed. “Nothing caught on fire. I’ll take it as a win.”
“This,” he waved a finger between us, “has been my forever. I’ve loved you since I first had an idea of what that might mean. This isn’t fast for me. Is it too fast for you?”
“It’s just a lot of change. Feels like…I don’t think it’s too fast. No, I don’t think so.”
He was frowning now and opened his mouth to say something, but I hopped down from the tailgate, my shoes crunching on the loose gravel and concrete.
“There’s Zeus,” I said. “We can table this for later, right? Tonight after work?”
“Sure,” he sai
d, although it was a little tense. “We can table it.”
He pushed off the back of the truck and started toward the two vehicles that had just rolled into the lot.
Okay, that could have gone better. But how did I tell him I was hesitant to commit to a date, a venue, even a guest list because I was afraid if we got married, we would change? That I would change, and then everything we had together would be gone?
Loving Ryder was easy. There were days when I wanted to do nothing but laze in his arms and watch stupid reality shows with him.
There were moments—him racing Spud down the beach, faking a fall and laughing as Spud tried to rescue him, or him so focused on a new building design that he’d stuck one pencil between his teeth, one behind each ear, and had another in his hand—that I wanted to tell him I loved him. There were moments—dawn’s light through our bedroom window coating him in the softest blue, his eyes when he first opened them gone silver-jade—that I kissed him trying to tell him everything written inside my heart.
All the words for him. Always for him.
Maybe my holding on to the dream of a happily ever after was getting in the way of the actual reality of our fairy tale ending.
“Hey-a Delaney.” Jean waved at me. She had driven in behind Zeus, and parked her truck facing the street. Hogan stepped out of the passenger side and held his hand up in a wave too.
I waved back at both of them.
Ryder greeted Hogan, then they made room for Zeus, who had exited his car to join their conversation.
Jean ambled my way. “Are you still fighting with Ryder?”
“Still?”
“It’s always something with you two.”
I ignored that. “Did you tell Odin to meet us here?”
“Yup. But you know how he is.” She shrugged.
Yeah, I knew. Odin usually operated on his own timetable. Maybe he’d be here this evening, maybe he’d show up a week from now, covered in wood chips and moss.
Hogan, Ryder, and Zeus strolled toward us, talking about something that involved ‘clean lines’ and ‘excellent use of negative space.’ It was either artwork Zeus had bought for his store, a new architectural project Ryder was bidding on, or Hogan’s delivery van.
Odin rolled up in his junker car, which was in serious need of a new muffler, and gunned it over the driveway lip and into the parking lot.
Zeus, who had been smiling, stiffened. He scowled at Odin’s car, then scowled even harder when Odin, every inch of him looking wild and thorny, stepped up out of the rust bucket.
“I’m here,” Odin announced. He scowled at Zeus. “Peacock.”
“Old stump.”
“Snuff pincher”
“Rock licker.”
“Where’s my check?”
“Where’s the elegant refined statue of a seahorse I ordered?”
“I delivered it last Tuesday.”
“That was a seahorse?” Zeus brushed invisible lint from his cuffs. “I thought it was a large burned piece of macaroni and threw it in the bin.”
Odin curled his huge hand into a fist, his knuckles cracking. “It’s been a few years since I’ve punched you in the face.”
“No,” I said. I stepped between the two gods and faced Odin just as Ryder turned to put himself in front of Zeus. “This fight is going to be taken care of through business channels. I’ll assign you two an arbitrator if you can’t come to an agreement that doesn’t involve broken bones.”
Odin stopped glaring at Zeus over my shoulder long enough to look down at me.
“I mean it.” I put my hands on my hip.
“You always do.” He sniffed, then nodded. “We’ll renegotiate cost and delivery.”
“Zeus?” I said without looking back. “Agreed?”
He hesitated a moment. Then: “Agreed,” he said. “Now where is the vehicle?”
“This way.” Ryder led him toward the detached garage to one side of Frigg’s shop.
“You’re trouble.” I poked Odin in the chest. “I don’t need more trouble.”
“Tell Zeus to pay me before he throws my work in the trash.”
“You two bicker like old hens,” I said.
He grinned and stepped around me. “Jean, Hogan. Have you found out who broke into my realm and stole my spear yet?”
“We’re working on it,” I said.
“Well, I’m not.” Hogan leaned forward to offer Odin his hand.
Odin gave it a hearty shake. “You don’t know anything about it, do you? No one came wishing to you?”
“No. The few people who know what I can do aren’t stupid enough to steal from the gods. If anyone had asked, I would have told them no, then told Jean about it.”
“I thought as much,” Odin propped his wide, calloused hands on his hips. “What about you?”
He had his one eye turned on the shop behind us. I glanced over.
Frigg stood in front of the door, a huge travel mug of coffee in one hand. She was built like a volleyball player, tall and lean. Her golden hair was pulled back from her face with a clip, leaving the majority of it to fall free.
She looked like summer sunshine, gold and gleaming. Her eyes sparkled.
“Well, I work here,” she said. “What’s this about weapons and wishes?”
“Someone left my spear on my doorstep.”
Frigg froze for a second before the easy smile returned. “That’s not allowed.”
“No,” I said. “It’s not.”
“Does our falling car have something to do with it?”
I shrugged. “Could. It falls out of the sky, then just hours later, weapons start showing up on doorsteps.”
“Weapons. Interesting,” Frigg sipped coffee. “I suppose this is where I tell you I got a package in my mailbox. Let me get it.” She disappeared back inside the shop and came out with a padded mailing envelope.
“It showed up this afternoon.” She brought out a now familiar cardboard box and lifted from it a beautifully crafted wooden stick with metal inlay. She held it out so I could better see it.
The staff was about three feet long and tapered to a blunt end. Clusters of mistletoe leaves and berries were carved at the top, creating a leafy crown. Sunlight ran like amber pitch down the staff, catching rainbow prisms from symbols of sheep, grasses, water, clouds. Threads of copper, silver and gold looped through it all, like spun silk.
I could see the power in it, hear it. The call of battle was there, voices rising in shouts of victory, but there were other songs: weeping, celebration. The wind and water, the hushing murmur of love, all blending with the shift and clack of twine between wood, fate spinning universes into thread.
“This is one of my distaffs,” she said.
“Mistletoe,” Odin added quietly. “But how?”
Her gaze flicked to him, and something passed between them.
Many legends said they were husband and wife. In Ordinary, it was clear they were fond of each other and shared a long, long history. But as far as I knew, they weren’t living as a married couple.
Maybe that was part of their vacation. Maybe being married that long meant they wanted a break from it. Wanted some time alone.
I thought about Ryder, and all the years he had been away from Ordinary. I couldn’t imagine ever wanting to take a break from him. Couldn’t imagine ever wanting to be alone.
It wasn’t my job to keep track of Frigg and Odin’s private life. From all I knew—and from that look they were sharing—they were seeing each other quietly on the side.
“I would love an answer to that,” Frigg said, and it took me a minute to remember I was supposed to be paying attention to the mistletoe distaff she was holding.
“Is it a weapon?” I asked.
Odin chuckled. “Is it a weapon.”
“It is,” Frigg said simply.
“Okay,” I said. “I didn’t know that.”
“That’s the thing,” she said, walking toward me. “Almost no one knows of its existence. Those who do as
sume it is a part of my weaving, a part of fate and future and knowing.”
“Knowledge can be a weapon,” Jean said.
“True,” Frigg agreed, “but this kills.”
It glinted again, catching a harder edge of sunlight.
“We’ll need to lock it up,” I said. “Put it in the vault with the other god weapons.”
She nodded. “I’d wondered what I was going to do with it. It’s against the laws for me to carry it here.”
“Myra put the other weapons in the vault,” I explained.
“Which vault?”
“The one in the library,” Myra said striding up the sidewalk. She must have parked on the street. Right place, right time.
“We get another delivery?” she asked.
Frigg held up the distaff. “Do you want me to go with you?”
“Yeah, I’ll need you there.”
“Can I see the box?” I pulled latex gloves out of my pocket and worked my hands into them.
Frigg handed it to me. Just like the others, there was no name or address written upon it. But on the back, there was a circle with a line dissecting it, and a single red feather.
“I’d like to keep this. See if I can get prints off of it,” I said.
“Knock yourself out,” she said.
“I don’t suppose you saw who dropped this off today?”
She shook her head, gold catching in her hair. “No. I’ve been out on calls this morning, and had to pick up supplies this afternoon. I shut the shop down and forwarded calls to my cell.”
“No one was here to see it get dropped off?”
“No one.”
“Any cameras?” Jean asked.
“Who’s going to break into a tow truck shop?” Frigg grinned. “A hubcap burglar?”
“No cameras,” I said.
“No cameras,” she agreed.
The garage door opened and Ryder and Zeus walked our way. “Looks like it’s your turn,” I told Odin.
“Finally,” he grumped.
Frigg just rolled her eyes and started toward Myra. “Wanna get this stashed before the night falls?”
“Sooner is better than later.”
“Big plans for tonight?”
They strolled toward the cruiser, Myra’s voice drifting back to me. “Just dinner. With Bathin.”
