“The red of pain,” Than said.
“What?”
He pointed at the traffic light. Red.
“Crap.” I stomped on the brake and brought the Jeep to a hard stop. I threw my arm in front of Than to keep him from hitting the dashboard.
Than looked down at my arm, looked over at me, one eyebrow raised. “Is this customary?”
“I was just worried you’d get hurt. And it’s just a red light, by the way. Not red of pain.”
“I shall note it. That, then, is not the green of life?”
“Just green light. We mortals keep it simple. You’ll get the hang of it.”
“So too will you, Reed Daughter.”
What did he mean by that?
When I glanced over at him, he was back to staring at the town like it held mysteries he’d never seen.
I smiled. New gods were so cute. “Thanks. I intend to be good at my jobs. All of them.”
“It has always been the way with the Reeds.”
I could ask him why he had taken my father. Could ask him if he knew the details of his death. Ask him if he knew why Dad drove off the cliff on a road he’d been driving since he was fourteen.
It had happened so suddenly.
But that wasn’t the question I most needed to know. That wasn’t the death I had to solve today.
“Do you know how Heimdall died?”
He was silent for long enough, I wondered if he was just ignoring me. But finally, just as I was turning into Raven—or Crow’s—glassblowing shop, he spoke.
“I am Death, Reed Daughter. I know each light that enters the darkness.”
“Useful. But what I’m asking is how Heimdall—his mortal body—how he died.”
“Quietly.”
I parked the Jeep. “Are you being vague just to tease me, Than?”
“That doesn’t appear to be my way, does it, Reed Daughter?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I think you’ve got a wit.”
His mouth twitched. Not a smile, but as close to one as I’d seen today.
“He was peaceful. Content. That I know.” His voice took on a sonorous tone while the air in the car dropped five degrees. “He did not struggle into the darkness, but welcomed it, his soul at rest.”
I waited, hoping he’d have something more specific for me. “Uh…right. That’s nice to know. But I was really asking if it was an accident, and where the head wound came from.”
“I am the god of death, Reed Daughter, not an enthusiast of murder.”
“Murder? You think this is murder?”
He regarded me with gravestone-black eyes.
“I need you to be very, very clear with me, Thanatos. Do you think Heimdall was murdered?”
“Yes.”
I waited for more. But trying to wait out Death was sort of a dumb tactic. “Would you care to tell me who did it?”
“As I said, Reed Daughter, I am not a prognosticator of murder, nor do my ambitions include dime-store divination. I believe I have signed a binding contract which states I will only be allowed to remain in Ordinary if, upon entry, I immediately relinquish my power onto a resting state.
“I have been within these borders for twenty-eight minutes. If I remain much longer, I shall be in breach of contract. You would find the results of breaking a contract with Death most regrettable.”
“I liked you better when you were vague.”
That got another not-smile out of him.
“I shall strive to acquiesce to your wishes, Reed Daughter.”
“Good. Start by calling me Delaney. Let’s stow that power.” I got out of the Jeep, and Than followed suit.
Crow’s shop used to be a Mexican restaurant. He’d hired Ryder to redesign it. Between the two of them, they’d turned it into something that looked more like a piece of art than a restaurant.
Dark brick was scattered by marble stones of red, white, and deep turquoise. Set on top of, under, over, and between the bricks were the glasswork that Crow was so good at creating. The side of the building facing the main road was decorated by an ocean of sea creatures from starfish to gray whales, and of course the famous float orbs, all hand blown out of glass.
On the side facing north, the glass pieces became whimsical. Some sea life, yes. But intertwined with that were fantastical birds, reptiles, and little fey creatures that didn’t exist in nature (except maybe in Ordinary) and a truly stunning waterfall and river that looked like real water when traffic headlights or the afternoon sun caught it just right.
The nature-scape of glass was strategically placed so that darker brick around it created the very clear impression of dark wings and a raven’s head above it, the black door its center.
Clever, that. His building looked like a raven with the world in its wings.
We walked through the raven’s heart and into the shop.
It was a lot warmer inside, and the display shelves that lined the room were filled with glass that glittered and beckoned.
Crow hunched on a stool behind the counter, sketching on a pad of paper. “Welcome to the Crow’s Nest,” he said without looking up.
“Hey, Crow.”
He glanced up, his eyes widening just a moment when he saw Than.
“Hello, Delaney.” Crow set the sketchpad aside. “What trouble have you gotten yourself into?”
“Nothing much. Do you have any customers today?”
He shook his head. “It’s early. Most show up after noon.”
“Good. We need to make a deposit.”
Crow stuck his fingers in his front pocket and studied Thanatos. “Been a while, old bones.”
Thanatos raised one eyebrow. “I intend to vacation here, Trickster. I have signed the contracts necessary.”
“You understand that your power remains with me, locked up until you leave town? You understand you will have no access to it during that time?”
“I do so understand.”
“Have you positioned the power so that it will rest?”
“Yes.”
Crow studied him. Thanatos looked immensely unconcerned. If there was one god in the known universe who didn’t scare easily, I supposed it would be Death.
“He telling the truth, Delaney?” Crow asked.
Thanatos didn’t scowl, but his countenance darkened. He did not like his word being called into doubt.
“He’s agreed, signed, and followed through. All you have to do is take us back to the storage area so we can settle the power, and he can start his vacation.”
“Huh.” Crow clapped his hands together once and rubbed them. “All right. Let’s do this, then. C’mon back.”
We followed him to the furnace where he did a lot of his glassblowing for the tourists, and where he taught his classes. Then we moved back to the furnace set in the farthest corner of the building.
A worktable filled with all his glassblowing tools was situated in close proximity to the oven, and other, older-looking tools were hung on the wall beside it.
The tourist furnace was hot, and so was this furnace. But I could tell that the older one had more than just heat in it. I could hear the god powers singing.
“That’s where you’re keeping them?” I asked. “Really, Crow? I thought you had them in a safe or something secure.”
“Do you see any deities accessing their power?” he asked. “Do you see power escaping and running loose in town? No, you do not. Do you see any trouble with the powers held here?” He opened the oven door so I could look inside at the hot coals.
To my eyes, those coals burned with more than fire. The flames were filled with wild, indescribable colors, scents, and music. God powers curled and flexed in that crucible. Each power contained in its own space, quiet and passive, and unlike the noisy, angry power inside of me, these powers seemed happy.
Yes, that sounded silly. But I could sense the calm radiating off them. Pretty amazing, considering the mix of powers in there.
“If you don’t like my oven, you can give them to another god for safekeeping.”
“That’s not the way it works and you know it. It’s your turn. You watch them for the rest of the year. And that’s that.”
He sighed. “I know. But it’s so
boring.
You know I haven’t had a vacation in months?”
“Cry me a new river. Living here
is
your vacation, remember?”
He grinned. “No need to resort to the truth. You’ve had your look,” he said to Thanatos. “Hand over your sparkly bits to Uncle Raven.”
“My bits,” Than said icily, “never sparkle.”
“That’s what they all say.” Crow held out his hand. “Give over.”
Thanatos stretched out his right hand, and after a moment’s hesitation when I thought I’d have to break them out of an alpha stare-down, he shook with Crow. I’d seen this before. I’d been there when Dad stood witness to a dozen or so deities who relinquished their power.
He said he saw the power as living light and color. I didn’t see it like that. To me, the actual power transfer was nearly invisible, but wholly audible. To me, there were just two men, very different men who were also very the same—standing, hands clasped, gazes locked, a slight glow building between their hands.
What my father saw as wildfire, I vaguely perceived as a low light.
But what my eyes could not see, my ears heard. The transfer of power was a sub-audible thrumming, like a tornado growing louder, closer, as celestial voices howled a rising, clashing chorus of war and joy.
Dad told me he never heard power. Not even a whisper. I didn’t know how he could miss it. It was song that resonated in my bones and haunted my dreams.
Raven and Death drew their hands away, and Crow turned to shut the oven door.
Before it closed, I could see the new color in that fire. Death burning cold.
Crow turned. “Got you covered. You need it back, you let Delaney know first. She says it’s okay, then it’s all yours.”
“I am aware of my responsibilities,” Than said. “I did read the contract thoroughly.”
Than hadn’t changed, really. Even without his power, he was every inch the aloof, dark undertaker in a Hawaiian shirt.
Maybe there was a little less shadowed edge to his face. Maybe his eyes carried something less hollow, less of the grave. But no matter what he resembled on the outside—god or mortal—he was all mortal now.
And since he was Death, I felt the need to remind him of some of the ground rules.
“Thanks, Crow. See you around.”
“Come by anytime, Delaney. I heard about Heim.”
“What did you hear?”
“That he washed up dead last night.”
“You hear anything else?”
“Myra said you have it under control. His power,” he added, as if I didn’t know what he was talking about.
“I do.”
“Do you?”
“I said I do. So I do.”
He narrowed his eyes. “If you say so.”
“I say so. We have a problem, Crow?”
“Not today we don’t.” He smiled again to take the threat out of those words. “You know I love you, girl.”
“I know.” And I did. Crow had been in town my entire life. He was like an uncle to me. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t still a trickster god.
No matter how mortal, how “normal” the god became, they were still, and always, colored by and connected to the power they carried.
“If you know something about Heim’s death,” I said, “I want to hear about it.”
“I have no idea how he died. But you could probably ask your friend Chuckles here.”
“I already did.”
“And?”
“He was sort of vague.”
Crow snickered. “He always has been.”
Thanatos, who had gotten bored with our conversation, was looking at the tools on the worktable, his hands folded behind his back, fingers of his left hand wrapped around the bony wrist of his right as if he were perusing artifacts in a museum.
He sniffed once at Crow’s accusation, but had no further comment.
“If you hear something,” I said again. “Tell me.”
“I will.”
“Good. Thank you.” I strolled over to Than. “Can I have one word with you?”
He slipped his gaze away from something that looked like a gaffing hook. “Yes.”
I walked back out into the main shop. The front door opened and two women and a young girl stepped into the shop. I caught the door and smiled as we stepped past them and out into the parking lot.
I walked over to my Jeep, and Than followed.
“You worry, Reed Daughter?”
“Today seems to be a good day for it. I just wanted to remind you that now that you are here, in Ordinary, and your powers are stored there.” I pointed back to the shop. “You are vulnerable. You are mortal. You can be killed.”
“I know.” His eyes gleamed. “Wouldn’t that be a most interesting thing?”
“No. It’s not interesting. It’s just a permanent thing that will take loads of my time and effort and even more paperwork. I already have one power to deal with. I don’t want to have to hold two and find new owners for both, understand?”
“I understand your concern.”
I didn’t think he was taking me seriously. Maybe the direct approach would work. “Please, don’t do anything to get yourself killed.”
“I shall strive to become an upstanding and long-lived mortal, Delaney.”
I nodded. “Using my name? That’s a good start. Thank you, Than.”
He tipped his head to the side and gave me the kind of half bow that I would expect out of a butler.
“Do you have a place to stay? Would you like me to drop you off anywhere? Hades runs a cute little bed and breakfast.”
“Hades,” he said with some distaste. Then he looked up at the sky and down at the street, the cars, the people walking into the city library, all with the same sense of quiet wonder.
“I believe I shall take a constitutional and acquaint myself with the possibilities. Good day, Delaney.”
“Good day, Than.”
With that, he started off north. His smooth, even gait, head held high, was an odd contrast with his crazy-bright shirt and sleek black slacks. I wondered if his shoes were going to give him blisters, but decided that might be another mortal experience he would find interesting.
Chapter 11
MYRA AND Jean were both at their desks, pretending to work. Roy was over at the coffee station stirring a paper cup. They all threw me glances filled with relief.
Trillium Ruiz, a graceful, poised woman with deep brown skin and eyes that leaned hazel-gold sat on the small couch in our lobby. She wore a cascade of earrings, slacks, and a tailored jacket over a white shirt. She ran the
Ordinary Post
, our local newspaper, and didn’t know about the creatures or deities in town.