The Grimrose Path (Trickster, #2)(29)
He exhaled. “Only when you refuse to see how vulnerable you can be, even at your best, and, yes, I know how very good your best can be.” Pulling the sun necklace out from under my T-shirt, he arranged it in place to the right of my heart. “I’ll make some calls to those who can do more than use only Verizon now. Being human or a raven isn’t much help in finding a Titan, but I’ll see if I can get some assistance from those who happen to be getting a good laugh at my expense now. I hope you appreciate that. Risking death and derision all in one.”
For the former Loki, risking death was a walk in the park; risking derision was a sacrifice for which there wasn’t enough gratitude in the world.
“And,” he added, “we might be being presumptuous already. Just because Cronus has only gone after demons, wants a map to Lucifer, doesn’t mean this is all necessarily only about Hell. With Cronus, you can’t assume. He’s pa?en, but so am I. History knows what I tried to do, and on a smaller scale that all pa?en aren’t at peace and love with one another.”
It didn’t get much truer than that. “Which is why we really do need to talk to him. If it’s only Hell and Lucifer he has a problem with, then I’ll join his cheering section. I’ll wave pom-poms, do the splits. Rah-rah-sis-boom-bah.”
“And if he has a problem with some fellow pa?en, you think he’ll tell us?”
“Why wouldn’t he? He would think there was nothing we could do about it and he would probably be right.”
“But that doesn’t mean we couldn’t try,” Leo exhaled. “Does being a born trickster make the suicidal behavior more prevalent? Because as it’s only my hobby, I don’t tend to want to happily rush into death quite as often or quickly as you. I don’t enjoy seeing you do it either, not in our current mortal situation.”
“It’s what I do.” I walked behind the bar and re-braided his hair from the ponytail for him, not as tightly or neatly as he would’ve done himself, but close. “It’s what you do too, although you won’t brag on it. You should. You deserve it. Don’t be ashamed. Being righteous and being wicked aren’t mutually exclusive.” I grinned and headed for the stairs. “I’ll shower and change and be right back. Maybe we’ll close up early tonight. Have dinner with Griffin and Zeke. They’ll be needing a distraction. Going demon-free cold turkey will be driving Zeke crazy.”
“And dinner will fix that?” He was back to skeptical again.
“You think too big sometimes, Leo. The little things in life can be just as much fun.”
After all, demons weren’t the only ones who gave Vegas a bad name.
“I thought we were going to eat?” Zeke complained.
“And we will, but we’re going to have some fun first.” I reached back and patted his knee. He was wedged in the back, using the two tiny seats as one. As his knees were rammed up close to his chin, I counted myself lucky he didn’t snap at my hand when I patted. Griffin, who had won the coin toss, was in the passenger seat, and Leo . . . Leo was currently driving out of the city in his own car with a rental U-Haul attached. That was for fun too, but a little later.
“This thing is so small it should run on triple-A batteries,” Griffin commented, on the part of Zeke since the car was not small. It was perfect. It simply wasn’t made for a full-sized man to be shoved into the back. But too bad for them both. It was new, I loved it, and I was going to drive it.
“It’s a Shelby Cobra. Have some respect. Triple-A batteries can’t get you to one hundred and eighty-five miles per hour and this baby can.” I pulled on my gloves—hunting gloves, silk for easier trigger pulling.
“It can go that fast?” Zeke, as always, was skeptical.
“When I’m driving it, Kit, it can f*cking fly. Speaking of flying, while we’re on the way to the sports store, tell me if you guys have gone out to the desert to practice? If you whip out your wings in a battle, you need to be able to use them.”
“Why the sports store?” Griffin asked.
I smiled. “We’re going to try for a few homers. And I’m not telling you anything more, Griff. It’s a surprise. It’ll work off some energy for you two.”
Griffin gave in to the inevitable of that easily enough. He’d known me for ten years. He knew how much I loved my surprises and went on to answer my question. “We have been practicing. We’ve been out a few times. The last time went flawlessly until a female eagle took a liking to Zeke. She either wanted to do him or eat him. He does look like an overgrown robin with those copper brown feathers of his.”
“A falcon or a hawk,” Zeke growled. “Not a robin.”
“And you weren’t attacked by any horny birds?” I asked Griffin, laughing.
“No,” Zeke answered for him. “He’s not a bird. He’s a dragon. When the light hits his wings, it’s like”—he paused—“like the sun falling out of the sky.”
I would’ve patted his knee again. It sounded simple, was simple, but that was beyond poetry for someone like Zeke. It swelled your heart and broke it all in one. But although Griffin looked tired, his hand beat my own to Zeke, so I turned my full attention back to driving, my smile turning from cheerful to affectionate. I continued to smile to myself, smug as a cat with his own personal sushi chef, as I drove to the nearest sports store and with the guys’ help, discovered that you could fit fifteen baseball bats in the Cobra’s trunk. Louisville Sluggers, satiny smooth wooden works of art. When you taught those who needed it a lesson, you taught it with style.