Death and Relaxation (Ordinary Magic #1)(100)

I reached out and slapped him on the back of the head.

He laughed and rubbed at his head, backing out of my reach.

“Do we split up?” Jame asked.

“Yes,” everyone in the room answered almost simultaneously.

“Except for Thorne and his daddy, of course,” Jame added.

Odin sighed.

“Okay,” I said, trying to head off a fistfight. “Stay in contact. Use cell phones.” I nodded to the gods. “And thank you all for giving up your final day at the Rhubarb Rally to help me with this.”

That was met by a room full of confused looks.

“Why would we stay for the rally?” Odin grumbled. “Someone already won the sculpture contest with that ridiculous Rhu-ban the Barb-barian atrocity.”

Jame and Ben laughed. “Yes, we did, didn’t we?” Ben’s grin was smug. “You’re getting old, god.”

Odin glared at him, storm and fury and wrath—every inch the god he was. Then a very small smile curved the corner of his lips. “You have no idea. Are you sure there’s no killing?” he said to me.

“No killing at all.”

Odin shook his head, then slapped Thorne on his beefy shoulder. “Not hardly worth my time if there isn’t going to be blood. Delaney, I’ll sit this one out.”

He gave Thorne a pointed look, which he then turned on Jame and Ben. “I’m sure you can handle this just fine without me.”

Great. I’d already lost one god to a petty squabble.

“All right,” I said.

“You go on without me, son,” Odin said to Thorne.

Thorne grinned, his eyes glinting with some kind of shared joke between them. “I’ll see you in a year, Father.”

Odin grinned back. “Say hello to the old world for me.”

Crow flattened his hand over his chest. “Such a touching farewell. Can we just get on with it already?”

~~~

MYRA REFUSED to let me go alone anywhere, much less north toward Tillamook, and it would have been a waste of time to argue with her, since she was driving. The gods and creatures had scattered, promising to be thorough and non-deadly in their search.

“Think Odin really only wanted to come if there was bloodshed?” Myra asked.

I stared out through the Douglas fir, hemlock, and sword ferns that crowded the side of the road.

“I think he and Thorne had some agreement about who gave up their vacation first. Probably some bet he won.”

“Poker?”

“Or that croquet game they started up a couple months ago.”

“Croquet.” Her voice held a level of disbelief we Reeds really should be done with by now. “Thor and Odin. Wickets and tiny mallets?”

“Tiny hammers,” I corrected with mock gravity. “They play it on the beach over at the cove. Apparently you can hear the swearing and insults for miles. A few of the other gods have joined in. I heard rumblings about starting a league. It’s serious business.”

“As long as no one dies,” she said.

That brought on a heavy silence.

“If we don’t find Cooper in time…” I said as Myra kept her eyes on the twisting road that rolled through cow farms and forested hills.

“We’ll find him.”

“If we don’t,” I said, a little more firmly, “I don’t want you or Jean trying to pick up the power.”

She was quiet. After another mile or so, she took in a short breath. “Do you really think Jean and I could stand on the sidelines while our home and the people we care for are being eaten by a god power that our family has vowed to guard?”

“No,” I said quietly. “But I think you could leave. Get out of the blast zone.”

“You aren’t paying attention, Delaney. You know we’d never walk away in a disaster.”

“I know.” I rubbed my eyes. The headache had gotten much worse with the song of power and exhausting pressure.

“We would never walk away from you,” she said.

The truth of that made my chest tight.

“Idiot. We love you. We are not going to lose you.”

The pressure in my chest eased, and I closed my eyes against the overwhelming prickling of tears I refused to give in to. I sniffed and nodded. I was pretty sure I was the worst keeper of power in the history of the keepers of powers, but having Myra and Jean—my sisters, my family—at my back meant everything to me.

I rubbed at my eyes again, drawing away the wetness, and leaned my head against the window, hand propped over my eyebrows to shield the bright light. “Thanks.”

“You hurting?” she asked after another mile of silence.

“Some. Headache.”

“Sunglasses in the glove box.”

I reached forward and pulled out a spare pair of Aviators. I slipped them on, sighing a little at the relief. It wasn’t a lot, but any little bit helped.

“Take your pills?”

“I did. I think this is more Heimdall’s power being pissy than my injury being sore.”

“Too bad we don’t have something for that,” she said.

“Power Vicodin?”

She shrugged. “Or someone in the family who can ease pain.”

“Like that’s a real thing.”