Death and Relaxation (Ordinary Magic #1)(18)

The corner of his mouth twitched. Not a smile, but compared to any other sign of amusement he’d shown, it was practically a belly laugh.

“I understand each of these requirements, Reed Daughter.”

“Delaney. Do you have any other questions?”

“Endless. But I do enjoy a good surprise.”

I wasn’t sure how it was that everything he said came out so sinister and threatening. Any other mortal would probably cower from this kind of direct contact, but I had family blood to thank for my cool head and fortitude.

I gave him a smile. “I’m sure the residents of Ordinary and the unique experience of spending a little time as a mortal will more than satisfy your need for surprises.”

“I quite look forward to it.”

“I like your attitude.” I stood with cup in one hand and envelope in the other.

“Reed Daughter?”

“Delaney,” I corrected again.

“Now perhaps you will tell me which god will be guarding over my…personal effects while I am in town.”

“Sure: Raven.”

One perfectly manicured eyebrow lifted. “The trickster?”

“The glassblower. You should stop in his shop sometime. He holds glass-float-making classes on Saturday afternoons. Calls it: ‘Blow Your Own Balls’.”

A slight frown tucked lines between his eyebrows. “Humor?”

“He thinks it is.” I grinned. It was going to be fun to see how this very serious, very dark god managed life once he was more or less just another ordinary human like the rest of us.

“See you around, Than.”

“Farewell, Reed Daughter.”

I raised one hand over my shoulder and waved with two fingers.

Just because god power didn’t affect me like other mortals didn’t mean that I liked to be in the company of it for long. And not for the reason most people thought. God power didn’t repel me, it made me yearn a bit. Made me itch.

My father had said it was a sort of a tuning fork reaction. When I got around god power, it resonated through me like a perfect pitch. There was a reason for that.

There was only one Reed family member at a time who could act as the bridge for god power. Only one Reed who could transfer it into safekeeping, whether that meant in storage when the gods vacationed in town, or giving it to a mortal when an original god somehow got themselves killed.

That second reason—death of a god—was something I hoped I’d never have to deal with.

I headed toward the cashier counter to check for mail.

It was something Great-Great-Grandma had set into place before telephones were invented. The family story was that it all happened during a time when Mercury—messenger to the gods—wanted to stay in Ordinary. Unlike some other gods, Mercury’s power didn’t really have an autopilot and didn’t operate if he wasn’t wielding it.

The gods were more than a little upset when they’d found out their messenger boy was going to take a few years off. Typical of powerful deities, they started a war over it.

Great-Great-Grandma came up with a solution that allowed the war to be resolved peacefully.

A message drop was established outside Ordinary so that the deities outside town could send notes to the deities inside town. That drop was now here in the casino.

I drove up once a week and gathered the notes, then delivered them to the vacationing deities. I’d been here last Friday and didn’t really expect anything new to be waiting now, since it was only Monday.

I handed the cashier a key that would open the contents in a safe they kept in the back.

She glanced at it and pressed a button under the counter. A young man strolled through the door behind the cashier, took the key, and slipped back through the door again.

I stepped to one side and waited. The casino traffic was starting to pick up.

The young man came back and handed me a single white business envelope.

“Thanks,” I said.

He nodded and I turned to leave.

I checked the name on the envelope and nearly stopped cold. One name was typed across the front of it: DELANEY.

There was no one else in town named Delaney. This had to be for me.

This was highly unusual. Gods didn’t send me notes. They called, I answered, they signed contracts—or didn’t—and that was that.

Why would someone send me a note here?

I thought about opening it, but didn’t want to mess with something godly near mortals who were just out to play a game of bingo or two.

Better to put some distance between me and those who could be harmed or affected by it.

I walked out of the building like nothing was bothering me. Kept an eye out for trouble. Didn’t see anything but mortals walking into the place, flat gray sky above, and cars rolling past on the highway.

As soon as I got in the Jeep, I took a closer look at the envelope. White, unremarkable. It was the kind that business letters were mailed in. The seal at the back was pointed and not self-moistening.

There was no stamp, not that I would expect one, and no other indentation or mark on it. I tipped it up to the light, shined my flashlight behind it.

It was security lined, but I could tell that it held a piece of folded paper. My name wasn’t computer printed. Each letter left a small indent in the envelope.

So an actual typewriter had been used to address it. That might narrow down who the sender was a bit, but not by much.