Death and Relaxation (Ordinary Magic #1)(19)

I flipped open my pocket Leatherman, sliced the side edge, and drew out the paper. It was folded in thirds.

In the center of the sheet of paper was one line:



Tonight. One will fall.



“What the actual hell,” I breathed. Dread and fear clenched my stomach and my heartbeat picked up the pace. Was this a warning? A threat? Was this the bad feeling Jean had been sensing?

What did it even mean? One what would fall tonight?

I searched the parking lot again to see if anyone was watching me, but it was empty of people, creatures, and deities.

There was no date on the envelope or the paper, but someone inside would know when the mail had been delivered, and how. If this had come to the casino via some unusual way, I wanted to know the details.

I tucked Thanatos’s contract into the glove compartment and locked it, then walked back into the casino, my nerves tight, even though I didn’t let it show.

Myra had the gift of always being where she needed to be at the right time. Jean could tell when something bad was going to happen and usually had an idea as to what it was.

My family gift was a little different.

What I hadn’t told Thanatos, because it wasn’t his concern, was that the only way a god power could be given to a mortal was through me. I was the bridge between mortality and the immortal, a wire through which power could travel and connect to its new host.

That was a family thing too, handed down through the generations. It didn’t always show up in the firstborn—there was a great-great grand uncle Otis, who was the sixth-born, and he had been one of the best bridges for power transfer.

Dad had been the most recent bridge. He’d made me stand with him one time when I was fourteen to watch him endure that pain. Endure that power.

I’d had nightmares of it for years afterward.

So far, I hadn’t had to bridge a god power. Not a single god had died while on vacation in the last year. Not even Poseidon, who was a chronic idiot when it came to staying alive as a mortal.

If I had any say in it, no god ever would.

I strode back into the casino to do my due diligence. I’d check in with the cashier and anyone else who had seen the envelope delivered. Find out who had dropped it off. Then I’d head back to town before Death got there.





Chapter 6


I PULLED into the station. Six cars filled the parking lot—one was Myra’s squad car. One was Roy’s sleek convertible. Two had tow tags on them, and one was Jean’s truck. The other was a sedan—Washington plates. Out-of-towner.

I dragged my hair back into the rubber band and swung into my official jacket, the white envelope in my pocket. I dug Thanatos’s contract out of the glove box and strolled in.

Roy sat behind the counter and switchboard. He was a big, amiable man in his seventies. His wide, dark face supported a thick white mustache and a shock of white hair trimmed tight to his skull, making his bright brown eyes stand out. He worked LAPD dispatch back in the day, retired up here to Ordinary, and was one of the few mortals who knew the town’s secrets.

“Afternoon, chief,” he said.

“Afternoon, Roy. How’s the day?”

“Smooth sailing.”

He always said it was smooth sailing. If a sinkhole swallowed up the station and dropped us all into a volcano, he’d say it was smooth sailing until the last sizzle.

Myra stood at her desk talking to the out-of-towner—a businessman who was waving a parking ticket in her face. She glanced up at me over his shoulder, her light blue eyes narrowing a moment. I gave her a later nod, and she went back to not changing her mind for the guy.

I strolled to the record room, which was just a little storage space with shelves for cleaning supplies on one wall and files on the others. I stashed Thanatos’s contract in the hidden safe we used for temporary keeping until it could be stored back home in our family vault.

I didn’t lock up the white envelope. I wanted to show it to Myra.

By the time I walked back out, the parking ticket guy was out the door.

“So did you give him the small-town rent-a-cop break?” I asked Myra, using the insult he’d last thrown at her.

“I gave him the small-town hospitality of not throwing him in jail for being an ass.”

Roy chuckled. He was working on his newest Rubik’s Cube, which looked tiny in his hands. He had a collection of them. I had no idea why.

“How’d it go?” she asked.

“He signed. So I expect him to swing by for his welcome packet in the next day or so.” I dropped my jacket across my chair and sat.

“What does he look like?”

“Thin. Meticulous. Pale. Black suit and eyes. Elegant undertaker sort. I think he’d be hard to miss.” I dug the envelope out and handed it to her.

She scanned the name. “Typewriter?”

“Yep.”

“Did he give this to you?”

“No. It was left at the drop. Delivered by normal means. The cashier said it arrived like all the others: in a sealed, prepaid postal box.”

“Weren’t you just out there Friday?”

“This showed up today. Same route driver.”

Myra pinched it so that the envelope yawned open. She tugged out the paper and read it.

“What in the hell does that mean?”