Death and Relaxation (Ordinary Magic #1)(53)

A low hum rose to a shout that ended with “Heimdall!” chanted in a cascade of voices reaching the peak at different times. It was beautiful. Moving. A kind of vocal fireworks.

Chris strode around behind the bar and began filling glasses with beer, whiskey, and wine as if this night would never end.





Chapter 16


ONE CANNOT conduct a murder investigation when one is drinking with gods.

One can be coerced into singing, judging an arm-wrestling contest, and breaking up a bar brawl before friendly back pats become less friendly fists to the face.

Thor, who went by the name Thorne, was in the corner with a microphone and his guitar singing—sadly and badly—about the total eclipse of his heart. I was alone at a table, nursing a glass of water and wondering who Thorne had been dating to cause him the case of the mopes.

“Delaney.” Odin pulled up a chair and sat down heavily at the table next to me.

“Odin,” I said.

“So.” Hera, who preferred to be called Herri, owned Mom’s Bar and Grill—and was Chris’s direct business competitor and friend. She plunked down on my other side. “We should talk.” She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, beautiful, heart-shaped face with long, dark hair streaked with candy red. Her skin was a shade darker than mine, her light brown eyes smoldered.

The other chairs were dragged across the wooden floor and quickly taken by Crow and then Ares, who went by the name Aaron and looked like a computer programmer who wasn’t old enough to drink. The god of war’s hair was yellow-brown over a softly angled face, green-gray eyes behind glasses in a blocky, stylish frame. He had darker skin than me, but also freckles.

Zeus and Frigg were the next to claim seats, Zeus making it a point to sit as far as possible from Odin. Whereas Odin looked a bit as expected for the Norse wandering god, from wild gray hair to burly build and eye patch, Zeus, who went by the name Zeus, looked like he should own a fashion boutique for only the very rich and very famous.

And he did. He was tall, thin, elegant, and impeccably dressed in deep blue slacks, business shirt, and a jacket that probably cost more than my year’s salary. His dark hair and goatee were trimmed tight, his face long and tanned. Even though he sent a sneer Odin’s way, he was handsome.

Frigg, tall, pale, her golden hair pulled back in a ponytail, went by her name too, though she told people it was a nickname. She reached across the table and patted my hand before sitting. She wore jeans and a tank top with the logo of her towing company, Frigg’s Rigs, across the front of it. The tank was tight enough to accent her curvy figure and showed off the tattoos of a goose in flight, with a spindle in its beak across her muscular arm.

Well, lucky me. Half a dozen gods, all in a row.

“Is this an intervention? Because it feels like an intervention.” I leaned back in my chair and thumbed off my phone.

“It’s not an intervention,” Herri said.

“Do you want an intervention?” Crow interrupted.

“It’s just,” Herri said before I could answer, “we want to talk about that power you’re holding.”

Oh. Well, that made sense. Of course they’d be worried. My dad had been an old pro at this, but this was my first time dealing out a power.

“You let a new god into town today,” Crow said.

“Crow,” Zeus said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Shut up.”

“Thanatos?” I looked them each in the eye. “He signed the contract. As long as he follows the rules of Ordinary, he’s just as welcome here as any of you.”

“We’re not worried that he’s here,” Aaron said. “We just think it’s interesting that hours before he arrived, one of ours falls.”

A chill rolled over my skin. That quote was almost exactly what the anonymous note had said. “What?”

“Hours before Thanatos shows up,” Aaron repeated slowly, as if I needed time to hear each word, “Heimdall dies. Anyone else find that suspicious?”

Crow shot his hand up.

Great. The god of war and the trickster god thought something fishy was going on. Or, more likely, the god of war and the trickster god were trying to stir up trouble.

“I don’t see how they’re connected,” I said.

“Thanatos is death,” Aaron said.

“Exactly!” Crow said.

“Don’t humor them, Delaney,” Zeus said. “Children, find another pot to stir.”

“He’s death,” I said to Aaron, “and you’re war. No one’s blaming you for the Kressler/Wallery garbage can feud.”

He rolled his eyes. “Amateurs! If I were running that feud, one of them would be dead by trash compactor by now.”

He might look like a mild-mannered gardener, but Aaron had always been a cheerleader for blood and mayhem.

“I don’t see why we should blame Thanatos for Heimdall’s death,” I said. “Just because he is Death doesn’t mean people randomly die around him.”

Crow chuckled and even Odin smiled. Okay, it was a dumb thing to say, but it wasn’t wrong.

Odin leaned forward, resting two beefy arms on the table. He had several scars and nicks on his arms and the backs of his hands. Being a chainsaw artist hadn’t come naturally to him, but he was too pigheaded to give up his preferred mortal occupation.