Death and Relaxation (Ordinary Magic #1)(55)

“I’ll carve you a target, right up your—”

“Bargain.” I pointed a finger at Odin and turned it on Zeus. They watched me. All the gods watched me. Nothing interested a god more than a juicy bargain. “In exchange for the excessive wear and tear on Odin’s chainsaw…”

Zeus made a short, offended sound.

“…which I am sure was unintended,” I amended. Odin growled. “Zeus will carry five pieces of Odin’s art in his shop on a sixty/forty commission until they sell.”

“Ten,” Odin said, his single gray eye lit almost silver. “Ninety/ten. And the owl statue is one of them.”

“Owl? That hacksawed lump of pine on your porch? That, dear sir, is not art,” Zeus insisted, offended.

I gave him the look. The one that said I could throw the book at him if I wanted to.

“One piece.” He sniffed. “Eighty/twenty. No owl.”

“Eight,” Odin said. “Eighty/twenty. Owl stays.”

I let go of Odin’s arm like a parent letting go of a child’s first ride without training wheels. Quibbling over numbers should keep these two on the up-and-up, but I wasn’t going to leave anything to chance.

“Too much like your father,” Crow said quietly. I glanced his way and thought I saw pride. “Peacekeeper.”

I shrugged and took stock of the gods around the table. Aaron stared raptly at the argument, like a starving man watching bacon sizzle. Frigg and Herri seemed uninterested in the argument.

Once the terms had been settled—three pieces, fifty-nine/forty-one, owl included—the two gods shook on it. And that was that.

Aaron sighed and leaned back in his chair as if he’d just consumed an amazing meal. “Marvelous.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Odin said. He patted my shoulder, then went off to raise a toast at the bar with Thor, Chris, and Death.

“Thank you,” I said to Zeus.

He plucked imaginary lint off his suit. “We all know who would have won if it had come to blows.”

“Odin,” I said. “He could have taken you to small claims court over the chainsaw.”

“That is beside the point,” he said.

“What we were trying to say,” Herri said, “is that we are here and will help you if you need us, Delaney. With the power, or anything else.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Can you tell me that you didn’t kill Heimdall? Complete truth, Herri.”

She looked me straight in the eyes. “I did not kill him. Nor was I involved in his death. On my word, honor, and power, Delaney Reed. The complete truth.”

I believed her. That kind of a statement, with that kind of oath, was binding.

Words had power. Even the gods knew that.

“That’s really good to hear,” I said.

She stood up and patted my shoulder. “Come on over to my bar sometime when you’re off duty. We’ll talk, just us girls. It isn’t just the town fish who can pour a decent brew.”

“I will.”

“Good. Then I’m out. See you all at the rally.”

She sauntered over to the bar, maybe to look for Chris, who, come to think of it, I hadn’t seen for a while. She leaned over the bar to look at the floor behind it. She shook her head then walked around the bar and bent.

Myra walked over and helped her with whatever was back there.

Correction: whomever. The two of them half dragged, half carried an unconscious Chris out from behind the bar and lugged him over to a pool table, where they laid him out more or less in a comfortable position.

Herri also placed a pitcher of water on the table for him, and patted the side of his face. He made a lazy swipe at her hand, rolled over, and snored.

“So,” Crow said, “you got what we’re saying?”

“That you all promised my dad you’d help me?”

“That. Keep us in mind. For anything.”

“Anything? Want to judge the Rhubarb Rally instead of me?”

His eyes widened in shock. “Oh, hell no. Anything but that.”

“Chicken.”

“Maybe, but at least I won’t have to live in a town full of people angry at me for voting down their nana’s secret recipe.”

“You know they wrote legends about how brave and clever you are,” I said. “Schoolchildren read them.”

“All true. I am clever. And brave. Which is why I would never get roped into judging a rhubarb contest in Ordinary, Oregon. What were you thinking?”

“To serve, protect, and keep Bertie from going to jail for hitting Dan Perkin over the head with her desk.”

“And that,” he said as he stood and planted a quick kiss on my cheek, “is why you are the police chief. I always feel safer knowing you’re on duty.”

“Suck-up.”

He waggled his eyebrows. “Good night, Delaney. Don’t get into too much trouble.”

He started toward the door, and so did Aaron and Frigg. Zeus got up and wandered over to talk to Thanatos, or maybe to pick another fight with Odin. It didn’t matter.

It looked like the party was over and everyone was leaving.

Myra walked my way. “Everything okay?” she asked.

“I think so. Is Chris?”