Death and Relaxation (Ordinary Magic #1)(77)

“No.” I raised my hands to reason with her. A pink blob bobbed with that movement, making a little tink-tink sound. I looked up to see the balloon swaying gently on the string tied to my pinkie.

Death had brought me a pink balloon. I couldn’t stop myself. I snickered then giggled again.

“Really?” Jean sounded exasperated.

“I’m fine,” I insisted, trying to keep the laughter in. “It’s the drugs. Just the drugs.”

When I tried to think through what Dan had done, the whole thing just seemed so out of character. I mean, Dan was a blowhard and a pain in the butt, but he had never before shot anyone. Especially not a police officer in broad daylight in front of a witness. Even he wasn’t that bold and stupid.

“Are we sure it was Dan?” I asked.

Jean swore softly and Myra patted my arm again. “He was standing there, the gun in his hand, and you hadn’t even been on the ground long enough for the pool of blood to spread.”

“Thanatos?” I asked.

“He was there too.”

“No. I mean what did he see?”

“What did you see, Delaney?”

I didn’t want to think about that. I’d never been shot before and I was finding the more I thought about it, the more the reality of it sank in, the less smoothly I was handling it. As it was, I was already feeling like maybe whimpering like a baby might be about my speed.

“I, uh…saw Dan. He was angry.”

“What did he say?” Myra used her cop voice. The one that calmly guided and soothed witnesses through remembering details of an event.

“He said his root beer should have won. That he should have won. I told him I’d fix it. That I could fix it for him.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“Yeah. He said he could fix it too. Then he shot me.”

Myra waited, and even Jean was silent.

“Do you remember anything else?” Myra asked, even more gently. It suddenly reminded me of Mom, whom I’d only known until I was twelve. Myra had that same soft comfort in her voice that Mom used when I had a fever or chicken pox.

I shook my head. “Thanatos was disappointed that I’d been shot. Other than that…” I searched my memories. “Wait. I thought I heard another gunshot. Did one of you shoot at Dan?”

“No,” Myra said. “When we got there, Thanatos was standing behind Dan, his hand on his shoulder, keeping Dan from bolting. I thought you put Death’s power away, Delaney.”

I rolled my eyes. Okay, now she sounded like Dad. Doubting that I had carried out his orders and the job correctly, even though he had taught me, pretty much all my life, how to deal with all this.

Not that I was dealing with it well. He hadn’t really covered the gunshot wounds over rhubarb ribbons in the job description.

“I did put it away. He doesn’t have his power—except, you know, the little bit that lingers. All the gods have that.”

“They do?” Myra asked.

I smiled. “Yes. It’s what makes them so damn pretty.”

Jean snorted. “What do they have you on? I might need to get some for when I want you to sign off on my vacation weeks.”

“Week. Vacation week. I’m not that stoned.”

“Was there anything else you noticed?” Myra said, back in cop mode. “Any sounds, any smells? Anyone else who could have been there?”

I bit down on a smart-mouth answer and instead took a few moments to breathe deeply and clear my mind.

I was a cop. Even drugged, I should be able to piece together what I’d seen firsthand less than twenty-four hours ago.

At least I thought it was still the same day.

“What day is it?” I asked with a jolt of panic that was quickly soothed away by all the happy chemicals floating through my veins.

“Friday evening,” Myra said.

“Evening?”

Jean sighed. “Getting shot means surgery, Delaney. Surgery means recovery time. Recovery time means sleep. And sleep means it’s Friday evening.”

“How evening?” I had lost an entire day.

“Four thirty,” Myra said. “You’re awake in time for dinner. Think you can eat something?”

“Sandwich and coffee?”

She finally cracked a smile, though it looked like it was fueled by relief. “I’ll see what I can do.”

She stood and started toward the door. That was when I noticed she wasn’t wearing her uniform. As a matter of fact, I was pretty sure those were jammie pants.

“Duckies?” I asked.

She turned. Gave me a tolerant look. “It has been a long day. Too long. And I like duckies. You have something to say about that?”

“I like duckies too. We should make it a part of the official uniform. Very intimidating.”

She shook her head, but at least this time her smile was more than just relief. “I’m going to tell them to dial down your meds.”

I scowled, but couldn’t hold it for long. “Don’t be a spoilsport. My boyfriend walked out on me and I got shot. I deserve a night up in the clouds.”

“Walked out on you?” Jean perked up and slid her phone back into her pocket. “Is this Ryder we’re talking about?”

“You mean that he left you at the judging?” Myra asked.