Rossi turned toward Death, met his gaze. Waited for his judgment.
“Beg me to spare you,” Death said, and there was no longer anything friendly or human in his tone.
“Bring her back to us.” It was whispered, I thought, in a language I did not know, but still understood. “I will pay her passage.” Rossi fell to his knees, but did not look away from death, did not bow his head.
“Perhaps,” Death said, “it has already been paid.”
“No,” another voice rang out.
I spun. Ryder crossed the room to stand before Death. He looked taller, wider, his body outlined in a hard yellow light. But it was his eyes that frightened me. That might be Ryder’s body, but it was not Ryder looking out of that gaze.
That was Mithra, the god who owned him, the god who was using him as his vessel. The god who did not like any of us Reeds enforcing the rules and laws of the town.
The god who would be happier if I were dead.
“You have no power here, Mithra,” Death said.
“My power resides in all laws of the universe,” Mithra said, “Even in the laws of death.” It was Ryder’s voice, but colder, harder.
“You do not rule over me,” Death intoned. “I am eternity.”
“I rule over the contract Reed blood has made with the gods of Ordinary. Delaney’s death must be final. The bridge is no more. The Reed guardians have failed to uphold their vows to the gods within its borders. They must relinquish their station to the standing warden. Ordinary will follow my rule. As it is written. As it should have always been.”
Was that true? Was our status as guardians, my status as a bridge that allowed god powers to be set down when gods vacationed in Ordinary so tenuous? Was there nothing more that held us tight to this land?
“You are within Ordinary, Thanatos,” Mithra said. “You must bide these laws.”
Death’s smile was frightening, cold, cruel. “Death is everywhere. Death is all. Beginning and ending. And within Ordinary’s boundries, all gods can die.”
He lifted one hand, his fingers long pale bones and claws.
Ryder stiffened as if a hook had sunk into his chest. He shuddered, convulsed, the light in his eyes fading.
“No!” I yelled. I threw myself between Mithra and Death. “Don’t kill him. Don’t kill Ryder. Please, Than. Please.”
It took a breath, two, before Death relaxed his hand. There was blood at the corner of Ryder’s mouth, but he didn’t seem to notice it.
“Enough,” Bathin said, his voice low, thick, and hot. “Delaney only dies and reliquishes Ordinary’s guardianship if I say she dies. I hold her living soul, as has been agreed, a favor to Death.”
I didn’t look away from Death even though Bathin’s words tumbled around me in confusion. He had my soul because of Death? A deal they had made?
“Lies,” Mithra hissed.
Bathin strode forward, his true form clear to me in my ghostly state. He was huge, dark, fire and ash, powerful. But was he powerful enough to take down a god?
“Can you not see the contract agreed upon between she and I, Mithra? Has your power so dulled? Challenge my hold on her, god. It will amuse me.”
Really? Was I going to have to stop a demon and god fight to keep Ryder safe now too?
“Not helping,” I said to Bathin.
But Ryder’s head snapped up, realization twisting his face with an ugly hatred I had never seen before.
“You arenothing!” he screamed at Bathin.
“I am demon.” His nostrils flared and lightning flickered in his smokey eyes. “And my contracts, are rock-fucking-solid.”
And there, next to Bathin, appeared my father. Hope from ashes. He wasn’t as clear as he had been when I’d seen him trapped in the stone with Bathin, but there was no mistaking his smile.
