But if that were true, Death would have had to have known so many other things would happen, would all fall in a row like black dots on white dominos–bones and holes manipulated by his hand.
He’d have to know that Heimdall was going to be killed. That Crow would screw up and allow the god Mithra to claim Ryder. That Lavius was on the hunt for dark magic and was making his move toward Ordinary. That Sven would be killed, the vampire hunters drowned in Lavius’s bid to catch Rossi’s attention.
That Ben would be kidnapped, Jame nearly killed, and me attacked.
And I wondered that anyone, even Death could have known all those things, could have so carefully planned each happening.
Or maybe he hadn’t planned it. Hadn’t planned anything. Fate was a different god power, after all, and so was destiny.
Maybe he just knew what was inevitable. Maybe he could see the beginnings of everything that was to happen because he was, ultimately, the end that allowed it to be.
I had wondered, back on that day he had called and met me at the casino over frou-frou coffee to negotiate the terms of his application for vacation, why he had decided to vacation in Ordinary now for the very first time.
Had he talked to my dad by then?
If he knew this was all going to happen, had he decided this was his chance to remove that one ancient evil out of the world, and claim a death denied to him for centuries? If so, then maybe this all made sense.
“You knew.” It wasn’t enough to carry all the nuances of my understanding, but it was all I had room for with the stunned shock and admiration filling me.
“I am sure I do not know what it is you think I knew.”
“Everything. You knew everything.”
A curl of his mouth—sosoclose to a smile, though a sly one.
“I am a very old god, Reed Daughter. I know a great many things.”
“Lavius,” I tried. “You wanted him dead. You knew he was making a play, would make a play. And you knew what he’d do. You’ve wanted him dead for years.”
“Centuries.” With that one word it was Death, grim and cruel standing beside my bed holding my hand, his skin gone smooth and cold as marble and steel. “Centuries,” he hissed.
There was a burning hunger there, an anger at a war long fought, and slowly, there was the sense of a vicious victory.
“And Dad? Bathin? Mithra? You knew?” My throat closed around those words. Had this all been a move in his game against Lavius? Had he killed my father, all but sold my soul for this game?
“Ah, Delaney. Do you not know me better than that?”
I searched his face. I thought I knew him once. I was beginning to believe I should never make that mistake again. “Do I?”
“Yes,” he said firmly. “You do. I would never bring a man to his death early just to satisfy my impatience.” And there was more behind those words. He had not killed my dad, didn’t make the deal with the demon to do so, didn’t makemedeal with the demon. Maybe he nudged things, allowed the options to unfold, offered his favors.
We made our choices. All of us. Dad, me, Bathin, and certainly Lavius.
Free will, baby.
I nodded. I’d known Than for less time than any other god who had stayed in Ordinary. I supposed it didn’t make sense to trust him so much. But I did.
He’d brought me back to life, hadn’t he? And he’d somehow made Bathin give me back my emotions.
“Thank you,” I said. It covered a lot of things, but I wanted to make sure I specified a few. “For letting Dad stay, and for taking him gently.” He’d told me once that when Dad had died, he’d had a lot of questions for Death. Now I knew those questions involved a demon, an ancient evil, our safety, and Death’s favor.
“For killing Lavius. For letting me return to the living. And for making Bathin give me back my soul.”
Both eyebrows rose and his eyes sparkled. “The demon still possesses your soul.”
“He…does?” That was weird. Because I could feel. Like right now, I felt surprise. And confusion. “But I can feel.”
“Ah. I believe you’ll need to speak to your sister about that.”
