“Name your price—” Thorne started.
“What’s the plan, Delaney?” Herri asked.
I threw her a grateful look.
Myra spoke up. “The last person who saw Cooper said he was hitching north out of town. That was a day ago. He could be in Canada by now.”
“How long have you got beforeboom?” Sage tipped her blonde head my way.
I didn’t point out that she made it sound like it was a death sentence. I didn’t point it out because she was not wrong.
“Today. The power needs to be in a new vessel by midnight tonight.”
“Plenty of time,” she said. “We’ll find him, Delaney.” She smiled, showing a lot less fang than Ben, a dimple popping in her cheek.
“Do you have a successor in place?” Odin asked casually.
That was the other big consequence I’d been avoiding. I hadn’t trained anyone else in how to be a bridge for god power. Myra and Jean hadn’t shown any signs of being someone who could pick up those duties. Though the ability always passed down the Reed bloodline, we were the only Reeds in Ordinary.
That didn’t mean we were the only Reeds in the world, though.
“If I go down, someone will show up on Ordinary’s doorstep, confused, and needing some guidance for how to re-vessel a power gone rogue. I expect you all to be very helpful to him or her.”
“Not gonna happen,” Crow said. “We might gain a new Reed—maybe even one with a sense of humor—but we’d lose our police chief. Then who would we make pity-judge the rhubarb contest?”
I reached out and slapped him on the back of the head.
He laughed and rubbed at his head, backing out of my reach.
“Do we split up?” Jame asked.
“Yes,” everyone in the room answered almost simultaneously.
“Except for Thorne and his daddy, of course,” Jame added.
Odin sighed.
“Okay,” I said, trying to head off a fistfight. “Stay in contact. Use cell phones.” I nodded to the gods. “And thank you all for giving up your final day at the Rhubarb Rally to help me with this.”
That was met by a room full of confused looks.
“Why would we stay for the rally?” Odin grumbled. “Someone already won the sculpture contest with that ridiculous Rhu-ban the Barb-barian atrocity.”
Jame and Ben laughed. “Yes, we did, didn’t we?” Ben’s grin was smug. “You’re getting old, god.”
Odin glared at him, storm and fury and wrath—every inch the god he was. Then a very small smile curved the corner of his lips. “You have no idea. Are you sure there’s no killing?” he said to me.
“No killing at all.”
Odin shook his head, then slapped Thorne on his beefy shoulder. “Not hardly worth my time if there isn’t going to be blood. Delaney, I’ll sit this one out.”
He gave Thorne a pointed look, which he then turned on Jame and Ben. “I’m sure you can handle this just fine without me.”
Great. I’d already lost one god to a petty squabble.
“All right,” I said.
“You go on without me, son,” Odin said to Thorne.
