Still, at least he had tried it. It was a good sign that he might actually want to give the whole vacation thing—the actually being a mortal thing—a try.
Because vacationing for a god wasn’t quite the same as vacationing for a mortal or creature. For one thing, the god had to give up his or her power for the entire time they were in Ordinary. For another thing, while any god was vacationing and powerless, he or she would be mostly human, and therefore could be injured, and even worse: killed.
“Where will my…personal effects be stored?” he asked archly.
“Personal effects?”
“Power, Reed Daughter. Where will the power of Death be stored?” He looked over at me as if he were peering down over glasses, even though he wasn’t wearing any.
“That changes each year. One god in town has the right to keep the powers under lock for one year, then that responsibility changes to a different god.”
“And who currently is responsible for storing powers?”
I shook my head. “You either agree or disagree to the terms. I will tell you more when we’ve both signed the contract.”
I took another sip of coffee, which was throwing off a lot more steam than it should. Thanatos’s personal space was a cold one. But I refused to rub my hands over my arms even though I had goose bumps. He could give me the stink eye for as long as he wanted. I wasn’t intimidated by him or his power.
Much.
Even though a power was locked away while a deity vacationed, it didn’t mean the power wasn’t still in operation.
I’d gone fishing with Chronos when I was about eleven and asked him why the clocks didn’t stop while he stayed in Ordinary. He’d chuckled, offered up some philosophical doublespeak about time not being a linear concept, and threw in some mathematical equations that had soared right over my head.
And then, when he realized I wasn’t following his line of reason, he told me the powers of the gods continued to exist, even when the god wasn’t actively wielding the power. There wasn’t a way to turn it off. Instead, power ran on a sort of autopilot while the gods vacationed.
Sometimes that autopilot was easy and everything went as it should. Sometimes, a power left alone without god supervision caused disasters, floods, earthquakes, war, and worse.
I hoped Death had a really good autopilot set on his power.
That way, even though Thanatos might stay in Ordinary for a while, it didn’t mean the world would be death-free, or suddenly suffer from massive deaths.
“This clause,” Thanatos said, breaking my reverie. “I don’t believe it will apply to me.”
“Which clause?” I knew which clause. It was the same one every god thought didn’t apply to them.
“Section six, subsection six, paragraph six.”
He didn’t read it out loud. He didn’t have to. I had it memorized.
“Yes,” I said. “In the unlikely event that you die while vacationing in Ordinary, your power will be transferred, within seven days, to one mortal who will go on to become the god of death.”
“Me, dead.” His mouth almost lifted toward a smile.
For the first time, I glimpsed a spark of something that might actually be humor kindling in his eyes.
“Wouldn’t that be something?” he mused.
“For you, maybe,” I said. “For me, it would just be a ton of paperwork, and a lot of legwork to find a mortal suitable and willing to take on your power.”
“Must they be willing?”
“One hundred percent.”
He nodded with what he might have intended to be sympathy but which only looked like gallows glee. “I am sure I will not need to inconvenience you with such a thing, Reed Daughter.”
“Delaney,” I said. “If you’re coming to town you’ll need to follow human conventions in language too. I prefer to be addressed by my given name.”
“I am aware of that. I read section twelve. But I believe those rules only apply once I have signed and am residing in your town, is that correct?”
