Myra swore quietly.
And that was when it hit me.
God power.
I’d never felt it before, not like this, not so strong. But I knew exactly what it was. God power, uncontrolled, wild. It slammed into me, trying to reshape me. Trying to change me.
A wave of sensations swallowed me whole, pulled me down with electric fingers and explosions of color. I felt my knees give out, heard my moan as I fell. Ryder’s voice, Myra’s voice, were faint echoes behind a chorus of sound raised in raw power.
The world shuddered under that song, then rebuilt itself to meet the call of this mighty, unstoppable, exquisite force.
A universe of sensation—beautiful sensations, terrifying sensations—filled me.
And then silence and blackness closed it all down.
Chapter 9
RAIN. A soft patter of it against a metal roof. The smell of gardenias—Myra’s perfume. I heard her voice too, building slowly, like someone turning up the volume in increments.
“Right here with you. Just come back, Delaney. Just come back, right here.”
“I’m awake.” Had to clear my throat a little and push hard to get my eyes open. I was lying in the back seat of Myra’s cruiser, the engine running, heater blowing full-blast, police radio on in the background.
“I’m awake,” I said again. “What happened?”
She glanced over her shoulder at me as she drove. “It knocked you out. I was worried that it might.”
“What knocked me out?” I sat. It was warm in the car, but I shivered and pulled the throw blanket she’d covered me with over my shoulders. The tank top felt like a poor decision at this point. “Do you have a spare jacket?”
“God power,” she said. “Jacket in the trunk.”
God power. That meant that one of the gods, in their mortal form, had died.
Oh, shit.
“Who? When?”
“Can’t you tell?” She parked the car, flipped off the windshield wipers, and turned back toward me. “You’re still white as a bone, Delaney. Let’s just sit here for a second.”
I nodded, but was thinking about her first question. Couldn’t I tell what power had just hit me like a freight train?
“Heimdall. Norse God. Herald of Ragnarok. Oh,” I said, putting it together with a terrible sinking feeling. “It’s Heim, isn’t it?”
“Tourists found his body washed up on the shore about an hour ago. We don’t know how long he’s been dead yet.”
“How long have I been out?”
“About twenty minutes.”
“So maybe he’s only been dead that long?”
“I don’t think so. This is the first time a god has died since you became the bridge for power. I remember Dad saying it took some time for powers to focus on him until it had happened a few times. Each power left a bit of a mark, he said. So the next powers could more easily find him.”
He had never told me that.
“You talked to Dad about being a bridge?”
Her profile was outlined by the faint streetlight filtering in through the rain-spotted windshield. In this light, the lines of her were softened into the kind of femme fatale I’d expect in a noir mystery, her straight, dark bangs the perfect counterbalance to the round edges of her eyes and cheeks.
