He sighed. “I know. But it’s soboring.You know I haven’t had a vacation in months?”
“Cry me a new river. Living hereisyour vacation, remember?”
He grinned. “No need to resort to the truth. You’ve had your look,” he said to Thanatos. “Hand over your sparkly bits to Uncle Raven.”
“My bits,” Than said icily, “never sparkle.”
“That’s what they all say.” Crow held out his hand. “Give over.”
Thanatos stretched out his right hand, and after a moment’s hesitation when I thought I’d have to break them out of an alpha stare-down, he shook with Crow. I’d seen this before. I’d been there when Dad stood witness to a dozen or so deities who relinquished their power.
He said he saw the power as living light and color. I didn’t see it like that. To me, the actual power transfer was nearly invisible, but wholly audible. To me, there were just two men, very different men who were also very the same—standing, hands clasped, gazes locked, a slight glow building between their hands.
What my father saw as wildfire, I vaguely perceived as a low light.
But what my eyes could not see, my ears heard. The transfer of power was a sub-audible thrumming, like a tornado growing louder, closer, as celestial voices howled a rising, clashing chorus of war and joy.
Dad told me he never heard power. Not even a whisper. I didn’t know how he could miss it. It was song that resonated in my bones and haunted my dreams.
Raven and Death drew their hands away, and Crow turned to shut the oven door.
Before it closed, I could see the new color in that fire. Death burning cold.
Crow turned. “Got you covered. You need it back, you let Delaney know first. She says it’s okay, then it’s all yours.”
“I am aware of my responsibilities,” Than said. “I did read the contract thoroughly.”
Than hadn’t changed, really. Even without his power, he was every inch the aloof, dark undertaker in a Hawaiian shirt.
Maybe there was a little less shadowed edge to his face. Maybe his eyes carried something less hollow, less of the grave. But no matter what he resembled on the outside—god or mortal—he was all mortal now.
And since he was Death, I felt the need to remind him of some of the ground rules.
“Thanks, Crow. See you around.”
“Come by anytime, Delaney. I heard about Heim.”
“What did you hear?”
“That he washed up dead last night.”
“You hear anything else?”
“Myra said you have it under control. His power,” he added, as if I didn’t know what he was talking about.
“I do.”
“Do you?”
“I said I do. So I do.”
He narrowed his eyes. “If you say so.”
“I say so. We have a problem, Crow?”
“Not today we don’t.” He smiled again to take the threat out of those words. “You know I love you, girl.”
“I know.” And I did. Crow had been in town my entire life. He was like an uncle to me. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t still a trickster god.
