“Your father was wrong.”
I clenched my hands under the table, but didn’t show him how much those four words angered me. “About a lot of things, I’d guess.”
“He was wrong about his ability. Wrong about his decisions. Wrong about you.”
It took an effort to keep my mouth closed. Just because I was highly tolerant to god power didn’t mean he couldn’t undo every atom in my body with a snap of his fingers.
One did not live long if one pissed off a god.
“Maybe he was,” I said, though it came out a little breathier than I wanted. “But what’s done is done. He’s gone now. Dead. Even you can’t judge a soul beyond life.”
He blinked once, slowly, then simply stared at me.
Waiting for me to break.
The weight of his power pressed down on my skull, pushed at my neck, shoulders. It stung like bees crawling over my skin. It hurt, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.
We Reeds were meant to face any storm that came our way.
Even if those storms were gods.
I squared my shoulders and leaned forward, toward him, toward that pain, toward that hatred he’d always carried for me, my father, my family line. The hatred he carried for Ordinary.
“I will not worship you.”
I was pretty sure if someone threw gasoline at his reaction, we’d catch on fire.
“You can not continue holding the laws of Ordinary and the safety of powers in your hand without bending knee to a power larger than you.”
“We Reeds are the guardians of Ordinary. Always have been, and we always will be. None of my ancestors worshiped you. I won’t either.”
“You are wrong. There was a time when your family was tied to me, very closely tied to me. It was a better time. One I suggest you return to immediately.”
“No.”
His nostrils flared and that crackling light in his eyes looked a little like lightning. He was in full-throttle smite. I was about to be smoted. Smitted. Smate. Whatever.
“How about we deal with the fact that you are currently in illegal possession of the god powers of Ordinary? Which makes you an accessory to a crime. A crime that breaks the rules and contracts of Ordinary.”
“You hold no power over me.”
“Ditto, Mithra. And you never will.”
He went red, his buggy eyes somehow bugging out even more. “All contracts fall under my power. All contract breakers are mine to punish. Your father knew this. If you were the warden, you would know this too.”
“No.” My stomach went sour at the mention of it. Dad had spoken of the warden position off and on while I was growing up. There was a time, a long time ago, when Ordinary had the option of having a warden instead of guardians like the Reed family. It was back enough greats in my ancestral line that I hadn’t paid it much attention. But Dad had.
Mithra had tried to force my dad to take that position. To become the warden of Ordinary, to worship only Mithra. Dad refused. Refused to be a god’s sycophant, refused to be ruled by one god power.
Said it would be the kiss of death for our town. Said that it was better to be a police officer, someone who could enforce the mortal law of the land, the law of the town, and the laws put into place and agreement by all the gods who vacationed there.
One god calling the shots above all others was a very bad idea. As a matter of fact I was pretty sure that if we tried that, Ordinary would be disbanded, the gods no longer vacationing, the creatures...well, I wasn’t sure if the creatures would stay or not, but I was pretty sure some of them, like Rossi wouldn’t want to have a god ruling them.
We might be a small town, but we were a hugely independent people.
“Ordinary must have a warden,” Mithra said.
“Ordinary is just fine with a guardian—the Reeds. And a police force—also the Reeds. We have this under control. My sisters and I are more than enough to keep Ordinary safe.”
