“No. I’m glad you’ve found a hobby. How goes the kite shop?”
Crow shuffled up behind me, zipping his coat and shoving a beanie over his head. He still looked hungover as hell, but at least he was moving. He produced the umbrella hat from out of nowhere and gingerly fastened it over his head.
Great.
Than’s obsidian eyes flicked to Crow, keen with interest in this new fashion statement, then away, as if ignoring a worm among the fruit.
“The shop is adequate. The sales are not. Weather,” he added as if I hadn’t noticed the non-stop rain. “But I did not come to discuss the weather.”
I stepped aside so Crow could exit my house, then followed him and Than off my tiny covered porch since there wasn’t enough room for three people to stand on it. Of course, now we were all getting wet—well, Than and I were. Crow looked smugly dry under his stupid hat. I started down the stairs.
“What did you come to discuss?”
“The contract of Ordinary. A contract you are currently in breach of.”
Right. Death. Had a steely eye for rules and dotted lines being signed.
“I thought only Mithra would take me to the mat for that.” Mithra was among other things, a god of contract. He had never been to Ordinary, as far as I knew.
“I assume you’re talking about the missing powers?” I went on. “Technically they are still inside Ordinary, still together in one place, and therefore still within the contract guidelines.”
“Do you know for certain that those things are true?”
We’d reached the bottom of the hill and I continued on to my Jeep. “No. But I don’t know theyaren’ttrue.”
Crow sniggered and got into the passenger side of my Jeep. Than didn’t even crack a smile. But then, Than never smiled.
“One day,” I said. “One day I’m going to get you to smile, and it is going to be one of the proudest moments of my life.”
The eyebrow twitched again, but his face stayed the kind of bland that would make oatmeal jealous.
“I am not the only god who will not tolerate a breach of contract.”
“Understood. But since we haven’t broken the contract yet, well, only Crow has broken it, I say the rest of you are still in the green.”
“Green.”
“Maybe yellow. But we aren’t in the red yet. Trust me.”
I opened the Jeep door, waited to see if that brush off and false confidence would be enough to hold him. I knew he wasn’t the only god who was a stickler for contracts. I knew he wasn’t the only god who was angry about the missing powers.
Heck, if I were a god, I’d be angry about it and would certainly do a lot more than politely remind the police chief that she had screwed up big time.
“I will, Reed Daughter. But even my trust must be earned.”
And now my little goose bumps shivered to full quack. “I’m doing everything I can. We’ll find the powers. We’ll get them safely back under lock and key and if you want to reclaim your power and leave town, I’ll be more than happy to help with that too.”
He nodded, just a fraction of a movement. Rain spattered down on his head, soaking his dark hair and tracing rivulets through the creases of his face.
I wondered what he’d look like in an umbrella hat.
“I do not doubt you, Reed Daughter, but I do not trust in your choice of guardians for the power.”
“Yeah, maybe Crow wasn’t the best idea.”
“Hey!” he said from inside the Jeep.
“But it was his turn. I won’t make that mistake again.”
