I nodded.
“I can’t speak for all the deities in creation, but for those of us who have been here? We’re pretty comfortable with humans being flawed. That’s part of what makes you all so interesting. And lovable.”
She grinned, and I rolled my eyes at her. “I was trying to be serious.”
“I know, Myra.” She lifted her beer to encourage me to do the same with my iced tea. “You are always serious.”
“It’s my strong point,” I grumbled as I took a swig of tea. It was something Chris was offering now. Non-alcoholic beverages including this tea with just a hint of bergamot and raspberry. I loved it.
“It might be one strong point, but it’s not your real strength.”
“Oh? What’s my real strength?”
“Balance.”
I frowned. I had no idea what she meant, but didn’t spend another second worrying about it. I was standing up, the tug in my chest telling me to move, to be on my feet, to be ready.
It wasn’t hot or painful, just a nudge, so I didn’t think wherever I was about to be was going to be dangerous.
Delaney shot up to her feet, handed Ryder her iced coffee, and took off walking down the beach. Toward a lone figure who waited.
A god.
I couldn’t tell which god it was from here. But I wasn’t going to let Delaney face whoever it was alone. I stopped by Jean, tapped her on the shoulder, and pointed at Delaney. She squinted against the light, then nodded.
“Let me know if you need me,” she said.
“I will.” I bent and dug a cold beer out of the cooler, then, on a whim, picked up a bag of chips. I started after Delaney, the shifting sand warm and dry beneath my bare feet, making every step a little slower and harder. That wouldn’t stop me. Come to think of it, nothing would stop me from having my sister’s back.
That included the demon I felt more than saw extract himself from the group of men around the barbecue and start up the beach behind me.
Chapter 8
Delaney waitedfor me to catch up to her. Neither of us waited for Bathin, who strolled behind as if he were just out for a walk and we happened to be in front of him.
“Who is it?” I asked as soon as I reached her.
“Raven.”
Raven, or Crow as we called him when he vacationed here in town, was a trickster god.
“You going to let him back in?”
“If he can follow the rules this time. Why? Do you know something I don’t know?”
“I doubt it.”
We were close enough Crow could probably hear us over the waves. He leaned against one of the huge rocks that the tides had uncovered so that it stuck up out of the sand like a two-story haystack of black stone and bone-gray barnacles.
“Good evening, Raven,” Delaney called out.
“De-laney! My baby girl. C’mere and give Uncle Crow a hug.” He held his arms wide and made grabby motions with his cupped fingers.
I couldn’t help but grin. Neither could Delaney.
She walked right up to him, stopped just long enough to look him over in the way that made her sort of glow if you looked at her from the corner of your eyes.
It was the bridge power she carried. Here, with a god in full possession of his power standing on the shore of Ordinary, she became more. Not just a woman with a bendy bloodline that stretched back and back, she was the earth of this place, the stone, the roots, the soul. Here, shewasOrdinary, that remarkable place favored by gods and loved by the lucky.
