“Nope. This is forever. Nothing changes that. If you need us, we’re there. Other than that, nothing changes from how it’s always been.”
“But…”
“No.” He opened the door of Jean’s truck for me.
“Just— I don’t remember seeing this symbol before.”
“You haven’t.” He gave me a little shove into the cab of the pickup. “You’re the first to ever wear it.”
Then he shut the door, gave me a wave, and walked away.
* * *
The Valkyrie was waiting.
Bertie’s office was a closed vault at the end of an impossibly long hallway. Even from this far away, I heard theclack-clack-clackof her hard gold nails drumming against her desk.
I gripped the jeweled Feather in my sweaty hand.
She knew we were here.
“Wait,” Jean pulled me to one side before we’d even gone halfway down the hall. “Your will.”
“What?”
“Have you updated it?”
I made a face at her and pulled away.
“I want those new T-shirts you bought from that fancy online store. And the dragon pig. Think of the dragon pig!”
“You suck,” I said with a smile.
I paused outside the closed office door, pulled my shoulders back, and knocked softly before opening up the door and walking onto the battlefield.
“I took your Feather.”
Bertie was perched behind the desk, dressed in a robin-egg blue power suit over a pale yellow blouse. Her hair was styled in tight curls, and her make-up was fresh and perfect.
The High Tea Tide was tomorrow morning, but it looked like she was already in full PR mode.
“I didn’t know I was stealing it. There was a demon involved. Avnas, Bathin’s uncle. He used your Feather, the Wolfes’ Heartwood, and Than’s sweat to cast a binding spell on me. But the binding spell was after I’d taken your Feather. So I committed the crime before I was bound to him, though he had me in some kind of thrall using the dings in my soul.”
She just sat there, her gaze shifting once from my face to over my shoulder where Jean stood waiting.
Jean took that as a prompt. “If you want to press charges, I’m here. This is like any other crime we’d process in Ordinary. We’ll follow the letter of the law. She’s admitted her guilt. It’s your right for restitution.”
Jean tucked her thumbs into her belt, waiting.
Bertie was silent, so I boiled it down to basics again.
“I took your Feather. I’m sorry.” I held up the Feather over my head like Thor’s hammer, and it sparkled and shone.
“I am aware,” she said briskly. “Sit down. You look ridiculous.”
Jean made a little face and dropped down into one of the chairs in front of the desk. I followed suit, carefully placing the Feather in the center of the desk first.
Bertie’s eyes tracked the Feather, but as soon as my plastic-wrapped wrist came into view, she finally tipped her hand.
