One of the drawbacks to the Reed lineage was that our skin was pale enough to blush like crazy. Hot spots slapped Myra’s cheeks, and she tipped her chin up defensively.
“Does that impact your decision to vacation in Ordinary?” Myra asked, no emotion in her voice, all business.
I drank coffee and watched the force of a goddess meet my very immovable sibling.
“He is the Prince of the Underworld,” Tala mused.
“I’m aware. He is also a citizen of Ordinary and follows the same laws and rules the other mortals, supernaturals, and deities follow.”
“Are you aware there is a price on his head?”
“Yes,” she said. “But what happens outside Ordinary is of no concern to us.” It was delivered it in her cop voice: calm and confident. It sounded true.
But I knew her. The relationship with Bathin was very new. Myra did not give her heart easily or often or, really, ever.
This was her first real relationship. One she’d almost missed because he wouldn’t surrender my soul. One she’d almost missed because she was not good at being vulnerable with anyone.
Well, except her sisters.
“There is a war coming,” Tala said.
Cold shivers rattled through me. I’d been hearing that same refrain from the gods for almost two years, whenever they had their guards down. I had thought the war had been settled when we, assisted by some sleight of hand on Death’s part, killed an ancient vampire.
I’d thought the war they kept talking about had already come to Ordinary.
“Which war is coming?” I asked. Because I was done with mystery. Putting it all on the table was my style now. I was done going with the flow when deities wanted to be enigmatic.
“The King of the Underworld searches for his son. All of the Below will rise to devour the Above.”
It almost sounded like prophecy, even though she was not the goddess of such. She was a goddess of orbs of light that guided men, and she was said to shine in the night and morning sky to signal safety from the sun god.
She had warning powers, powers of evasion. I just wasn’t sure she had the power of divination.
I shot a look at Myra. She caught my gaze and gave me the slightest shake of her head. No, Tala wasn’t a prophetess, as it were.
Well, that was something.
“We know about the demon king,” I said. “He’s not welcome nor allowed into Ordinary. No demon is, unless they sign a very strict contract.”
Her eyebrows rose while she put two and two together and came to the conclusion that Bathin had signed the contract.
“He’s the only one,” Myra said, answering the look on Tala’s face.
“Isn’t that surprising?” the goddess murmured, giving Myra a new sort of attention. “What one will do for love.”
If Myra was blushing before, now she flashed red hot. Even so, she didn’t change her stance, didn’t look otherwise uncomfortable under the statement and scrutiny.
“This contract,” I tapped the envelope, “is for you to sign. Please read through it and ask me any questions before you sign it. The contract is the same for every deity. If the terms aren’t acceptable, then vacationing might not be in the cards.”
She drew the envelope toward her and retrieved the papers. A pen, made of gold vines twisted around a black core, appeared in her left hand. Instead of leaves, clusters of stars glittered with tiny, bright sparks along the vine.
She quickly read through the contract, then signed on the last line. “What is next?”
I accepted the papers and slid them back into the envelope. “You show up at the edge of Ordinary. Any place you choose. I’ll meet you there and welcome you in, then we’ll take your power to Frigg and set it down.”
She nodded and glanced around the little café. Or maybe she was looking through dimensions, time, realities.
“It sounds…lovely. I will come. Not now, but soon. Thank you, Delaney Reed.”
