“I got some shots of it too,” Jean said.
Myra nodded but finished with the set she wanted to get. It never hurt to get as many angles on a problem as possible.
Perspective, different ways of looking at things, different ways of coming at a problem were the best skills a detective could have.
“What’s the chance of you opening it so we can see what’s inside without something exploding?” I asked.
He tipped his head to one side. “It’s…contained. If I open the package Ordinary won’t cease to exist.”
That sounded like he was being a little overly dramatic, but I knew he wasn’t. God weapons were pure, blazing vessels for their power. If Zeus wanted to vaporize a beach town out of existence, he could.
Although Ordinary would be a tough nut to crack. It had been built by all the gods joining powers to create the space and the laws and the rules of it. One god alone could not bring it down. Not even Zeus.
“All right,” I said. “Let’s see what’s inside.”
He set his martini on the little table, then bent and lifted the package. I knew, even before he opened it, that it was exactly what he said it was. There was something about his demeanor, about the shift in his body language that screamed,god god god power.
He calmly propped the box on the railing and produced a very slick little retractable razor blade. His day job here in Ordinary was buying, importing, and selling fine furnishings, so he knew his way around a box.
The cardboard top rocked back on its hinge and suddenly there was more light here, blue and burning.
Jean was at his elbow, excitement turning her face ten years younger, and even Myra was breathing a little faster as she peered at the contents.
It wasn’t every day, really,anyday that we got a good close look at a god weapon.
“Delaney?” He shifted the package so I could see the interior from where I stood.
And oh, the magnificent fury of it. Even as my mind tried to shove it into something human, somethingthis world, somethingearthly, it was none of those things.
A lightning bolt, but none like this world had seen.
It glowed like a chunk of ice, glacial blue, cold and burning. Deep iron fissures cracked through it, throwing off red and violet sparks. All of it was liquid as water, but burning, burning, burning with white-cold electricity.
It would fit in my hand—it fit in the box which was maybe two feet long. But my brain rejected that. Somehow, just like Odin’s spear, this weapon did not follow the rules of space. I knew if Zeus pulled it out of that box it would be as wide as the sky, it would stretch the heavens.
“Is that it?” I asked. “Is it your weapon?”
“Yes.”
“And where did you last see it?”
“Where I left it before coming back to Ordinary after Crow lost our powers to that demigod and forced us all to leave.”
Grudge much?
“No,” Crow said, emerging from the hidden arch. “I think you’re remembering that wrong. I’m sure it was Poseidon getting murdered that made us all leave town.” He didn’t step onto the balcony, but remained there, on the path, just on the edge of this private place.
Zeus did not invite him farther, and he didn’t ask to be invited.
“Peaceful,” Crow noted, his gaze taking in the place.
“It is,” Zeus said.
“Nice view.”
Zeus looked out over the waves, and I wondered if he saw more than any of us mortals could. I wondered if he saw across universes.
“It is.” His words were softer. Not awe, not reverence, but something like relief.
