“I—” Words dried up in my throat, but I crushed the rising wave of sorrow under a mountain of rage. I did not have time for tears.
Myra held me tightly, her hand warm on my back. She didn’t say anything else, but she didn’t have to.
Sounds of the house came to me, Odin taking something out of the fridge and walking to our sliding glass doors. The crackle of the fireplace.
Sensations came to me, Myra breathing slowly and evenly, Spud leaning his head into my leg, pressing there, his doggy version of a hug.
Smells came to me, Myra’s perfume of flowers and vanilla, the scent of cream and honey, and strong, black coffee.
But rage was all I could feel.
She patted my back, then stepped away.
“First, coffee.” She reached for the cups. Spud tried to give me his toy again, whining softly.
I bent and rubbed his ears. “Good boy.”
His tail wagged uncertainly, and he leaned harder against my leg.
“Bathin’s checking the area where they disappeared.” Myra pressed the coffee into my hand. “He’ll be over after that.”
I sat on a kitchen stool and set the mug down, too angry to drink. “What did you hear Patrick say when he took him?”
“You don’t remember?”
“I want to hear it from you.”
“He said surrender Ordinary to the King, or Ryder dies. You have one day.”
“King of the Underworld. Vychoro.”
“Maybe,” she said. “Or that was a lie. We’ll see if Bathin can tell. Drink.”
I pulled the mug back into my hands, but didn’t drink.
Myra studied me, the frown carving hard lines at the edges of her mouth. I stared right back at her.
She sighed. “You aren’t in this alone, Delaney. You need to remember that.” Then she took her tea and walked away to talk to Odin.
Jean arrived, bringing Hogan with her. Hera and Crow showed up, too, as did Than, who must have gotten out of his coroner’s duties for the play.
Bathin finally strolled in, looking as angry as I felt.
“Was Vychoro behind it?” I asked. “Is your father the demon who owns Patrick?”
“I couldn’t find any trace of my father in the gym,” Bathin said. “But he has plenty of lackies who could be pulling the strings for him.”
“How did Patrick disappear?” Myra asked. “Was it a demon vortex?”
“It wasn’t demon magic,” Bathin said. “Leprechaun magic, I think.”
“Can you track him?” Crow asked.
Bathin hesitated, then shrugged one shoulder. “Luck will be on his side. Always. But I know the Underworld. I know my father’s kingdom. If that is where Patrick’s taking Ryder, I can find him.”
“They’ll know you’re there,” Odin said.
“Yes. Eventually.”
