I choked a laugh, the moment broken. It was a lot. It was more than I thought I’d ever hear him say.
“Why bring that up now?” I parked in front of the dress shop. The antique store was just a few shops down. Myra’s cruiser was here. So was Jean’s truck.
I turned to the deity in my passenger seat.
“You asked why the gods are not acting as we usually do, which apparently, is to largely ignore you.
“We are satisfied with you doing the job you were born to: Bridging the supernatural world and the human world, Bridging our powers to then be safely contained and at rest.
“We are satisfied with your carrying out of the laws built into the roots and marrow of this place. God laws, mortal laws, magical laws.
“We are not willing to have you be nothing but a pawn on the great chessboard of the worlds. To that end, we are watching you more closely so that there is no harm to you.”
“Okay,” I said, a little breathily. “Harm. From who? From what?”
“From many things. From those who would oppose us, of course. Now. Enjoy the dress tradition of shopping. Good night, Delaney Reed.”
“Wait—”
But it was too late. He swung out of the Jeep and briskly strode down to the antique store without a single backward glance.
Dang it.
Gods. Always right to the point, but so vague it was impossible to know what they said.
I sat there a minute and tried to come up with an excuse for not going into the dress shop.
I checked the parking lot, checked my rearview mirror, but unfortunately there were no crimes going down.
I sighed and trudged up to the shop. The door opened with a jingle, then a joyous, “Here comes the bride!” chorus, sung more or less on key, filled the air.
The shop wasn’t very big, but the goddess Tyche, who went by Cheryl and was the owner, had rearranged it to open up more floor space. A raised, carpeted circular platform off to one side was centered in front of full-length mirrors angled along the curve.
The racks of everyday clothing had been pushed against walls, and roses and sunflowers in vases were scattered everywhere. There was a wine station with delicate glasses, sparkling lights, and bottles chilling and bottles airing.
But it wasn’t the shop that made me catch my breath, it was the women in the room.
Cheryl, Myra, and Jean, my defacto aunt and town witch, Jules, and two other gods: Hera, who ranMom’s Bar and Grill, and Frigg, who owned the towing company,Frigg’s Riggs.
They each held a glass of something in their hands and were absolutely beaming at me.
“Wow,” I said. “Thank you? For coming?”
“And miss our chance to see you try to talk us all out of you wearing a dress for your wedding?” Cheryl asked.
She’d pulled her bouncy black hair back with a coral and green headband, gold earrings dangling. Her dress was a short-sleeved sundress of oranges and bronze that complemented the deep brown of her skin. Olive-green tights and natural-fiber sandals finished the look. “Wouldn’t skip this for all the monsters in the sea.”
“You knew we’d be here.” Myra strolled over to me, Jean next to her. Myra was dressed in a soft blue blouse with tiny yellow butterflies on it, pedal pushers, and bobby socks in black Mary Janes. Her makeup was perfect: pale pink lipstick, smokey eyeliner in a wing. She did rockabilly better than anyone I knew.
Jean wore a wrap skirt with a huge starfish tumbling across the blue and green waves printed on it. She had on a tie-dye tank top, her lavender hair pulled back in a single high pony. It made the light dusting of freckles on her cheeks pop. For a moment, I saw her as the girl she had been, and found myself caught by memories of a much younger pair of sisters. My childhood confidants, my blanket fort co-conspirators.
Myra pressed a glass of white wine into my hand, and Jean grinned as the echo of who we had all been spread out into the song of who we all still were.
“I lost a bet,” Jean said. “I thought you’d be an hour late.”
“Hey, I’m not that bad.”
She leaned forward and gave me a hug. “I love you. You really are that bad. Worse even.”
