“I was told it should be easily hidden, durable, and if possible, portable.”
That was true. All of it. “Is this durable enough?”
Than raised one eyebrow. “It is more than it appears to be, Reed Daughter.”
“Delaney,” I absently corrected. “It better be. Because this looks like the Grim Reaper stuffy Jean gave you.”
I didn’t dare touch it, but the little stuffed toy stared up at me with its big, green, sparkling eyes, fluffy, black-cowled robe, stitched-on smile, and a wee scythe clasped in its tiny white hands.
“I think it’s adorable,” Frigg said. “It’s nothing anyone would expect to hold power which makes it perfect. Let’s do this.” She tapped the tabletop with a fingertip.
“Now you’re in a hurry?” I teased.
She shrugged. “That storm is going to mean plenty of tow jobs. And I want to get some grocery shopping in before it hits.”
“Milk and bread?”
“Storm staples,” she agreed. “So if you’re okay with all this?” She waved at the toy and Than.
I nodded. “You’re sure this is where you want to keep all the powers?” I asked, giving Than one more chance to change his mind.
“If it is insufficient, I will adjust when it is once again my turn in the rotation,” he said.
“Okay,” I said, “that can work. You made sure it can withstand the powers?”
“I may be new to guarding these powers, Reed Daughter, but I am a very old god.”
“Which is neat, but hey, a yes or no will make all the difference here.”
“Yes,” he said very clearly. “It will withstand the powers.”
The rain rattled against the roof and windows, just a scattering of drops. But I knew it was going to become a deluge soon.
“All right.” I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath. There wasn’t really a ritual or ceremony for this. Usually, the other deities liked to come and watch, because they were judgmental about how their own power was handled by other gods.
“No one wanted to be here?” I asked Frigg.
“I put out the call and no one replied.”
I nodded and got on with it. “Than, do you promise to guard and keep hidden the god powers of Ordinary for the whole of one year?”
“Yes, Reed Daughter.”
“Will you allow any deity to come to your shop, allow them to see their power, or reclaim their power at any time, day or night, as long as you are present?”
“Yes.”
I nodded. “Frigg?”
She picked up the bobbin, held it between her palms and whispered something beyond my understanding that sounded like spring’s thread weaving through winter’s warp.
Then she tipped the bobbin in her fingers and it pointed down toward the fuzzy little Reaper.
Powers aren’t liquid and don’t follow the rules of gravity. But they do follow the will of the gods. If Frigg wanted the powers to pour out of the bobbin, they were going to pour out.
I didn’t see power, not the way my father had. But here, with so many mingled together, they filled my vision, bright and burning—twisted ropes, strings, cords—vibrant and alive.
But the song of god powers, that, I could hear. It rose, filling the room, filling the world, filling me with a wild, driving melody that soared to horizons and realities beyond my imagination.
