Voices called: laughter, passion, singing, shouting. Lyrics slipped jewel-bright through the song, weaving between life and death, the poetry of creation carved upon each rush and ebb.
Power strummed over my skin, stretching my breath, zinging through my bones like sweet lighting until I was the sky, the void, the silver-shot stars with only a single, thin, crystalline thread connecting me to this earth.
It was heady.
It was overwhelming.
It was wonderful.
Then there washereandyesandhome, home, home, the song fading and fading as the powers settled, quieted, and were once again at rest.
“You okay, Delaney?” Frigg asked.
I blinked until my eyes could focus on the little room again, waiting for the afterimages of those massive powers to disappear.
“Good,” I croaked, as I accepted the glass of water she handed me and gulped it down. “It’s always such an experience.”
She patted me on the shoulder. “Thank you for making time for this today.”
“Sure,” I said. “No problem. You headed out?”
“Yep.” She snagged up the bobbin and dropped it into her pocket. Then she stood. “You okay here? Both of you?”
I looked at Than who sat exactly across from me. His hands were folded on the table in front of him, long, bony fingers slotted together, just inches short of touching the little Reaper toy.
Than’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with dark flame.
“I’m okay,” I said. “Than?”
His face shifted, just slightly, the corners of his eyes relaxing, the skin near his mouth smoothing. “I, too, am well. Shall I see you out, Frigg?”
“Naw. I can see the door from here. So I’ll just leave you to it. Later, babes!” She strolled out of the room, her boots solid on the old wooden floor, the click of the lock shifting, the bell over the door tinkling.
Then she was gone, leaving nothing behind but a fresh swirl of salty air.
I waited a minute or so, but Than just stared at the stuffed toy, not even breathing.
“Do we need to talk?” I asked.
He inhaled, exhaled, and something seemed to settle in the room, like the barometric pressure, or gravity, or the god of death who was now looking after every other power in town.
“We could,” he said. “Is there something you wish to speak about?”
“How are you feeling about the powers?” I nodded toward the stuffy.
His gaze swung down to the toy, then back to me. “It is… not a feeling that is important. Rather the uniqueness of these powers coexisting without massive destruction is… interesting.”
“Interesting?”
“Refreshing.”
“That sounds good.”
“It is.”
I blew out a breath. “Good. For a minute there I thought you were going to go back on the deal and tell me to find someone else to watch over the powers.”
Hetsked, then plucked up the toy and carried it as if it didn’t weigh anything, as if it didn’t carry the powers of reality and destruction, over to his desk. He placed it right back on the same shelf I’d seen it on yesterday.
