“I love him too, Thor. It wasn't just for you. I gave him a choice, and this was what he chose.”
“Still.” He dropped his hand. “First, Ariana and now, Brevyn wants to be a part of my life. It's just . . .” He shook his head. “I'm so damn happy, and it's been a long time since I've felt joy.”
“I know, and I'm so sorry for that.”
“Don't be. It was my fault.”
“No, things just worked out the way they were meant to.”
“That's great,” Horus, the Egyptian God of the Sun drawled. “Now, can you tell us why you're so surehe'sinnocent?” He nodded at Jesus.
“I was always sure of my brother's innocence,” Az said.
“But now we have proof,” I added as I went to sit in the empty chair between Odin and Re. “J's home has been bugged. One of the devices is right outside his tracing room. That's how Jerry learned the tracing chant for the Golden Citadel.”
“Bugged?” Brahma, the Hindu God of Knowledge, asked. “And we're just supposed to take his word on that?”
“My stepson doesn't lie,” Luke, seated between Az and Jesus, snarled.
The Devil doesn't have a temper; he's one of the calmest, nicest men I know. But if you attack his family, he turns into the beast most humans believe him to be. That one sentence had Brahma drawing back in his seat. And Brahma was no coward.
“Thanks for the love, Luke,” Jesus said. “But it's all good. The truth is coming out at last. Just give them some time to process. They'll get there.”
“You're a good boy.” Luke, back to his normal self, patted Jesus on the shoulder, then pulled a Ziploc baggie out of his pocket and handed it to the J-man. “Here, I made you some cookies.”
“Chocolate chip?” Jesus asked eagerly.
“Yes.”
“With pot butter?”
The Devil grinned wickedly. “Oh, yes. I kept a few for myself. This batch is potent.”
“Dad!” Azrael looked at his father in horror.
“What? Did you want some? I can make another batch.”
“No, I don't want any of your pot cookies!”
I snickered.
“What's so special about pot butter?” Mr. T, aka Tsohaonai, the Navajo God of the Sun, asked his wife. “It's just butter you melt in a pot, right?”
“No, my dearest,” Mrs. E, aka Estsanatlehi, the Navajo Goddess of Change, said with a grin and smoothed back her husband's long, pin-straight, ebony hair. “It's marijuana.”
Mr. T blinked. “Oh.” Then he looked at Luke. “Did you bring any extra?”
“Grandpa!” Teharon, the Mohawk God of Healing, gaped at Mr. T.
“Well, it's not peyote, but weed should give a nice buzz for a few minutes.” Mr. T looked back at Luke. “If it's strong enough.”
“Oh, it's strong enough,” Luke said. “I grow the weed myself.”
“What?” Azrael gaped at his father. “Where?”
“In the greenhouse out back.”
“Hell weed,” Viper drawled. “Awesome.”
