“I'm on it,” Trevor said and pulled out his phone.
“We need to take the kids home,” I said sleepily.
“I made sugar cookies.” My mom pushed a plate toward me.
I looked at the cookies and sniffed the air. “Is there any coffee left?”
“Of course.”
“I guess we can stay a little longer.”
Chapter Seventeen
The next morning, I woke with the certainty that I was onto something with the beaver attacks. The trickster had sent us after a beaver god, and there couldn't be a lot of them. There were barely any myths about them, and those there were rarely had names for the beavers. Wishpoosh was the exception. Native America myths could get very detailed, just like any other religious belief, and there were many characters in them. But most featured gods that were called spirits, and they had the names of the animals they embodied. So, the Beaver God was simply, Beaver.
Unless it was Wishpoosh.
It seemed too obvious that one of the few (I don't know enough about Native American myths to say for certain there's only one) beaver gods with a name was the one the trickster was sending us after. But sometimes games needed to be obvious and Wishpoosh did have cause to be angry. He'd been represented poorly.
“Is that enough?” I muttered to myself as I got dressed. “That was a lot to go through just because he doesn't like his myth. And why now? No, that doesn't make sense. If it is Wishpoosh, he must have another reason than misrepresentation.”
Which brought me back to the attacks.
“Vervain?” Odin poked his head into the dressing room. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah.” I had on my fighting gear, just in case.
Fighting gear used to be leather garments and blades, including a sword and some enchanted gloves that sprung claw-like knives over my fingers when flung downward. But I had my own claws now, so I lent my Wolverine gloves to Torrent and hung up my sword. Leather would only get destroyed if I had to shift. So, as much as I hated it, I was wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt. It wasn't even a funny T-shirt. I didn't want to ruin my funny shirts. So, it was just a plain black T. As I may have mentioned, I hated it. It made me itch, and it had no personality.
I went downstairs with Odin and met the others at the tracing chamber. Quetzalcoatl was with us, his fiery bright hair braided back. He had been out as late as the rest of us the night before, helping as we had—under Torrent's guidance. He nodded at me, and I nodded at him. It's what you do when you prepare for war. Granted, it was just a war meeting, but it was on Earth, and that increased the possibility of an attack.
We didn't bother with pleasantries, just went in the chamber and headed over to Moonshine—the club Trevor and I owned in Hawaii. Hawaii, being outside the continental U.S., hadn't been hit by the storms. That had amazed the locals and baffled the weather people. Hawaii got hit by storms all the time. That this one had bypassed them was astonishing.
But there aren't any beavers in Hawaii.
There were, however, beavers outside of the United States. I mean, I was pretty sure there were. So why wasn't anywhere else hit?
As soon as we came out of the backroom via the “Family Room” door on the VIP floor of Moonshine, I went straight to Torrent, who was sitting with his girlfriend on a couch disguised as a tiny grassy hill.
“Where do beavers live?” I demanded of the Internet Godas if he were the avatar of the Internet. Which he kinda was. Forget Alexa, Torrent rules.
“Hi, V!” Torrent said. “Uh, they live in North America, Asia, and Europe.”
I looked around at the gathering of gods. Everyone was there, including Hermes and company. I asked the group at large, “Then why was only the United States attacked?”
They exchanged looks.
“Oh! Me, me, me!” Torrent raised his hand.
I chuckled and waved him on.
“It's because the Beaver God is from a Native American pantheon,” Torrent said. “It must be. He's tied to this region of the world. He must think of it as his territory.”
“Territory,” I murmured. “Yes! That's what they're doing!”
“Vervain, could you not do that thing that annoys me to no end?” Horus drawled.
“Which thing, Horus?” I asked sweetly. “There are so many.”
