“The tablets are laws, right?” Amisk, who I'd forgotten all about, asked as he peered at the thing.
“Da,” Kirill said. “And as laws made by a god, zey hold power. The question is vhat kind of power?”
“The power to command,” Odin said. “The magic condenser combines everything, but the tablets must be needed to force them to act as a single entity. Not just joined to be used by one god, but also joined magically, combining elements that normally wouldn't.”
I stared at the thing. “It doesn't matter. As long as it works. I just want to know how to make it work.” I looked at Amisk. “Did the trickster leave anything else for me?”
“No,” Amisk said. “Just the letter and the box.”
I rooted around in the box, sliding my hands under the velvet, but there was nothing. Finally, I lifted the thing out of the box. It was heavy and unwieldy. But I wasn't going into battle with it. I just needed it to work once. Then it would be dismantled, and the pieces returned to their rightful owners.
With all the stuff strapped together, the only clear place to hold it was in the middle of the trident's shaft. As soon as I touched it, the whole thing began to glow.
I shrieked and dropped it.
Finn, Morph, and Torr started laughing.
I grimaced at them. “It startled me.”
Odin picked it up. It did nothing. He lifted a brow at me. “I think the trickster enchanted this device to respond to you alone. Your blood on the lock may have served two purposes—opening the box and aligning you with this item.”
“Cool,” I murmured, my stare locked on it. “Coo-coo-coo-coo-cool.”
“V, you all right?” Torrent asked.
“Yup.” I motioned for Odin to put the thing back in its box. “All good here.” I took a deep breath and closed the lid on the box. “Let's get this back to Pride Palace.” I picked up the box, but Odin took it from me.
“Let me, Vervain.” He tucked it under his arm. “It's going to be all right. You can do this.”
“Yes. Thank you. Yes.” I don't know why I was so nervous. I had used god relics before. But in that box, there were . . . damn, how many powerful items were there in that one box? Seven? Holy cannoli. That's a lot of magic. Hold on. I had drawn the power of the Nine Great Magics through me. This was nothing. And it was to wake up Az. The trickster had proven to be good—or at least neutral-good—yet again. Could I blame him for what had happened to Azrael? No, I didn't think so. First of all, the trickster didn't compel Amisk to . . . hold on.
“One last question before we leave, Amisk,” I said.
“Yes?” Amisk had been staring at the case. He lifted his stare to meet mine.
“Did Coyote—who the trickster was masked as—coerce you in any way to cause the floods?”
“Wisagatcak?” Amisk frowned. “Well, uh. He did come to see me before he brought me this, but it was just a social visit.”
“A social visit?” Trevor asked. “I know the myths aren't fully true, but they're often based on fact. So, are you not enemies?”
“Oh, absolutely not! We've laughed over those stories. I like Wisa. He makes me laugh. I don't laugh often enough. I get weighed down with worry. In fact, now that I think about it, when I mentioned how upset I was that humans were returning to their old ways even after the Faerie God ordered them not to, Wisa tried to calm me.” He nodded. “Yes, he tried to talk me out of my plan. I did think that was odd.”
“Why would that be odd?” I asked.
“Wisagatcak likes to get me riled.” Amisk shrugged, then smiled affectionately. “He's a bit of a troublemaker. But not this time. It was as if he knew how serious I was and what kind of damage it would do.” He frowned. “I should have listened to him.”
“Amisk, that wasn't Wisagatcak,” I reminded him.
“Not even back then?”
“No, I don't think so. Not if he was acting differently. I think the trickster came to you, knowing what would happen,and tried his best to stop you.” I looked at my husbands. “Prophecies can be so stressful on the one who receives them. They can make you crazy trying to stop or circumvent them. Sometimes you can—why receive a warning if it's useless—but sometimes, it's destiny and there's no changing it.” I frowned. “It can make you crazy.”
“A trickster and a mad prophet,” Quetzalcoatl mused. “That's an odd combination. A desire to cause mischief coupled with the ability to see the price of that mischief.”
“Maybe that's a brilliant combination,” I said. “It would make the trickster think twice about causing trouble.”
“Or it would make him play games with the people he's trying to help,” Odin said in the tone of epiphany.
