His eyes cut sideways to the secretary desk, then returned to me. “Yes.”
“Are you agreeing to guard the powers?”
He drew himself up, squaring his shoulders and raising his chin so he could look down his nose at me. I had to admit he looked very regal and imposing. Too bad there was a giant flower-shaped kite on the shelf behind him. The yellow petals fanned out behind his head and spiked down his shoulders like an Elvis impersonator’s cape.
“Of course.”
Just like that: of course.
“Good,” I said. “Do you need any help setting up the vessel?”
“I shall need to use a small portion of my power to create it.”
I nodded. “That’s the one time gods are allowed to use their powers while on vacation. Make the vessel, and make sure it will last until the next time you’ll be asked to guard the powers. When you leave Ordinary, you’ll want it to go into stasis until you return. No matter how many hundreds of years that might be.”
“I understand. I have read all of Ordinary’s rules and regulations. You insisted on it.”
“Okay then.” I gulped down the rest of the cooling tea. “That’s decided. See you tomorrow, late morning.” I started toward the interior of the shop but heard him moving behind me.
“Are you sure that is all, Reed Daughter?”
Ever since I’d first met him in the casino coffee shop, he’d called me by that name. Ever since then, I’d been telling him that Delaney was fine. More than fine; preferred.
But as the months went by, I realized I kind of liked it. Liked being reminded of my bloodline, my family history.
The Reed family alone had been chosen by the gods to keep Ordinary safe. It was an amazing honor and something that humbled me. It was also something that defined me, just as it had defined my father and our ancestors before us.
Could I leave this place behind, even for a much-needed vacation?
“Ryder wants to get out of town,” I said, my back still toward him, as if not facing him would somehow help me get this off my chest.
He just made a soft hmmm sound.
“I know it makes sense. To get away. To take a break. My job here is…” I held up my hands, trying to encompass it all. “My job is my life. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted to be. It’s everything I want to do. But it is full time. More than. And things have been more difficult since Dad died.
“But if I leave….” I scrubbed at my forehead, then let my hands drop.
“If you leave?” Than repeated.
“Every time I try, something goes wrong. What if that’s fate or destiny or something telling me I shouldn’t go? Telling me Ordinary needs me to stay, to put out the fires, to keep the town going forward?
“What if I’m not here to save someone? I don’t think… I’d never forgive myself if something happened.”
The last came out a little quieter. I hadn’t meant to say it all. But it was good to have it out. I just wasn’t sure Than was the best counsel on matters like this. He was Death, after all, and dying couldn’t possibly bother him as much as it bothered me.
“Is that all, Reed Daughter?” He’d lowered his voice to match mine, his words soft and sanded, smooth and inviting.
“I’m not being a martyr about this. I want to go. But is now the right time? Is now the best time?”
The silence would have been complete, but wind-driven rain shucked down the windows like carwash jets on full blast.
“Delaney.”
I held my breath a moment, then, finally, turned.
Than stood in the doorway to the back room, his hands folded in front of him.
“You are worried about Ordinary?”
No, I wanted to say.
“Yes.”
“You are worried you will not be here to… save someone from… something?”
I shrugged. When he put it that way, it sounded kind of dumb.
“A lot of people have been hurt. Some have died,” I said.
He shifted, just slightly, like a hunter scenting prey. “So this is about trust.”
“No.” But maybe it was. Trusting my town to look after itself without me. Trusting my gut to make a selfish choice for myself alone and sticking to it.
“Ordinary is what I am. I don’t do…” I waved at the windows, at the world beyond Ordinary’s borders. “…all that other life out there.”
He let the rain and wind fill the space between us, his vision cast over my shoulder, out into that storm, out into that raging world.
“What does your heart tell you?” he asked. Still not looking at me. Still entranced by the violent beauty raging around us.
“My stupid heart wants to be with Ryder no matter what. But I don’t even know what kind of person I am if I’m not working.”
“Ah.”
The rain washed across the window again. Gusts buffeted the little A-frame, which stood steady and strong.
There was something hypnotic about the storm, about the warmth and color of this little room, this hidden gem, floating safely here in the center of such fury and rage.
There was something hypnotic about the god before me too. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t twitched a finger, hadn’t blinked, but I could tell he was waiting for me to think this through. To come to a reasonable conclusion.
I thought there might be some kind of metaphor I was missing. Something about the darkest day still holding a tiny spark of warmth and light.
Something about friends being all one needed when facing a storm.
“These matters,” Than said, “are complicated. What solution will you apply?”
“Right now I’m just trying to put out fires so I can say yes. Really say yes without worrying about it.”
“Into that ‘other life out there’?”
“Yeah. Vacation. I want to go. But Ordinary keeps pulling me back.”
“Of course it does.”
“Of course?”
“You are a part of it. A part of this land’s earth and stone. It will always draw you back.”
“Terrific.”
“Are you asking my advice?”
Was I? “I think I shouldn’t ask you to solve my problems.”
“And yet,” he said, his hands spreading out in front of him, palms upward. “Here we are, you and I.”
The suffering on his face made me smile. “Okay,” I said, “I’m game. What would you do if you were in my shoes?”
“I would not go on vacation.”
My heart sank. “Really? Why?”
“In my experience, one’s peaceful vacation time will be taken up by persons complaining about having to take time away with the one they love. Having to live life.”
He delivered it so cooly, so drolly, that it took me a minute. And then I couldn’t help it—I gasped. “Did you just throw me some shade? That was me you were talking about in that hypothetical vacation, wasn’t it? Did you just tell me I’m being a drama queen?”
“You have an overzealous imagination.” He strode past me toward the door. I didn’t know that I could be more impressed with a non-answer that simultaneously answered everything I’d asked.
“You really shouldn’t make a habit of giving people life advice,” I noted as I followed him.