“I shudder to think I would ever desire to do so.” He flipped the Open sign to Closed and put his hand on the door handle. “Will you stay for more tea?”
“No thanks,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Where shall we meet?”
“It depends. Where are you going to store the powers? At home? Here in your shop? Somewhere else around town?”
He paused. I could almost see the calculations flashing behind his blank expression. “Will Frigg accompany you?”
“Yes.”
“Here, then. I will see you here in the late morning.”
“Good. Great. I’ll be here before noon. Can’t wait.”
He nodded, just once, in that way he did that almost looked like a bow. “Are you prepared?”
“For?”
“The storm,” he said.
A chill ran down my skin, prickling on little feet across the nape of my neck. “What storm?” I knew there was a demon king who wanted to get inside Ordinary. All signs pointed toward war. Did Than have information about that? What if the demon was waiting for me to leave to attack?
Than rolled his eyes. “The weather, Reed Daughter.” Rain buffeted the glass. Wind snapped and bit.
“Right,” I said, “that storm.” I zipped my coat, pulled up the hood and snapped the neck close under my chin. “Yes. Totally ready for it. See you tomorrow.”
I took a step, expecting him to open the door, but instead he said, “Delaney?”
“Yeah?”
“It is always best to follow one’s heart in these circumstances.”
“Leave town no matter how bad things are?”
“Is that what your heart wants to do?”
“Yes. No. Yes.”
“There you are,” he intoned like it was the best advice ever given.
“And for your information,” he added, “I would be an outstanding counselor for anyone’s life. I am Death, after all. I know how it all ends.”
With that, he opened the door, and the big bad storm huffing and puffing outside rushed inside, catching and clawing at the bright bits of fabric, twisting and turning the jungle canopy of creatures above us, wild and reckless and fierce.
He pressed his blunt, boney fingers into my shoulder and gave me a little push out the door. I opened my mouth to say something, but there was a lot of rain slapping me in the face, so I took the high road.
I fled to the Jeep and ducked in quick. Dragon pig was nowhere to be seen which meant it had popped back home. I didn’t blame it. There was a cozy gas fireplace, an overly friendly dog, and a pile of toys it had gathered for its hoard. A much nicer place to weather the storm than in the cold front seat of the Jeep.
I pushed back my hood and grabbed the towel I kept in the glove box. I wiped my face, then paused. Something was different. Something about the shop.
I didn’t turn over the engine yet since I wasn’t sure what had snagged my attention. I scanned my surroundings, starting with my rearview mirror. No one and nothing in my back seat. No one around the vehicle. The parking lot was empty. The shop was still glowing like it was lit from the inside by Christmas lights.
But something. Something was different.
The creep of evening rubbed the details off the bushes, trees, and other buildings in the area. If it were just a little brighter out, I was sure I’d be able to see what was bothering me.
Then it hit me. The light—or rather, the lack of it. It was darker outside than when I drove up. And not just because of the thickening clouds and setting sun.
The light pole was missing.
There should be a shepherd’s crook light pole on the corner near the shop. It had been there when I drove up. I narrowed my eyes and stared at where the light post should be.
Nothing.
Was it raining hard enough to obscure the light post or was the light itself shorted out?
“Dammit.” I pulled my hood back on, got out of the Jeep, and jogged to the corner.
Welp. Shorted light wasn’t the issue. There was no post there at all. The round metal footing set into the concrete was still there. But the pole and light were gone, leaving a hole in the center of the footing with twisted bits of wire sticking up out of it.
Someone had stolen the light pole.
I turned a full circle. If the thief was in the area, they should be pretty easy to spot. Those light poles were heavy and long. It would take more than one person to move it, and possibly even heavy equipment to remove it from the concrete.
But all I saw was rain.
“Well, hell.” I pulled my phone out and took a few quick photos. I didn’t want to waterlog the electronics.
Something moved at the edge of my vision, and I spun toward it. A shadow moved about half a block down, but it was impossible to see who or what it might be.
I jogged back to the Jeep, started the engine, and with my lights on, made a quick turn to follow where the shadow had been headed.
There was nothing but rain, houses, bushes, and wind.
Chapter Four
I drove the streets for an hour, looking for any sign of that shadow, or any sign of the missing traffic light or light pole. The list of suspects was growing longer the more I searched.
Who in town was strong enough to rip a light pole out of its base?
Well, since we had an entire family of werewolves in town and a clan of vampires, not to mention most of the mythical or fantastical creatures the stories had ever dreamed up, probably half the town would have the strength or magic to do such a thing.
So maybe a better question was: Who would want to do such a thing? In the middle of a storm with night coming on?
That was where I drew a blank. Infrastructure just wasn’t that valuable to any of the people who lived here. I mean, everyone liked having functioning traffic lights and light poles, but no one gained anything from stealing them.
It was possible it was just a prank, a dare. Mrs. Yates’ penguin had been stolen on multiple occasions. Enough to grant it its own celebrity status that drew curious tourists into town to take selfies with it.
Those multiple thefts had begun with the high school seniors carrying off a prank.
This was bigger than just a prank.
The dragon pig was a possibility. It ate metal and had gotten its little piggy mouth around a fire hydrant once before we put the kibosh on that.
No, the dragon pig had been following the rules. Plus, a few days ago, we’d let it go to town on an old abandoned school bus on the outskirts of town.
It could be our local kleptomaniac, Bigfoot. But he tended to be nocturnal and wasn’t really a thief of all things. More like a sticky-fingered collector of light bulbs.
Light bulbs. Not whole traffic lights and poles. I mean, maybe he was upping his game, but in all the years he’d been in town, he hadn’t ever stolen anything bigger than a fluorescent tube. It wasn’t his style at all.
So who would need a light that big?
I had no idea. But I knew who I should ask.
I pulled off the street and texted my sister, Myra.
Where you at?
It only took a moment before she replied.
Library. Why?
Need to talk to you.
About your vacation?
I sighed. Work. The string of thefts.
We have a string of thefts?
We do now.
I’ll put on the coffee.