anyway?
I glanced down: jeans, boots, and Dad’s Grateful Dead T-shirt.
Great. Of all the T-shirts to be wearing when meeting Death for the first time, it had to be this one.
“Hopefully Death has a sense of humor,” I muttered. “Or an appreciation for classic rock.”
I dragged the rubber band out of my hair and combed fingers through it, trying to smooth a few tangles.
“You got this, Delaney,” I said as I slicked back my hair and tucked the rubber band in my front pocket. “Reed family hasn’t met a deity we can’t handle.” Although we’d never, apparently, met Death.
The casino was cool and well lit, little pockets of shadow strategically placed to let the lights from the machines shine out invitingly like stars twinkling in a dusky sky.
I made my way past the main game room, a gift shop, and to the coffee shop at the far end of the building.
Since it was still early, there were only three people in the café. A gray-haired woman in a bright pink sweater and a younger woman wearing a yellow pantsuit chatted at a table in the front.
There, at the back of the place, sat a man in black.
Death, I presumed.
He stared out the window at the forested hills that drew off into ever-rising blues of the distance, his face in profile to me.
If I didn’t know what he was, if I couldn’t sense the power he carried, I would immediately know he wasn’t from around here.
He was very thin, very pale, and sat very stiffly. Only the fingertips of his long hands rested on the edge of the table, like a piano player paused mid-song. His hair was black and meticulously trimmed. There wasn’t a wrinkle on a face that seemed to be so much older than it appeared.
When he turned his eyes to me, they were gravestone black and devoid of humanity.
It was like staring into an empty gallon bucket of ice cream: both sad and disconcerting.
His gaze lowered to my shirt, and one eyebrow twitched ever so slightly.
I crossed the room toward him.
“Reed Daughter.” He spoke in a cultured accent. I swore the temperature in the room dipped by five degrees. “Join me.”
I did so, settling down into the chair opposite him. Most gods didn’t like idle chitchat, so I got right down to brass tacks. “Thanatos. I am here because you have requested to vacation in Ordinary, Oregon.”
It was formality, but words were a binding thing among deities, so words needed to be said.
“That is correct.”
“You understand that my family is the law in the town, and our word is the final justice.”
“I understand.”
I placed the envelope on the table. “You will fill out the paperwork with all true intent and honesty. If you agree to all that is written and required of you, you and I will both sign on the final page.”
I slid it across to him.
Only one finger moved. He stretched it out to press against the envelope and better position it. His eyes, those cold, cold eyes, remained on mine for an uncomfortably long time.
“Do you enjoy telling the powerful what to do?” he asked coolly.
His beautiful accent did that god-echo in my brain. Power was a noisy thing for me. My Dad had said it was too bright, like a fire burning. But to me, power was loud.
“I am honored to uphold my family’s agreement with all those of power,” I replied. I smiled extra brightly, because we both knew I hadn’t really answered him. “Coffee sure smells good. Would you like me to get you a cup?”
“I do not require it.”
“That’s all right,” I said. “My treat. It will give you time to read.”
I slid out of the booth and strolled over to the barista, who was restocking the refrigerator with quarts of heavy cream.
The girl turned and gave me a quick smile. “What can I get for you?”
“I’ll take your dark roast, sixteen-ounce hot.” I glanced over at Thanatos, thinking about what kind of coffee I should bring him. “And how about a twenty-four-ounce double-double mocha caramel raspberry blended.”
“You want whip on
I glanced down: jeans, boots, and Dad’s Grateful Dead T-shirt.
Great. Of all the T-shirts to be wearing when meeting Death for the first time, it had to be this one.
“Hopefully Death has a sense of humor,” I muttered. “Or an appreciation for classic rock.”
I dragged the rubber band out of my hair and combed fingers through it, trying to smooth a few tangles.
“You got this, Delaney,” I said as I slicked back my hair and tucked the rubber band in my front pocket. “Reed family hasn’t met a deity we can’t handle.” Although we’d never, apparently, met Death.
The casino was cool and well lit, little pockets of shadow strategically placed to let the lights from the machines shine out invitingly like stars twinkling in a dusky sky.
I made my way past the main game room, a gift shop, and to the coffee shop at the far end of the building.
Since it was still early, there were only three people in the café. A gray-haired woman in a bright pink sweater and a younger woman wearing a yellow pantsuit chatted at a table in the front.
There, at the back of the place, sat a man in black.
Death, I presumed.
He stared out the window at the forested hills that drew off into ever-rising blues of the distance, his face in profile to me.
If I didn’t know what he was, if I couldn’t sense the power he carried, I would immediately know he wasn’t from around here.
He was very thin, very pale, and sat very stiffly. Only the fingertips of his long hands rested on the edge of the table, like a piano player paused mid-song. His hair was black and meticulously trimmed. There wasn’t a wrinkle on a face that seemed to be so much older than it appeared.
When he turned his eyes to me, they were gravestone black and devoid of humanity.
It was like staring into an empty gallon bucket of ice cream: both sad and disconcerting.
His gaze lowered to my shirt, and one eyebrow twitched ever so slightly.
I crossed the room toward him.
“Reed Daughter.” He spoke in a cultured accent. I swore the temperature in the room dipped by five degrees. “Join me.”
I did so, settling down into the chair opposite him. Most gods didn’t like idle chitchat, so I got right down to brass tacks. “Thanatos. I am here because you have requested to vacation in Ordinary, Oregon.”
It was formality, but words were a binding thing among deities, so words needed to be said.
“That is correct.”
“You understand that my family is the law in the town, and our word is the final justice.”
“I understand.”
I placed the envelope on the table. “You will fill out the paperwork with all true intent and honesty. If you agree to all that is written and required of you, you and I will both sign on the final page.”
I slid it across to him.
Only one finger moved. He stretched it out to press against the envelope and better position it. His eyes, those cold, cold eyes, remained on mine for an uncomfortably long time.
“Do you enjoy telling the powerful what to do?” he asked coolly.
His beautiful accent did that god-echo in my brain. Power was a noisy thing for me. My Dad had said it was too bright, like a fire burning. But to me, power was loud.
“I am honored to uphold my family’s agreement with all those of power,” I replied. I smiled extra brightly, because we both knew I hadn’t really answered him. “Coffee sure smells good. Would you like me to get you a cup?”
“I do not require it.”
“That’s all right,” I said. “My treat. It will give you time to read.”
I slid out of the booth and strolled over to the barista, who was restocking the refrigerator with quarts of heavy cream.
The girl turned and gave me a quick smile. “What can I get for you?”
“I’ll take your dark roast, sixteen-ounce hot.” I glanced over at Thanatos, thinking about what kind of coffee I should bring him. “And how about a twenty-four-ounce double-double mocha caramel raspberry blended.”
“You want whip on
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