All right, here is Part II of Deorum. Part I is here, I hope you guys enjoy!
“Jackie, you look terrible,” the girl at the counter said, alarmed. She had delicate features, with an upturned nose and a light scattering of freckles over her cheeks, and her long brown hair was bound up into a neat crown of braids. She looked about sixteen, dressed in a pearly grey shirt and a black apron that said simply Idunn’s Coffee. “What’s wrong?”
“Wish you wouldn’t call me that, Idunn,” he said, and she smiled at him fondly, flashing a slim line of teeth. She had conceded to the Anglicized version of her name with more grace than some of her other counterparts, which Jack appreciated. He found the ‘eth’ letter rather difficult, and she despaired of his pronunciation.
“You’ve mentioned,” she said, brushing one hand over her forehead in the habitual movement of one checking for stray hairs. A pair of stacked gold rings glinted on her index finger, with a third on her thumb. Her entire family dripped with the things, Jack knew—a scant three was downright restrained. “You do look exhausted, though. Everything okay?”
Jack hid a yawn behind his hand and shrugged. “Busy at work, and of course Starbucks coffee isn’t nearly as good as yours.”
“Charmer,” she murmured in amusement. “Flattery will win you no discounts.”
“Flattery? I’m hurt,” he said. “I’m all right. Just haven’t been sleeping well.”
Idunn’s delicate hands paused as she punched in his usual order, regular as clockwork. “Nightmares?” she asked, and her careful lack of emotion made him glance up at her in surprise.
“Not exactly,” he said, waving a hand. “Just haven’t been able to get to sleep. Don’t suppose you have Morpheus on speed dial,” he added with a grin, and she laughed as she finished entering his order. Idunn’s laugh was soft, more breath than sound, like the wind through leaves, and her eyes, flecked green and gold like summer, were warm.
“I do, actually,” she said as the bell on the door rang. “But I don’t know how helpful he’d be. You know how dreamers are. Five dollars thirty, as usual, Jackie.”
Jack rummaged through his wallet, pulling out a few bills, before a long-fingered hand closed over his own to stop him.
“I’ve got it,” said a voice, bright with humor. Jack glanced up with a wry smile already unfurling across his lips. The man standing beside him was tall and lanky, almost spider-like, with dancing dark eyes and a grin that flared like lightning between his full lips. He had very long fingers, dark and rich as fresh earth against Jack’s hand, and he was so close that too deep a breath would make Jack’s arm brush against him.
“’Nans,” Jack said, raising his eyebrows. “Do we need to have a talk about personal space again?”
“Hello, Anansi,” Idunn said, brushing her fingers across her forehead again as she smiled at the newcomer.
“Hi, Idunn. And of course we do, Jack, always one more time,” Anansi laughed, releasing Jack’s fingers to pull out his own wallet before he could think to argue. Idunn inspected the bills handed to her closely, tongue clamped between her teeth as she held them up to the light. “What, you don’t trust me?” he asked, tone full of mock insult, and she cocked an eyebrow, pointing wordlessly at the second-largest of several signs affixed to the counter. All tricksters, mischief deities, or liars of renown are subject to close watch, it declared in large block letters.
“It’s not as if I’m not perfectly up front about it,” she said reasonably.
“I can’t exactly blame you,” Anansi admitted. “Spending untold centuries with Loki would be sure to make me paranoid too. You can toss the change in the tip jar,” he said, and Idunn nodded, letting the coins clatter into the jar.
“Trust me, Anansi,” Jack said, grinning, “anyone who spends time around a trickster—yourself included—is paranoid.”
“You’re in no position to talk, Jack,” Anani said in the tone of a man waiting for someone else to understand a great cosmic joke. He drew out the vowel in Jack’s name like he was savoring it, the final consonant clicking in his throat. Idunn laughed her soft rustle of a laugh as she set Jack’s coffee on the counter, resting her fingertips on the handle of the mug, and Jack looked between the two of them in bemusement.
“He’s not wrong,” she told him with another small smile. “There’s a reason I check your money, too.”
“Honestly, I get one completely incompetent teacher fired,” Jack muttered.
“And talk yourself out of expulsion for it,” Idunn said. “Here, Jackie. One Golden Goose.” She nodded down at the caramel-drizzled mocha on the counter and he reached out to curl his hands around the mug. “And here. A slice of cranberry-walnut cake. On the house, in return for a favor.” She held out the pastry, more like bread than cake, resting on a pale blue plate, and Jack started to take it, but Anansi’s long fingers beat him there. Jack considered putting up a fight, but he’d tried to get in the spider’s way before, with minimal success. It wasn’t worth the trouble when Anansi would give him the plate anyway.
“Thanks,” Jack said, and Idunn smiled. “What can I do for you?”
“Ask Dia if she wants to come in tonight,” she said, glancing down and brushing an invisible speck of dust from the counter. “I know it’s her day off, but the shop runs better when she’s here. And it’s a Thursday, so.”
Jack laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, sure, I’ll tell my best friend that you miss her.”
“I don’t miss her,” Idunn said, a red stain seeping up her throat to paint itself across her cheeks and tint her ears. “I just need an extra pair of hands to help with inventory.”
“Sure, Dunny,” Anansi said, arching an eyebrow at her, and she scowled at him. It was profoundly unthreatening.
“Get out of my coffee shop, Nancy,” she shot back, a rare edge of mockery in her voice, and Anansi chuckled, wandering over to an empty table and taking a seat. He set Jack’s slice of cake down and shot him an expectant look, and Jack shrugged his bag a little higher on his shoulder.
“I’ll let her know,” Jack said, still grinning. “Thanks for the coffee, Idunn.” She flapped a hand at him as he retreated from the counter, tossing an apologetic look at the small line that he had failed to notice forming behind him.
Sliding into the seat across from Anansi, Jack tugged his phone out of his pocket and thumbed open the messenger.
Idunn wants u to work tonight, he typed, and, one eye on Anansi, sipped at his coffee while he waited for the reply. It was sweet with chocolate and caramel, almost painfully so, and Diane would probably never understand his adoration for drinks that were more dessert than coffee. He didn’t completely understand it either, but was a firm believer in doing what he wanted.
His phone vibrated against the table and he glanced down at the message on the screen: i’m off 2nite, why?
Inventory. It’s not like u were planning to come over to mine. Jack nibbled on his lip, grinning to himself, and added, I think she misses u.
shut up, jack, she shot back without hesitation. There was a pause, then his phone buzzed again and the screen showed another message. tell her ill be there.
Jack smirked, firing off a message to Idunn and pocketing the phone, and Anansi raised an eyebrow at him.
“I have a bet with Baldur,” Jack explained in an undertone, tipping his head at Idunn as she smiled at a customer. He picked apart the slice of cake and popped a bite-sized piece into his mouth, offering the plate to Anansi wordlessly. “So of course I’m cheating by interfering.”
“Does Bragi know about that bet?” Anansi asked, his easy grin starting to tug at his lips again.
“Considering that Bragi seems to have embraced the advent of modernity and LGBT positivity, I’m guessing he doesn’t care,” Jack said. “He’s been seeing Hapi. They seem happy, all of the puns intended. Besides, aren’t you married?”
“Only technically,” Anansi said, blinking innocently at Jack and letting his teeth flash in amusement. Jack rolled his eyes in exasperation over his coffee cup—Jack did a very good line in exasperation, if he did say so himself, the sort of very good line that stood up well against deities who’d had much longer to perfect it.
“Well, there you go.” A shadow fell over the table and Jack looked up in surprise. “Can I help you?” he asked the man standing over the table. He was vaguely familiar, unremarkable, with a conservative brown haircut and a business suit that stuck out in Idunn’s cozy shop.
“You live in apartment seventy-seven, right?” the man asked, flashing a polite smile as he held out a hand. Jack, nodding, released his coffee slowly and reached out to shake it. “I’m Marcus. My wife and kids and I just moved into the apartment across the hall from you.”
“Oh,” Jack said, pretending that meant something to him. He could dimly recall seeing this man hefting boxes into the apartment in question, and he’d taken note of the kids because it was always best to have an eye on children in this city, but otherwise had allowed the knowledge to slip his mind. He could hazard a guess at the appearance of the wife, but only because he recalled that the kids, a boy and a slightly younger girl, had dark hair and skin in a soft shade of olive-tan. “Nice to meet you. Jack Deorum”
Marcus looked at Anansi with a curious expression as he released Jack’s hand, and Anansi gave his widest, most charming smile. An alarm rang in the back of Jack’s mind, going from mildly concerned buzzing to full-scale, Code Red klaxons as the storyteller offered his own hand and said, “My name is Kwaku Anansi, but everyone here calls me Anansi. You’re new to the city, aren’t you?”
“I just got transferred here,” he confirmed. “That’s a very unusual name, what does it mean?”
“It’s Akan, from the Ashanti people,” Anansi said with the look of a predator with its eye on fresh prey. “Or the original word is. It means spider.” Jack kicked him in the shin, hard, and, when Anansi gave him a wounded look, tried to communicate ‘why’ as clearly as possible without catching Marcus’ eye. Anansi’s eyes glittered, and Jack had a feeling that the answer was ‘because it’s funny.’
Which was, he had to admit, true, but it would also more than likely end with Jack having to talk a totally mundane family from a suburb somewhere through the delicacies of living in the city. Jack hated inducting new people into the whole affair—yes, the college was infested with gods and goddesses of knowledge or learning, the best garage in the city was half blacksmith’s forge because Hephestaus was a believer in tradition, there were a number of people wandering around in various shades of blue, and the death gods went out to get drunk together on Wednesday nights, but there was no point in protesting disbelief. It didn’t change anything, fortunately—the idea of the city without its powerful inhabitants was flat-out depressing—and Jack usually got a migraine around the second hour.
“I’ve got to go to work,” Jack said, standing and slinging his bag over his shoulder. He picked up his coffee and knocked the rest of it back. Left to his own devices, Anansi would needle this unknowing civilian for as long as he could draw the realization out, and Jack didn’t have time to watch in frustration and amusement today. “Try to stay out of trouble, ‘Nans.”
“I always stay out of trouble,” Anansi said, bestowing a grin on Jack.
“That’s just a lie,” Jack said in his most aggrieved tone as he placed the mug in the tray of dirty dishes, and Anansi’s ringing laughter chased him out of the shop.