Page 39 of The Buck Stops Hare

I was certain I’d said something about it, but the mood dropped when Rayne nodded. “I didn’t—I survived, but I don’t think this is the same body, not 100 percent anyway.” Rayne touched his chest and stared at his hand before letting his form shift a little, letting scales then fur and flesh crawl over his hand as if to demonstrate his malleable form.

“Do I have to die to be able to do that?” Cliff gestured toward Rayne as he tucked his hand away and shrugged.

“No.” Storm’s words came out clipped and firm. “It sped things along in a way we didn’t want. It made him feel something I prayed he’d never have to feel and put implications in his head that no man should ever hold.”

“Like what?” Cliff tightened his grip on Vida and stared at Rayne. His lost eyes went hard as he shook his head.

“Don’t find out.” Rayne stood and waved us off as he excused himself and walked into the kitchen and out the back door.

“He wonders if he’s the real Rayne or a creation or a figment.” Storm’s eyes drifted toward Vida and locked on. “Vida keeps him anchored though. Gods do not make children of their own. They need flesh and blood entuned to them.”

“So is his human side gone-gone, like… He’s just the god part?” Cliff stiffened against me.

Storm frowned and shrugged. “I don’t know the difference. River might know, as Brook has been with him much longer. It’s really not my place to speculate though. I have a lot of faith in our mother and what we are. Buck? You’re always quiet about it. Do you know?”

I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with air I didn’t need. I enjoyed forming myself a fully functional body though. Needing the air seemed right. Cliff turned his head toward me, eyes wide as he waited.

“I’ve told you I knew you when you were first but a cloud, yes?” I reached over to brush my fingertips over Vida’s gentlecurls. She shied away from the touch with a strained sound before searching for the bottle once more.

“You’ve said so.” Storm glanced toward the door where Rayne had gone.

“Gods cannot… We can die, but not fully. We can wipe ourselves and reform, when things get too painful. We killwhowe are, not what we are. Thunder didn’t only occupy these lands when you were formed. It’s why Grim hates you so badly.” I pursed my lips and drew my hand back, creating a little space between me, Vida, and Cliff.

Storm frowned; brows knit tightly. “You think I was Hurakan.”

“Iknowyou were Hurakan. Just like I know Rayne is an old soul, the same one lost. I didn’t know the girl well, but it’s the same soul I felt back then. And keep this to yourself, Cliff, please. It’s one thing to tease Rayne, but this is one of the deeper burdens of being a god.” I caught Cliff’s eye, and he nodded, a tinge of guilt masking his features. “So even if his body perished, and he’s nothing but spirit inhabiting element to allow his shift, he’s still Rayne. He’s himself. And deeper still, he’s many others that never found you, and at least one that did, Storm.”

Storm shook his head and stared at the floor; his expression terse. “So, I’m a bloodletter, too?”

“No. You shed that power. You shed the worship and lore. You are a new god but an old one. I’m sure there’s a version of me that came before, and a version of you, too, Cliff.” I gave him a meaningful stare. I hoped having this discussion preemptively made Cliff more resilient to the life ahead of him. Emotionally, he’d need to prepare for something that Rayne never had time to.

Storm shook his head and scraped his fingers over his head, his hair freshly braided from the night before at the full moon. He allowed his people to care for him in ways I never had, waysthat made them feel better, benefiting him little in the grand scheme of things. I’d have to learn from him.

“Now I’m as upset as Rayne,” Storm huffed.

I offered him a shrug, hands turned up. “My theory is that we shouldn’t think about it too much. It only brings unhappiness. Besides, Rayne’s still the same flesh he started with, just like a shifter is the same flesh as man and beast. Same creature, one is man shaped, one is beast.”

“Right. Yeah.” Storm ran a hand down his chest. “It does explain why Grim hates me. I must be painful to be around. Gods regard me as too soft and to him, I must be a mockery of Hurakan.”

I stared at him for a long time before I spoke carefully. “There’s a difference between the death Rayne suffered and the death of Hurakan. Rayne still remembers, still bears the marks of his soul and the pain of his living life. You, Storm? You shed all that you’d gained. The good with the bad. That’s a true death.”

Cliff pursed his lips and adjusted Vida in his arms as she settled into a gentle snooze, snoring in a way that only babies could make cute. “Where’s Rayne? And someone take my niece here because I’m either going to hug him or kick his ass. Either is likely and if anyone tries to stop me, they’ll get a shoe up their a-s-s too.”

“Chicken run.” Storm stared at Cliff, blinking sharply a few times before taking Vida from him in a swift gesture. She barely stirred until she nuzzled into his chest with a soft coo. With his face a sharp relief of determination, Cliff reached over to pat my knee.

“Good. I’ll fix this shit right now.” He dusted his hands off, straightened his shirt, which I didn’t tell him had a streak of baby spit down the front. Which was made all the more awkward by the fact that it was his brother’s milk.

“Should I be concerned?” Storm watched Cliff march out.

“I don’t think so. I trust him.” I caught the corner of my mouth tugging at my face, a smile.

Chapter Eighteen

Cliff

I stormed my way out of the living room and through the quaint kitchen to the back door, staring out at the sparsely grassed yard in search of my brother. “Rayne, asshole, c’mere.”

I canted my head to listen for sounds that didn’t come, only the clucking of chickens and the idle chatter of Pecker, proclaiming his aptitude at mating.

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