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Damiel chuckled. “Indeed.”

“We’ll invite you over for dinner at our castle once we’re confident the ceiling won’t collapse on all of us,” Cadence promised.

I gave her a thumbs up. “Much appreciated.”

As Damiel and Cadence wandered off, arms around each other in affectionate embrace, I predicted their retirement would be as exciting as their days at the Legion of Angels. Except this time, they’d get to spend it all together.

“So, Leda, I have a very important question for you,” Aerilyn said, sauntering over. “What does Zane like to do on dates?”

I grabbed another cookie. “Notget eaten by dragons.”

“Funny,” Aerilyn simpered with an overly-sweet smile.

“So Zane agreed to go out with you?”

“He will soon enough.”

“Why? Did you spike his punch with a love potion?” I teased her.

“Of course not,” she said coyly.

The smile wilted from my lips. “Aerilyn, please don’t tell me you spiked Zane’s punch with a love potion.”

“All right. I won’t tell you that.” She winked at me.

I made a mental note to find and warn Zane before it was too late.

“Leda, Leda, Leda.” Aerilyn wrapped her arm around me. “You really need to let loose and have some fun.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry, I know. You already told me. But I guess that’s just how things are now. I’m boring, domestic, deity Leda.” I nabbed another cookie.

Aerilyn snatched it out of my hand before I could even take a bite. “Yeah, you are. So boring.” She stuffed the cookie into her mouth. Her forehead crinkled. Her lips pressed together.

“Is something wrong?” I asked with an innocent smile.

Aerilyn looked at me, eyes bulging, skin sweating. Her expression was priceless.

“Oh, yeah, so I guess I forgot to mention that I told Sierra to make those cookies with salt instead of sugar, just for you,” I told her.

Aerilyn spat out the cookie into a napkin.

“See? I do still know how to have fun and prank people,” I told her brightly.

Aerilyn looked at me, speechless. Then she suddenly started laughing. “Good one, cousin,” she said, patting me on the back. “Gotta go.”

She scurried over to the punch bowl and downed six cups of the bright red stuff in a row. Meanwhile, I wandered over to my buddies in Heaven’s Army.

“So, guys,” I said. “It looks like all you’ll have to worry about from now on is regular old garden-variety gods, demons, and other sociopaths.”

“I take issue with being called that,” Faris said, butting into our conversation.

I sighed. I knew I should have checked for nosy, eavesdropping gods first.

“You take issue with being called what?” I asked him. “Sociopath?”

“Regular,” he told me. “I am a god. I am notregular. I amspectacular.”

“Yeah, you are,” Grace said, her eyes twinkling. “A spectacular pain in the ass.”