At the end of Jack’s rant, we didn’t know what to expect. Certainly something wrathful was the normal cliché, or nothing at all, but Melissa just laughed.
“Well, you may be right about that, and all the spirits and gods are probably worse douchebags than you people could ever be. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re up shit creek without a paddle. If you want this whatever it is to be gone, you need to apologize and be sincere.”
Jack opened his mouth, closed it, scowled, then opened it again.
“Joaquin!” Anna Maria cut him off before he could go on to round two of the rant. “Your capacity for anger, arrogance, and assholery is legendary, but these are supernatural powers that are moreso in every way. They need no reason for their actions, and no power in the world can force them to play by our—or your—rules.”
“She doesn’t even fucking care. She’s not here. Yeah, I see the patterns in the wind, but that’s not a true presence. She could at least show up in person. And why is Melissa judging the sincerity, huh? Makes no fucking sense, especially not to just ask permission.”
“And this is where your fucking whiteness comes in,” Melissa scowled. “Thinking you know what this is actually about. Get your ass up here.”
Jack wind-walked his way up, showing off that he could literally walk on air.
Melissa didn’t appear impressed. Instead, she pointed back the way we had come. “What do you see?”
The rock they stood on was not titanic, but there was enough of a break in the trees that anyone on top could probably see over the brush.
“I see the crater. So what?”
“So that’s what this is about. Whatever your powers, whatever your job, doesn’t give you the right to come in and destroy shit, especially when it’s not your shit. You like it when someone breaks into your house and takes a baseball bat to everything?”
For the second time in just a few minutes, Jack’s mouth worked without anything coming out of it, until, finally.
“I’m sorry,” he said simply.