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Oh, yeah. I squinted, considering it. I wanted to know who'd killed Kisten and tried to bind me, but it was as scary as all hell. Reading on the damp night that the pain was still too fresh, Ivy shook her head and spoke. "Let me see what I can find out my way first. Someone must know something."
A twinge of fear for her joined the fear for myself. "No, I can do this," I said. "Whoever did it is an undead, and it's a lot safer for me to spend a couple of hours on the couch with Ford than for you to poke around in the affairs of the undead."
Ivy's perfect face scrunched up in protest, but before she could say anything, I sneezed again. Damn it, I'm coming!
On Ivy's shoulder, Jenks harrumphed. "Like Ivy has ever had a problem poking around underground? We'll be fine. Kisten didn't have me watching his back."
Together they made a determined picture, and I sighed. "Okay," I said, giving in, then sneezed once more. "I gotta go." Impatient bastard. This was as bad as your date sitting in the drive and beeping a horn. I hated that, too.
I adjusted my grip on Mr. Fish and started down the stairs in the rain. The smell of the dying garden was strong, and my ankles went damp. Behind me, I heard Jenks ask something and Ivy mutter a soft, "I'll tell you later."
"Sorry about leaving you with a mess, guys!" I shouted over my shoulder. God, I felt like I was going off to camp.
"Don't worry about it."
Ahead of me was the line, and as I approached, I let my second sight come into play. Sure enough, Al was standing in it, his coattails shifting as he fidgeted impatiently. The rain wasn't touching him, and he made an inquiring face when I stopped just shy of the line and turned for one last look at the church. It wasn't fear that pulled me around, it was satisfaction.
There was a reddish haze over the church from the overlay of the ever-after, but because I wasn't in the line yet, I could still see Ivy and Jenks standing on the back steps, just at the edge of the rain. Ivy had an arm wrapped about her middle, letting it drop when she saw me look at her. She wouldn't wave, but I knew the thought was there and that she and Jenks would worry while I was gone. Jenks was a shifting drop of silver light from this distance, resting on her shoulder and probably telling her a bad joke full of sexual i
I gave them a wave, and with a new confidence in my steps, I tucked my hair behind my ear and turned back to Al. The demon was waiting impatiently, and he made a rather rude gesture, as if he was wondering what my problem was. I smiled, thinking the next twenty-four hours were going to be like no other. Sure, I was going off to the ever-after, but I wasn't scared.
I was free of any favor owed to Newt, confident she would let me be until I went looking for her—like that would ever happen. I had made a hellacious deal with a demon, but the reward was just as great; those I loved were safe, as was I. With Jenks's help, I'd stolen something that no one in the history of the ever-after had, and I survived the fallout. I had saved Trent's lousy little elf ass, and with a bit of luck, I might survive that, too. Ceri's baby, and by association the entire elf species, was going to thrive. But that wasn't the best thing. The best thing was what I was leaving behind, knowing I'd be back.
I had my church. I had my friends. I had a mother who loved me, and a dirtbag sort-of-father who was going to make her happy again. So what if my kids, if I had any, would be demons? Maybe my mother was right. Maybe there was someone out there for me who would understand that there was good stuff to balance out the bad. And maybe by the time I found someone like that, I'd be so kick-ass that no one, not even Newt herself, would dare lay a finger on us.
For the first time in a long time, I knew who I was and where I was going. And right now, I was going…this way. Happily into the ever-after.
Acknowledgements
I'd like to thank Mike Spradlin, not just for the idea of the title, but for his longtime support of the Hollows, precious in those first tender years and still greatly appreciated. And as always, my agent, Richard Curtis, and my editor, Diana Gill, whose combined attention and skill in bringing a world to life are prized all the more.