PROLOGUE
Eight months ago…
The absolute,undoubtedly tippy topbestpart of being dead for seventy years was the fact that Silas Huxley was dead, too.
My nemesis had been forty-four when I died. That meant he’d be one hundred-fourteen now, which exceeded the human lifespan. In our line of work, especially as a human, one was lucky to make it to thirty. He’d likely died in a horrible accident on the job, just like I had.
But instead of rising from his grave as a glorious phoenix as I had done, Silas had spent his post-death eternity rotting in the ground.
Wait, no, karmic retribution demanded he still be alive—leathery, withered, and absolutely, miserably decrepit. If he were still somehow drawing breath, I’d find whatever nursing home his children had abandoned him in. Then I’d point and laugh at the pussywillows growing out of his ears. I’d rub it in his face that while yes, I had suffered an unfortunate, prematuredemise, I had returned to the land of the living, all while maintaining my perfected forty-year-old form.
Would I kick the wheel of his wheelchair, tipping his frail body over and knocking him onto the floor? Probably not. That was taking it a little far, even if that’s what he deserved.
Okay, maybe I’d consider it.
I rubbed my hands together and let out a maniacal laugh that echoed against the familiar trees of Marshmallow’s forest. Upon my miraculous return from the dead, after saving the entirety of all existence, I deserved the celebration that unquestionably waited for me in the library. First, I’d indulge in a slice of mint chocolate chip ice cream cake. Then, I’d inquire about Silas's fate—the cherry on top.
I spared a final glance back in the direction of my mother’s magic shop, seeing nothing but trees. I pushed away the pang of sadness that tried to worm its way into my head. I ignored the nervous clench in my gut. Then I tossed an open package of raw bacon into the stone wishing well.
No matter how many times I did this, I instinctively still listened for the plop of the meat landing at the bottom of the bottomless well. Of course there was no plop or splash or any other similar noise. Instead, there was a rumbling groan, as if the ground itself had recognized its hunger.
A furry tentacle thrust up out of the stone well, reaching more than ten feet in the air. Its tip curled around the raw meat, squeezing the floppy strips along with the plastic packaging.
“Cheers,” I said to the guardian.
The tentacle slowly receded into the dark stone depths, signaling my permission to enter the well. I filled my lungs with the cool autumn air of my childhood hometown before stepping up onto the ledge. It was time to return to the library, the realm in which I truly belonged.
Something caught on my ankle.
I checked to see if my stockings had gotten stuck by a vine. Instead of a plant, I found the blue fingers of Fernando. He was the closest thing I had to a sibling.
He’d washed up on the ocean shore while I’d been playing in the sand as a child, the perfect playmate for a lonely girl. I’d thought he was a bouncy ball. It turned out he was a rolly ball, with feet and arms and a face. He was a living ball, and my instant best friend. We built sandcastles together, chased crabs, and splashed my mother with the saltwater. When it was time to go, Fernando came home with us, and the rest was history.
Fernando stared up at me with his one giant, watery eye.
“Hello again, Fernando,” I said, though we’d said our goodbyes when we’d parted ten minutes ago. “Was there something further you wish to discuss?”
With a series of gurgling noises Fernando said, “Lily no go.”
It had been difficult enough to say goodbye the first time, both to Fernando and to my mother. “It’s been lovely spending time together,” I told him. “But aside from the few contacts I have made since my revival, the library as a whole still considers me MIA. My coworkers haven’t had the opportunity to see that I am all right, as you have.”
His bottom lip quivered.
“I will not disappear for another seventy years this time, I promise,” I told him. “We will see each other again soon.”
“Fernando go with Lily,” he said in his gurgly way.
“Who will look after Mom if you aren’t here?” I asked.
He let go of my ankle and looked back the way we had both come, likely considering my point.
“We’re a team, right? I asked.
“Yes,” he said with certainty.
“I have a job to do, and so do you.”
“Lily come back?”