THREE WEEKS LATER…
The absolute, undoubtedly tippy topbestpart of dying in Roldaria was the fact that Silas Huxley was alive because of it. He turned his head in my direction, as if catching me in the act of my attempted escape. I froze in place, one foot on the floor, the rest of me still flat on the mattress. I pretended it was a kindness to let him rest, but in reality, I knew what would happen if he did wake up. He’d ensnare me in his sexy scowl and firm embrace. Of course, I’d be helpless to resist his tempestuous magnetism, and I’d never make it out the door on time.
There were other benefits of dying, too. It had normalized the experience for me, at least to the extent that I was able to walk down the stairs in the Marshmallow mausoleum where I had died the first time without passing out in a ball of fiery feathers. I’d forced my mother to go with me last week, as a healing experience for us both, and then Fernando, Mom, Ambrose, and I had celebrated after with my belated birthday cake.
The ocean breeze ruffled the sheer curtains, letting in a fresh spray of salty air. I inched a little closer to the edge of the bed and dangled my other foot off the side.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Silas’s voice was gruff with sleep, and the rumble of it turned my insides to goo.
His eyes were still closed.
“Nowhere, shhh,” I whispered in my calmest, most soothing tone. “This is all just a dream.”
He peeked at me through one eye.
Busted.
I smiled at him. He smiled at me. Then he grabbed me. I squealed with delight as he pulled me back in against his gloriously naked body.
“You can’t escape without a kiss,” he said.
I pretended to be put out and rolled my eyes. “All right, fine, if I must.”
Every kiss with Silas was special, even if only because we kissed so much that it felt like they should become mundane. I peppered his lips and his cheeks and his nose with soft pecks.
“You’re trying to swing by the office before the gathering with your friends, aren’t you?” Silas asked.
“No,” I lied. “Never.”
“The point of starting our own agency is supposed to be that we don’t have to spend every hour working,” Silas said.
I ticked off my fingers. “There’s also being our own bosses, deciding for ourselves what choices to make for the greatest good, and me having a bigger office than you.”
He grinned harder at my last point. “I got you something.”
“What?”
He reached into his nightstand and pulled out a large bag—my bag.
“Ohmygosh.”I grabbed my magical bag out of his hands and squeezed it to my chest. “How did you manage to get this back from the library?”
“When I resigned, I signed our little agency up as contract support.”
“They let you do that? Knowing thatIam half the agency?” I couldn’t believe it.
“There should be a chain in there, for fast travel,” Silas said.
It was too good to be true.
I dug around, feeling all my scrolls and tools exactly where they were supposed to be. And I found the travel chain that would allow me to potty portal anywhere I pleased with nothing more than a thought.
“No more flights?” I asked.
“Not unless youwantto fly by airplane,” he said.
“Too bad I still won’t be sure what time I’ll arrive,” I said. “How exactly do you always manage that?”
“I’m a punctual potato,” he said.