I put my hand over his heart, letting out a relieved breath as I felt it beating, too fast by far but still ready. “Reth?”
His huge golden eyes fluttered open. “Perhaps I should have taken the couch.
This needs fixing, and I am the one who is going to fix it. I’m okay with that.”
Arianna nodded. “But how? What are you going to do?”
“I have some ideas. But first I need something in my stomach before I fall over. So let’s go eat and plot and then save the world.”
David sighed, looking thoughtful.
“What’s up, Dad?” Lend asked.
“I’m trying to figure out if there’s any way I can lock you two in your rooms. I don’t think a simple grounding will do it.”
Raquel laughed. “Good luck trying to force Evie to do anything else once she has made up her mind. She is the definition of a stubborn, headstrong teenager.”
“And you love me for it.”
“I do.” She hugged me, the spontaneity of the gesture surprising me. Even Lend’s expression softened slightly toward her.
Raquel walked over from where she’d been standing, talking with David, Arianna, and Cresseda. She beamed at the sight of Lend and me holding hands. “You did it, Evie! I am so happy.”
I grinned, leaning my head on Lend’s shoulder. “Of course. If anyone needs more beauty sleep in this relationship, it’s me.
You and Raquel should lead the attack against the IPCA facility. Where is it? Iceland? Siberia?”
“Illinoise,” Raquel answered. “Normal, Illinoise, a couple of hours outside Chicago.”
I snorted. “Finally, IPCA gets a sense of humor.
Lend stood staring blankly at the shelves of food. Arianna had sneaked upstairs to eat—or rather, drink—in private. “I have no idea what to make. I’m too exhausted to think.”
“You have no right to be tired. And I never want to see you asleep ever again. I had enough of that for a lifetime these past few days.”
“Allow me to take over,” Jack said, striding into the kitchen. He nudged Lend out of the way and started pulling out a huge pile of ingredients.
“Can you even cook?”
“If Lend had let me make him an omelet earlier, that question would already be answered.”
Lend sat next to me, leaning over and putting his arm under my head as a pillow against the counter. “Remind me again why we trust him now?”
“Because we need all the help we can get. And I think he really is sorry. And a lot of people are going to depend on him of all the faeries leave.”
Jack furiously chopped vegetables. “Captain Dependable! Wait, we vetoed that one. The Divine Door Maker? Too much? Hmm . . . Handsome Hero, but maybe I should move away from alliteration. Something sleek. Our Lord and Master Jack.”
Lend rolled his eyes and gave me a seriously-can-I-just-beat-him-to-a-pulp look.
I jumped up, my hands in the air. “Yes!”
Lend laughed. “Okay, looks like I need to make a run to the grocery store. Do faeries hate wheat or white bread more, you think?”
“Get bread with raisins,” I said. “Everyone hates raisins.”
Jack was bouncing, obviously excited. “That’s all we need, right?”
“We need Reth.”
“No,” Lend and Jack whined in unison.
“Come on, you two. Reth knows the Faerie Realms better than you do. Jack, you didn’t see where the people were; it might take you a while to find them, and that’s time we can’t afford to lose. And Reth’s getting worse; being there might give him more time.”
Lend scowled, grabbing the car keys off the counter. “Fine. But I’m really getting tired of his stupid smirk and prissy clothes.”
Jack nodded. “And his voice that sounds like it’d even taste good. Really, it’s overkill. Best to have only a few absolutely perfect traits—for example, my hair and eyes and sparkling personality—so you don’t overwhelm them.”
“Aww, are you guys jealous of how pretty Reth is? That’s kind of adorable.”
“You know I could look exactly like him,” Lend said, frowning darkly.
“Please for the love of all that is good and holy, never, ever wear Reth. That’s the stuff of nightmares.”
That brightened his face a bit and he left me with a lingering kiss and a promise to be back with every loaf of bread we could carry.
“Well, go find your stupid faerie boyfriend,” Jack said, lying down on top of the counter and drumming his fingers on his stomach. “I haven’t filled my quota for pissing off the Dark Court yet this week.”
“We are going to blow your quote sky high.”
He held up a hand and I high-fived him as I walked past and out of the house toward the trail. Yet again. I should have invested in a dirt bike or something given the amount of mileage I was getting out of the path between the house and the pond.
Do you have any cheese preferences?” Jack asked.
“All cheese is good cheese, Lend said.
“True dat.” I nodded solemnly.
“You did not just say ‘true dat,’” Arianna said, walking into the kitchen. “Because if you think you have any ability whatsoever to pull that off, we are going to have to have a long, long talk.”
“Can I at least use it ironically? Or ‘dude.’ Can I use ‘dude?’ Because I really want to be able to use ‘dude.’”
“No. No, you cannot, but thank you for asking. Besides, ironic use always segues into non-ironic use, and unless you suddenly become far cooler or far more actually Californian than you are now, I simply cannot allow it.”
“But on Easton Heights—”
“You are not going to bring up Cary’s cousin Trevyn’s multiepisode arc where he’s sent there as punishment for his pot-smoking surf-bum ways, are you? Because that arc sucked, and he wasn’t even very hot. Also, what’s the lunatic doing?” She jerked her head toward Jack.
He flipped a gorgeous looking omelet onto a plate and placed it with a flourish in front of Lend. “I am providing insurance against frying pan boy deciding to enact all the very painful fantasies he’s no doubt entertained about me for the last few weeks. An omelet this good should rule out any dismemberment vengeance.”
“Have you been reading his diary?” I asked. “Because I’ll bet he got really creative with the violence ideas.”
“No, I only ever read yours. But let me tell you, one more exclamation mark dotted with a heart while talking about how good a kisser Lend is and I was about ready to do myself in. You’re rather single-minded when it comes to adoring him.”
“True dat,” Arianna said, nodding.
“How come you can use ‘true dat’ if I can’t?” I asked, rightfully outraged.
“Because I’m dead, and none of the rules apply anymore.”
Lend ate his omelet, refusing to answer Jack’s questions about just how delicious it was on a scale from cutting off limbs to just breaking his nose. I gave Jack full points for flavor but noted the texture was slightly off, exempting him from name-calling but not from dirty looks.
Arianna lounged against the counter, and when I finished first we debated the usage rules of “dude,” “true dat,” and my favorite, “for serious.”
“I kind of wish they’d shut up,” Jack said.
“Dude, true dat,” Lend answered.
Jack nodded solemnly. “For serious.
We need a plan,” I said.
“We are having far too many of those lately for my tastes,” Jack said. “I vote Molotov cocktails. That one was fun.”
“Much as I like lighting things on fire”—which I kind of had, more than I thought I would—“the goal here is to get everyone out safe. Not to blow them up.
I squeezed her hand. “He’s not coming back, Carlee”
When I said her name, her whole body stiffened, her eyes opening wide and clearing, as though a veil over them had lifted. “Carlee,” she whispered.
I nodded and waited for her to freak out, to start screaming or crying, bracing myself and getting ready to hug her or carry her back to the village, whatever it took. For a few impossibly long moments she didn’t say anything, didn’t move, and I wondered if the shock had broken her brain. Then her brown eyes locked on mine again, narrowing into slits.
“I’m gonna kill that effing creep.”
I laughed, relief flooding through me, and threw my arms around her neck.
“No, seriously. I’m going to kill him! I can’t believe I bought his stupid lines! I don’t care how pretty he was, I mean, have you seen what I’m wearing?”
Laughing, I nodded into her shoulder. “So not the style.”
“I know, right? I look like an extra in some fantasy movie. Some stupid fantasy movie.
Jack, who apparently always had to be moving in some way, had made up for the missing knife by grabbing a half loaf of French bread and methodically ripping it into tiny pieces.
“What,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Why don’t faeries like bread?”
“Hmm?” Jack looked up, then shrugged. “I dunno.”
Lend picked up a piece, crumbling it. “My dad said he thought it was because it was the staff of life for people.”
“Nasty stuff tastes like mold,” Jack said. “I tried a piece once a while ago when I was still trying to force myself to eat normal food so I could stay here. It was like a shock to my whole system.” He shuddered at the memory.
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