His grin widened.

“I don’t— How are you—? How is this—?”

He pointed up and shrugged. “They said it wasn’t my time.”

“They? You mean—?” I stopped to catch my breath, unable to believe it. Things hadn’t really been going my way lately. Surely there was a catch. No. This was a good thing. I couldn’t question it. My eyes landed on him. “Wait, if you’re alive, how are you here?”

“This is your world, Charles, I just live in it.”

“Would you come in here so we don’t have to yell across my apartment?”

“First, your apartment is the size of one of those balls that hamsters roll around in.”

“Is not.”

“Second, I can’t. Your guardian takes her job very seriously.”

“What? Where?” I glanced around. “He’s a she?”

After trying unsuccessfully to sit up again, I managed to scoot a couple of inches and brace myself against the headboard, when a low rumble filled the room. A coolness settled in the air, causing my breath to fog, and I scanned the room from corner to corner but saw nothing. I held out my hand, palm up, in an invitation to whoever was suddenly haunting me, and a loud, guttural bark exploded beside me, shook the walls, and echoed around the room. My bed dipped as Artemis jumped on.

“Artemis!” I said, pulling her into a hug. She wanted to play but seemed to sense my inability to do so. She lay beside me and nudged me with her nose, her stubby tail wagging a mile a minute.

“I tried to come into the room earlier,” Garrett said. “Just a warning, she goes for the jugular.”

“Artemis? A dog? Oh, my god, that’s right. I was indirectly responsible for her death when we wrestled behind the asylum. I just never imagined a dog. I’ve never seen a dog left behind. That movie wasn’t kidding when it said all dogs go to heaven.” I scratched her ears and hugged her to me. Suddenly the pain seemed minor. “I wonder if I should tell Donovan.”

“Is that your new boyfriend?”

Oh, geez, not that crap again. “Look, I get enough of that from Reyes about you.”

“He thinks I’m your boyfriend?”

“That’s what he calls you.”

He frowned. “So am I?”

“A pain in the ass?”

“You’re one to talk. We ever gonna hit it?”

“Ew. Not if you were the last skiptracer in the known universe.”

“What the fuck?” he asked, all offended-like. “You almost killed me.”

“Almost being the operative word.”

“And you practically raped that biker guy, which, by the way, what the fuck was that about? Scraping the bottom of the barrel there, Charles.”

“And that barrel is hot.” I looked down at Artemis. “And Donovan’s genuine. He would sell me to the highest bidder for a carburetor, and we both know it. So when it happens, when he lies and cheats and uses me as bait, I won’t be totally blindsided like I am when all the other men in my life lie and cheat and use me as bait. It’s called self-preservation.”

“It’s called self-loathing.”

“Whatever,” I said. Then I remembered we had unfinished business. “You never finished your list.”

“Oh, yeah.” He leaned his head back against the wall and asked, “Where was I?”

“You’re asking me? I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Okay, let me think.” He counted off with his fingers. “The top five things you never want to say to a grim reaper: I’m dead tired. You’re killing me. I’m dying to try that. This relationship will be the death of me.”

“So, we’re at number one,” I said, trying not to laugh.

He grinned and fixed a steady gaze on me. “The number one thing you don’t want to say to the grim reaper is … Are you ready?”

“Would you just say it?”

“You’re going to love this.”

“Swopes.”

“Till death do us part.”

I stilled, reality slapping across my face like a physical blow, thanking god it didn’t come to that.

“I thought you’d like that,” he said, his mannerisms jovial, “you being almost indirectly responsible for my death and all.”

“I thought you said I wasn’t almost indirectly responsible for your death.”

“I lied.”

“See, blindside.”

“I’m planning on cheating later, too. Possibly using you as bait.” He smiled and locked his arms behind his head, seeming to bask in all the possibilities.

“You know, I feel a lot better about almost being indirectly responsible for your death.”

“I’m so glad. Who’s the dead chick?”

I looked over at Wednesday as she stood beside my bed. She had completely changed with the entrance of Artemis. She still held the knife as though her life depended upon it, but she smiled and ran her hand down the Rottweiler’s sleek back before looking up at me. Right at me. Like into my eyes. It caught me off guard, as did her crossing. Before I could even ask for a name, she stepped forward and crossed through me.

“Wow,” I heard Garrett say, but I’d closed my eyes and riffled through her memories for information. Her name was Mary. She died when she was six of the fever. She had no idea what year it was, but from the clothes and décor of her memories, I guessed it to be somewhere in the very late 1800s. She’d wanted a pony for her birthday, but her family couldn’t afford one. Instead, her father made her a doll and she threw it in the river behind her house in anger. Regretting it, she instantly jumped into the icy water to retrieve it and died three days later as a result.

Her family had tucked the doll in her coffin with her, never knowing what she’d done. But when she heard the angels talking about me, she exchanged the doll for a knife and decided to be my guardian until the real one showed up. I didn’t have the heart to tell her she wasn’t very good. After all, it’s the thought that counts.

“That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” Garrett said, his face a picture of awe when I refocused on him. “It was like a thousand sparklers followed by a sunburst. Absolutely beautiful.”

I dragged in a deep, cleansing breath then planted my face in Artemis’s neck and said, “Shouldn’t you be getting back to your body?” When he didn’t answer, I looked up at him.