Even after I sweet-talked the social worker, or Gabriella did, who can keep all those details straight, there was still stuff to do. First, I had to take Gabriella to her mom’s place so she could pick up some essentials for her and Mateo. There was still a uniformed cop on the door when we showed up. Gabriella explained who she was and got inside without much of a fuss. The cop must have been bored, though. He spent his time giving me the stink-eye for the entire time that Gabriella was inside. While I got that he was probably there to keep an eye out for George, I clearly wasn’t the droid he was looking for. So, all of the authority figure posturing just seemed very unnecessary. Once we wrapped up that extra-special adventure, I had to take her to my place.

It’s not like there was anything particularly special about that last errand. I just needed her to see the place, drop their stuff off, and get her my spare key. With most of us on the brink of heading to Jessie’s place, it was pretty important that Jessie had a way to get into the apartment. I also needed to deactivate most of the magical traps I had in place. It’s one thing if I’m coming and going all the time. It’s something else entirely if relative strangers would be coming in and out of my place. The last thing I needed was for Gabriella or, God forbid, Mateo to end up on the wrong side of a magical construct designed to do massive spiritual damage to malevolent spirits. It might not hurt them, but that wasn’t an experiment I was in a big hurry to run.

It turned out that finding the stupid key was the most time-consuming part of the whole process. It’s not like I live in a giant, roomy apartment. It’s got one bedroom, a small kitchen that sort of merges with the living room, a closet, and a tiny bathroom. That’s it. Yet, it still took me almost thirty minutes to finally come up with the key. God only knows why that stupid thing was buried at the bottom of my sock drawer. I’m sure, whenever I originally put it there, that I told myself that I was putting it in a “safe place.” No doubt, that decision was based on the assumption that I would avoid spending an hour looking for it down the road. I guess the universe has to get its chuckles somewhere. I just hope it finds someone else to laugh at soon.

“Are you sure it’s okay for us to stay here?” Gabriella asked when I handed her the key.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine. Between the bed, the couch, and the air mattress in the closet, everyone will have somewhere to sleep. Besides, there’s plenty of food in the kitchen. Should be more than enough to get through a week or two. If you need more, just talk to Gran. I swear, she’s like the grocery whisperer. She always knows where to get the best deal on everything.”

I could still trust Gran with that much, I decided on the spot. I might not have the same faith in her that I once did, but I was confident that she wouldn’t steer Gabriella and Mateo wrong. At least, I didn’t think she’d do it on purpose. They were too vulnerable and too normal. Gabriella was only just barely skirting the very outside edges of the supernatural world I lived in almost full-time. Mateo wasn’t connected at all. It was one thing to mislead me, an active participant. It was a whole different ball of wax to mislead people who were basically civilians when it came to the spooky stuff. No, Gran might be ruthless at times, but I didn’t think she was cruel in that way. Still, I would have to talk to her about Gabriella and Mateo. She’d have to explain at least a few things if I didn’t come back.

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If I’d been feeling a bit less guilty about the whole George almost killing them thing, I might have manned up and explained it myself. I just couldn’t bring myself to have that conversation with her. She was under enough pressure without me saddling her with my problems. It wouldn’t actually be her problem unless I died. If I came back, then she didn’t need to know about any of it. If I didn’t come back, well, I’d be well beyond caring at that point. There are a couple of mythologies that claim you pass through a process of forgetting after you die. Maybe I’d drink some of Meng Po’s soup on the Bridge of Forgetfulness or trip over a rock and fall into the Lethe River. Bang, no more memory. Honestly, those options sounded like a lot more kindness than I expect from existence, so I’d probably end up in the crappy afterlife where you do taxes for eternity or some bullshit like that.

But, you never know. Maybe I’d racked up enough good karma to reincarnate into a good life where I played a lot of soccer, and my biggest problem was worrying about whether that cute brunette in my chemistry class liked me. For a few, terrible, eternal seconds, I yearned for that life, that simplicity. How sweet would it be to leave all the nightmares behind? The idea of just living without the pressures of knowing about the world next to the world briefly overwhelmed me. I could do it, I realized. I could just walk away from all of this misery right now.

“Jericho, are you okay?” Gabriella asked. “You look pale.”

The question jerked me back to reality. That simpler, easier life was so very appealing. Of course, living that life meant would also mean one less person keeping the darkness at bay. It would mean one less person in the world delivering well-deserved crotch kicks to stupid demons who didn’t know enough to stay home. The sidhe would have one less bogeyman scaring them into good behavior. No, good behavior was beyond them. They could, under duress, achieve marginally acceptable behavior. That only worked if someone was out there applying the necessary duress.

I smiled at Gabriella. “I’m fine. Just got lost in my thoughts there for a second. We should get you back to the hospital. Mateo is bound to wake up at some point. Who knows what he’ll do without adult supervision.”

Gabriella arched an eyebrow at me. “Him? I worry about what you’ll do without adult supervision.”

“Just the usual harmless activities. Set things on fire. Hit myself with heavy objects. Flirt with strange women.”

“How strange?”

“Oh, the stranger the better,” I offered with a big dopey smile.

I heard her mutter, “Hopeless.”

I refrained from laughing but held on to that moment of lightness as I took her back to the hospital. I didn’t expect much laughter or joy in the next few days, so any little shred I could horde in my heart was welcome.