I was reaching into my jacket for my phone when Monty walked into the lobby.
“Monty, this is—”
“Mori, Ezra’s PA,” he said with a short nod. “We’ve met.”
“Of course you have.”
“I take it your presence here means we’ve delayed longer than is acceptable?”
“Something like that,” Mori answered. “Ezra would like…a word.”
“Well, Simon, enough dallying,” Monty said, looking at me. “It seems we don’t have time to drive.”
“You can’t drive to where he is,” Mori answered. “He’s not waiting at the deli.”
“Not at the deli?” I asked. “I thought he was always at the deli. Are you saying Ezra gets out?”
“Something you need to do more of,” Mori said, shaking her head. “I understand why you delayed. It’s just never a good idea to keep him waiting. Sort of a touchy issue with him. He prefers punctuality.”
“Understood,” Monty said. “Can you open a portal to him, then?”
I groaned, and then remembered that my last trip wasn’t a gut-wrenching torture fest, threatening to remove my internal organs. Maybe I was getting the hang of this teleportation travel.
Mori slashed a hand in front of her and opened a portal. She stepped to one side and motioned for us to enter. Monty stepped in, followed by Peaches. I walked in behind them, and Mori followed me as the portal closed behind her.
TWELVE
We weren’t standing in the deli. I looked around and found myself in a large garden, complete with trees, a running river, and a sizable lawn. A cool breeze could be felt winding through the trees.
I wasn’t getting the hang of this teleportation travel. I took two steps before my intestines felt an overwhelming desire to exit my body. I grabbed my midsection and groaned as I found a tree to embrace.
“What’s wrong with him?” Mori asked, glancing at me dispassionately. “Does he need a bathroom?”
“Teleportation sickness,” Monty answered, waving a hand in my direction. “He’s still in denial.”
Peaches padded next to me and rumbled.
<Do you need some saliva? I have plenty.>
<I’ll be fine, just give me a moment. Save the saliva for an emergency.>
<Your face looks like you are having an emergency. Are you sure?>
<I’m sure, thanks.>
Mori stepped close to where I stood doubled over and gently shoved the drooling Peaches to one side. She crouched down, bringing her face level with mine.
“You better get your shit together, Strong, and fast,” she said, keeping her voice low. “What’s coming your way won’t give you time to ‘catch your breath’ or ‘take a moment’ to recover. You should be past this, Amateur Hour.”
“Amateur Hour? Did you just call me—?”
“Thank you, Mori,” I heard Ezra say as the pain subsided. “You may go.”
“They’re all yours,” Mori said, opening another portal. “Have fun.”
Mori disappeared a second later. Sitting on a long, wooden bench facing a small grove of trees, was Ezra, or as I knew him, Death…capital D.
“Simon, Tristan, thank you for coming on such short notice.”
“Not like we had much of a choice,” I said, glancing at him through the haze of pain. “We had a…situation. Well, Monty did at least.”
Ezra wore his usual pair of half-moon glasses, and peered at me over the lenses for a few seconds, then shook his head. He waved a hand, forming a large titanium bowl filled with an obscene amount of pastrami—even for Peaches.
My hellhound fixated on the bowl and vibrated impressively in place instead of pouncing on the bowl. The warmth flushing my body didn’t feel as effective as I recovered from my jump between planes. I chalked it up to consecutive trips. Maybe my body needed to recalibrate.
“There’s some extra in there, because I’m sure he’s been a good hellhound.”
<I have been a good hellhound. Can I go eat it now? I am starving.>
<You’ve never starved a moment in your life.>
<Can I go eat now? I haven’t eaten in hours. That’s starving.>
<Mori just made you sausages. How are you starving?>
<That was a snack, not eating.>
<Only if you have a black hole for a stomach. I’m going to need you to do something for me.>
<What? Now? Don’t you smell the meat? What do you want me to do?>
<Didn’t you say it was best to make these requests under a dress?>
Peaches unleashed a small whine and added an extra dose of puppy-dog eyes.
<That’s not fair. You don’t think meat is life. What is it? You want me to eat more of the healthy meat?>
<Only if I want to put the greater tri-state area in danger. No. Here’s the deal: you are going to get on an exercise program ASAP.>
<I get plenty of exercise.>
<Guess you really don’t want that delicious bowl of scrumptious meat. Do you smell that? I’m sure it tastes incredible. I think I’m drooling a bit, just from the smell.>
<I agree. I will get on an exercise program.>
<On your word as my hellhound bondmate. Say it.>
<On my word as your hellhound bondmate, I will get on an exercise program.>
<You can thank Frank for that little lesson in whitemail.>
<You are devious.>
<Only when I need to be. I’d go eat if I were you, before Ezra decides to vanish the bowl with all that meat.>
Peaches pounced on the bowl and proceeded to inhale the meat with much smacking of the jowls. I turned to Ezra and gave him a nod of thanks.
“Like I was saying, we didn’t really have a choice.” I glanced over at Monty. “Someone’s student was going full ice Sith on our building.”
“She is not a Sith, ice or otherwise,” Monty said. “But he is right—we had little choice but to attend to the matter immediately.”
“There’s always a choice,” Ezra said, tapping the side of his nose. “It’s living with the consequences of our actions that most people run from. Remember that.”
“Duly noted,” Monty said. “We made the choice to address the imminent destruction of our domicile before coming to visit you. My apologies.”
“Apology accepted.”
“Hey, that was actual diplomacy…and it worked.”
“One day that mouth of yours is going to get you killed—several times,”
