Rans raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one with the GPS, mate. You tell us.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Guthrie groused. “Give me a minute.”
“The river’s nearby,” Rans observed. “I can smell it.”
I drew in a breath, surprised when the scent of muddy water hit me like a beacon, pulling my attention to our right.
Guthrie grunted. “Looks like we’re in Cahokia, at the southern edge of the Indian mounds.”
“Makes sense,” Rans said. “Such structures are often built along ley-lines. So... northwest, then?”
“Closer to due west,” Guthrie said. “About sixteen miles as the crow flies.”
“You mean as the vampire flies,” I suggested dryly. “Okay, so if you two want to take bets on how likely I am to lose the contents of my luggage in an alternate dimension when I try to shift, you’d better do it now.”
Guthrie huffed out a breath—the closest he ever seemed to come to laughter. “If it helps, when I played around with it this weekend, the trick seems to be not to think about the process too closely.”
“Right,” I said in a rueful tone. “So, don’t think about the pink rhinoceros sitting in the middle of the room? Sure thing... easy.”
“You’d best give it here, love,” Rans said, relieving me of my carryon full of belongings. “I’m quite partial to that red dress, after all. I’d hate to risk it to a theoretical alternate dimension.”
If I’d still had a heartbeat, I would have blushed scarlet upon remembering what we’d gotten up to the last time I wore that dress. “Thanks,” I said meekly.
Without the bag, I was only in possession of a few more items of clothing than I’d practiced with previously. Boots, socks, leggings, shirt, bra, panties. I could totally do this. Pink rhinoceros, eat your heart out.
“Ready?” Rans asked, looking at both of us.
“Sure,” I told him. “I was reborn for this shit.”
“I’m ready to be home, that’s for sure,” Guthrie said. “Lead the way. We’ll follow.”
Rans nodded. “Stay close,” he said, and dissipated in a swirl of white vapor.
Guthrie followed, and I scrunched my eyes shut, remembering the feeling of needing to be imminently elsewhere. My form dissolved into mist, and I reached out until my awareness brushed against Rans’ intangible presence next to me. As one, the three of us whooshed in the direction where I’d smelled the waters of the muddy Mississippi earlier.
It was a bit hard to keep track of time in my insubstantial state. Travel was easy, though—the next best thing to effortless. After white-knuckling my way through several airplane flights, ley lines, and Fae portals in recent weeks, I decided that I could totally get used to this.
An awareness of twinkling lights below us, paired with warmer air rising from concrete and asphalt, heralded our arrival over the city of my birth. Rans navigated us unerringly through the confusing landscape, until we came to a very familiar rooftop patio. The other two solidified in twin columns of thick mist, and Rans steadied me as I followed suit.
A quick pat down and a glance at myself reassured me that all my parts had come back attached in the right way. As a bonus, I also wasn’t naked. I hadn’t even materialized with my underpants over my leggings, or my bra hanging out. I took a moment to feel smug before the grim nature of the situation we were in reasserted itself.
Guthrie’s penthouse looked the same as it always had. We might as well have never left. If I’d expected the place to be trashed by demon and/or Fae agents intent on tracking Guthrie down, now that he was a vampire, I was dead wrong. Guthrie calmly pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the glass door, leading us inside. For the most part, the penthouse was as neat and elegant as ever. Only the rusty stains on the bedroom carpet and the dent in the front of the refrigerator gave any hint of the events of a few days ago, when Rans had turned Guthrie after the demon Myrial tried to kill him and reap his soul.
I shivered, caught by a fresh moment of surreality.
Rans handed my bag back to me, while my grandfather tossed his on the kitchen counter.
“Now what?” I asked Rans. “Your motorcycle’s still here, right?”
“It is,” Rans replied. “Guthrie, mate—you’re back where you wanted to be. Probably best if you don’t come with us, in case this does turn out to be a trap. Especially since the entire thing reeks of demon influence.”
But Guthrie looked at me, rather than replying to Rans directly. “Zorah, what about it? Do you want me to come or stay?”
A warm little ache curled up in my chest. “I’ve already dragged you way too far into this mess I call a life,” I said. “We’ve got this—and besides, I’m reluctant to subject you to a closer look at the shit-show that is my family life.”
He nodded. “If that’s what you want. Assuming no one snuffs me out of existence in the interim, you know where to find me if you need me.”
“Yeah.” I swallowed painfully. “Yeah, I do. Thanks, Guthrie. And... I’m sorry. For, you know—all this.”
He regarded me with sad, dark eyes. I stared back, trying to see any hints of my mother hidden in that gaze.
“You should stop apologizing for things, Zorah,” he told me, not unkindly. “Consider that a piece of grandfatherly advice, if it helps.”
I looked down and nodded, unable to hold eye contact any longer. Maybe it was good advice, coming from a guy who’d seen some shit in his unexpectedly long life. Nevertheless, I wasn’t quite ready to apply it to myself. Not when I knew full well how many people had been hurt, directly or indirectly, by their contact with me. Guthrie was only one entry in an ever-growing ledger.
He must have sensed my skepticism, because he sighed. “Anyway—be careful. And Rans... you’d better take care of my granddaughter, you asshole. Like I said before, you
