Chapter Twenty-Five
She couldn’t move for what felt like hours in the aftermath.
Even though there was really no aftermath to see.
It was as if nothing had happened at all.
The floor was completely smooth and unblemished.
The walls had stopped shaking, the roof was still intact.
She could have almost believed she had imagined every single thing.
That she had actually gone mad, and made Jack up, and this was just her coming to after a long sleep.
She might even have let that idea sink in.
If it hadn’t been for the glow still on her.
And the sound of Popcorn from the bathroom. “Mother, free me from this infernal prison immediately. I must inform you to your face what an incredible fool you have just been,” he said. All of which made letting him out both a relief and the most horrible thing ever.
Being judged by a talking pug was really not what she needed right now.
But she had to face the music. She went to the door and opened it, bracing herself.
Yet all he did was rush at her and jump in a way that said catch me , and when she did he buried his little face in her neck.
“Oh Mother, I am sorry, I am sorry, it is I who have failed you, not you, I have been foolish,” he said.
As if he could have done a single thing about this whole sorry mess. As if he should have known.
She almost wished he had berated her by the time he’d finished with the comforting. Because the tears came harder to hear it. She sobbed into her hand, knowing her ridiculous dog cared this much, and wished he had understood enough to save Jack. Jack, who he hated.
Jack, who he loved.
“You did your best,” she said. “You tried to tell me.”
“Only that breaking the spell would send him away. The rest was as mystifying to me as it was to you. I was sure he did not truly care. That you did not truly care. It seemed to me only a pleasurable game that humans play.”
“Because it is one. We do it all the time. It’s called never risk your heart, in case you cannot stand the pain of losing it,” she said, then wanted to scream into her hands.
She wanted to go back and back and remake every single thing about herself, so she would never be like this.
So afraid of being let down that she’d lost it all anyway.
And she couldn’t even say the same for Jack.
He’d been scared, just like her. He’d had even more reason to be.
But he had tried to tell her in a thousand different ways. He’d bent the rules as far as they would go, given her every chance there was. Said it again and again: If you were her, if you wanted me, if this was how things were, what would they be?
He’d even given her the answer she needed to the question she’d once asked herself— If he feels it for me, why wouldn’t he just say?
Because he couldn’t, he couldn’t, he had told her he was bound into not, and she still hadn’t understood.
So wrapped in surety that it had to be someone else, someone better, someone whole, that she just hadn’t seen.
Doubt is the worst thing about being human , he’d said.
But boy, she hadn’t understood just how right he was about that.
“My inability to see it probably looked so unfeeling to him. He must have thought I knew on some level, and just didn’t care. Didn’t love him,” she said, and now Popcorn put a paw on her hand.
“You couldn’t have known, Mother.”
“I should have. And now look what’s happened.”
“I know. But things will more than likely be okay.”
“How can they be? He’s lost to me forever,” she said, then cried into her hands. Glasses off, palms pressed to her eyes, full-on hacking sobs that took an age to calm. Really, it was no wonder Popcorn was looking at her funny when she was done. Head tilted, eyes kind of looking to one side.
“Well,” he said, after a pregnant pause. “Probably not forever .”
As if she was just being some huge drama queen.
“What do you mean? Of course he is. He’s in Hell .”
“Yes, but Hell isn’t that far.”
“Oh, so just a quick bus ride down the road.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I would never take the bus,” he sneered, and she went to cut in.
She went to say ah so just a brisk walk, then .
But before she could, he finished the thought for her.
“No, I intend to take the truck. That infernal truck of his that undoubtedly knows the way. All I need are the keys, a few supplies, perhaps a small packet of bacon and a body warmer, and I shall be off to rescue your beloved.”
Then he started into the kitchen, most likely to find these things.
While she stood, on suddenly shaky legs. Breath coming fast, heart hammering hard. “So that’s a thing that can be done,” she called after Popcorn, who was now rummaging in a cupboard.
“Well, of course it is.”
“And it will work.”
“I don’t see why n—”
She heard the word cut in two, and knew he’d twigged. But she was almost at the door by that point. She’d grabbed pens. She had her jacket in her hand. Even if he raced in, he wasn’t going to be fast enough to get to her before she got out.
Though he tried.
He scampered in.
“Mother, where are you going?” he asked.
So she did her best to play it off. She kept her expression blasé.
“Oh, I just remembered, I forgot to take the trash out.”
“You did no such thing, the trash here does not even get taken out. It is removed by magical means to I know not where.”
“Right. Right. I forgot that.”
“And yet you are still moving toward the door.”
“Am I? That’s so weird. I hadn’t noticed.”
She had noticed, however.
Of course she had—that was her hand turning the doorknob.
“Mother, come back here immediately ,” he demanded, as she started to slip through the small opening she’d made to the outside. As she slid through, onto the porch, leaving just her face and her hand. Then as she waved, she said:
“Sure, I totally will. But before I do, just let me say that I love you, and if I don’t come back from Hell, just tell Cassie I did something much less foolish and less liable to make her do something about it. Like I died peacefully in my sleep.”
And by the time Popcorn pounced, she was across the porch.
Down the steps and to the truck, with him barking frantically in her wake. It was heartbreaking, really. Gut-wrenching. To know he’d wanted to do that for her, and that she was now doing this to him. But it had to be done. He was just a dog.
She couldn’t let him go to Hell.
It had to be her. It had to be this.
And apparently the truck knew it. She got in, and it immediately started playing “I’d Do Anything for Love.” It revved its engine, so hard the front end lifted. Then it lunged forward, and that was that.
She was on her way to get Jack back.
And let the devil dare to tell her no.