Page 102 of Want Me, Take Me, Haunt Me, Make Me

Maxwell shook his head. “When an anchor vanishes, everything in the domain goes to its proper world. Hell for the demon”—he was tempted to use Perthrux’s name just to show that he could, but even as a young fool, he wouldn’t have named a demon lightly—“the physical realm for you and the dog, since he seems to have chosen your company rather than his own afterlife. And me now, thanks to you.”

Saying the words lodged the concept into his whirling mind and left him speechless, only able to clutch Hazel and look down into her face as though she were some artist’s masterpiece or newly discovered planet.

He hadn’t gone to hell with Perthrux.

He was bound to the world.

He was free.

“Thanks to the Sony Corporation and whoever decided to put the British census archives online,” said Hazel, and the actual words barely registered with Maxwell. “True names and words of creation—I wasn’t sure if the TV static had counted, but I thought it had worked a little before, and I had to try.” She reached up and touched his face gently, fingertips soft against his jawline.

“Only you would think of it.”

“It’s not the sort of situation that comes up often, I expect. I’ll try not to put you into an essay when we get back.”

Maxwell laughed, and even the sound felt new. “You can put me into whatever you’d like. I won’t be anything but honored.”

* * *

Perthrux’s world shattered soundlessly around them, disappearing bit by bit, and Hazel watched with a mix of smug joy and discomfort. The demon would hate what was happening, which made it deeply satisfying to witness, but her eyes could only take so much before she could swear she felt her optic nerves straining. Human vision had certain limits.

Looking at Maxwell was much better anyhow.

His skin still gleamed silver, but the sigils were gone. In their absence, even though he wasn’t wearing his glasses, Hazel wondered how it had taken her so long to realize that he was Ligat. “I’ll never make fun of Lois Lane again,” she said, and laughed at Maxwell’s quizzical response. “I’ll explain later. What do we do, exactly?”

“I haven’t precisely been here before,” he said, and tightened his grip on her. The floor had mostly dissolved now, leaving them sitting on a small island. “But I believe we hold on. It might help to think of your world.”

Do I click my heels together?she wondered, but one pop culture reference at a time was probably enough for Maxwell. Still, as sheheld on to him and Casper and the last of the dimension dissolved, she couldn’t help herself.

“There’s no place like home,” Hazel muttered, and then the world became a blur.

She’d thought her trip to Perthrux’s lair was confusing. At least she’d stayed upright and walking for that. The unformed ethereal closed over her in a spinning cloud of colors and shapes, sounds and smells. Hazel heard the strains of a violin over a steady rainstorm, the yells of a mob, and the roar of some truly gigantic animal—a saber-toothed tiger, for all she knew. Blobs of colors flashed by her like impressionist paintings, vague shapes that she couldn’t focus long enough to see.

Maxwell stayed solid against her, and Casper was a cool blue shimmer beneath her hand. Hazel gripped them as tightly as she could—not very, in Casper’s case, but she made the effort—and thought of the world she knew.

Hazel pictured her house, small and dull green, with the plants outside beginning to sprout. She thought of Bramble and the forest, of the road, and of the town beyond it where Jess would be waiting, maybe skeptically, and maybe not. Summer waited too, down south, surrounded by his animals. She remembered the taste of fully laden nachos, the sound of music drifting out of other people’s windows on summer evenings, the smell of pine, and the feel of a warm bed on a cold night.

She thought of Maxwell behind her in her bed, his breath warm against her neck. They could have sex in the ethereal, they might even be able to recreate some vestiges of home—but it washomefor a reason. Life belonged to the physical world, with all the surprises of a reality that answered to nobody’s will directly.

The colors spun faster, blurred more—and then vanished.

For a moment, reality went blank. A sense of free fall made Hazel’s stomach swoop downward, and she heard Maxwell let out a deep, winded breath.

They were together.

They were nowhere.

They were on the ground, landing hard enough that Hazel’s teeth came together with a painfulclack. She couldn’t see for a moment, but she heard a blue jay squawking, dissonant and beautiful. The smell of wet dirt filled her nostrils when she breathed in, and when she put a hand down by her side, she felt the thick, clay soil that had frustrated her when she planted seeds for Bramble.

“Here?” she asked, which she knew was a stupid question right away, but it didn’t matter. Her sight was coming back, not all at once but enough for her to make out familiar shapes: the dark forest, the yard, the blue blob of her car.

She felt Maxwell’s chest rise behind her as he took a long breath. “Home,” he said.

Epilogue

Three months later

“And you’re absolutely certain this one won’t explode?” Maxwell teased.