“We’re going to stop her,” I snap.
“With what army?” Marshall asks. “You can’t even leave this timeline without her permission. Face it, Skyla. Mommy Dearest has you exactly where she wants you.”
Logan takes a moment to scowl at his doppelgänger. “This isn’t a joke, Marshall.”
“Isn’t it?” Marshall’s eyebrows rise. “Because from where I’m standing, you’ve managed to get yourselves into yet another supernatural pickle that defies all logic and reason. At this point, I’m starting to think you attract cosmic catastrophes as a hobby. It’s almost impressive.”
“We don’t attract them,” I say as a flash of exasperation pulses through me. “They just sort ofhappento us.”
“Right.” Marshall frowns. “It’s completely coincidental that every major supernatural crisis of the last ten years has revolved around your love life.”
“My love life is not?—”
“The catalyst for interdimensional warfare?” Marshall’s grin turns absolutely wicked. “Please. You’ve turned relationship drama into an art form.”
Logan growls, “Can we focus on the real problem here? Our children are in danger.”
“Your hypothetical future children,” Marshall corrects while adjusting his cufflinks. “Who may or may not exist depending on how this particular timeline shakes out. Which, I have to say, adds a fascinating layer of complexity to the whole situation.”
“Marshall,” I thunder as my hands clench into fists. “They are not hypothetical to us.”
“Of course not. But you have to appreciate the philosophical implications. Are you fighting to save children who technically haven’t been born yet, or are you fighting to preserve a future that may have already been altered? Very chicken-and-egg.”
The casual way he’s discussing my babies getting wiped from existence ignites something feral in me. “Marshall, I swear on everything that is holy?—”
“Now, now.” Marshall holds up a hand, his expression mockingly innocent. “No need for unholy threats. I’m simply observing that your family has once again managed to turn what should be a straightforward situation into something that would give theoretical physicists nightmares.”
We’re getting close to the lights streaming from Ellis’ party, and Marshall slows his pace as we approach the edge of the property. The sound of drunk teenagers and questionable music grows louder by the second, with the bass vibrating through the ground beneath our feet and adding a surreal backbeat to our conversation about timeline manipulation—and a horrid disappearing act that my children may or may not have already partaken in.
Marshall stops completely, straightening his coat and checking his appearance in the reflection of a car window as if he’s preparing for a photo shoot instead of abandoning us to face cosmic catastrophe alone.
“Well,” he says, smoothing down an imaginary wrinkle in his shirt. “This has been absolutely fascinating, but I’m afraid I have a private party to tend to.”
Logan’s mouth falls open. “A private party? Marshall, we just learned that Candace wants to erase our children from existence. This might not be the best time for socializing.”
“On the contrary, this is exactly the time for socializing.” Marshall’s smile is filled with dark promise. “My seventeenth-century guests are expecting to be entertained, and you know how cranky beautiful women get when you keep them waiting. Besides, you two seem to have the crisis management well in hand.”
“We have nothing in hand.” My voice comes out higher than intended. “We don’t even have a plan.”
“You’ll figure something out. You always do.” Marshall waves us off as if he’s shooing away a particularly persistent fly—two of them. “And you usually figure things out through a combination of blind determination, spectacular luck, and an alarming willingness to make decisions that would terrify anyone with common sense.”
My shoulders slump. “That’s not exactly reassuring.”
“It’s not meant to be reassuring. It’s meant to be accurate.” Marshall checks his watch as if his biggest concern is whether the wine has been properly chilled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have historical courtesans waiting, and they can get into quite a lot of trouble when left unattended for too long.”
Logan steps forward. “Dudley?—”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” Marshall interrupts. “I’m sure you’ll sort this out. After all, how hard can it be to outwit a powerful celestial being with centuries of experience in manipulation while simultaneously preventing a timeline collapse and saving hypothetical children from existential erasure?”
My stomach sinks. “When you put it like that, it sounds completely impossible.”
“Nonsense. You’ve done impossible things before. This is just... impossibly impossible.” He gives a short-lived grin. “Best of luckwith the whole cosmic crisis thing. Try not to destroy reality while I’m gone.”
And with that completely unhelpful pep talk, he melts into the fog like smoke, leaving behind only the faint scent of expensive cologne and my rapidly deteriorating faith in both human beings and celestial entities.
Logan stares at the empty space where Marshall stood. “I can’t believe he just ditched us.”
“I totally can. This is classic Marshall behavior. He only cares about a crisis when it directly inconveniences him.”
