—before everything and everyone I cared for were tortured and eaten.
Chapter 13
It began to rain,the lightest of drops, steady as a creeping fog. I made my way down roads as familiar to me as my own name.
When I pulled up in front of my house, the unicorn in the back seat sighed. “You’re going to leave me behind because I told you the truth? That’s not a very good way to make me want to tell it again.”
“Just stay here for a few hours,” I said. “I need to think.”
“I thought you needed to train Detective Death over there.”
“I’ll do that too.”
“Well, since you’re such a good multitasker, let me come along. I promise I’ll be as silent as the Grim Reaper’s galoshes.”
“Poor choice,” Than said.
“Oh?” she asked.
“They squeak.”
It was that, his attempt at a joke that drew me out of my mental fog.
“Your boots squeak?” I asked, trying to regain my footing in this new world of evil king demons, soul-swallowing almost-boyfriends, and unicorns who told a truth darker than any I’d ever known before.
“They were sold to me by the man at the grocery store. In the produce aisle. They were,” he paused as if trying to remember the exact words, “a great deal.”
“Wait. So you really have rubber boots?”
“I fail to see how this is beyond your comprehension, Myra Reed. I am aware of the need for appropriate outdoor gear.”
“Are they black?”
“Mostly.”
“And…green?” I guessed.
“No. Yellow.”
“You have yellow galoshes?”
“Certainly not. The god of Death does not wear yellow galoshes.”
“What kind of galoshes does the god of Death wear?” I needled.
“Ladybug.”
I laughed and choked. “You have…” I coughed, my throat full of a laugh that couldn’t find its way out the right pipes, “…boots.”
Than raised one eyebrow and watched me choke. “Yes?”
“Squeaky ladybugs?”
“I fail to see the humor in foot protection.”
I sucked down some air, coughed again. “It’s not about the boots. It’s about the…boots.”
“Enlightening.”
