“You still have a college fund,” I say. “That doesn’t count. I earned this nine grand myself.”
“Siblings are always a little obnoxious, it seems,” Xolotl says, “but as siblings go, I’ve found that I quite like yours.”
“But how are you going to get to California?” Gabe asks. “They’ve grounded all the flights. The only way out is by car, and people have been fleeing for days. I doubt anyone’s going the other direction.”
“I might still be able to portal,” Xolotl says.
That seems like too much to hope for. “Your portalling came from your dark magic, yes?”
He shrugs. “I’m not sure. All I had was dark magic, so I didn’t pay any attention to how I did things.”
“Plus, he still has that, yo.” Gabe tosses his hand up, fingers in a fist.
When Xolotl fist-bumps him, I swear I almost lose my mind. “No. None of that with the thousands-of-years-old death deity.” I wave Gabe away. “I need to pack.”
“Good luck with that.” He winks at Xolotl. “I’ve never seen her pack light.”
I hit him with a sofa pillow before he ducks down the hall.
“You better pick that up, young lady.” Mom emerges from her room. “Did I miss Izzy?”
When I glance outside, the cars are just disappearing.
“You could catch her, I bet,” I say.
Mom shrugs. “It’s fine. We said goodbye about three times—every time we thought you were waking up, she’d start crying.”
Great. She was using my long recovery as an excuse to spend more time with Mom. I should’ve known.
“You should pack.” Xolotl tosses his hand down the hall to my room.
Mom moves to block me. “You can’t go to California. It’s too dangerous.”
“We have to, Mom.”
“We do.” Xolotl looks apologetic. “I’ll keep her safe.”
“Don’t take this wrong, young man, because you look like you mean very well, but I don’t trust that you’re powerful enough to keep her safe from the mess you made, not anymore.”
Xolotl blinks. “I’m hardly a young man. I’m thousands of years older than you.”
“No.” Mom folds her arms. “You were born two days ago by my reckoning, the day you became mortal. You’re a newborn human, and you aren’t taking my precious daughter anywhere.”
I expect Xolotl to argue with her. He is, after all, death himself, even if he’s retired. To my surprise, he just drops his head and says, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Gabe taught you well.” Mom reaches way up to pat his head.
She pats his head.
I’m just. . .floored.
We wait until Mom has to pee an hour later, and then we scoot outside. “What if this doesn’t work?” I whisper.
“Then I think we’re both going to be stuck here at this ranch until we die,” he says. “Your mom’s terrifying.”
I laugh. “You have no idea. That’s her nice face.”
Before I have time to get nervous, wind whips me into Xolotl’s arms, and death powers or not, I feel safer here than I’ve ever felt anywhere else. We both fly up, up, up, and then. . .POP.
