Wayward Devils (Souls of the Road #4)

Epilogue

Clouds came in with the night and the wind shifted, restless, in the slightly cooler air.

The moon, large and bright, drifted lazily behind the slow-moving clouds. The sky was riveted with pin-prick stars, making it a lovely night for sleeping outside.

Abbi had declared the cab of the truck was now a tent fort and had stolen all the extra blankets and towels to turn it into a cozy little space.

She had also informed Lu and me that we were not allowed. Lorde was allowed. So, she and the dog and Hado, in tiny kitten form, were tucked up front, Abbi giggling and Lorde softly barking now and then.

Lu and I sat on the tailgate of Silver, our legs swinging, the quilt Ricky had given her across our laps. Franny had packed us beer, and it was cold, the outside of the bottle wet from melting ice.

I rubbed my thumb over the label absently, staring at the land, the sky, the huge horizon all around us.

“They could have taken the book,” Lula said.

“Raven and Bathin?”

She hummed. The book was still stored in the box the witches had given us. It was in the bed of the truck, locked in the metal tool case we’d put behind the driver’s seat.

Did it feel secure?

No.

Did it feel powerful?

Strangely, also no.

I didn’t know if it was the witch spells, Abbi’s spells, or just the fact that the book had chosen us, chosen Lu to be able to touch it, chosen me to be able to speak its spells—not that I ever intended to do such a dangerous thing.

But maybe now that it had gotten most of what it wanted, it was doing what it could to keep itself hidden.

I mean, it’d been hidden for years beneath a collapsed shed back in Illinois. I supposed it could stay hidden in our truck.

Wouldn’t that be a nice change?

“They said they can’t touch it,” I said. “Raven went on about how it would break some sort of rule of him being on vacation. Whatever that means.”

She turned the bottle between her fingers, thinking. “Trickster god and a demon.”

“Demon prince or king, or something,” I said.

“Demon prince or king,” she corrected. “Are we going to trust what they say?”

The next shot of beer went down like ice and electricity, hitting my stomach hard and spreading out a different kind of warmth.

“Agreeing to take the book to Ordinary doesn’t break our promise to Cupid,” I said.

“He’d want us to give it to him.”

“Unless he doesn’t,” I said. “He’s a god. He might already know we have it. Might not want to be more involved unless he has to be.”

She took a sip of beer and leaned a little closer to me. I put my arm down behind her back and pulled her in.

“He knows where we are,” she said.

“I assume so.”

“When he comes to get it, will we hand it over?”

“We’ll decide that when he comes.”

“I think Raven and Bathin are telling the truth,” she said. “About Ordinary. I think they might be telling the truth about the library. Ricky does too.”

I hummed and tipped the bottle and took another gulp. I agreed.

She leaned her head on my shoulder.

“Party was really good,” she murmured. “That cake.”

“That cake,” I agreed. We had about a quarter of it left, carefully wrapped and stored in the cooler. I had a feeling we’d finish it off at breakfast if Abbi didn’t try to steal it in the middle of the night.

“Thank you,” she said.

I tightened my arm to hold her closer and took another drink.

“Oh.” She pointed at the sky. Between the break in the clouds, a bright star burned as it shot downward.

Moonlight spun like soft silver across her face, making her glow. “Make a wish, Brogan Gauge.”

“I already have,” I said. “It came true.”

“Me?” she asked.

“Always and only,” I said.

Her smile was filled with love, yes. But even more, it held hope for good days ahead, and if we were very, very lucky, a life we could live, happily ever onward.