Page 39 of Grave Expectations

He sat at her desk, his head nodded forward in sleep. He wore his preferred change of clothes. His face still showed his bruises, but the crusted blood and dirt was gone.

He was whole. He was here.

Or was she there? Had she died? Oh goddess, she needed to --

She flopped off the bed and onto the floor and it hurt. Okay, so not dead.

Alaric jolted in the seat, instantly on alert. He dropped to his knees when he saw her on the floor, gingerly gathering her in his arms.

“You’re here,” she croaked. Her throat was so sore she had to swallow a few times before the words formed.

“I am,” he affirmed. He smoothed her hair from her face and kissed her forehead gingerly.

“I did it,” she said, louder now.

“Yes, you did, you extraordinary witch.”

“If you’re mad at me, you’ll have to deal with it,” she continued.

“I’m not,” he said. “Though I wish there was some other way to be here without taking from you.”

“I feel—” She was about to say fine, but she couldn’t lie to him. “Like shit. But a good shit, like when you work out really hard at the gym.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what that’s like.”

“When you build a house, and you have splinters and you’re sore, but you know it will fade…and now you have a house,” she amended.

“Alright,” he said after a pause. She looked up at him, suddenly serious.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” she said.

“I did too,” he said.

“What happened?”

“Selma thinks the tether was attached to the curse. I was technically still in purgatory, and the tether was keeping me here, and once I was removed from purgatory, the tether snapped,” Alaric said. “And when we tried to rejoin it, it couldn’t hold, because I was free.”

“Selma was here?” she winced.

“I needed someone who could tend to you. I hope you’re not angry.”

“No, she was the right choice. I’m surprised she’s not still here.”

“She left a few minutes ago—something about your sister.”

Roz winced. She’d been so caught up in her own stuff she’d forgotten about Delia. She made a mental note to visit her later.

“What day is it?”

“Saturday afternoon,” Alaric said.

“Like, the next day? Or like…a week later?” Roz asked.

“Next day,” Alaric said.

Roz sighed. “Well, we can still make the Pumpkin Festival, at least.”

“You need rest,” Alaric said.