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“Quentin is no longer in control,” says Demetria in a sharp tone, like a manager trying to get her employees back on task.
“We know. We found him.” Kingsley repeats the explanation of the giant crystal in the cave. “Just have to figure out how to release him.”
Demetria shakes her head. “Quentin Arnbury cannot exist in this dimension—or be released here. The crystalline substance is an intermediary plane protecting his soul from destruction. Think of it as a shelter more than a prison.”
“It’s still holding him here rather than letting his soul return to his body in our world,” I say. “That’s still a prison as far as I’m concerned.”
“Wait.” Tammy raises her hand and looks at me. “Didn’t Quentin get trapped in this world once already? Remember what Elizabeth did to him? His own characters put him on trial for all the evil stuff he put them through. He was all kinds of freaked out and shell shocked.”
Demetria blinks. “I do not see how that would be possible. A creator cannot physically enter the world they’ve made without destroying it.”
“He didn’t end up in this exact world,” I say, taking a deep breath. Gah, this dimensional stuff is confusing. “Elizabeth didn’t send him to his world. She sent him to some other tiny alternate reality she created that looked like it. All the worlds she sent us to, she either made herself or chose because of certain painful differences. There are billions of alternate dimensions. Simple mathematical chance says that at least a handful are going to turn out somewhat similar in some respects, but not all. Like, the world where I ran into myself as a nine-year-old pyromaniac, by random chance our family came into existence there, too in an almost exact parallel to the world we are from—just with a few key and rather painful differences. At least, the differences seemed tiny. For all I know, in that reality, the South won the Civil War or Germany won World War II or any of a million different things wouldn’t be the same. Elizabeth either found a world very similar to this one to throw him into, or she made a tiny demi-plane to mess with him.”
Tammy flashes a cheesy smile. “Oh, okay. That makes sense. So, I guess if he can’t exist where we are now, it’s proof we’re really in the world he created?”
I nod. “Seems that way.”
“Is it safe for us to go home yet?” asks Damon.
Lindsey gawks at him. “Are you nuts? Go home now? I have to see how this turns out. I’m invested.”
Damon opens his mouth to say something, but she’s not quite done.
“Wait… you want to go home? Not back to your castle?” Lindsey stares. “You’re not really Lord Ceomar, but Damon Michaels?”
Tammy gives her side eye. “We’ve been calling him Damon for the past two hours. Where have you been?”
Lindsey seems about to faint. After a moment of paralysis, she gives off a squee of delight, then bounces on the sofa. “Oh-emm-gee! I’m really in the same room with Damon Michaels?”
“Yes, you are.” Damon smiles like he’s genuinely flattered to have someone fangirling all over him.
“Oh, wow… oh…” Lindsey hyperventilates. “I wanna ask for your autograph or a selfie but…”
“No pens, no phones,” I say. “That can wait, right?”
Lindsey swoons back on the sofa, being dramatic and muttering to herself how she ‘can’t believe’ she’s literally in the same room with one of her favorite actors who’s legit famous.
Demetria frowns at her, then shifts her gaze to me. “Nesanth is aware you are here and that you’re trying to interfere with her.”
Tammy sits up. “Wouldn’t that mean she’s also aware that you are here and trying to mess with her, too? Kinda weird you’re not trying to be more subtle.”
“Not at all, dear.” Demetria grins at her like she’s a little child who just said something painfully adorable. “It is far more rewarding for me if she knows I am working to stop her and she still loses despite seeing me coming every step of the way.”
Wow. I get the feeling these two have been at each other’s throats for a long time. This is almost ninth-grade levels of cattiness coming from her. Bet Nesanth stole her potion bottles in dark master school or something.
Allison giggles at that thought.
Demetria gestures at me and Kingsley. “I will arrange for the local high society to regard the two of you as visiting nobles from Stonnebrin.”
Tammy groans.
“What?” I peer at her.
“Oh, come on, ma. Stonnebrin’s supposedly teeming with werewolves.” She gestures emphatically at Kingsley.
Demetria flashes a coy smile, making no secret she knows exactly what he is.
“Not supposedly,” says Damon. “It is full of them.”
