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TWENTY-TWO

Okay Okay Okay It&039;ll be okay Juststay calm It&039;ll be okay It&039;s okay Okay It&039;s fine It&039;s okay She&039;s wrong, is all, or lying She&039;s not just a liar, she&039;s the daughter of the lord of theot bad intel, is all I don&039;t kill Sinclair and skin him and turn him into the Book of the Dead I don&039;t don&039;t don&039;t don&039;t don&039;t don&039;t

Nope Shake it somewhere else, Satan, &039;cuz this vaood to have that settled

I ran froed for the closet I could feel so roped for the nearest receptacle (sadly, it was a Beverly Feldht after UPS dropped it off), tore the lid off, and threw up all over a lovely pair of pewter-colored gladiator sandals

TWENTY-THREE

I&039;d run out and barfed and run back in so quickly, they were all standing right where I&039;d left them

It wasn&039;t true

It wasn&039;t

"You can talk until you drop dead," I told the devil, furtively wiping my mouth-probably time to lay off the banana chocolate s You&039;ll never make me believe it Hear me? Never Shit, Satan, I wouldn&039;t believe you if you told ets hen it rains"

"Then believein the doorway "I did it You will do it"

I did the only sensible thing I ran out and threw up again

TWENTY-FOUR

I staggered back into the parlor, weaving like a coked-up runway model "This is the worst dream I&039;ve ever had"

"You think you know fear?" Ancient Me asked "I&039;h all this a second tilared at Satan "I&039; to wish I&039;d never asked you for that favor"

"That would be two of us, Betsy"

"Don&039;t call me that, it&039;s infantile, you know I loathe it," Ancient Betsy shot back

"I do know you loathe it," Satan agreed cheerfully "Yes"

"And that right there is the source of your problems," Laura pointed out

Meanwhile, Marc and Sinclair were looking froain "Okay," Marc finally said, "don&039;t killSo we&039;ll put my murder on the back burner for now And no wonder the Book of the Dead follows you everywhere! It&039;s Sinclair!"

"It&039;s not Sinclair!"

"It absolutely is Sinclair," Ancient Me confirmed

"Why are you here?" I cried "Don&039;t you have a future wasteland to lord over?"

Ancient Betsy, wearing yet another awful gray sweater dress with pilled elbows and a ragged hem that dropped a few inches past her knees, looked more ticked than ever "Because of you, numbskull You&039;ll have to fix this I can&039;t, more&039;s the pity"

"How am I supposed to-"

"I Don&039;t Know!" Ancient Me snapped "But you had better figure out a way You&039;re the one screwing up the timeline My memories haven&039;t been reliable since you two showed up in eneral direction "Your future"

"Okay, first? Buff the nails, Decrepit Me"

"I&039;m not decrepit; we look exactly alike"

"Except for your eyes," Sinclair said quietly "Your eyes are not at all the sa at my beloved husband "Quite a lot of this is your fault"