No, I figured I’d go down in a blaze of glory—sword slashing, blood everywhere—perhaps during the final battle called Armageddon.Jimmy’s fingers tightened on mine, and the panic that had threatened receded. At least we were together. At least he hadn’t pulled away again.Then we landed with a thud in a cool, gray, misty world, and Jimmy did pull away. I blinked and dirt cascaded off my lashes. I scrubbed it from my face, my eyes, my hair, then glanced up. The sky was brown; the earth beneath our feet swirled like a cloud.“Upside down,” Jimmy murmured.We stood. The mist was so thick we couldn’t see anything but each other.“Now what, Sherlock?” Jimmy asked.“We find the Dagda.”“By wandering around blindly, dropping off the edge of time and into a hell dimension?”Music flowed on the mist; it sounded like a—“Harp.” I smiled. “They don’t play harps in hell.”“How do you know? If I were a demon—”“You are.”“Do you really want to throw that stone?”Good point.“If I were a demon,”
