He links his fingers with mine, his voice gentle. “Let’s take it slowly, then. We have all the time in the world.”

I exhale. “Yeah, that would be good.”

He tilts his head to one side, listening. “Especially since they haven’t sent out a search party yet.” He grins. “Shall we find another way to cause trouble?”

“Sure.” I give his fingers a squeeze. “How about exploring more of the maze?”

He kisses the tip of my nose. “That is a great idea.”

20

I sit in Betsy’s shabby front seat, still wearing Lincoln’s tunic. The evening sky is giving over to morning; a soft glow lines the horizon. I think through last night with Lincoln and smile my face off. We walked through the maze for hours, talking. I now know his favorite kind of music (jazz), least favorite word (moist), and nastiest all-time fear (invasion of Antrum). We debated which demons are hardest to fight, easiest to track, and have the worst personal hygiene. I explained to him at length why Frankenberry cereal rocks, Cissy and Zeke can get annoying, and reruns on the Human Channel are the bomb. Poor guy doesn’t even have a phone, they’re so nuts about security in Antrum, let alone television. I felt it my moral duty to educate him.

I bang the steering wheel with my fist. Damn, I forgot to ask him how he knows Walker! Note to self: ask that next time for sure.

Twisting the key in the ignition, I rev the engine. Betsy doesn’t buck or cough smoke as I drive off. I grin. Sometimes, everything goes your way.

The good luck continues once I get home. I tiptoe around the back of the house and fiddle with the bathroom window. It slides open without a hitch. Awesome. I shimmy inside and sneak into my bedroom. Slipping off Lincoln’s tunic, I throw on a gray nightie and slide into bed.

I’m feeling quite proud of my sneaky self when my bedroom door swings open. Mom’s outline appears in the darkened threshold. “Where have you been, Myla Lewis?”

She’s using my full name. I’m in trouble.

“I went to a party with Cissy.” I fluff my pillow under my head. “I know I should’ve told you.”

“Yes, you should have.”

“Now I’m back and safe. I have school tomorrow. Can we talk about it in the morning?”

Mom pauses, then lets out a long breath. “I suppose so.” She wags her finger at me. “But you’re in big trouble, young lady.”

Her threat bounces off my wall of inner bliss. “You got it, Mom. We’ll talk in the morning.” I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.