“I don’t know shit about that!” Mookie roars, and he picks up Burnsy and slams him against the wall. “Don’t you fuck with me, Lister.”

Burnsy talks fast. “I’m just saying I’ve done some reading since I been down here and the old stories say that when you eat of the Underworld, you can’t always leave. Now, that ain’t universally true – shit, the Blue stuff alone makes that clear – but I’ve heard that the Death’s Head is different. That it’s like a trap. It keeps you alive but it also…keeps you, you know what I mean?”

Nora can’t help it. She turns around. Faces away. Arms crossed. The stance of the petulant teen, she thinks, but it helps her. Calms her not to look at them. Her eyes forward, staring down the passage, she can’t help but think: Is this really my home now? This horrible place? She still feels a hard pit in the middle of her. Like a hard stone in the space between her heart and her stomach.

Skelly holds her hand. For a while they just stand. Like people at a funeral, the awkwardness of their grief laid bare. Mookie presses his head against the stone wall of the passage. Burnsy looks down.

Finally, Nora says, “I said I’ll be OK, so I’ll be OK.”

“You can come to Daisypusher,” Burnsy says. “We’ll get you a place.”

“Living among the dead,” Nora says. She just barely manages to stifle a sob. “Awesome. Love it. Let’s do it.” She hears the sarcasm in her voice and feels a stab of shame.

“Better than dying.”

“What happens if I go out there?” she asks. “What happens if I leave?”

Burnsy shrugs. “Not sure we want to find out. Not today.”

“OK. OK.” She sniffles. “Let’s do this. Let’s go.”

She starts to storm forward, back down into depths. Mookie catches her shoulder, but she pulls away. He turns toward the others, asks, “Can you guys give us a minute?”

Skelly kisses her on the brow. Then she goes through the door. Burnsy nods, gives her an awkward clap on the shoulder. He follows after Skelly.

“This can’t be true,” Mookie says. “I’m gonna try to get you out.”

“Good for you. I don’t need your help.” She knows she sounds like a little bitch, but the words keep coming. “Go home, Mookie.”

“Don’t.” He pivots her, looks in her eyes. “Don’t do this. Not now. Don’t pull away. I’m your dad. You’re my baby girl. For a long time I couldn’t take care of you and I’m not gonna lose you now. Not to this place. I’ll fix this.”

She sucks in a deep breath. Hesitates. But then: “OK.”

“OK?”

“I said OK.”

“I love you,” he says. “And I’m so sorry.”