Page 113 of World's Okayest Oracle (Reluctantly) Seeks Demon

Rearing up on her knees again, she began performing CPR. Two-handed chest compressions. Rescue breaths that smeared Josiah’s blood all over Hugh’s mouth too. Because the demon she loved couldn’t begoneso quickly, and maybe she could somehow—

Movement out of the corner of her eye. As Gwen continued chest compressions, she stole a frantic look over at Hugh’s sister, who was running toward Josiah’s unrecognizable body.

With a banshee scream, Eloise leapt atop Josiah and—in one swift, furious stab of her stolen kitchen knife—skewered him directly in his malevolent, unprotected heart.

Its steady beat faltered, then stilled entirely.

“Dead.” Eloise spat on the fae’s corpse. “Good riddance.”

She rose and stumbled to her brother’s side, her chest hitching with silent tears. And although she didn’t interfere with Gwen’s efforts, she didn’t participate either.

“Gwennie…” Her ragged, hiccupping words were very gentle. “He’s gone. Please stop.”

“I—” Gwen’s voice broke, and she bowed her head. Pushed harder. “I c-can’t.”

Then she had to squint against a radiant burst of light, an illumination so bright that she had to blink away spots before she could see anything else. Heartbroken and bewildered, she kept performing chest compressions as she gaped up at the judges’ dais…

Where, to her numb disbelief, the flesh-and-blood version of the Sexy Satan statue had suddenly appeared. Flanked by his trio of Fates, shirtless and aggrieved, Death surveyed the blood and bodies littering his courtroom floor and clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

“I’m surprised to find the councilor in such a sorry state.” His gaze lingered on Hugh’s lifeless form. “I suppose his gesture was nobly intended, but it was also remarkably impulsive. I can’t say that I approve.”

“You don’t approve? My brother died to save his girlfriend and maybe the entire fucking world, and you don’tapprove?” Her pretty face red and twisted with furious grief, Eloise clambered to her feet and thrust a finger in Death’s direction. “You can take your approval, motherfucker, and shove it where—”

He gave a casual flick of his hand, and Eloise’s diatribe was no longer audible even though her mouth was still moving. “Iappreciate your defense of your twin, guardian Blacke. Much like your brother’s sacrifice, however, it was overly hasty and entirely unnecessary.”

His neck twisted, and he met the eyes of the nearest Fate, a wizened crone in oversized glasses. The two of them appeared to communicate without a sound before he returned his attention to an outraged, bereft, crying, silently yelling Eloise.

“Don’t weep, little one.” His voice had softened. “Your brother voted to increase funding for the Realm’s afterlife-record digitization project during SERC’s latest session. I suppose I owe him a favor.”

With another graceful flick of his hand, the world as Gwen knew it went…wonky.

Time abruptly slowed, as if she were moving through a corridor of molasses. Paused while she stared, helplessly frozen, at the motionless tableau before her.

Then it reversed itself.

Chest compression. Hand flick. Death’s silent conversation with a Fate. Chest compression. Eloise’s forefinger aimed at the Realm Below’s supervisor. An empty dais. Eloise’s stolen knife plunging into Josiah’s heart. A rescue breath blown into Hugh’s mouth.

Gwen skidded away from Hugh’s fallen form and toward her kidnapper. The crust of fluid over her skin vanished as the fae’s body sealed itself back together and rose to stand once more. His hand grasped her throat.

And thank all the gods and goddesses, Hugh rose like a phoenix in a cloud of smoke.

Then everything and everyone went still once more, with one exception: Death, who reappeared on the judges’ raised dais andlooked them over at his leisure, apparently unaffected by his own manipulation of time.

“On the whole, villains would more frequently emerge unscathed from their crimes if they didn’t indulge in lengthy behold-my-evil-genius monologues.” He shook his head at Josiah with weary condescension. “And this particular setting should have highlighted the finite nature of usable time. Alas.”

He sighed as an oversized, steaming Starbucks mug appeared in his hand. “I suppose everyone should take a seat and tell me what you’re doing here.”

With his next wrist flick, time resumed its forward momentum.

When they’d first lived this moment, Hugh had raised his fists a split second later to turn his former mentor inside out—and extinguished himself in the process.

Thankfully, everything was different this go-round. Before Hugh could sacrifice himself, an unseen hand plucked Gwen from Josiah’s grip and unceremoniously plopped her on a wooden chair that faced the judges’ dais, behind a large, gleaming table. Eloise and Hugh landed in chairs on either side of her. Yet another chair scooped up Josiah and planted him behind a matching table to Gwen’s right, across the courtroom’s central aisle.

For a full minute afterward, Gwen sat gaping and speechless, too shaken to move. Beside her, Hugh and Eloise remained equally motionless and silent.

Josiah didn’t utter a peep either. Not even when the Fates suddenly reappeared at the judges’ curved table and lowered themselves into intricately carved chairs on either side of Death, silent and stone-faced.

“I forget how long they stay like this after a rewind.” Deathturned to the nearest Fate, whose mahogany skin gleamed in the courtroom’s bright lights. “Remind me?”