Chapter 72
Never thought I’d be glad to see this
place.”
“Amen.”
“Ah! Back so soon.”
The Ant was at the receptionist’s desk, still dead, and still with
awful hair. “How was it?”
I pointed. After
facing Jerk-off Me, I was in no mood for her idea of banter. “Get
Laura’s other mother. Right now.”
To my surprise, the
Ant popped out of sight. She was maybe doing my bidding and maybe
searching for a few thousand boa constrictors to fill the waiting
room with. Either way, she was out of our hair for a few
minutes.
“I think it’s
fixable.”
Laura nodded. “It’s
worth trying, if nothing else. You said she was
freaked?”
“Completely. And she
said things—things she hadn’t meant to say. She seemed surprised.
And—not hopeful, not really, but maybe less . . .
resigned?”
Laura was still
nodding. “Okay. It’s better than nothing. We were able to prove to
her—and more important, to us—that the future isn’t
set.”
“There’s no fate but
that which we make for ourselves.”
“That’s from
The Terminator.”
“Yeah, which will now
be known as Time Travel 101.”
“I think—I think one
of the things I have to do is what my mother wants. Take over hell;
take her job. But not the way she thinks. Not the way Future You
thought. I’ll take hell, but it’ll be on my terms, not
Satan’s.”
I was nodding, too,
reluctantly. I hated the thought of Laura stuck in that awful job,
but if we were going to save the world from me, we’d need some
big-time power. I didn’t see the devil lifting a finger. So it
would be up to Laura to lift the fingers, so to speak.
Besides, she looked
human but really wasn’t. No more than I was. She couldn’t hide from
her destiny in the suburbs the way I had tried to.
“Maybe that’s what
the book meant. Maybe instead of taking over our world, you’ll take
over hell.”
“We’re on exactly the
same page,” she agreed.
“I have to say, not
worrying about you taking over this world will be a load off my
mind.”
“Um . . . Betsy? Is
it just me, or ... ?” Laura gestured.
She’d noticed what I
had seen the minute I realized we were back in the waiting room.
All the locked doors were gone; there was just the door
out. The one back into hell proper, for
lack of a better word.
“Of course,” the
devil said, materializing behind the desk.
“Of course
what?” I wouldn’t deny it: all the time
traveling had made me grumpy. “I hate when you’re
cryptic.”
“Sorry,” Satan
yawned.
“Why now?” Laura
asked. “We tried and tried to get out before.”
“The exit appeared
because you needed it to appear. Before, you only wanted it to
appear.”
“Oh, not Zen-in-hell
bullshit,” I groaned.
“Sorry,” Satan said.
“I don’t make the rules.” Then she laughed cheerfully. “That’s not
true! I do make the rules!”
“It’s so creepy when
you laugh,” I observed.
“Almost as creepy as
when I don’t. So, questions? Comments? Ah . . .” She trailed off at
my eager expression. “Perhaps not comments. Maybe you should just
go home.”
“Maybe I will,” I
agreed.
So, with Laura’s
help, I did.