“I couldn’t just start killing people. That wasn’t really my thing.”

“With his nose in my hair, he inhaled deeply before putting a light kiss on my cheek. “Have you come to play?” he asked then kissed me again. “No.” I cringed when he drew my earlobe into his mouth. “I came to help you. That’s all. I swear.” “I’d rather play.”

“I’m calling this place the Tardis,” she said, continuing to scan the different locations. “We’re not calling it the Tardis,” I said. Of course, if she knew what it could really do, I’d never change her mind. “Why the hell not?” she asked. “Copyright infringement.”

“I’d like to say it could have been worse. I’m sure lots of people hate their job, or their boss, or the people they work with. I just couldn’t relate to those people. They have options. They can quit their job, move out of town, or drop off the grid. The only option I had was a guaranteed one-way ticket to Hell when I died, and that didn’t include dental.”

“I headed for my office, but stopped when I saw my laptop on the couch. Sorrel had obviously borrowed it—again—without permission. I grabbed it, wondering what questionable site he’d left on the screen this time and making a mental note to run the anti-virus software. After taking a shower, putting on my pajamas, and fixing an ice cream sundae for dinner—yes, it was one of those days—I sat down at my desk and pulled up the web browser.”

“Is that true?” The Boss asked Mace. Without even batting an eye, Mace said, “Yes.”“And you agreed?” The Boss questioned. “Of course. Anything for my queen,” he said, holding his glass up to me in a mock toast.”

“I couldn’t just start killing people. That wasn’t really my thing.”

“The blue of winter, the brown of spring, the red of summer, and the fall of green. I seek the place of treasures past. I seek the truth of sand and glass. I call to the wind of seasons past. I bring with me the best of summer. I am the one with whom you bask. Deliver me and complete your task.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “We won’t be having slumber parties and spa days any time soon.” “I quite like spa days.”

“I eyed the sheriff. “So I better be breathing when He finds me.” “Who the hell are you talking about?” the sheriff blurted. I chuckled. The postman sneered at the sheriff. “She means the Demon King. The Devil. This is a phone from Hell—the real one.”

“What exactly did you expect me to do? I told The Boss what you said, but he’s not going to budge. Nobody gets dental.”