Page 67 of Aftermarket Afterlife

“Meaning I customarily make the trip by going from here to New York the long way around.”

I stared at her for a moment, trying to reconcile the distance she’d just cited with my assumptions. It didn’t work. In the end, I had to let it go, because trying to wrap my head all the way around it would have taken too much time. “Fine,” I said. “You can get to England. Are you willing to go once you know where you’re trying to wind up?”

“I came here, I can go there,” said Sarah. “Why do I need to go there?”

“Because if you go there and you shout for me, I can come to you, guaranteed,” I said. “My aim isn’t that great anymore unless I have someone I’m aimingfor.”

“And why are we going to Penton Hall?” asked Sarah.

“So we can make the Covenant sorry,” I said, grimly. “So we can make them stop.”

“I’m coming with you,” said Annie.

Thirteen

“People have some pretty wild ideas about what life after death is going to be like. And I’m telling you, a lot of it is like watching paint dry, forever.”

—Rose Marshall

Standing in the barn, trying to make sense of what I just heard

FOR A MOMENT, WEall stared at Antimony, even Sarah, who was generally unflappable these days. I guess learning how to rip holes in dimensions will do that for you. Sam recovered first.

“Like fuck you are,” he said.

Antimony turned to glower at him. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Oh, you mean don’t tell you to go back to the den of the assholes who want to kill your entire family, now that we know for sure that they know who you are and how to spot you on sight? Don’t tell you not to take a pointless risk when the dead lady and the girl who no longer respects linear space are perfectly happy to take it for you? Don’t say how much I prefer you alive and breathing?”

“You don’t have any right to tell me what to do, Sam. I love you, but—”

“Will you marry me?”

Antimony stopped dead.

“What.”

“Here.” He produced a little black velvet box from inside his pocket, holding it awkwardly toward her as he got down on one knee. “I mean, fuck. I was planning to do this over the weekend—it’s why I made us dinner reservations at that steak place you wanted to try. I was going to take you somewhere nice, feed you too much protein so you couldn’t run away, and then talk you into it. I’m convincing when you’re slipping into a meat coma.”

“Sam...”

“But now you want to go and commit a really elaborate form of suicide, and you’re not going to do that without me, so will you marry me? Like, actually marry me, so you can’t say things like I don’t have any right to tell you not to go die messy?”

“Marriage isn’t some sort of tether that means you get to tell me what to do,” said Antimony.

“I know,” said Sam. “But it is a promise that you’ll let me try to be there whenever I can, and you won’t go off without telling me. So even though this is a shitty version of what was going to be a really nice proposal, will youpleasemarry me?”

“Will you get up if I say yes?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, yes. I’ll marry you.” She took the little black box out of his hand and opened it, revealing an equally black ring in a braided knotwork pattern, with several small diamonds set into the band. “Diamonds, Sam? Really?”

“They’re the strongest gemstone in the world, and they’re pretty heat-resistant,” he said, standing and taking the box back in order to remove the ring. “The band is tungsten. It’s themostheat-resistant metal used in jewelry, and one of the strongest. May I put this on you?”

“Dad helped you with this, didn’t he?” she asked, holding out her hand to let him put the ring on.

“Yeah. It’s not like I asked his permission or anything—we both knew that would just piss you off—but I asked for his help, which was a way of getting his permission without wording it in a patronizing manner.” He slid the ring onto her finger, where it fit perfectly. “I love you, Antimony Price.”

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