Page 62 of Captivating Magic

“Already on it. I contacted him after Alex returned.”

“Why hasn’t Castor’s present self woken? Is that normal?”

“It’s odd, that’s for sure,” Alastair agreed with a check of his watch. “I’ll give him another ten minutes of beauty rest, but he’ll?—”

“What the actual fuck!” Castor shouted, surging up from the lawn chair they’d laid him on.

“Ah, right on time and surly as ever upon waking.” Alastair shot Lo an amused smile. To Castor, he said. “Your future self paid us a visit.”

“Fucking hell! What now? What was so damned important that I had to break cosmic rules to fuck with a timeline?”

“The accident scheduled to happen in fifty minutes.”

“What accident?” Castor growled, dropping his legs on either side of the recliner and leaning forward to cradle his head in his hands. “The hangover from that shit is off the charts,” he muttered, tapping the heel of his palm to his forehead. “Stop doing that.”

“Weird. Does his future self ever listen?” Lo asked in a quiet voice.

Alastair chuckled. “Alex never listens to anyone but Damian, and that’s selective.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Castor asked, still testy but curious.

“Laszlo Thorne. Cousin to Al and brother to Liz.”

He grunted as he rubbed his temples. “Why are you translucent?”

“It was the only way I could hitch a ride with you to the past, or what’s considered your present.”

“Got it.” He sighed heavily and met Lo’s watchful gaze. “Out with it. What am I preventing?”

“It’s what you’re not preventing.” Alastair held out a hand to help him up. “You need to get to the bend in the road?—”

Lightning zigzagged across the evening sky, and thunder shook the earth.

“No rain in the forecast, Al. What do you make of it?” Castor asked with a sharp glance around.

“Magical. Goddess, if I’m not mistaken.”

The next streak of light was vertical, splitting the veil between worlds. Isis stepped through the gap and looked none too happy. But her pique might’ve been because of the woman trailing in her wake. Death sauntered forward, and although her black hood hid most of her face, Lo had the sense her expression was smug.

“Laszlo Thorne,” Death purred his name. “You’ve been a bad boy.”

“Not yet,” he quipped, stealing a snarky comeback from Castor’s bag.

She hissed her displeasure.

Lo met Isis’s amused gaze and almost lost control of his jaw when she winked.

“You’ve come to circumvent the demise of Ebba James and Spencer Barlowe,” Death accused. “Deny it if you will.”

“Iamdenying it.” He met the deities in the middle of the lawn. “I’m here to stop the Traveler from binding Ebba’s soul to earth after the accident.”

“I do that?” Castor sounded impressed. “Who knew I had such a cool superpower?”

“I did,” Isis replied with a warm smile. “Your execution needs work, though.”

He laughed.

Death waved them off and stepped closer to Lo. “I don’t believe you. You’ve repeatedly claimed you won’t turn over the renegade soul to me, failing in your job as a Reaper’s assistant.”

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