The second they were gone, Bodhi looked at me and said, “So what now? You still want to finish your vacation? We never did check out the town.”
But I just shook my head. As far as I was concerned, my little vacay was o-v-e-r. No matter how cool that town was reputed to be, no way could it hold a candle to the places I’d been.
I’d just experienced the kind of amazing St. John adventure that could never be found in any brochure, which pretty much guaranteed that anything that followed would only pale in comparison.
“So what, then?” He crouched down to pet Buttercup, while still gazing at me. “You wanna go somewhere else? The Council’s not expecting us back any time soon, which means we can pretty much do whatever we want.”
I narrowed my gaze, drummed my fingers hard against my hips, and took a little time to analyze what he’d just said.
Why was he trying so hard to keep me at a party that was so clearly over?
Was he baiting me?
Trying to trick me by seeing if I’d choose lingering in St. John over heading back to the Here & Now and face the repercussions for taking on a job that hadn’t been assigned to me?
Or was he serious about continuing the vacation?
And if so, for what reason?
Was it so we could continue to get to know each other better?
Because, quite frankly, after experiencing what it was like to be him during that whole scene with Nicole, I was pretty much feeling like I knew him better than I ever wanted to, thankyouverymuch.
And, I have to say, the longer I pondered, the more of a conundrum I found myself in—one in which I was, yet again, torn between both the more rational and paranoid sides of me.
“Let’s go,” I said, nodding firmly so he’d know I was serious. “Let’s just make our way back.”
He looked at me, his eyes gone all squinty as he made some totally disgusting slurping sound with his straw.
“Seriously. I mean, we’re almost there anyway, so why delay any further?”
And the way he looked at me, well, let’s just say it was so revealing, I couldn’t help but realize that Bodhi wasn’t actually baiting me per se—it was more like he was baiting himself through me.
He was the one who didn’t want to return.
He was the one who was afraid to go before the Council.
After everything we’d just accomplished, which was pretty dang major if I do say so myself, he was feeling pretty insecure about how it might go over—doubting the Council would view it in his favor.
After all, his job was to guide me, and if you think about it in its most basic terms, it was pretty clear he’d totally failed on that one.
He’d tried to guide me toward not going after the Hell Beast. But did I listen? Of course not! I just willfully went off on my own, leaving him with no choice but to chase me down, and even so, once he caught up with me, he still couldn’t stop me—he’d had no choice but to follow my lead.
The thought alone made me feel bad.
Maybe even a tiny bit ashamed of myself.
Clearly, I was just as difficult to guide in my death as I had been in life.
I was still stubborn, still impulsive, still impatient—I was all the awful things he’d accused me of being and more.
It was as though nothing had changed—or at least nothing having to do with my personality anyway.
And yet, as he himself said earlier, I’d had every right to exercise my free will.
And no one, not even my guide, could rob me of that.
“Let’s go,” I repeated, glancing over my shoulder to see Buttercup running, trying to catch up with me. “We can fly, we can walk, we can ignore the bridge and take the long, scenic route if you want. I’ll leave that up to you. In the end, it all leads back to the same place. It all leads back home.”