Melissa Marr - The Arrivals

In the other room, Edgar and Kitty locked the door and didn’t come out for hours.

Things in the house were far from what Chloe had once considered normal, but she wasn’t sure that she wanted the kind of normal she’d once sought. She glanced at Jack, and together they walked to the sitting room, where they’d been spending hours talking about everything from how to handle Ajani’s possessions to movies she’d seen back home.

They closed the door behind them, and for a moment they stood staring at each other. Chloe wasn’t sure there were words enough to explain the things she’d figured out the past couple of days, but she owed it to Jack and to herself to try.

“I’m not ready for this,” she started.

Jack nodded, but he still frowned.

Chloe took the nod as encouragement to keep talking. “A few days ago I lived in a world with televisions, smartphones, and about a million other things that don’t exist in the Wasteland. That world also lacks the kinds of monsters that are here, and”—she caught his gaze and held it—“also the kind of men here.”

The way she felt in his arms wasn’t the sort of thing she wanted to ignore—neither was the fact that he was a good man. He’d stood by his sister, put her well-being before his own, and that kind of devotion was rare. He’d protected his team, tried to make the Wasteland a better place, and didn’t put his own needs before anyone’s. Even now, he was looking at her with concern.

“I’m sorry, Chloe. Katherine can’t endure the idea of killing someone in order to send you back. She thought about doing it to Hector after what he did, but . . . she’s sick of killing,” he said.

“I chose to stay,” she reminded him.

The frown he wore vanished, replaced with a look of hope. “I’m sorry I called you Mary. Before, I mean.” He swallowed nervously. “She was a good friend, but I meant what I said. We weren’t what you and I . . . what I mean is . . . I’m hoping that you and me . . .” His words faded, and he pulled her to him and kissed her.

Chloe didn’t resist. Of all the things in this world that didn’t make sense, she was pretty sure that this did. Her lips parted under his, and her arms wrapped around him.

When he pulled away from the kiss, she kept her arms around him and murmured, “Me too. I want to get to know you, Jack.”

He smiled. “I’m awfully glad you’re not hurt. Ajani and I had an accord of sorts, that we didn’t force anyone to side with either of us, but I wanted to . . . I would’ve broken all the rules for you if I could have.” Jack leaned his forehead against hers. “I don’t remember the last time I let my own wants get in the way of the good of the group. You’re different. This is . . . not just lust.”

“Good.” Chloe laughed a little at both of them. He’d stayed pressed up against her so tightly that she was having a difficult time not telling him to shut up so they could get back to kissing. In a not so subtle move, she rocked her hips forward. Jack slid his hand up her spine, holding her to him.

Chloe stilled as she heard Kitty’s voice. “You need to go slowly, Edgar. What if—” Her words ended abruptly on a squeal and a thump.

Chloe and Jack exchanged a look. “You two need your own house,” Chloe yelled. “I’ll even give you this one. Early wedding present.”

Jack laughed, and she led him outside to the courtyard. Once they were away from the blissful couple, Chloe continued, “I’m staying, and since I am, maybe we can go on some sort of dates or whatever, too.” She smiled at him, the new governor, as they stood in the courtyard of one of her houses and teased, “If you wanted, you could court me.”

Jack’s bemused expression was endearing as he loosened his hold on her. He cleared his throat and said, “I don’t know the rules for your time, but I can try.”

Chloe tilted her head so her lips were closer to his ear and whispered, “In my time, courting doesn’t mean no lust, Jack. It just means we do other things too.”

The wicked smile he gave her was enough to make Chloe glad he already had his arms around her.

The Coffin Text used by Ajani to open wormholes and assign himself deathlessness is modified from Coffin Text 1031. To the best of my knowledge, Egyptian spells have absolutely no connection to wormholes, nor would travel through a wormhole allow a person deathlessness.

Saloon girls didn’t use modern idiomatic phrases. If Kitty were back in her rightful time (late 1800s), she would not have said, “Seriously!” The characters use language from eras other than their birth eras to reflect their years spent in the Wasteland with people from later eras. If you do happen to fall into a wormhole and end up in an 1800s Wild West town, do avoid giving yourself away by using modern phrases.

Each character’s name is selected for meaning as well as a vague sense of “fitting” that I can’t explain in any remotely rational way. Here are a few of my etymology notes that started the book.

• Jack (Jackson Reed)—diminutive form of John (God is gracious) or Jackson (son of Jack)

• Katherine (Reed)—pure

• Chloe (Mattison)—verdant and blooming

• Edgar (Cordova)—rich spear

• Francis (Miller)—free

• Melody (Blankenbecker)—song tune

• Hector (Soto)—anchor, steadfast

• Ajani—he who wins the struggle

• Garuda—king of birds

• bloedzuiger—literally “bloodsucker”

• Verrot—rot/rotten

• lindwurm—a wingless dragon of Nordic folklore

• cynanthropy—a mania in which the patient thinks he is a dog

My sincere gratitude goes to the following people without whom this book would be nothing more than incoherent scrawls scattered throughout various notebooks and on the backs of receipts:

Liate Stehlik, Kate Nintzel, Seale Ballenger, Jean Marie Kelly, Brianne Halverson, and Shawn Nicholls astounded me with stellar support for Graveminder as I was writing this book. You’ve all been quite kickass.

Ashley (via her mother, Stephanie) lent me her name through winning a charity auction. Meeting you at FaerieCon made me smile, so I hope your namesake in the story makes you smile.

Dr. Scott Paulson answered my physics questions, so I could try to grasp the possibilities of timespace (although the physics in the text was quite corrupted by the liberties I took). You’re still very patient.

My research assistant, Christopher Scheirer, procured articles on various oddities (all while working on his PhD). My personal assistant, Laura Kalnajs, read and proofread this book repeatedly—all while keeping my daily chaos in check. Thank you both.

Merrilee Heifetz has had the unenviable task of handling my bouts of crazy, and I’m ever indebted to you for the unwavering faith in this (and every other thing). You are an amazing guardian/warrior angel.

Kelley Armstrong and Jeaniene Frost repeatedly assured me that I could write this book. You were ultimately right, but I’m not sure if I could’ve done it without your cheering.

Dylan shared cryptid expertise, as well as his stacks of books and DVDs to help me build monsters. Asia read drafts and reminded me that I have, in fact, written books before so could do this again. Clearly, I’m the luckiest mother in all of the possible universes because you are my children.

Loch provided emotional support, food, and caffeine; he read drafts and listened without impatience as I ranted, rearranged furniture, and planned last-minute family vacations. Your steadiness is enough to merit awards.