Upon seeing the living room, I pressed a hand to my chest. It was exactly how I remembered: a small, efficient kitchen to the right, a large couch and TV, and very minimal design. In a daze, I walked back the short, narrow hall, passing a bathroom and then entering into the spacious bedroom.
The bed was his—the black sheets, the pillows, and the scent of the sea and something earthy, of burning leaves and man.
But he wasn’t here.
Because he was alive and I, well, I was dead.
I spent hours in that bedroom, soaking up his scent, before I pulled myself away. I opened the back door at the end of the hall and saw the garden—an exact replica of the one on Deity Island, the very one where I had met Grandma Piperi.
Ripe blossoms and rich soils, trees I couldn’t begin to even name, and enough flowers to start a botanical garden. There was even an old stone bench.
I turned back around, staring at the cottage.
Once I’d found my paradise and the sun came back up the following day, the others around me had become visible—houses and apartment buildings of all different sizes, farms, and sprawling cities. And sunny palm trees and snow-capped mountaintops. It was a smorgasbord of every place in the world.
But that wasn’t all.
Paradise was simplistic, centering around needs but not wants. Over the course of time that seemed longer than normal days and nights, I learned how paradise operated.
What you needed, you got. It was as simple as that.
If I needed to be hungry, I would be hungry. And if I needed a juicy steak, it would simply appear after closing my eyes. If I didn’t need to eat, there were no stomach pains. If I needed to wear jeans or a dress, all I had to do was open the closet, and there they would be.
There was more.
Apparently when you died and you were scarred up like I was, you got an after-life make-over.
My hair was long again; it was the length it had been before Ares had given me the beauty-school-dropout haircut. Reaching the middle of my back, the ends were neat, and the strands were shiny and soft. At first, I’d been obsessed with my hair—touching it to make sure it was still there, picking it up and waving it across my face.
When you’re dead, it’s not like you have much else to do.
Up until that very moment, I was still surprised by what I saw. Leaning in until my eyes almost crossed, I studied my reflection in the mirror. The fine network of faint pink scars was gone. They were also gone from my body. I’d been restored, but the afterlife makeover had gone further than that. The daimon tags I’d received when I was in Gatlinburg, those patches of pale white skin on my neck and arms, were healed completely. And if I pulled up my tank top, the jagged scar left behind from Linard’s blade and the first time I’d died was gone too.
Underworld was like a scar-be-gone.
I rocked back on my heels of my bare feet, sighing.
Strangely, what took the most for me to get used to were my eyes. They were different. The irises were brown, like they had been before I’d Awakened, but there was a thin line of amber around the pupils. I didn’t know what that meant or why they were like that.
He…he would’ve been so happy to see my eyes brown again.
The inside of my throat thickened immediately, and I squeezed my eyes shut. I will not cry. I will not cry. Crying was bad in the Underworld, I’d discovered. Once you started, it was hard to stop and could become a one-way ticket to the Vale of Mourning. And that didn’t sound like fun.
Tears pricked at my eyes nonetheless.
I knew I shouldn’t cry, but it was hard because I missed my uncle and my dad. I missed Luke, Deacon, and Solos. I missed Seth and how easy it was for him to infuriate me. But I yearned for Aiden something fierce. With each passing second, it only got stronger, more intense. It didn’t fade, my longing for him, and I didn’t think it ever would.
“Alex?”
Looking away from the mirror, I turned to the boy lying on my bed. His shoulder-length blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but shorter strands had escaped, falling across his tanned cheeks.
Every day since the first day after I’d died, Caleb had been here for me. I’d spent time with my mom, with Olivia, and even with Lea, but I’d seen Caleb the most. I felt bad for sucking up so much of his time, because I was sure he and Olivia were trying to discover if you could make a baby in the Underworld every free moment they had, but I don’t know what I would do without him.
“Come here,” he said, patting the spot next to him.
I shuffled over and sat beside him. “Olivia’s going to cut me if you keep hanging out in my bed.”
Caleb laughed, and each time he did, I had to smile. I’d missed that laugh as much as I now missed life. “She’s not going to cut you.”
“I’m sucking up all your time.”
“No, you’re not.” He reached over, tugging on the hem of my jeans. “And she understands. Dying isn’t easy, Alex. Not for anyone, and definitely not for you.”
I arched a brow.
Caleb tugged on the hem again. “Why don’t you come with me tonight? Me. You. Olivia. There’s this club I found a few weeks ago, near the palms. I think it belongs to some pure whose idea of a ‘happily ever after’ is a nonstop party.”
Elysian Fields was as close to living as you could get, and there were a lot of things to do, people to meet, and whatnot. Lea had already hooked up with some half-blood and one of Hades’ guards.
I shrugged a shoulder.
“I think it would be good for you, Alex. I mean it.”
“I know.” And I also knew where this conversation was heading.