Rogue by Gina Damico Page A

very . . . affectionate.”
    Lex pointed into the distance. “Doesn’t that make your boyfriend jealous?”
    King Tut, the legendary Pharaoh, was wandering aimlessly through the rolling clouds of the Afterlife, calling out for Cordy before becoming distracted by his shiny gold necklace. He paused, used it as a mirror to pick something out of his teeth, then gave it a winning smile and started to carry on a compliment-laden conversation with his reflection.
    Lex raised an eyebrow. “So. How
is
the Tut?”
    Cordy’s eyes lit up. “Oh, you know. Stunning. Dreamy. Dynamite in the sack.”
    Lex’s jaw dropped. “You’ve—”
    “Well, no.” Cordy said, abashed. Lumpy abruptly wandered off, as if offended by all this talk of his rival. Cordy gave her face another good wipe and continued. “So far, we’ve just cuddled. Some business about the gods looking down on us with unflinching scorn or something. But I remain cautiously optimistic.” She waved at him. “Hey, sweets!”
    Tut sauntered over to Cordy until his golden, chiseled face filled the portal. He peered out at Lex. “What demonry is this?”
    “Good to see you, Tutty,” Lex said. “Looking sharp.”
    He frowned. “I always look sharp.”
    “I know. Just confirming.”
    “The peasant looks more peasantlike than usual,” Tut said to Cordy, as if Lex weren’t sitting right there. “Gaunt. Malnourished.”
    “I was in jail for a while,” said Lex. “Best crash diet there is.”
    “But look at her glutes!” Cordy added.
    Lex stood to display her butt. Tut gave her a once-over and managed a bored nod. “The glutes are satisfactory.”
    “I mean, not as satisfactory as yours, obviously,” Cordy said, slapping him on the ass.
    Lex held her hand up to block the view. “Well, I don’t need to see this.”
    A twitchy nose popped up underneath her hand, near the rim of the portal. “They’re like this
all
the
time
. I can’t bear it any longer. I can’t and I shan’t!”
    “Edgar!” Lex’s face melted into a grin as she lowered her hand. “Oh, man. I’ve missed you.”
    Edgar Allan Poe smoothed out his frock coat. “Yes. Well. Your absence has been noted as well. I’m lef [ll.
    “Hey, Poe,” said Tut. “Your mustache is showing!” He smiled a jockish grin and gave Cordy a high-five.
    “I
know
my mustache is—that’s not even a
joke
—” Edgar’s lip quivered. “You see what I mean? It seems the presidents have taught him the ever-popular sport of Torture the Poet. Oh, yes. Taught. Him. Well.”
    Lex snickered, but her body stiffened as she thought about all that was on the line here. If they didn’t succeed in preserving the Afterlife, what would happen to these guys? They’d just cease to exist?
    Tut was now flicking something at Poe, who fussily swatted at his head. “Stop that at once. Quoth!” The stately black raven alighted on his shoulder, picked something out of his hair, and dropped it into Poe’s outstretched hand.
    Tut let out a hearty laugh. “Dung beetle!”
    Edgar turned a gothic shade of red. “Oh, that is quite mature.
Quite!
” He stalked away, repeatedly muttering “Quite!” to Quoth, or himself, or perhaps a voice in his head. One could never be too sure with the soul of Edgar Allan Poe.
    Tut let out a hearty chortle, prompting Cordy to smack him. “Give the guy a break, Tut,” she said. “You know he gets nosebleeds.”
    “That was just a phase!”
Poe huffed in the distance.
    Lex laughed out loud, then threw a worried glance back at the bedrooms. When no one emerged to yell at her, she turned to the portal—
    But it had disappeared.
    ***
    “Lex, wake up!”
    Lex did as she was told. She lifted her head and rubbed her face, feeling the notches in her skin where the wooden kitchen table had imprinted itself.
    Pip and Bang were staring at her like two frightened lemurs. “We heard something.”
    Lex listened. After a second, she heard a shuffling noise above her head.
    Her limbs tingled.