Ethereal

Chapter 23

We walked along the streets of Santa Barbara, listening to the gulls circling the tiled roofs. We were in our final hour here, and yet I was glad to be leaving. Going home.

I don't know when Ethereal had become home, but that's what it was. And now it was my job to take care of it, starting with saving the istochnik. I gripped the handles of the Target bag a little harder, remembering all that still needed to be done.

I suddenly felt Lark's hand slip into mine, and my insides sparked. I looked at him.

"You're holding my hand," I said pointedly.

Lark looked at our clasped hands. "Yes...and? Isn't that what most married couples do?"

I grinned. "You're right. It's just...different."

"Different good or different bad?"

"Different good," I replied with a nod. "Baby steps, you know?"

Lark frowned, but before I could explain, he said, "Let me guess. Another idiom?"

I laughed and squeezed his hand. "At this point I should just buy you a book on them. There'd be less confusion."

"Kak mne tak povezlo?" Lark murmured under his breath.

"What does that mean?"

Lark's head snapped up, like he hadn't expected me to hear him. He evaded my question and instead squinted up at the sun. "What time is it?"

I sighed and checked my phone. "We still have...oh wait, I think we only a have a few minutes left."

Lark nodded. "Any last items to check off the tour?"

I looked around and realized we were across the street from The Presley Dive. "We should go back in there." I pointed to the building, whose neon signs glowed dully in the bright sunlight.

"But we—"

"Come on!" I said, tugging him across the street. We stepped inside the bar, a wave of stale beers and cheap cocktails hitting our noses. "We need a souvenir."

"From here?"

I nodded. "Something to remember your first karaoke night."

"Isn't it odd to get it after the fact?"

"Nonsense." I waved my hand around for emphasis. "It's never too late to get a souvenir."

I glanced around the joint, hoping to see some sort of merchandise or even some matchbooks that restaurants occasionally left out for customers to take.

"How about this?" Lark asked. He was holding one of their paper menus.

"We can't take that!" I replied loudly before realizing people could probably hear us. Though there were only a few customers in here right now.

"Why not? It's just a piece of paper."

"Because. It's stealing."

"I can just put it in my bag and no one would know." He gestured to his backpack, which was already stuffed with the things we'd bought yesterday.

"Hi, guys. Welcome in," a springy man with hair gelled like Elvis said. Lark and I jumped, and I hoped the waiter hadn't overheard our conversation. "You can seat yourself," the waiter said, eyeing the menu in Lark's hand. He obviously thought we were looking at it for something to order, not debating whether to steal it. "Someone will be right out to take your order."

The waiter then walked off to a table, wiping it down.

"I still think you should put it back."