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being dangled like a steak in front of me the entire time. Heaven was the worst case of torture—look but don’t touch.
    At least the food was good.
    After we pull into town, I park around the corner from the tattoo shop.
    “Come on.” I motion for Sparrow to get out and follow me.
    He holds my hand as we walk down the sidewalk to the shop entrance. A bell jingles as we walk inside.
    “Help you?” the guy behind the counter asks.
    “Yeah. I need to get this ink fixed.” I pull the neck of my shirt out and show him the faded quill.
    The guy’s eyes flick to the tattoo and then to Sparrow. “Slow day here. College kids are on break. Can fix it now.”
    “Perfect.”
    I follow the guy behind the counter. Sparrow stands in the waiting area, looking at framed pictures of tattoos on the wall.
    The guy shows me to a seat, then preps my skin and his workspace. Thankfully, the neck of my shirt is wide enough that I don’t have to take it off.
    The guy begins darkening the quill across my collarbone. The pinching feeling, sharp at first, lessens gradually, as I watch Sparrow study the pictures on the wall. When he finally turns to me, his eyes zero in on the tattoo. I check the mirror and see how much darker it is; looks like Teari never messed with it in the first place.
    Sparrow’s hand moves to his pocket, and I’d bet money he has one of the feathers from the duster in there.
    I wink at him.
    He smiles.
    The world stops spinning.
    “All done.” The tattoo guy starts cleaning up.
    I inspect the quill in the mirror again. “Much better.”
    I pay the man with my bank card, and then we leave the shop and head toward the minivan.
    After we’re buckled in, I turn to Sparrow and ask, “Does it look better?”
    As he nods and blinks, I am reminded of the day we slept on an outcropping of rock to avoid the walking dead of Hell. Sparrow was scouting below us; his long lashes brushed his cheeks as he blinked, and his hair curled at the nape of his neck. I thought, A crazy man shouldn’t have those features.
    “What now?” Sparrow asks.
    I snap out of it. “Okay. Um. We should do something. What have you always wanted to do?”
    He looks out the window thoughtfully. “I’ve always wanted to suck on a chili dog.”
    “What?” Laughter bubbles up inside me.
    “You know, like ‘Jack & Diane.’ I love that song.”
    I exhale a breath of air and hold in more laughter. “I’m sure Jack and Diane got divorced thirty years ago. You know how old that song is?”
    Sparrow’s face drops.
    “I’m joking. Holy hell. I’m joking. Okay.” I turn the ignition. “Chili dogs it is. You can be Jack. I’ll be Diane.”
    Sparrow smiles. “You can even sit on my lap,” he offers.
    This is way better than the Seven Kingdoms of Heaven.
    . . .
    We stop at three mini-marts before we find one selling chili dogs. The hot dog skin looks overly tanned and tough but smells delicious. We get giant fountain drinks and sit at one of the booths by the window. Sparrow eats his chili dog in three bites. As I’m working on mine, he’s watching.
    “You want the rest of this?” I offer. “I can get something else.”
    Now that I have money, I can afford all the fried food and sweets I want. And soda. It’s been too long since I’ve had soda. I’m going to buy a case of soda before we leave here.
    “I want it.” Sparrow licks his lips.
    “The food up there is delicious.” I motion toward Heaven. “But there’s no beating mini-mart fare.”
    I hand him the rest of my chili dog, then get up to order a cheeseburger from the counter.
    When I return to my seat, Sparrow is chewing and watching the leaves blow outside the window.
    “It’s cold out there,” he says.
    “Winter’s coming.” I take a bite of my cheeseburger and sip on my drink.
    “Winter . . .” His eyes flick to mine and then back out the window. His right thumb and index finger of his free hand twitch.
    “We should probably get some coats.” I shove the rest