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it again, she smiled as though she really did mean it when she said, “You have a deal, Miss Riley Bloom.” Her eyes glittered with
excitement. “So, what do you say? Are you ready to travel even deeper into Theocoles’ world?”
    She thrust her hand before me, palm open, fingers beckoning, and just like the first time, I didn’t hesitate. I just gritted my teeth, closed my eyes, and once again, took her hand in mine.

6
    T he second before I opened my eyes, I cringed. My jaw clenched, my shoulders pulled in, my entire being on high alert, bracing for the scene I was sure I would find myself in: me, cowering inside the Colosseum, caught smack dab in the middle of some grisly, blood-soaked battle fought to the death—one that involved pitchforks, swords, horse-driven chariots, and, just my luck, a gang of ferocious, ravenous lions.
    So imagine my surprise when instead of finding myself immersed in some gruesome scene of slaughter, surrounded by a cheering, bloodthirsty crowd, I found myself standing in the most luxurious dressing room I’ve ever seen.
    “Wow,” I murmured, not wanting to appear overly impressed, but still, I couldn’t keep the word from sneaking out. I’d never seen anything even remotely like it, except for maybe on movies or TV, but never in real life, and certainly
never in the afterlife. “Where are we?” I turned toward Messalina, wondering why she saw fit to bring me here—not that I was complaining, but still, it didn’t seem to make any sense.
    Messalina laughed—that lovely, tinkling sound bouncing off the elaborately carved marble columns and walls, echoing all around. “This is my home,” she told me, clearly amused by my reaction.
    “You live here?” My eyes grew wide as I strained to take it all in—the chaise longue strewn with colorful silk throws and piles of elaborately embroidered pillows—the jumble of combs and jewels and scented oils and crèmes that littered a nearby table—the shiny, sparkly heaps of what could only be described as “girly-type-things” that draped over every available surface and spilled out of an assortment of ornately painted trunks.
    “And is that—is that an indoor swimming pool?” I gestured toward a shallow, mosaic tiled pool, off in its own separate room—the water strewn with lovely pink rose petals that floated along the top, as the flickering torches glittered brightly against the white marble walls.
    I couldn’t keep from gaping. Couldn’t keep from wondering why I’d never thought to manifest something like that for myself. Vowing to remedy that as soon as I returned to my home in the Here & Now.
    “This is my room, and that is my bath.” Messalina cracked a slow, careful smile. “Though I wouldn’t exactly say that I live here. This is the place where I was raised, Riley. It is also where I met my death, many, many, many years ago.”
    My gaze strayed from her to her things; there was so much to look at, it was hard to take it all in. “Well, I guess I can see why you stay.” I shrugged. “Unlike those gladiators down in the barracks, this is a pretty chichi place you got yourself here.”
    “It is nice, and comfortable, to be sure.” She shot me a stern look as she added, “But make no mistake—it is not why I stay. Not even close.”
    I turned toward her, my attention claimed by the unmistakable edge in her voice. “So why do you stay?” I asked, knowing it was time to get down to business. Time to be a little less impressed by my luxurious surroundings, and a little more focused on the reason I’d taken her hand and followed her here.
    But Messalina had her own agenda, and instead of answering, she just shot me another stern look and said, “Still trying to rush this along, are you?” She shook her head, brought her hand to her temple where she sought to tame a renegade curl by tucking it back behind her ear. “You will learn everything, Riley, all in good time, I give you my word. But first, if you