Was it so we could continue to get to know each other better?
Because, quite frankly, after experiencing what it was like to be him during that whole scene with Nicole, I was pretty much feeling like I knew him better than I ever wanted to, thankyouverymuch.
And, I have to say, the longer I pondered, the more of a conundrum I found myself in—one in which I was, yet again, torn between both the more rational and paranoid sides of me.
“Let’s go,” I said, nodding firmly so he’d know I was serious. “Let’s just make our way back.”
He looked at me, his eyes gone all squinty as he made some totally disgusting slurping sound with his straw.
“Seriously. I mean, we’re almost there anyway, so why delay any further?”
And the way he looked at me, well, let’s just say it was so revealing, I couldn’t help but realize that Bodhi wasn’t actually baiting me per se—it was more like he was baiting himself through me.
He was the one who didn’t want to return.
He was the one who was afraid to go before the Council.
After everything we’d just accomplished, which was pretty dang major if I do say so myself, he was feeling pretty insecure about how it might go over—doubting the Council would view it in his favor.
After all, his job was to guide me, and if you think about it in its most basic terms, it was pretty clear he’d totally failed on that one.
He’d tried to guide me toward not going after the Hell Beast. But did I listen? Of course not! I just willfully went off on my own, leaving him with no choice but to chase me down, and even so, once he caught up with me, he still couldn’t stop me—he’d had no choice but to follow my lead.
The thought alone made me feel bad.
Maybe even a tiny bit ashamed of myself.
Clearly, I was just as difficult to guide in my death as I had been in life.
I was still stubborn, still impulsive, still impatient—I was all the awful things he’d accused me of being and more.
It was as though nothing had changed—or at least nothing having to do with my personality anyway.
And yet, as he himself said earlier, I’d had every right to exercise my free will.
And no one, not even my guide, could rob me of that.
“Let’s go,” I repeated, glancing over my shoulder to see Buttercup running, trying to catch up with me. “We can fly, we can walk, we can ignore the bridge and take the long, scenic route if you want. I’ll leave that up to you. In the end, it all leads back to the same place. It all leads back home.”
25
By the time we got back to the Here & Now, Bodhi seemed pretty eager to be rid of me.
I didn’t even get so much as a good-bye, see ya later, adios, nothing, before he was well on his way.
“Um, hel-lo!” I called, narrowing my eyes at his retreating back and shaking my head. “Aren’t you forgetting a little something called the Council?” Sure, he was trying to avoid what I knew to be inevitable.
He stopped, spun on his heel, and looked right at me. “We don’t approach the Council, Riley, the Council approaches us.”
Oh.
I gazed down at the ground, feeling painfully aware that for all my bravado on the earth plane, I was still pretty incompetent Here.
“So, how will I know when it’s time?” I asked, feeling kind of stupid for asking, but how else was I supposed to learn?
But Bodhi just looked at me. “They’ll summon me, and then I’ll summon you.” He gazed all around, as though he had somewhere urgent to be. “So—are we through here?” he asked, never more eager to get away from me.
I nodded, watching him retreat again, and having to physically restrain Buttercup from going after him.