He chuckled. “You already know how to do that.”

“Yeah, but not on purpose. I only do it when I have a meltdown or I’m in danger. You can do it on purpose. How?”

He took my hand in his. Laced our fingers together. “If you can’t do it, there’s something stopping you.”

“Like what?”

“What stops us in almost everything?”

I shrugged.

“What is the universal reason for almost every human action?”

“Ah, right,” I said, when it hit me. “Fear.”

“Exactly. So, what are you afraid of?”

“I don’t know. Nothing.”

“Then do it.” He watched our hands. “Slip away from me.”

“If I could do it, Obi-Wan, I wouldn’t be asking for your help.”

“Then you’re afraid.” He took my chin and turned my face to his. “What are you afraid of?”

“I don’t know. Maybe—” I shook my head. “No, that’s stupid.”

“Tell me.”

“Maybe shifting onto the next plane entirely? The last time I did it, when I was running away from you and Michael in New York?”

He nodded, his expression suddenly severe.

“It burned my skin. It was so hot, like acid. And I ended up miles away in a matter of seconds. I’m afraid … I’m afraid I’ll melt.”

He gave me a sympathetic smile. “The supernatural plane didn’t burn you.”

“Damn sure did,” I argued, remembering it so vividly. “It peeled the skin right off my bones.”

“But when you materialized, were you harmed?”

“No. It was so strange.”

“Again, it didn’t burn you. But it is hot. And cold. The rules of this plane don’t apply, like a human in space who is exposed to the solar winds. Except, we are no longer human, and it’s still our plane, and we can navigate it at will.”

“Then what happened, because my skin was being burned away like someone had taken a blowtorch to me.”

“That wasn’t your body reacting to the heat and cold from the other dimension. You did that yourself. It was a physiological response to what your mind perceived as reality. In that state, not much can harm you.”

“Okay, then, speaking of space, what if I accidentally materialize there? I’ll just be floating in the vacuum of space. Body swelling. Blood boiling. Skin turning an unappealing shade of blue and freezing. Then, knowing me, I’d explode. Even if I managed to make it back to the planet’s surface, I would’ve been exposed to all those subatomic particles. You don’t come back from that.”

“Dutch,” he said, talking me off a ledge, “you control where and when you go. And how fast. You can even, to some degree, control the time there. Hell, since you’re a god, you could probably, I don’t know, navigate time.” His mind was suddenly racing. “There’s just no way to know what you’re capable of until you do it.”

“Okay, but maybe we should start small.”

He chuckled. “Sorry. You’re right. Okay, concentrate.” He held up our hands again. “Shift as far onto the other plane as you can.”

I dropped my hand. “You don’t like it when I shift.”

He didn’t agree, but he didn’t argue.

“It’s like you can’t look at me when I shift. Like I’m monstrous.”

“What?” he asked, dumbfounded. “You are still you when you shift, Dutch.”

“Then why do I repulse you when I do?”

He focused on the ceiling. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

“Seriously? You went there?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Reyes, what? Why don’t you like it when I shift, even just a little, to see onto the other plane?”

He turned away from me and practically whispered what came next. “When you shift, you see the real me. The dark side. It’s disturbing to know you can see that part of me.”

“Reyes, it’s fascinating.” I turned his face back to mine. “I’m amazed. It’s like you’re covered in a cloak of black mist. It cascades over your shoulders and down your back. I want a cloak of black mist. How cool would that be?”

He deadpanned me.

“Wait, if I’m still me and not some monster, how do you know when I shift? You know instantly.”

“Your eyes. When you shift, your gold eyes almost glow. They sparkle like glitter when you see into the other realm. Talk about fascinating.”