Overbite. Meg Cabot

more. “Thanks for meeting me.”

      She looked around the dark, narrow street. She felt guilty for telling him all these lies, including that this was the street where she lived, then saying he couldn’t come up because her roommate’s parents were visiting.

      “Are you sure you don’t want to get a cup of coffee?” she asked. “There’s a place right around the corner. It would be much nicer than sitting in your car.”

      Especially considering the smell. And what she had to tell him.

      “I’m sure,” he said, smiling. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

      This was news to Meena. She hadn’t heard from him in more than a year. Their split had been relatively amicable—though at the time, she’d been convinced that her heart was broken. She was a dialogue-writer who’d been trying to make a living scratching out scripts for a now-canceled soap opera. He was a dentist specializing in veneers who’d wanted to move out to the suburbs and start a family.

      Naturally, things hadn’t worked out.

      “I thought you and Brianna were really happy,” she said. “What with the new practice and the baby and all.”

      Which made it even worse. How was she going to break the news about his impending death when he had so much to live for?

      He let out a bitter laugh. “Brianna,” he said. “She means nothing to me.”

      “Of course she does,” Meena said, surprised. “What are you talking about?”

      Now Meena was really worried about him. David had dumped her for Brianna. Brianna meant the world to him.

      It had to be a brain tumor. That’s what had almost killed him the first time. But she’d sensed it and warned him, and the doctors had been able to find it in time to save his life.

      Too bad the fact that she’d known about it had freaked him out so much that he’d run from her, straight into the arms of his radiology nurse.

      But it was all right. Meena had built a new life for herself now. Sure, that life had been destroyed by Lucien Antonescu, the man who’d taught her what a broken heart really felt like.

      But she managed never to think about him anymore.

      Almost never.

      It was only that lately, she’d been having such horrible dreams about David. In them, he was dead. It wasn’t that she could see his corpse. In the dream, she could see David’s future.

      And he didn’t have one. Just darkness.

      When she’d woken from the dream for a third morning in a row, breathless from feeling as if the darkness was closing in on her, she knew she had no choice but to call him.

      But she also knew she couldn’t deliver news like this over the phone. They had to meet in person.

      David had been surprisingly eager, offering to stop by on his way back to New Jersey after lunch and some dental meeting he had in the city.

      But since Meena knew better than to give out her new address to anyone—even old boyfriends with whom she’d once lived—she’d automatically rattled off a fake one, and then met his car as he pulled up in front of the building.

      Now, however, she was starting to regret this arrangement. Because David was acting so peculiarly. And what was that smell?

      “You,” he said. “You were always the one, Meena.”

      “David.” Meena was confused. “You dumped me for Brianna. You said you wanted to be with someone who gave people life, not someone who predicted their death. Remember?”

      “I should’ve stayed with you,” David said. “I should’ve. We were so much better together, you and me, than me ’n Brianna. Why didn’t I stay with you, Meena? Why didn’t I? You were magical, with your … magic.”

      Finally, comprehension dawned. At least now she knew what was causing the funny smell. It made her job a lot simpler.

      “Okay,” she said, looking around on the floor of the car for the bottle. Or maybe he was just still soused from his lunch? How many martinis did dentists drink when they got together in the city for lunch meetings, anyway?

      “Remember when you used your magic on me before,” he said, “and made me all better? Do it again. I’m begging you.”

      “That’s not really how it works,” Meena said, still looking for the bottle. “I’m not saying I can’t help you. Because I think I can. You’re just going to have to meet me halfway and tell me where the bottle is.”

      That’s when he lunged across the seat to kiss her. And she found the bottle. It was actually a flask, and it was pressing aggressively against her thigh through his pants pocket.

      Oh, well, Meena thought. That’s what I get, I guess, for trying to play the rescuer. Why do I always do that, again?

      Oh, right. Because it was her job.

      Which was a good thing, since she didn’t think she could live with the guilt of another soul dying on her watch. It had happened more than once, especially since she’d hooked up with Lucien Antonescu, who’d unfortunately turned out to be one of the demons the Palatine—the organization by whom she’d been hired, after her unceremonious firing from the soap opera (before its cancellation)—was hunting.

      Not just any demon either. The ruler of all demons on earth, the prince of darkness.

      Meena had never really had much luck in the boyfriend department.

      And since most people didn’t believe her when she told them they were about to die, she’d never really had much luck in that area either.

      She wasn’t entirely sure what had ever made her think her ex, David Delmonico, was worth saving. As far as she could tell, the earth wouldn’t be that much worse off if he simply disappeared from it.

      But there was his new baby, she supposed. The baby deserved a father.

      “Meena,” David kept groaning. Mercifully, his lips had moved away from hers, and were now clamped to her neck. Thank God, because his breath smelled even worse than the inside of his car.

      Except that now he was trying to slip his hands down the front of the sweetheart neckline of her dress … the dress she’d hemmed herself—well, with a little help from Yalena at the thrift shop. Because though Meena’s new job paid well, she’d had to replace her entire wardrobe, thanks to her last one having been destroyed by a bunch of Lucien Antonescu’s relatives, the Dracul. So thrifting had become a new hobby.

      “David,” she said, using an elbow to jab him in the shoulder. Although not too hard, because she felt a little sorry for him. He was a dying man, after all. “This isn’t why I called you.”

      “Yes,” he said with another groan. “Oh yes, it is. Beautiful Meena. What a fool I was …”

      “David.” She yanked up his head by his hair and looked into his eyes. They were drunken slits.

      “Wha …?” he asked blearily.

      “I’m sorry that you are having problems in your personal life right now,” she said. “But you chose Brianna over me, remember? And I moved on.”

      “But …” His eyes started to focus a little more. “You said on the phone you weren’t seeing anyone.”

      She continued to hold up his head by his hair. “I’m not.” Nice of him to rub in the fact that she was single. Like it was her fault her last boyfriend had tried to burn down half of the Upper East Side. “But why would you think that means I’m up for a fling with you?”

      He wagged a finger at her. “Face it, Meena,” he said. “The fact that you’re still single means that you’ve never really gotten over me.”

      “Or