267

Kell's fingers held her chin, tipped up to see eye to eye.  Lane blinked and her mouth went dry for Kell's eyes seemed to hold the world.  His dark, swooping eyebrows were always so expressive, and now they showed caring beyond that which she had ever experienced.  Eyes, wide open, taking in and showing everything.  The moment stretched and held and Lane would go back to it again and again in her memory, wondering what had become of Kell.

266

Sophie heard them whispering, she just didn't care.

"She's doing it again."

"Shh!  She'll hear you!"

"She never does.  Look!  Watch her!"

Two pairs of eyes popped over the side of Sophie's cubicle.  Sophie knew the two office bitches were watching and listening.  And giggling.  What did Sophie care?  Let 'em.  It wasn't like she wanted to stay in this padded, open-topped cell for one more second, much less for the rest of her life.

265

Dee heard crickets and leaves rustled by the wind.  Traffic, always.  The computer's laboring mechanics, always.  The fluorescent lights, always.  But crickets and leaves and birds, too.

She opened her eyes and tried to really see, but that was more difficult.  All Dee saw was MESS and UNDONE and IF ONLY.  Dee sighed and closed her eyes again.  Crickets, wind blowing softer and harder and softer, a bird.

264

Jarod's hands ached as did his knees, but the need to finish was greater than the pain.  The fat piece of chalk slipped from his fingers again and again and he finally gripped it with both hands, knees digging into the stone floor as he leaned forward to complete the diagram.  Jarod finally sank to his right hip, the last sigil in place, and stretched his legs out carefully, avoiding smudging the drawing.  A greater ache began in his stomach when he thought of the night to come; the night where he would perform the high magic needed to complete the spell.  It made his already tired body and mind sink into an agony of weary dread.  Anticipating pain and knowing there was no way to avoid it and, even more than that, willingly inflicting it upon oneself was worse than the act itself.

263

I dreamt last night that you died.

How horrible!  Was it?

No, because you were already dead.  I was helping set up your estate sale when I realized that it was you.  I was saddened, of course.

How did I die?

I don't know.  You did have some nice collectables for the sale.

Do you think it could be prophesy?

Not unless you have some vintage Christmas cut-outs in storage.

No... No, I don't.  I suppose that's good.

I wouldn't worry.  I usually dream about being lost in a labyrinth or losing teeth, and that's not yet happened.

Perhaps.

262

"It feels like I'm going to jump right out of my skin," Sonja said through clenched teeth.

"Mmm..."  The counselor made a note.  "And then what?"

She perched on the edge of the sofa, "And then my skeleton's going to punch you in the smarmy face."

"Mmm..."  Another note.  "Would that make you feel better?"

"I hate that you never look up at me."

"Mmm..."  A glance over her glasses and back to the notebook.  "You don't think I look up at you enough?"

"At all, you..."  Sonja cut herself off.  The frustration was rising, and it felt like the counselor was baiting her.

261

Lost again, between realities.  It feels so real, but then, it is real, for the moment.  Waking and dream are dream and waking.  He had to keep remembering his training.  It wouldn't do to lose the Captain of the ship only partway through the voyage.  Bad for morale.