"I'm afraid not, Dr. Bulmer, but I thank you for offering." Alan saw no hope in the man's eyes as he spoke. "She has Alzheimer's disease."

Alan could only say, "I'm sorry."

But Sylvia shot to her feet. "Now I get it!"

"Get what, Mrs. Nash?" Glaeken said. He appeared genuinely confused.

Sylvia was leaning forward, jabbing her finger toward him over the coffee table. Her core of anger was fully uncoiled, its fangs were bared, and it was lashing out.

"I should have known! Do you think I'm an idiot? You want Jeffy here so you can use him—or rather use the power you think is in him—to cure your wife!"

"Not at all, Mrs. Nash," he said softly with a slow, sad shake of his head. "The Dat-tay-vao will not work against a degenerative process like Alzheimer's. It can cure disease, but it can't turn back the clock."

"So you say."

Then Jeffy tugged at Sylvia's sleeve. "Don't yell at him, Mom. He's my friend."

That did it. Alan saw Sylvia wince as if she'd been jabbed by a needle.

"We're leaving," she said, taking Jeffy by the hand and guiding him away from the sofa.

"But Mrs. Nash," Glaeken said. "We need Jeffy to reactivate the focus. We need to reunite the Dat-tay-vao and the metal from the instrument."

"But you don't have the metal, do you."

"Not yet, but—"

"Then I see no point in discussing this further. When you've located this magic metal, call me. You have my number. Then we'll talk. Not before."

"But where are you going?"

"Back home. Where else?"

"No, you mustn't. It's too dangerous. It's better that you stay here. You'll be safe here."

"Here?" she said, stopping at the door. "This place is practically on top of that hole out there—all but falling into it. I'll take my chances in Monroe."

"This place is protected, in a way. It will be preserved until the end. You and Jeffy and your friends can share that protection."

"Why? What's so special about this place?"

"I'm here. I'm to be saved until the last."

…and then he plans to make you suffer the tortures of the damned!

Alan remembered Nick's words and wondered why the old man didn't look more frightened.

"Toad Hall will be protected too. Alan and I have already seen to that."

Alan turned his chair and wheeled it toward Sylvia and Jeffy. He'd got on the phone first thing this morning and called around until he found a contractor who could start installing steel storm shutters immediately. He'd offered a substantial bonus if the job was completed by sundown. Now he wondered if shutters would be enough.

Why not stay here? It might be a good move. Crowded, yes, but Alan felt at home with this group, had a feeling that there was safety here among this disparate, unlikely crew. Something going on here. A subtle chemistry, a subliminal bond.

But Sylvia seemed oblivious to all that. She got this way when her anger-core broke free and took the helm. She dug in her heels and refused to budge. Alan knew he couldn't talk to her when she got like this. Nobody could. He'd learned to recognize the signs and—when the storm came—to sit back and let it have its way with her. When the clouds and winds had blown past and she was cooler, calmer, she'd be a different Sylvia, and be able to discuss it. Later he might be able to change her mind. Sylvia's anger could be inconvenient, frustrating, even infuriating at times, but the anger was part of what made Sylvia who she was. And Alan loved who Sylvia was.

It was quite clear though that Jeffy wanted to stay.

"I don't want to go, Mom."

"Please don't argue with me, Jeffy," Sylvia said in a low voice. "It's time to go home."

Jeffy tried to pull away from her. "No!"

"Please obey your mother, Jeffy," Glaeken said softly.

The boy abruptly stopped struggling. The look Sylvia threw Glaeken was anything but grateful.

"There's something you should realize, Mrs. Nash," Glaeken said. "The creatures that attacked your house last night are active only in the hours between sunset and sunrise. They must hide from the sun during the day. However, as I'm sure you are all aware, the daylight hours are shrinking."

"But that can't go on forever," said an unfamiliar voice.

Alan turned and saw that Hank was on his feet, staring in turn at each person in the room. It was the first time he had opened his mouth since he'd been introduced.

"Can it?" Hank said.

"The pattern will continue," Glaeken said. "And accelerate. Sunrise was late again today. Tomorrow it will be even later. Sunset will keep coming earlier and earlier."

"But if that keeps up…" Hank's eyes widened. "Lord!"

Slowly he sank down next to Carol on the couch.

"You see the pattern? Shrinking daylight hours, lengthening periods of darkness. The hole creatures will have progressively longer time for their feedings, and shorter periods when they must be in hiding. And when daylight is gone completely…"

"They'll never stop," Jack said in a hushed voice.

Alan knew from looking at him that no matter what terrors he and Sylvia and Ba had experienced last night, Jack had seen far worse.

"Correct," Glaeken said. "We are headed for a world without light, without law, without reason, sanity, or logic. A nightworld from which there will be no dawn. Unless we do something."

"Call me when you get the metal," Sylvia said.

Alan reached out and shook hands with Glaeken as he passed, then wheeled himself to where Ba stood holding the door.

"Don't leave," said a strained voice.

Alan turned at the door and saw that Nick had stepped out of the kitchen. His eyes were bright and alive again. And there was genuine concern in them as he stared at Alan.

"Why not?" Alan said.

"If the four of you leave here today, only three will live to return."

A chill swept over Alan. He glanced out into the atrium and saw Sylvia, Ba, and Jeffy standing before the elevator. As he watched, the bell dinged and the doors slid open. Sylvia and Jeffy stepped inside. Ba stood waiting, restraining the doors with one of his big hands.

Alan was paralyzed for a moment. The three outside were waiting for him; the six people in the apartment were staring at him. He wanted to stay, but wouldn't—couldn't—stay without Sylvia. And no way was Sylvia moving in here. Not yet, at least.

He shrugged and flashed what he knew was a weak grin at the people in the apartment.

"We'll see about that."

Then he headed toward the elevator, feeling as if he was rolling himself toward an abyss as deep and dark as the one in the Sheep Meadow outside.

As the door closed behind Dr. Bulmer, Bill guided Nick back into the kitchen. The younger man's behavior disturbed him. He was acting like some sort of Delphic oracle, transmitting threats and predictions from beyond. Was it madness or had his brush with the abyss left him connected, as Glaeken had said, to the chaos that was encroaching on all their lives?

"Are you trying to frighten people, Nick?"

"No," he said as he resumed his seat at the kitchen table. His eyes were tortured. "They're in danger. One of them's going to die."

"Who, Nick? Which one?"

If Nick was actually tapped in to something, maybe Bill could get something concrete out of him before he went catatonic again. Those four people from Long Island—the woman, Sylvia was a bit of a bitch, but he didn't want to see harm come to any of them, especially the boy.

"Who's going to die, Nick? Who's in danger? Is it Jeffy, the boy?"

But Nick was gone again, his face empty, his eyes blank.

"Damn it, Nick!" Bill said softly. He gave the slumped shoulders a gentle squeeze. "Couldn't you have held on a few minutes longer?"

No reply, of course. But he did catch a voice rising in the living room. He went to see what was up.