I think I'll never let you go,

I think I'll never hold you,

I think I'll never loose the stars,

Forget what I have told you.

"GYPSY DANCE"

Laurie stared at the old woman, who smiled back at her. Then she looked at the fiddle and bow in her hands, but could find no words to describe how it had felt. It was as if Daniel had been there, had been taking her hands and fingers through each motion,and they'd brought forth the music together. The music. Together.

The old woman's smile widened and she said,"You've done fine, girl. Fine. You've opened a path for a summoning, and I think it happened." She looked around absently, then said, "It won't belong."

The door burst open and an ugly bald manikin scuttled into the room, walking on its hands and feet,hissing and spitting. Laurie screamed and clutched the fiddle to her. The old gypsy woman stepped in front of her and swished her skirts at it. "Stop it!You're just wasting time and you know it."

To Laurie's shock it halted and cowered as if the old woman's skirts were burning brands. It turned its head to the side like a malicious spaniel. For the first time, Laurie noticed its flat nose and large round eyes.Where had it come from, and what was it?

The gypsy woman spoke offhandedly. "It's been done already," she informed it. "The Coachman called the horses, and the link forged of yarn and horsehair will lead them here no matter what you or your mistress do. Why waste time on us? Your mistress knows what must happen now. Go scuttle to Her call, and stop terrorizing the child."

The manikin stretched its neck up, then forward.Its head swayed from side to side as if it were a snake scenting after a mouse. Its questing tongue was fat and grey. Laurie shuddered but stood firm. Its face wrinkled suddenly, becoming even more ugly, and it beat the floor angrily with its splayed and calloused hands. As abruptly as it had come, it left, slamming the door behind it.

A great trembling washed through Laurie, bringing dizziness. The old woman was speaking to her, but she couldn't distinguish the words for the buzzing in her ears. The droning grew until it filled the whole world, but the gypsy woman kept talking. "Play!"she told Laurie, and her fierceness forced the word through her confusion. "You must play. You cannot stop."

Laurie stirred. She stared up into the woman's huge dark eyes. She realized she was sitting on the cold floor, looking up. She felt stiff, as if she had sat a longtime. "I can't," she wailed. "It's gone, and he's gone-"

Old hands settled on her shoulders, and with surprising strength, drew her to her feet. "I know. It doesn't matter. Play anyway, as best you can. If you do, he'll be back."

Laurie stared. "Will he? Really?"

"He will. He must, as must we all." The old woman sighed. Her eyes went distant and knowing."The last dance has begun, child. None, not dancers nor musicians, may pause in their pursuits, not until the last measure has been trod, the last note wrung from the strings. Then we shall see which dancers fall, who calls the next tune."

"All right," said Laurie, faintly. She lifted the fiddle, wanting only to feel herself become part of Daniel and his music again. No. That wasn't quite it.Wanting more than anything to feel the music coming once more from her fingers, from her heart. She set the fiddle to her chin and drew the bow across the strings.

And stopped.

It scraped, it sawed, it was nothing like music, it was the horrid screech of chalk on a blackboard. It made her heart ache.

"I know," said the old woman. "Cynthia knows. But you must keep playing. Play him back to you,into your arms."

Laurie took a breath, and dragged the bow once more across the strings.

I saw the panic in Timmy Dee's eyes,

His tongue flicked out like the tongue of a beast.

I liked seeing Timmy get cut down to size.

But then someone phoned the police.

"THE GYPSY"

So much happened so quickly. Csucskari felt like a fairgoer, entranced before the puppeteer's booth. The wooden door of the apartment was flung open. Light flashed off the silver of the gun's barrel, there was the slow turn of Raymond's head. Madam Moria's gasp of surprise, the thud of the teakettle lid and splash of the boiling water as it leaped at her startled jerk. Csucskari saw them all as separate movements with a clarity he had not known in a long time. The thin man moved stiffly, and not fast. Csucskari thought about his knife, but it would take too long,and the gun looked very large, its round black mouth gaping at each of them in turn.

The gunman shut the door behind him and smiled.His tongue whipped over his lips, nervously. "Well,"he said in the voice of a frightened man pretending to be brave. "You didn't expect to see me again, did you? Thought you'd killed me, didn't you? I bet you even thought She'd cast me aside, said I'd failed Her,didn't you? But I'm more special to Her than that.I'm the most important one of them all to Her," He fixed his eyes on Madam Moria as he spoke. Csucskari felt Raymond grip his arm. Only sputters of sound came from Madam Moria's pale old lips; the heavy kettle in her hands shook with the force of her trembling.

"What do you want?" Csucskari asked, and drew to himself the man's eyes and the gun's mouth.

The man stared at him, and the gun shook in a wavering circle that never left Csucskari's chest. Csucskari wondered why no fear welled up in him.

"What do I want?" repeated the man, wondering,as if the question had never occurred to him. "What do I want?" His voice cracked suddenly. "You!You're the one, aren't you? All of this is your fault! I did everything the way She told me to. It all should have worked, but you ruined it. You ruined it!" His voice scaled up to a shaky falsetto.

"I suppose I did," Csucskari replied softly. "But you're hurt, aren't you?"

"No!" he screamed. "It doesn't matter. She'll make me better."

"She'll make you worse," said Csucskari.

"No! You're lying." His knees were shaking which made him more dangerous. "I'm going to kill you,"the man said in a tone of sudden discovery. "Now I'm going to kill you, and it's going to work. My way.Not Hers. I'm going to make you dead, and I'm going to make Her like me again,"

"No," said Csucskari. "You are not."

"I'm-going-to kill-all of you." He spoke in awe at his own power.

Csucskari remembered that he wasn't alone. He'd forgotten it, talking to this man. Only the two them of had been there, locked into some sort of trial, but now. remembering his brother and the old woman,Csucskari was shaken, and the gunman's eyes widened, and the trembling of his hand worsened. His other hand come up to grip his wrist and steady the gun. It grew still, pointing at the center of the Gypsy's chest.

"Dirt!" shrieked Madam Moria suddenly. "You,lower than a snake's belly, fit consort for a dung beetle!"

The gun swung to her, and Csucskari knew, perhaps before the gunman did, that he was going to fire. That peculiar lucidity came over him again; he pulled his knife free as he sprang,

But it was not a knife, it was only a soft flutter of yarn in his hand, the scarf dragged up from the couch. His hand remembered the brief touch of Raymond's fingers against his; why his brother had passed him the scarf, he did not know. He must trust there was a reason. But neither knife nor scarf could be swift enough to stop the ringer that tightened on the trigger. He saw the hammer fall even as he moved, even as the door was thrown open once more. The shot,the scream, and the slam of the door against the wall all happened at once.