"Wow," I said. "Really going, huh?"

"Yep." He bounced on the balls of his feet. "Had to tell someone. And you've – you haven't told anyone at all about us. So I thought you'd like to know."

"I do like to know, thanks," I smiled at him. I really hadn't told anyone, not even Lucas, and I hadn't actually talked about Michael or Nolan or Sandra at all. Charles thought I was turning over a new leaf, giving up gossip for Lent or something. He ought to know better, but we all see what we want to see. "You set for money?" I asked.

"I got a little put by. Nolan's got some from when his granddad passed," he said. Nameless pricked his ears forward.

I winced inwardly, but I couldn't let it show. "Place to stay?"

"Buddy of ours is at school out there, said he'd put us up till we found our feet. Lots of banks in Chicago. Lots of work."

"What about Sandra? Leaving her a little high and dry at the bank here, aren't you?"

He shrugged. "Nolan's sister's about ready to take over for him. They'll be fine."

"You going to tell your parents?"

That stopped him bouncing, at least. He frowned.

"Yeah. Before we go. After Nolan takes his inheritance out," he added.

"Are you sure you want to leave Low Ferry? I know what small towns are like, I do, but Chicago's pretty far. Pretty big."

Michael shrugged. "We'll get by."

"Just – don't be too much of a stranger, huh? Being away...changes things," I said. "You lose things when you leave."

"Good."

"You say that now," I said, but I smiled too. "Listen, if you do need money, let me know. And..." I took out a pen and uncapped it, scribbling the address of Eighth Rare Books on the ticket envelope. "The owner's a friend of mine. She'll give you a hand if you ask."

"That's decent of you," he said, studying it before tucking the tickets away. "See you round, Christopher," he added, and walked out. I held up a finger and pointed it at Nameless as soon as he'd gone.

"Don't even think about saying anything," I said. He huffed indignantly. "You keep that well to yourself, and don't talk to me about it. You and I have other things to discuss."

Nameless eased his head down onto his legs, cocking it slightly. I walked around the counter to where he lay and sat down on the floor next to him.

"You should tell the boy yourself, if you don't feel like tutoring," I said. He whined and rested his head on my knee. "That wasn't very polite, and definitely irresponsible."

He inched forward and heaved another sigh. I scratched the ruff of fur just above his shoulders.

"Some days it's easier to be a dog," I continued. "But don't forget you're not. You were human first, and you'll always be human. You can try as hard as you like to lose it, but all you'll do is bury it, and that isn't the kind of thing you can bury forever."

I wish I had not said those words. I was trying to help him, because he seemed lost to me, stuck between a human craving love and an animal who was loved for a lie. I was trying to cajole him out of his silence. I was doing what I thought was right for my friend, who was confused and afraid.

I wish I had stayed silent and stroked his fur and let him be, or at least pretended that his seeming was the same as his being, that the change meant something beneath the surface. Perhaps it wouldn't have made any difference in the end, but I wish I had kept my damn mouth shut.

I got up and went back to the counter, where I had been pricing books before I was interrupted. After a moment, there was the sound of a throat being cleared.

"I couldn't face them today," he said, and it was Lucas sitting by the fire, legs pulled up to his chest, chin on his knees, bare toes curled against the floor. The mask lay next to him, face-down. "It takes so much effort sometimes, and I've never run away before. I think I'm allowed, just once."

"Of course you are," I agreed. "But you could have left a note for them."

"Sorry. I didn't want to make you lie for me."

I shrugged. "I chose to lie. I could have just said I hadn't seen you, and it would have been truth of a sort."

He rubbed his eyes. "It's so easy to be Nameless, and so difficult to be Lucas sometimes. People love dogs."

"No-one hates you, Lucas."

"My words are all wrong."

"I didn't mean – "

"No, I didn't either," he said quickly, apologetically. "I don't end up finding very good words for things. The words are more difficult. People are so complicated."

"And dogs are so simple?"

"No, but – dogs are simple to people – you see?" he said, frustrated. "But I am sorry, and I'll make it up to them."

I glanced at the door, then reached out and turned the sign to Closed. "Come upstairs. I'll make you a drink."

He followed me into my kitchen, sitting quietly while I put a kettle on the stove.