I began to cry in frustration, like a child who can't make a painting look the way they want it. I let it drop to the counter, resting one hand on the smooth curved surface as I sat down and rubbed my face with the other. Static crackled in the air, shocked me where my fingertips touched my skin – it would be a dry day outside, cold and sunny and brutal.

I set it on the workbench, exhausted, and found my hands bloody, grit under the fingernails, the sharp crescent of the bite still oozing a little. There was nothing to be done, and I couldn't be seen like this. I climbed the stairs slowly, turned on the shower, and scrubbed my hands clean while the water warmed up.

Under the hot water, my muscles began to relax and then to shake; it was all I could do to dry myself off and crawl into bed, and that was the last I knew for hours.

***

I woke to Jacob's voice, calling my name in the shop below. I flailed out of bed and dragged the blanket with me as I walked to the stairs.

"Down in five minutes!" I called.

"I can wait!" he shouted back. I pulled some clothing on with numb, exhausted fingers, and then looked down at my hand again. The scabs had held but seemed grotesque and misshapen, and I wrapped a dishtowel around my palm as I hurried down the stairs.

"Sorry," I said, as I reached the bottom. "Just cleaning my – "

Jacob was standing at the counter, paging through a book, but all my senses focused on the workbench, and the slight shimmer in the air where the mask lay. I looked nervously at him, but he didn't appear bothered. Didn't even see it – not that there was anything to see. But to me it seemed – better than it had earlier. It didn't seem as imperfect as I'd thought it was. We have no objectivity when we're tired.

" – hand," I finished weakly, holding it up.

"Carmen said you'd hurt yourself," Jacob said, frowning in concern as he set the book down. "Anything serious?"

"No, just – just a dog bite," I lied, tucking the towel-wrapped hand behind my back and coming forward. "I – ran into a nasty stray on my way to The Pines."

"Town folk were worried when your lights weren't on this morning. Isn't like you to disappear," he said. "Thought I'd come over and see."

"Long night." I rummaged in the shelves behind the counter and finally came up with an old elastic bandage and some cotton wadding I normally used for wiping up paste when I was bookbinding. "I told the boy to tell people I got bitten, but he only told Charles."

"Ah," Jacob said. "Which boy?"

"You know, the one Lucas tutors," I said. He gave me a vague nod that told me he didn't have much of an idea who I was talking about. "Did you need something?"

"Nope, just to see you were well," he said. "Come on over to the cafe, Carmen's been worrying. Buy you lunch," he added.

"Lunchtime already?" I asked.

"Pretty nearly. Whole town's been wanting to stop by all morning."

"Gratifying," I said with a light smile. "Let me get my boots."

Carmen threw her arms around my neck when we walked in, nearly knocking me over, and then wouldn't let us sit down until I'd shown her my makeshift bandage and assured her that they'd given me all my shots at the hospital. Everyone asked a lot of questions, but I answered evasively and eventually they must have figured out that I didn't want to talk about it.

On the way out, I caught Carmen's elbow as she passed.

"Hey," I said. "You know the kid that's always running around with Lucas?"

"Sure," she replied, with the same distracted look Jacob had given me. "He comes in for a soda sometimes."

"Anything about him ever strike you as a little weird?"

She laughed. "Weird? Nah. He's just one of the town kids, you know."

"I thought he might be from one of the farms."

"Could be. Who is he again?"

I looked at her, frowned, and shook my head. "Don't worry about it. I'll see you later."

"Feel better!" she called after me as I left.

I walked back across the street to Dusk Books and pushed the door open, though I didn't intend to stay long. More people would want to come see me that afternoon, which was fine – but I wanted to be sure Lucas was all right. And I wanted to give him the mask, which sang out almost audibly when I walked into the shop.

How to give it to him was the question. Standing there holding out empty air would look ridiculous, but then so was the entire idea of Nameless. Wrapping it in paper didn't work – believe me, I tried – and it didn't seem right to just sling it into a box or a bag and carry it.

I picked it up from the workbench, turning it over in my hands, and then quickly set it down again when the wooden door to the shop creaked open.

"Christopher?" Michael called, putting his head around the door.

"Come on in," I said, walking back to the counter. "Afternoon, Michael."

"Afternoon," he said, standing in front of the counter, eyes darting down to my hand. "Heard you were hurt. Word going around is you got a dog bite."