I held up my hand. "Nothing serious. Looks kind of gross, though. Caught a stray on a bad day."

"Only stray around here's that big husky," he said. "That the one?"

"Who, Nameless? No," I told him. "Just some dog."

He gave me a searching look. "How's your heart?"

I laughed. "My heart's fine, Michael. How's yours?"

That got me a grin. "Fine too. Better than fine."

"You need anything?"

"No, just wanted to make sure you didn't need us to go find Nameless. Whatever it was, it drew blood – got to put down a creature like that, before it gets a kid or something."

"Long gone by now, I guess – don't think it was local to start with," I said hastily.

"I can put word around if you want. You know Low Ferry."

"Mm. Yeah, I do. I think I'm closing up today – I'd appreciate it if you told folks not to bother Nameless if they see him."

"Sure. Where you headed?"

"Out to The Pines."

"Drive you far as the road goes," Michael offered.

"No," I said, thinking of the mask. "I...think I'll walk. Nice day for it."

He gave me an uncertain look. "Sure?"

"Yeah. I love that walk. Next time though, maybe?"

A small smile. "Sure. See you round, Christopher."

He left, the door banging shut behind him, and I turned back to the mask. This time, when I picked it up, something brushed against my fingers. I almost dropped it in surprise. I looked down, which was stupid, and then brought my other hand up to explore the edge, discovering something dangling next to one of the eye-holes.

A ribbon. Another on the other side.

I almost burst out laughing, but instead I tied the ribbons together and looped them around my hand, letting the mask dangle from my fingers in a way that was almost unnoticeable. I glanced furtively at Dottore, whose leer from above the fireplace was more of a benevolent smile in the daytime, and left for The Pines.

I didn't see many people as I walked, none once I left the main street, and the world seemed still and a little empty. Mask swinging from one hand, I left the asphalt behind and walked out into the fields that divided The Pines from town, the grass still sodden and pocked here and there with snow.

When I reached the kitchen door I knocked a couple of times, waited, knocked again, shouted up to Lucas and then tried the door – unlocked, so I hurried inside. I half-expected to find him dead on the kitchen floor, but he must have cleaned it. There wasn't even any mud on the floor. The sink where he'd thrown up the hemlock was wiped clean too, though I noticed a spot of blood – my blood, I thought distantly – on the edge.

I looked into the living room and did see a body on the couch there, but my first rush of panic subsided quickly when I saw his chest moving – slowly and evenly, deep inhales and exhales. I touched his wrist where it rested on the back of the couch. His skin was warm, pulse slow and even. He was sleeping. I expected him to wake up when I touched him, but he didn't even shift.

The boxes he'd packed hadn't been touched, and the room seemed very bare without his supplies and masks strewn everywhere. I came around to the other side of the couch and sat down on the heavy coffee table, watching him.

"Lucas," I said softly. His hand twitched. "Wake up a little, huh?"

He didn't move. I reached out and ran the tips of my fingers along his cheekbone, down to his jaw, but he just exhaled slightly and slept on.

"All right," I said, almost relieved. "Sleep if you have to. I brought you something..." I set the mask on the table next to me, straightening it so that it rested on its edges, facing him. "Come see me when you want. You know where I am."

No reaction, just the soft sound of breathing.

If he found the mask, well, that was fine. If he didn't, then it was all in my head anyway. But I hoped he would.

I got up, hesitated, then bent and kissed him on the forehead before leaving. I flicked the lights off on my way out, shut the kitchen door firmly behind me, and turned my face to the chilly wind outside the cottage.

That was the last time I saw Lucas for almost two months.

***

Sandra brought the news to me the next day, when I was still trying to set my internal clock back to waking before noon. I'd already eaten lunch by the time I opened the shop, and a delivery of new comic books had taken up an hour or two after that. I was busy cutting myself a new, more precise bandage with some wadding and a scalpel when she came in.

"Afternoon," I called from the workbench. "With you in just...one...second. Trust me, you don't want to see the Grim Hand of Christopher Dusk."

She laughed and rested her elbows on my counter as I got up, wrapping the wadding around my hand and securing it with the elastic bandage. "Better make sure it wasn't a werewolf," she said.

"I think I'm safe in Low Ferry," I answered, hiding a pang of – conscience, or regret, or something. I don't know. "What can I get for you today? New magazines came in a few days ago."

"Thought they might have by now," she said, as I collected her usual assortment and set them on the counter. She flipped through them while I rang up the total. "Took the afternoon off. Just me and my magazines and some of Carmen's coffee."