He couldn't bear to stay where he was any longer. Without announcing his departure to the others he slipped from the doorstep, and down the block, turning the first corner he came to, which delivered him into Clarke Street. It was completely deserted, for which he was grateful. From here he could get back to the diner, keeping off the main streets. Once there, he'd take a quick rest, then load a few belongings into the back of the car, and get out of the city. As for the baby, he'd take her along; protect her in the Lord's name. He was crossing the street when a gust of cold wind found him. Instantly, the baby began to sob.

"It's okay," he murmured to her. "Now hush, will you?"

Another gust came, harder and colder than the first. He w the child closer to his chest and as he did so something ved in the darkness on the opposite side of the street. Bosley froze, but he'd already been spotted. A voice came out of the shadows, as comfortless as the wind that carried it.

"You found her-" it said, and the speaker shambled out of the deepest shadow into plainer view. It was burned, profoundly burned. Black in places, and yellow-white in others. As it approached, a carpet of living dust lay down before it. Bosley started to pray again.

"Don't!" said the burned man. "My mother used to pray. I hate the sound of it." He opened his arms. "Just give me my little girl."

Bosley shook his head. This was the final test, he thought; the encounter for which the incidents with the virago and the sodomites had been preparing him. This was when he discovered what his faith was worth.

"You can't have her," he said determinedly. "She's not yours."

"Yes she is," the burned man said. "Her name is Amy McGuire and I'm her father, Tommy-Ray."

Bosley took a backwards step, making calculations as he went. How far was it to the corner? If he shouted now, would Glodoski hear him above Lundy's moans?

"I don't want to do you any harm," Tommy-Ray McGuire said. "I don't want any more death... " He shook his head as he spoke, and flakes of matter dropped from his encrusted face. "I've seen too much... too much... "

"I can't give her to you," Bosley said, striving to sound, reasonable.

"Maybe if you can find her mother."

"Her mother's dead," Tommy-Ray said, his voice cracking. "Dead and gone."

"I'm sorry."

"The baby's all I've got now. So I'm gonna find some place where me and my little girl can live in peace."

My little girl. Lord God in Heaven, Bosley thought, take this poor man's insanity from him. Relieve him of his suffering and let him rest.

"Give her to me," the creature said, moving towards Bosley afresh.

"I'm afraid... I can't... do that Bosley said, retreating to the corner. Once there, he loosed a yell"Glodoski! Alstead!"-and pelted back down the block, grateful to find them still tormenting Lundy.

"Where the fuck did you go?" Larry demanded.

Bosley felt a chill wind at his back, and glanced over his shoulder to see McGuire rounding the corner, with the carpet of dust rising around him.

"Christ Almighty!" Larry said. "Keep runnin'!" Alstead hollered.

"It's closing' on you!"

Bosley didn't need any encouragement. He fled towards the men, the dust swirling around his legs now, as if to trip him up.

"Out of the way!" Larry yelled, racing towards him. Bosley changed direction, and Giodoski fired at McGuire, Who stopped in his tracks. The dust kept coming however, flinging Glodoski against the brick wall. He started to sob for help, but he got out no more than a word or two before his pleas were choked off. In an instant the dust had enveloped him, and his body was lifted off the ground, still pinned against the wall.

Alstead, who had only reluctantly given up his assault on Seth, now let the boy slide to the ground and went to Glodoski's aid. But the dust had done its work. In a matter of ten seconds, if that, it had dashed

@'s brains out against the brick; now it turned on Alstead. He started to back away, raising his hands in surrender, but the dust was on him like a rabid dog and would surely have slaughtered him too had Bosley not begged Tommy-Ray to call it off.

"No more death!" he said.

"All right," said McGuire, and called the dust back to his feet, leaving Alstead sobbing on the sidewalk a few yards from Waits, who had passed out in the gutter and remained there comatose.

"Just give me the kid," Tommy-Ray said'to Bosley. "And I'm gone."

"You won't hurt her?" Bosley said.

"No." "Don't-" Seth murmured, hauling himself to his feet. "In God's name, Bosley@'

"I've got no choice," Bosley replied, and proffered the child.

Seth was on his feet, and with a broken cry in his throat stumbled towards Bosley. But his bruised body couldn't carry him fast enough. Tommy-Ray claimed Amy from Bosley's hands and gathering her to his burned body whistled for the killing cloud to follow him down the street.

Seth was abreast of Bosley now, sobbing out his frustration.

"How could... you... do... that?"

"I told you: I had no choice."

"You could have run."

"He would have found me," Bosley replied, staring blank-eyed into the darkness that already enveloped Tommy-Ray.

Seth didn't waste his breath arguing. He had little enough energy left in his bruised body, and it was a long trek from here back to the crossroads, where all of tonight's journeys were bound to end.

At the crossraods Beddenbaum stared down into the ground, into the dark where the medallion lay, gathering power.

The end's almost here, he thought. The end of the stories I've made and the stories I've manipulated, and those I wandered through like a bit player and those I've endured like a prisoner. The end of all my favorite clich6s: tragic mismatches and farcical encounters; tearful reunions and deathbed curses. The end of Once upon a time and Now we shall see and Can I believe my eyes? The end of final acts; of funeral scenes and curtain speeches. The end of ends. Think of that.

He would miss the pleasure of stories-especially those in which he'd appeared in some unlikely guise or other ut he'd have no need of them very soon. they were solace for the rest of humanity, who were mired in time and desperate to glimpse something of the grand scheme. What else could they do with their lives but suffer and tell tales? He would not be of that tribe much longer.

"I have nothing but you, my sweet Serenissima," he said, turning on his heel, surveying the streets in all directions. "You are my sense, my sanity, and my soul " The pain in these words had moved him in the past, many, many times. Now he only heard the word-music, which was pretty in its simplicity, but not so pretty he would miss hearing it again.

"Go from me now and I am lost in the great dark between the stars-" As he spoke he saw Tesla Bombeck approaching down the street. And coming after her the girl, the fool, and the cretin. He went on declaiming: "And cannot ever perish there, for I must live until you still my heart." He smiled at Tesla, at them all. Opened his arms wide in welcome.

"Still it now!

She looked at him with puzzlement on her face, which he rather enjoyed.

"Still it now! " he said again. Oh, but it was fine, roaring over the din of screams and sobs, while his victims came wandering towards him.

"I beg thee, still it now, and let my suffering cease!

Doing her best to conceal her nervousness, Tesia looked back in the direction of the lad. She could see nothing of the invader itself, but two fires had started in the streets closest to the base of the mountain, and flames from the larger of them were leaping up over the roofs, seeding sparks. Whatever their originsdesperate defense measures or accidents that were goiti,,, unchecked-the fires would surely spread. In which case the invader would be lording itself over a city of charcoal and ash by morning.