Somebody was going downstairs from his carpet as I was coming up from mine. He gave me an odd look as we passed on the stairs, but I didn't think anything of it past wondering what was haunting him that afternoon.

Then I turned the knob to my own flat. Judy sat curled up on the couch in the front room, reading a book on the Gamda Bird I'd picked up a few days before and hadn't got around to putting on a shelf yet What started out as her smile of welcome turned into something else when her mouth sagged open in surprise. "Good God, David, what happened to you?"

A lot had happened to me, but I asked foolishly, "What do you mean, what happened?"

She sprang to her feet, grabbed me by the arm, and dragged me to the bathroom mirror as if I wasn't to be trusted to do anything that required rational thought on my own. "Look at yourself!" she commanded I mentally apologized to the fellow who'd stared at me while I was coming up to my flat I looked like someone who'd been French-kissed by a vampire: streaks of blood ran from the comers of my mouth and had dripped down onto my shirt. Before I wore it again, I'd have to go visit Carlotta or somebody else with a vampster. All my clothes were disheveled, as if I'd been through a carpet crash in them.

Funny how that works, I thought vaguely.

"What happened?" Judy said again.

So I told her, in as much detail as I remembered: pieces seemed blank, while others that happened only moments later were there in incredible perfection - I could have described exactly how every tiny dod of dirt wiggled and wavered as the earth elemental pushed its was through them after it rolled off my carpet. I started to, until Judy's face told me that wasn't something she needed to hear.

"You could have been killed," she said when I was through.

"That was the general idea," I said. "If I hadn't been wearing my safety belt, or even if I'd been going faster when they dropped the elemental on me-" I didn't care to think about that, much less talk about it I turned on the cold water, splashed it onto my face. That, and then burying my head in a towel to dry off, gave me an excuse not to talk for a couple of minutes.

Then I tried to unbutton my shirt That was when I discovered how bad my hands were shaking: I had a dreadful time making my fingers hold onto the smooth little buttons. After watching me struggle with the first two, Judy took over. As in everything she did, she was quick and deft and capable.

The feel of her fingers fluttering against my chest inflamed me as if she'd turned into a succubus. I've heard that living through a battle makes you homy. I didn't know about that, not firsthand; I hadn't been in a fight, let alone a battle, since I got out of primary school. But by the time Judy got to the last button, I couldn't wait any more. I grabbed her and kissed her - not quite as consumingly as I'd had in mind, because my tongue was still sore.

"Well," she said when she came up for air. Before she could say anything else, I kissed her again. "Well," she repeated a minute or so later, and (his time she managed to go on: "It's a good thing I drank the cup of roots when I got here instead of waiting till after dinner."

It turned out to be a very good thing: for the next half hour or so, I forgot all about what had happened on The Second. The only problem with making love to put aside your problems is that they're still there when it's over. Sitting up on the bed afterwards, I said, "You'd better be careful, too, honey. You've gotten yourself involved in this case. If they come after me - whoever they are - they're liable to come after you, too."

"That's non-" But it wasn't nonsense, and Judy must have known it, because she didn't finish the sentence. She sat up beside me. Her nod made her jiggle most pleasantly, but her voice was serious as she replied, "What have we gotten ourselves into here?"

I thought about Charlie Kelly and Henry Legion. "I don't know," I said grimly, "but I'm going to find out."

Dinner at the Hanese place was good. In fact, dinner was probably wonderful, but we were both too distracted to enjoy it as much as we should have - and, not meaning to be crude, my rear end hurt. And when we flew to the restaurant and then back again, I kept looking over my shoulder, wondering who was behind us… and why. I almost jumped out of my skin when a carpet zipped by closer than it should have, but it was just a couple of teenage lads with more machismo than brains.

When we got back to my flat - safe, sound, and overfed - Judy said, "I want you to do something for me." Like some people you may know, Judy has a Serious Voice. She was using it now.

"What is it?'I asked.

She said, "Before we went out, you said I should be careful from now on. Well, you should, too. I want you to start doing what they do in the thrillers: leave for work a few minutes early one day, then a few minutes late the next. Don't get onto the freeway at The Second every morning, or off it there every night. The same for Wilshire at the other end of your commute. Don't make yourself an easier target, I mean."

I started to laugh, to tell her that was all silly stuff. But it didn't seem silly, not after those guys had tried to do me in.

"Okay," I said, and found myself nodding. "You do the same."

"I will," she promised.

I wondered if we ought to stop seeing each other for a while. If she'd said she wanted to do that, I wouldn't have let out a peep. But I didn't suggest it myself. Maybe that was selfish of me. In fact, I'm sure it was, a little. But the main reason I didn't was that I was pretty sure she was in too deep to turn invisible so easily.

"Do you want to stay the night, or do you think you'd be safer going home now?" I asked her.

"I'd intended to stay," she said. "I stuck a change of clothes in your closet" She did some very visible thinking. "If they're interested in me - whoever they are - they have to know where I live. They could be waiting for me there as well as here. I'll stay." She made a face. "Oh, I don't like this! Having to think about everything before you do it - is it safe? is it risky? I don't like it at all."

"Me neither," I said. "But I'm glad you're staying. I wasn't what you'd call keen on being here by myself. I think I'd probabfy wake up every time a cat screeched or a dog barked." Was that selfish? Well, yes, probably. It was also very true.

I did something else then: I went into the hall closet took out my blasting rod, and put it under the bed where I could get at it in a huny. Judy watched without saying a word, but nodded soberly when I was done.

Judy and I woke up once in the middle of the night with a horrible start when the sylphs in somebody's carpet started screaming because the anti-theft gear was violated - or maybe because they thought it was, or maybe for no reason in particular. You never can tell with spirits of the air. Their nocturnal screams are a sound you hear fairly often in Angels City or any other good-sized town, generally when you least want to. At last whoever owned the carpet went down there and made them shut up, or maybe the thief flew away on it. Anyway, quiet returned.

"Jesus," Judy said.

"Or Somebody," I agreed. We both settled down and tried to go back to sleep. It took me a long time, and by the way Judy was breathing, she had as much trouble as I did. What had happened to me left both of us jumpy.

The horological demon in the alarm dock I'd bought at the swap meet caterwauled to get us up a little past six. The noise it made was so awful, I figured the Siamese exported its land so they wouldn't have to listen to 'em. But at least it had the courtesy not to laugh as Judy and I woke up and untangled - we'd drifted together after we finally drifted back off, and were sort of sleeping all over each other.

Shower, shave (for me), dress, breakfast, coffee. We'd spent title night at each other's flats often enough that we had a routine for it. What wasn't routine was the way I walked Judy out to her carpet, looked around to make sure nobody was lurking nearby, and watched till she was out of sight Then I went back to the garage, gave my own carpet a careful once - over before I got onto it, and finally headed for work.