 
Sam the Night Person

Lisa Rusczyk

Copyright 2010 by Lisa Rusczyk

Smashwords Edition

All is fiction. Anything otherwise is coincidental.

Dedicated to Andrew McGinnis

1

"You came all the way out here, miles from anything, to ask a question?" The older woman behind the desk raised opaque eyebrows at the dark blonde girl across from her. She looked younger than the rowdy college group staying in the lodge house, yet Barbara had at first assumed she was with them. She shook her head with a smile. "You could have picked up the phone. But I guess sometimes you just have to drive."

"Well, yeah, I'm traveling around the country right now and I've never been to Colorado, so I thought I'd see what it was like out here. Very beautiful, by the way. Your lodge, I mean. I love all the cabins."

"Thanks. We're pretty empty right now. This winter's been tough weather. Even though it's March, air's still icy and we get a bit of snow here and there. Still patches of it on the ground." She put her arms up on the desk. "So, what's your question, Miss..."

"You can call me Azzy. It's a nickname."

"Used to explaining it, huh?" She smiled. "Nice to meet you, Azzy. I'm Barbara."

Azzy blinked and glanced away. Barbara watched the young girl try to hide a deep breath behind folding arms.

"I'm looking for someone I met a couple of years ago. He mentioned the Gai Lodge a couple of times. We, uh, lost touch and I thought I'd stop by, see the place, ask if you know him. You've owned this place for a while, right?"

"Twenty years, but we get hundreds of people coming and going. I doubt I'd remember him."

"His name is Sam. He has dark brown hair about down to here." She touched above her shoulders. "It has a bit of wave to it." Her cheeks flushed slightly. "He's about 5'9", big brown eyes. Dark skin tone."

Barbara tilted her head and squinted eyes. "I don't know..."

"He's... He's a night person."

The owner stared at her.

Azzy's lips danced. "He's up all night, drinks a lot of coffee. He has a night job, so it keeps him on that schedule." She folded her fingers and bent them backwards to where Barbara could see her knuckles turn white.

The woman at the desk leaned forward on her elbows, bit her lip. "I honestly can't remember anyone like that. You said his name was Sam?"

"Yes."

"Sorry."

Azzy put her hands on the counter. Her wrists gave her hands a tremble. "I think he mentioned some festival he came out here for."

"We do have one every few years, but there are many people attending. Even if I met him, I probably wouldn't remember him."

Azzy removed her hands and tugged the bottom of her coat. She looked down, nodded. "Okay. Well, thanks for your time." She met the owner's eyes and smiled. "Have a nice night."

"Where are you staying?"

"There's a motel about an hour from here. I'm going to head that way. Passed it on my way in."

"Where to after Colorado?"

She glanced at the dining area through the nearby walkway. "I'm not sure."

"Better not go up north. There's a snow storm brewing up there, blowing east."

Azzy tugged her coat again. "Alright. Thanks." As she reached the door, the owner spoke again.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay the night? We have plenty of room."

Azzy turned back. "Thanks, but I don't think I could afford it. I appreciate the offer."

"How much is that motel you're staying at charging?"

"Thirty-five a night."

Barbara scratched the back of her head. "I tell you what. I'll give you a night for that rate."

"I couldn't..."

The owner laughed. "Sure you could. Besides, you're safer here. If it makes you feel better, I'll put you in cabin number 2. It has a leaking roof in one of the rooms and we can't rent it out at a regular rate as it is. Really, someone as young as you shouldn't stay alone in those motels in the middle of nowhere. How old are you, seventeen? Eighteen?"

"Twenty-four."

"You look so young."

"I've worn my ID on my forehead before."

Barbara clasped her hands. "What do you say?"

"Actually, I would love it."

"Now, give me that ID so I can fill out the check-in."

Azzy was led to a large cabin about a hundred yards from the main lodge. "They house four bedrooms, two baths, small kitchen and two wood closets. Feel free to use the fireplace all you want. And if you get the creeps from being alone in that big place by yourself, just hop over to the main house. There's usually someone up and about, especially with those college kids here. They party 24-7, so you can always find them. Their lodge is attached to our lobby and house, as you can see."

"Thank you so much, again."

"Thank you. Pick any room you want, but for your own comfort, not the leaky one."

Azzy chose one in the front that led directly into the main room with the fireplace, couches, chairs, bookshelves. She thought it was wonderful. After exploring, she turned on the radio and listened to a classic rock station. She sat on her bed for a while and stared at the green bag she had pulled out of her red Civic parked behind the cabin. With a sigh, she rose, opened the bag and pulled out a pill bottle. Had someone been watching her as she emptied a round, white pill from the bottle, the observer might have suspected she was recalling the death of a loved one.

She hid her pills deep in her clothes and dry swallowed the pill. She went into the main room and browsed the book shelves. There was a variety of texts ranging from classics, popular fiction, non-fiction to poetry. She ran a finger down the spine of Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness, looked around the empty room, then pulled a Jonathan Kellerman novel. She smoked a cold cigarette on the porch and went back into her room. She locked all the doors.

Azzy prepared for an early bed, climbed in. She mumbled to herself with the unopened book in her hand. "Maybe they'll stop anyway."

The young woman never opened the book, but instead sat in the entertainment deprived room with the lights on for an hour. When she turned them off, her eyes were open for a long time. One could almost hear her brain working, plotting, restructuring, screaming.

Barbara made some phone calls that night, leaving a message on the last call she made. Around one, her call was returned.

"You're hard to track down, son."

"It's part of my mystique."

She chuckled. "It means you have something to hide."

"Having secrets is very intriguing. Otherwise, I wouldn't have friends like you."

"Alright. You got me."

"So, what's going on?"

Barbara rose from her sofa and walked to the kitchen. She was much more comfortable talking at the kitchen table. She wasn't sure why, except that she'd watched her mother do it all her life.

"A strange girl, I mean, a young woman, came asking for you tonight. I gave her a cut rate to stay the night. I told her I didn't know who you were."

"What's her name?"

Barbara told him. "Do you know her?"

A pause. "That's a distinctive name. I usually remember people, but I don't think I know her."

"Dark blonde hair past her shoulders. Incredibly thick. Says blue eyes on her driver's license, but they looked green to me. Very pretty. I liked her, but something was very strange about it. She was nervous. She came all the way out here without calling."

"Her description isn't familiar."

Barbara drummed her fingers on the table.

"You have bad rhythm, Barb."

"Bat ears."

"Why would a stranger come looking for me?"

"Well, she says she knows you."

A longer pause. "Where is she from?"

"Alabama. Mobile."

"I think I drove through the state once, but that's it. I've never been to Mobile."

The owner explained to him that Azzy was trying to get back in touch with him. "She said you had told her about the lodge and a festival you came to here."

"That is really strange. I have no idea who this woman is. What do you think?"

"I don't know, but as I said, I like her. Whatever her intent is, I don't think it's bad. Maybe she knows someone you know, heard about you, got a crush on you. She blushed when she described what you look like. She said she thought you were a night person, but followed up by talking about your sleeping habits. I couldn't tell if she was fishing for a reaction."

"I see what you mean." He laughed. "How's that for mystique? Moon's up. Maybe I should take a trip out for a night or two. Is that okay with you?"

"You know it is."

"You're just as curious as I am. Do you have some shoes I could wear? Maybe some clothes, if necessary?"

"I'm sure Kevin has some."

"Great. See you soon."

She pushed the button on the cordless. Resumed finger tapping.

Azzy took a walk in the morning, but it wasn't as nice as it could have been. She met a few of the college kids and chattered with them. She thought they were nice, much more interesting than the sloping mountains and the crystal stream. They asked if she wanted to hike around the mountain behind the lodge, but she declined. Walking back to her cabin, she reflected on how enjoying landscape beauty was always so fleeting.

Azzy packed up then went to the main lodge for check-out. Barbara came down a staircase, and Azzy assumed lived she upstairs. She wondered about Barbara's husband as she looked at her gold wedding band. She thought he'd be a talker, a playful type.

"Hi. It was great. I came to check out."

Barbara's eyes widened. "Oh! I wanted to ask you, would you like to stay another night?"

"Really?"

"Like I told you, we need the business and if you want to stay here, you are welcome to as long as you like."

Azzy looked at the key in her hand, feeling she had to make an immediate decision or else the cabin and lodge would fall into an unreachable pit of her imagination. It was better for her to leave, get away from this place. The key dug through her glove and into her palm.

"Okay. I would love to stay another night. Thanks."

The owner smiled too broadly, but Azzy didn't notice.

The girl from Mobile settled back into her room, then took another stroll. She caught more of the young spring breakers and joined them on a picnic blanket by the river. They talked for hours. She took to a black-haired fellow named Kenneth with a sharp sense of humor. She thought he'd make picking out a tombstone funny. They were thrilled with her palm reading ability.

Eventually, she ached for solitude. Sometimes conversation could be completely overwhelming.

Azzy went into the cabin and dropped her coat on the bed. She walked back to the main room with a thought of turning on music. She didn't make it to the radio. She stopped outside her door and let out a short scream, grabbing her chest.

Round brown eyes stared up at her. Bare feet propped up on the coffee table. He relaxed on the couch with a book in his hand. "Hi."

"Scared me. Didn't see you when I..." She pointed at the door, laughing and covering her red cheeks. He noticed her shaking, her heart beating so hard he could hear it.

"Sorry to scare you. I'm Sam."

"Yeah." She looked at him, trying to still her form. He felt discomfort at the way she stared and wondered if Barbara's crush theory was accurate.

He didn't ask her name. He knew it. Instead, he held up his book. "Ever read this?"

She squinted at the title. "The Blithedale Romance. Yes, actually, I have."

"Really? What did you think?"

She stuttered. "I think I liked it."

"Why?"

She tugged her hair. "It's been a long time. Bad memory."

Sam read off a sentence from the back of the book.

"Oh. Oh, yeah. Utopia. I don't believe in it. Utopia, not the book. Well, obviously I believe the book is real. Anyway," she chucked to herself, "I thought the story was light and twisted." She put her hands behind her back. "Have you ever read any Emerson?"

"I have."

"Did you like it?"

"Yes. I take it you didn't?"

"Actually, I loved it. It was a long time ago when I read it, but the essays about nature were wonderful."

He smiled. "But you don't believe in Utopia?"

"No. Have you read Emerson's essay called 'Experience'?"

"I'm not sure."

"It's in the bookcase. I saw it last night. At the end he writes a sort of disclaimer saying that he never found lasting peace in anything, or at least that's how I remember it. What I liked about the essay is that he didn't damn the search for peace in nature, but that it didn't work for him in the end." She looked out the window. "I could continue on to babble about things I don't really know. Sorry." She pushed a finger to her lips as though trying to silence them.

He was still smiling. "I take it you studied English."

"Yes." The soles of her shoes rooted deeply into the wood floor.

"What do you do now?"

"I work in a funeral parlor."

Sam looked into the empty fireplace. "That must be..."

"Yeah. I like my job, actually. I write an occasional column for the local paper, too."

Sam glanced at his page number and closed the book. "Do you smoke? I saw the ashtray had been used."

"Yes."

"Want to grab some coffee and sit on the porch?"

"Yes." She detached her shoes from the floor, glanced down to see if roots actually were coming out of the bottoms, and made her way to the coffee pot. She busied herself with a pink mug, grabbed her coat, then followed Sam out onto the porch.

They looked out at trees and snow patches, a small wooden table between them holding their goodies. They sipped and puffed in silence. Azzy glanced at his naked feet and wondered how he could stand the cold. He tucked them under his knees as though her silent thought had reminded him that they were freezing.

Sam broke the quiet tension. "So, Azzy, why did you want to see me?"

She tapped ashes onto the porch without thinking. "Barbara told you?"

"Yes."

"She said she didn't know you."

"You said you did." He shrugged. "I guess she's watching out for me. I've known her all my life."

"She's a nice lady."

He was quiet.

"As you know, Sam, we've never met." She waved her cigarette between them.

"Yes."

"I didn't believe I'd really meet you. I don't know what to say."

They watched the activities of the still trees.

After a moment, Sam ashed his smoke and sipped his coffee. She was afraid to speak in his silence. She relieved her own cigarette into the ashtray and reached for brown leaf on the porch. She twirled the stem. "This is actually hard to say out loud. I've had dreams about you. That's why I came looking for you."

He glanced over and raised his eyebrows, then sipped more coffee. He rested the mug in his lap.

Azzy put her arms behind her neck, hoping that the open stance would make her feel more free to speak. "I know you don't believe me, but it's true. I've dreamed of this place, also. So I came here, and here you are. You look and sound like the Sam I dreamed of. You drink coffee, smoke, read. That's accurate."

"You've already seen me do those things, so how would I know you aren't just saying you know them? Besides, they aren't exactly unusual activities or characteristics for someone to have."

"I know. There are other things. I just really wanted to find out."

"Why?"

She pulled her arms back down to twirling the leaf. "I want the dreams to stop."

Sam stubbed his cigarette, which was nothing more than filter. "Are they that bad?"

Azzy heard his smile and her mouth twitched. "No. Well, yes. It's the frequency that's bothering me. I can't get things done anymore. I mean, I sleep a lot."

"Dreams make you sleep? I though it worked the other way around."

She dropped the leaf. "I keep falling asleep."

"So, why do you think meeting me will make the dreams stop?"

"I had to try something."

"Have you done anything else?"

"I tried medication. I tried constant activity." She didn't mention that she'd cut her work hours by half. "I didn't know what to do."

"And you came to the lodge. You dreamed of it?"

"Yes. I didn't know what it was called, just that it was in Colorado. I looked on the Internet and found the Gai. Looked just right."

He retrieved more coffee for them both, returning wearing socks far too big for him.

"Tell me more. I'm intrigued."

Azzy slipped on her gloves. "What do you want to know?"

"What you know about me, of course." He was smiling again.

"Okay." She nibbled her mug. "I feel weird about this. I don't know if it's all accurate, or if any of it is. Where should I start?"

"Tell me what the dreams are about."

"Oh, random themes. I don't think the stories have any bearing. You know how crazy dreams are."

"I do."

"The strange thing is that you are in all of them. You are consistent."

"How so?"

"You have the same characteristics and qualities." She lit another cigarette.

"Okay, tell me some of those."

"You like to play basketball. You're a drummer and you love music. I believe you like The Cure, maybe that song of theirs, 'Pictures of You'?" She glanced over for affirmation, but he looked the same. "Let's see. You work for the government." She paused. "You teach at night. I'm not clear as to what you teach. You have a close friend you work and live with. His name's Jeremy. He's tall, very pale, blue eyes, brown, curly hair. He's a bit of a dare-devil type, not afraid to do things most people wouldn't. He is the cause of most of the times you two got in trouble growing up.

"You travel for your job; you have no permanent residency." She watched Sam drink some coffee. "Speaking of travel, when you aren't working, you take trips all over. I believe your favorite place in Europe is Greece, although you've never been to Switzerland." She looked over as he touched a flame to a cigarette. She tried to match his calm by resting her hands limply on her knees. They twitched slightly.

"Okay," she continued, "Let's see. Your family. Your parents live in North Carolina, where you grew up. You have an older brother and a younger sister. Brother's name is Eric, and I know nothing else about him. Your sister is a pretty girl, long hair and same coloring as you. She's outgoing, friendly. Your dad has curly hair and a mustache. I think he has Peruvian blood. He works at a publishing company, uh, at night. Your mother is very beautiful, has long silver hair. An artist. You have her eyes. I think she has some Native American background.

"They live in the woods about forty-five minutes from a city. Not sure which. They have many friends in the area." He gave no response other than lazy utilization of his vices.

"Jeremy grew up with you, along with your friend Lori. She has very light blonde hair which she almost always wears in a ponytail. She's tomboyish, always has a new boyfriend, and works for a magazine in Chicago. She doesn't sleep much, thinks it's a waste of time."

She stopped to breathe and slow her words. Azzy rubbed her forehead and began to speak again. "As for you, your personality, should I go on?"

"Please do."

"All right. You are an honest person. Yes, very big on honesty in others, too. You're extremely independent. Not afraid of much. You love night time." She picked up her mug of chilling coffee. "You are close to your mother, Jeremy and Lori. You have many good friends, but you don't completely trust many people. You like to laugh, joke around. You are good at teaching people. Very patient. You don't get angry much, but when you do, you get pretty much out of control." Azzy's eyes glazed, but Sam didn't notice. He wore a slight smile and gazed out the porch.

"You read every chance you get. Most people like you because they sense you accept them as they are, which you do. You might not trust everyone, but you usually like them. You fear things about yourself. You are afraid you are a coward. I can't say why.

"Sometimes your inability to trust others leaves you lonely. You don't realize how much the people around you care about you, even though you'd do anything for them. I'm not sure where that comes from."

She paused and put her mug back on the table. "There's a festival here every three years. Many people come, families maybe? Not sure why they come. Just... not sure. But there's something different about it." She put her hands in her pocket and spoke into the face of a tree trunk over the railing. "All I can think of. Something about Texas, but I don't know what."

Sam put out his cigarette. Azzy noticed that he hadn't drained it to the filter this time, but left some to spare.

All was quiet.

"Azzy, I'm sorry, but that's not me. A few things are. I like basketball. I love to read. I like night time and I have a sister, but no brother. That's about it." He looked over at her, but she watched her lap.

"It's okay. It was pretty crazy anyway." She fluttered eyelashes and he thought he saw a flash of dampness around her lids.

"I hope your dreams stop. Something weird happened that you knew this place and my face, but maybe a while back someone you know showed you my picture taken at the festival and told you a little about it. Your subconscious could have picked up on it."

"Maybe." She faced away from him and examined the main lodge. She wanted to be one of the college kids, sitting on a bed and drinking beer, talking about nothing.

Sam rose and stretched. He took his mug and smokes, stretched.

"Sam, how did you get here so fast?"

"I flew. I was curious." He nodded. "Good luck." He went inside and Azzy thought of a woman in the funeral parlor last week. She had kissed Azzy's cheek and whispered, "You understand." She understood only that the woman was in pain. Her boss had given her three raises in the last two years and was most patient with her need to cut back on her hours. He was such a nice man.

She took another walk and met Kenneth. They ate dinner with some of his friends. Kenneth asked her twice what was bothering her. She told him she was tired. He was the type who could be easily over concerned, yet inversely obliviously sensitive. He had attempted to play guitar for years and it was his secret dream to be a rock star. She knew all this without him telling her, but she was used to being unusually observant.

Back at the cabin, she tried to light a fire, but without success. She saw no sign of Sam. Maybe he had caught his flight out. She didn't know he had the kind of money to fly around like that, but she apparently knew very little about the person she had spoken with.

She reclined in bed early that night with the Kellerman book in her hand. One fist lightly pounded the cover. After a moment, she opened the book and laid it on the pillow next to her. She turned the lights out, rolled on her side to face the book, and placed a hand on the paper jacket.

The last time she looked at the digital numbers, it was four hours after she'd doused the lights. In the darkness, she crept to her bag and retrieved a pill.

Sleep came. It always did, thank the powers that be.

Sam opened one eye and read the clock. 11:30AM. He rolled over and listened to the young woman shower and make coffee. He heard her go out onto the porch. He fell asleep only to awaken when she came back inside. He heard her prepare to leave and then heard her car as she started the engine. He listened to it pull up at the main lodge. He stared at the ceiling for a minute, then drifted back into sleep.

His brown eyes opened again when he heard the back door open and close. Foot steps. A bag dropped on the floor. He heard the phone dial, then Azzy's voice.

"Hi, Gram. Is Mom around? Yeah, thanks." A pause. "Hi, Mom. Yeah... No, well, I called to tell you I'm going to be up here for a few more days. The owner of this lodge told me there's a huge snowstorm that shifted South and is heading this way... Don't worry, no, I'm not driving. She's letting me stay for free... I know... Well, I'm going to clean up the cabin. I'll be fine." A long pause. Sam got up and looked at the collecting clouds out the window. He muttered a profanity. Azzy continued her conversation. "Yeah, thanks for reminding me that I missed the beach vacation. I know you'll be thinking of me. I hope you all get sunburns." She laughed. Genuine. Sam smiled. Azzy said goodbye, love you, then hung up.

Sam dressed and left his room, heading straight for the coffee pot. He heard Azzy putting sheets on her bed and he walked to her doorway.

He sipped from a steaming mug. "Why'd you take your sheets off?"

She jumped. "You must weigh one pound! I didn't hear you walking around."

"Bare feet. What is this about a blizzard? I heard you talking on the phone."

She tucked in a sheet corner. "I thought you had left. I took my sheets to the desk. Thought it would be nice so they wouldn't have to make two trips - getting them and putting them back on." Azzy pulled the bedspread over the bed. "Barbara told me that the storm's coming this way. It should be snowing in about four hours, around five. She gave me extra food and candles. They're in my car."

"How bad is it?"

"Pretty rough, I guess. I've only seen snow twice in my life. You might want to talk to her yourself. She said the power will go out."

He grinned. "Never seen a snowstorm?"

"Nope."

"I bet you'll love it."

"Why?"

"You'll see. It's amazing." He drained his coffee. "I'm going to talk to Barb. See you in a bit." He walked away, but she couldn't hear his footfalls. Not even the sound of bare feet sticking to the wood floor.

"That bad? I guess I'm stuck here. Azzy shouldn't be alone in a storm like this, anyway. She's never seen a blizzard before."

Barbara handed him some orange juice. "She's in for a treat. I offered our couch to her, but she said no. Didn't want to disrupt our lives. I wonder how she'll like being cooped up for a few days."

"Well, I think she's probably pretty tough. Good OJ, thanks."

"Still don't trust her?"

"I just don't know. I guess I'll have some time to figure out what she's up to."

"Yes. From what you said last night, it sounds bizarre."

They looked at each other. Barbara drummed her fingertips.

Azzy brought in supplies and a backpack of CDs from her car. She popped a Tori Amos in the boom box and put the food and water away. Barbara said the pipes would most likely freeze. Did that mean she couldn't bathe? Flush? A blizzard couldn't be as scary as a hurricane, although she rather enjoyed the windy storms.

She danced around and sang Tori's complaint to God, then lie on the couch and stared at the fireplace. She did this for a long time.

Sam came in after dark. Azzy sat up and looked over the back of the sofa to the front of the cabin. He said, "Have you checked out the snow?"

"It's snowing already?"

He grinned and went into his room.

Azzy donned her coat and went outside. From the light of the cabin porch light, she could see into the darkness. Snow swirled softly, big, fat flakes. She imagined that if she looked closely enough, she might spy a fairy taking a ride on one of the wide flurries. She had always been practical, didn't believe in nonsense like fairies. Now, however... now the possibility was as acceptable as finding a ten-year lost necklace.

This blizzard wasn't bad, she thought. The wind spun, but only gently. It was cold, but not frigid. She could see through the snow to the other cabin lights. As she watched, her mind drifted. She sat down and smoked a cigarette.

She got colder and balled up. She smoked several more cigarettes. She felt the wind pick up, but it didn't bother her. She smiled. Her eyes widened every now and then. The snow grew thicker. She watched a cabin go dark. Early sleepers, she thought. She stared back into the falling snow caught by the porch light, looking as though she were listening to its secrets.

The cabin door opened and Azzy looked over. Sam was bundled up and held two mugs.

"I can't believe you're still out here. Barb said you were from Mobile. You must store Southern warmth in your blood stream. Here." He handed her a coffee mug.

She thanked him.

"Even I couldn't sit out here for three hours."

She leaned back and sipped. Her nose responded to the steam with a tingle. Three hours. Of course, three hours. To her, it felt like forty-five minutes. She began to feel the cold. Sam sat on the other side of the table.

"What have you been doing, Sam?"

"Reading Emerson. I see what you mean about the essay. I agree with you. It makes the rest of his writings much more interesting. I admire his honesty. It must be tough to say those things after all that he had written and all the influence he'd spread over people."

"Yes. I felt that was what he wanted to achieve all along. His essays were a way of compounding his learning and discoveries. He searched for peace and understanding. At least, that's what my mind remembers about what I read."

He blew smoke into the thick snow. "You love your literature, don't you?"

She didn't answer.

"I do, too. All kinds of books. I like to know people's thought and ideas. I love getting immersed in a story to the extent that I don't even know I'm sitting there, moving eyes over words on a page. It's better than daydreaming. Never know what's going to happen."

"Ready for more coffee?" Azzy rose.

"Finished already? Sure, I'll take some."

Azzy went inside and Sam stared at the snowflakes. He did not share secrets with them. He contemplated the whiteness, suspecting there were secrets, but not knowing how to learn them.

Azzy turned out the porch light and returned with a white votive in a glass holder. She lit it and put it on the table.

"What do you think of the snow, Azzy?"

"Nothing like a hurricane."

"Really?"

"Why are you smirking?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow."

"Nothing to this storm. A few days stuck inside, then everything is fine."

He smiled, sipped, dropped a filter into the ashtray. "Did you have any more dreams last night?"

She shook her head. "No. Maybe this trip worked." She felt cold.

"You're lying."

She didn't look at him, but only sat very still. She let out a short cloud of breath, then went inside. She took her second shower of the day for warmth.

She slept late. First thing she did upon rising was look out the window to see a moving white wall. She laughed, dressed, started coffee and ran out the door. The wind stung her face and she saw snow drifting up on the far side of the porch. She stepped down into a foot of snow. She held out her hand and couldn't see it. After the pleasure ebbed, she went back inside with a satisfied grin. After thirty minutes of trying, she stared a weak flame in the fireplace. She settled on the couch with her book and a blanket.

Before she started reading, she wondered again how Sam had known she was lying. He didn't know her well enough to tell. Was it that obvious? She internalized the situation at hand for several more minutes, then cracked the book. When she looked up some time later, it was 1:30 and she was on page ninety. The question "Who done it?" stung her reading mind.

She brewed fresh coffee but did not drink any. Back at the couch, she flipped the pages, smelling them, then resumed reading.

"A fresh pot. Great," Sam said as he came out of his room and poured the dark liquid. "What are you reading?"

She told him.

"Love those. Never know who's guilty. Seems like everyone but Alex and his dog did it."

She closed the book and marked the page with a finger, a sign of invitation for conversation or a rebuttal to the decline of such with the easy reopening of the book. A masterful way to appear as though she knew what was going to happen either way.

"What do you think of that snow?" He joined her on the couch. She folded the jacket into the book and set it aside.

"Beautiful. Cold. Not scary."

"We'll see what you think tomorrow."

"You said that yesterday."

"I doubt I'll say it tomorrow." He grinned.

"Have you ever been in a hurricane?"

"A mild one that came inland. Actually, it was a tropical storm by the time it got to us. Not much, but fascinating."

"Where was that?"

He looked at the embers in the fireplace. "North Carolina. Do you need help with that flame?"

"Why were you in North Carolina?" She squeezed her hands.

"I was visiting family. I'll get more wood. Where'd you get the logs?"

She told him she was using the closet next to her room.

Her jaw would not relax to ask him more about North Carolina. She simply watched his back at work.

"Three Dog Night fan, Azzy?" He referred to a song coming from the CD player.

"Yes."

"Mind if I look at your music?" He did, commenting on every one he touched. "Such a wide variety." He spoke at length in respect for the drummer of the Minutemen.

Her jaw clenched tighter. Her lips opened and her tongue moved. "Put in whatever you like."

A few minutes later, she heard Led Zeppelin.

She picked up her book and stood. "Good choice. John Bonham was another great drummer, don't you think?"

He smiled. Azzy went into her room, stretched out on her bed and resumed reading.

It was dark when the power went out. Azzy yelped and jumped out of her sheets. She stumbled to the door and opened it to a fire-lit room. Sam sat on the couch, bare feet propped up and book in hand. His toes glowed from fire light.

"Hi, Azzy. Time to bring out the candles."

"Scared me."

"So I heard. You okay?"

"How can you read like that? There's no light behind you."

He put his feet down and grinned. "I can see in the dark." Sam collected some candles and placed them on tables, humming along to Jefferson Airplane coming from the boom box. Azzy covered her chest with her hands and watched as the room grew brighter. He glanced at her. "Might want to take your last hot shower while you can."

Azzy spoke softly, but her heard her. "Are you him?" Her breath was light, "Tell me if you are, please. Am I crazy?" He straightened up behind a newly lit candle and watched her. "You're the one I've been dreaming about, aren't you? Right?"

The candle flame rose in his eyes like small, yellow moons and he stood still as a cat watching an intruder. "Why do you think that, Azzy?"

"Things you've said. Mostly, though," she folded her hands as though praying, then opened them, "I almost finished a book."

"What does that mean?"

"I can concentrate. I didn't... I didn't fall asleep."

He walked over to her, leaving two candles unlit. He took her hands and lead her to the couch. He eased her down next to him.

"Do you want me to be him?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because maybe I can find answers. Maybe the dreams will stop for good." Her eyebrows raised. "Something will make sense. But the Sam I know wouldn't lie. I'm sure you're him, but he wouldn't lie."

He turned from her gaze and stared at the four red candles on the coffee table. "I'm him. Everything you described is me."

She dropped her head to hide her smile, then looked up with a slack face. "Why'd you lie?"

He folded his legs and lit a cigarette. "I am not sure I believe your story. I wonder why you're really here. I've never heard of someone dreaming up a real person then going to look for him."

"It's true."

He tapped his cigarette in the ashtray.

She continued. "It's crazy, I know. Barbara says she doesn't know you, then the next day you're here. You're friendly even though you don't trust me. Of course you don't believe me, but if you did, all of this would be as wild for you as it is for me, if not more so. I'm confused, too."

Sam drained his tobacco of life then dropped the butt in the ashtray. "Do you like cards?"

She flinched. "Yes."

He pulled a deck from the table beside the couch. "Know how to play rummy?"

"Yes, but..." Her lips tightened.

"But what?"

"I want you to trust me, and I'm afraid if we play cards, you'll resent me. I don't think I've ever lost a hand of rummy. Ever." She sighed. "I'm thinking, Go Fish. More of a luck game."

A sharp, short applause of shuffling cards cut the air. "Funny, I've never lost either. I guess one of us will have a new experience tonight."

"I hope you like new experiences."

"Yes. The new experience of beating one who has never been beaten."

"Now you are the dreamer." The fire was warm. The cards laid out. The game commenced. There was a short argument of rules, then a compromise was reached. Bluffing words echoed around the cabin and trickled up the chimney where they were muted by the dark whiteness.

Sam told her that he let her win so that she wouldn't feel so badly when he proceeded to beat her the rest of the night. He told her he was sensitive like that. If competition could be smelled, the room had the odors of garlic and baking brownies fighting for air space.

They spoke no more of the strangeness of the circumstance. They left their bedroom doors open for warmth and Azzy fell asleep within five minutes of climbing into bed. She thought of nothing and saw floating playing cards in her mind's eye.

Sam read a book until after the sun rose. He lie awake for a while contemplating Azzy. She didn't seem obsessive as Barbara suggested.

Azzy was very comfortable with him. That's what confused him the most.

Phone lines were long since down. When Azzy stepped outside the next day, cold wind made her skin cry. Snow piled on the porch and buried the far side. Over the white shape of the rail, a white wall still churned. She thought the snow would have stopped by now. She held out a glove and guessed this is what it meant to be "a bad one." They had placed their freezer goodies on the porch the night before, and Azzy brought ground beef inside with her to thaw. She left it on the gas stove.

Hurricanes were shorter. Out of boredom, Azzy peeked into the leaking bedroom. The inside wall was damaged, especially where it met the wall facing the outside. There was plastic strung everywhere.

She stoked the fire, put on more logs, and chose a new book after finishing the Kellerman. She touched the new adventure with trepidation, rubbed her hands together, then opened it.

At one thirty, she made coffee by boiling a pot of water and steeping a tied coffee-filled filter like a tea bag. Sam greeted her a good morning as she worked and commended her creativity.

"Sam, did you keep wood on the fire while we slept?"

He nodded.

Out of a strange shyness, she did not thank him. Instead, she asked him about Europe.

He told her all the things he liked, disliked, naming Greece as his favorite. He attributed it to the beauty and to his good experiences with the people. He wanted to go back and see Switzerland.

They ate lunch and exchanged conversation for a couple hours, occasionally commenting on the white curtains outside the windows.

Sam lit the candles when it grew dark and Azzy made spaghetti for dinner. She knew it was his favorite.

"I thought you might like it, Sam. You seem like a pasta lover."

"I am."

After dinner, Sam folded his legs under him on the couch and leaned his head back. "So, what about those dreams?"

She eyed her cigarettes. "None last night."

"I still don't know if I can believe this story."

Silence. Azzy fidgeted. "I want action. I want to move around. Is this cabin fever?"

"Yes. What else do you know?"

"Nothing. Let's not talk about it."

"Why not?"

Azzy tapped her feet on the floor. "I don't feel like it."

He chuckled. "You came all the way up here and now you don't want to talk about it?"

She rose and paced behind the couch. He turned to watch, dangling an arm around the back. "Azzy, the other day when we met, you were ready to talk about it for hours. I could tell. You were about to explode when you started telling me what you knew. Why not now?"

She locked hands behind her back. "It's too real to talk about. I'd rather get to know you like this. Conversation on travel, food, people, all of that. Just forget the dreams and the oddness."

"Why? Half the time I'm telling you something, I'm wondering if you already know it from these dreams you say you have. You can pretend that nothing weird is happening, but that's not reality."

She stopped walking. "Reality." She walked away into her room.

Sam watched the fire and chewed his lip for a few minutes, then kicked back with a book about the Civil War.

Azzy didn't sulk in her room for long. Sam looked up from his book to see her take the deck of cards and settle on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, her back to the flames. She looked like a mystical fire nymph from a fairy tale. He smiled.

She smiled back. "Want to see a magic trick?"

"Sure." The book disappeared under a pillow.

She shuffled. He picked a card. Jack of Spades. She dazzled and dealt, laid a card face down on the table, then pounded it with her fist. "Your card went through the table." She reached below and retrieved the Jack of Spades.

Sam loved it and made her do it again. "How do you do that?"

"Can't tell. It's magic. Another?" She only knew three and he enjoyed them all.

"Show me more."

"I'm afraid my magic is tapped. Show me some of yours."

He stared at her, blinked. "I don't know any card tricks."

"Not a single one?"

He held his palms up. "Not one."

"You must know some magic tricks."

"Nope. If we had a basketball, I could wow and amaze you. But not with cards."

She sat back on her heels, limply dangling the King of Hearts in her hand. She stared at the sad face on the playing card. "Sam, are you a magician?"

A moment of silence, then he laughed softly. "What?"

"Never mind. That's a stupid question. Never mind."

"Why do you ask that?"

"In some of the dreams... It's nothing."

"Tell me."

She placed the card face up on the table. "He's the suicide king."

"Yes."

"It didn't seem real. In some of the dreams, I can't tell if it's my brain making things up or if it's real. I didn't want to ask. It seems insane. Crazy." She touched her temple and exhaled.

He said nothing, and although she did not feel threatened by him in any way, she felt she should stop talking. She forced herself to continue. "I see you and your friend Jeremy teaching a child. You are both holding balls of white light. The child tries for a while and eventually he can do it, too. You can run in the woods at night in bare feet without getting hurt or stuck in brambles. You teach him how to walk without a sound." Sam has stopped smiling, but his expression seems the same. He saw that the fire brought a flush to her cheeks.

"Then there's this night person term. It seems more like a title. I'm not sure what it is. I don't understand it. It seems to say that you can do certain things, like magic, like the white balls of light." She reached to the king and turned it over. "I think Barbara's like that, too. I don't know why. It's a gut feeling." She took a deep breath.

"Relief," Sam said.

"What?"

"You're relieved."

She stuttered, then bowed over her knees. Her laughter was low, then rose high in pitch like a little girl's. He liked it. She sat up and pushed her thick hair back. "Yes, I guess I am. I haven't told anyone. Not what I dream about, anyway. It's crazy."

"Not crazy." He touched the couch beside him. "Come sit next to me." She did. He held her chin and looked into her eyes. She tried to look away, but her turned her face back to him. "I'm starting to believe you. Do you really want to know?"

The sound of her parting lips mingled with the crackling of the fire. "Yes. I want to know."

"It might scare you."

She didn't blink. "I can't be more scared than I have been already." He watched her a moment longer, then let go of her chin. She leaned back, feeling tingles on her scalp. She rubbed her eyes.

"I'll make a deal with you, Azzy. If you tell me the full truth of what happens to you when you dream and everything you know about me, I'll answer this question about the magic you dream about."

Her eyes widened. Was he telling her there was magic? Hadn't she known there was? She frowned.

"Are you afraid?" He touched her shoulder. He was surprised that he felt disappointed. He didn't want her to be scared; he wanted to talk to her about this. She seemed so... accepting. Sam knew that it might be the right thing to do to look her in the eyes again and take away her ideas of "magic." He didn't want her to be afraid, but he wanted her to know.

She looked at her hands and her breathing picked up. "I don't want to say it. I just didn't want to. I think I'm crazy."

"What?"

She covered her face, her thin, white nose popping out as though watching for invaders. She stood and walked to her room.

Sam sighed and looked at one of his feet, the bottom harder than wood. "Damn it," he whispered. His eyes brightened when she came back into the room a minute later. She handed him a pill bottle. "I've been taking these and sleeping pills for a few months. Those you hold are for paranoia. I don't have dreams about you, Sam." Her voice was deep and he looked up at her. "I don't dream about you, I have daydreams about you. And they will not stop. I can't do anything in my normal life like I used to. It sometimes takes me half an hour to get to work because I miss streets. Other times, I sit in front of the TV for six hours without knowing what channel I'm seeing. I can't hold conversations with friends. I stay in the shower until the water runs cold. I cut down on work because I was too insensitive to the bereaved..." She sat down and leaned forward, rubbing her eyelashes.

"Daydreams."

"I'm crazy. But they were real. True. You exist. This place I've never seen exists. Am I crazy?" She sniffed.

"No." He tucked his hair behind his ears. "You're not. Look at me." She did. "You're not crazy. I can't tell you why this happened, but I know you aren't nuts."

"You believe me?"

"I do."

"Why?"

"I already know what you look like when you're lying." He grinned. "There are a million things we don't know about and surprises everywhere. There is an explanation for what happened to you and I will ask a thousand questions when I get out of here, I promise." He already had a half-formed idea, but there were many problems with it. He would keep it to himself until he could talk to more knowledgeable people. Even so, his idea seemed impossible.

She leaned back against the pillows and fell asleep. He watched her, then communed with his own pillows. He touched the book beneath and stared at the flames, worrying about the conversation he would have with her when she awoke.

2

When Azzy did wake, the sun hid behind thick clouds and flurries teased three feet of snow. Sam was curled up on the other end of the couch with a book in his hand and his eyes shut. She was rested; it had been the best sleep in ages.

She put more wood on the fire. The closet was below the middle mark. She thought of the thick snow and was thankful for the wood closet on the other side of the cabin. She decide to reassure herself and walked to the closet between the other two rooms. She opened the door and whispered, "Hello," to the high stack of clear plastic-covered wood. She touched the cover and her smile faded. A drop of water rolled down the inside. She looked to the top and began pulling at the tarp. The shifting plastic rustled.

Sam opened one eye, curled up more tightly and went back to sleep.

Azzy reached in to the wood. Stretching up and down, she felt the softness of the bark. It crumbled in her grasp. Groaning, she leaned her forehead against the wet wood. The closet was next to the leaking room. Hadn't they checked the closet? She remembered that when she first opened the door, the wood looked fine.

Should she wake Sam and tell him? The snow had mostly stopped. Why worry him? She closed the door and looked out the porch. They could swim through the snow to the main lodge if they had to, couldn't they? She ducked down to look at the mountain rising up behind the grounds. It looked like the top of a vanilla sundae.

It was March. The sun would warm them up in no time and they'd get out before the wood ran dry.

She'd tell him if she had to. No reason to have him worrying when there was nothing they could do.

As it was, she ended up telling him very soon. She spent the morning reading, pacing, and worrying about the wood.

Azzy was boiling water for coffee when she heard a strange sound outside. She listened for a minute, then snapped off the gas for the stove. She sped out to the main room where Sam slept and cocked her head and looked at the snow drift covered window where the sound was coming from. It grew louder, and she thought it seemed like an entire forest was falling under the snow in the distance. Sam's eyelashes fluttered, then he jumped up to his knees on the couch and stared at the white window.

"Azzy, come here." His fingertips beckoned and she tiptoed to the couch.

"What is it? What's that sound?"

He put his arm around her.

The sound grew more like thunder, non-stop, closer. Sam stood up. Azzy looked down at the coffee table as the candles and ashtray began to rattle.

"I don't know, Az. I think it's bad. Let's go in your room, away from it."

They ran into her room and Sam shut the door. They stood with their backs to the far wall. The rumble was much louder.

"What is it, Sam?"

"I think it's an avalanche. I can't believe it."

A few moments passed, each one making them tense with an anticipated impact. Sam put his arm around her again. "It's taking so long."

"Sounds like an elephant stampede." She grabbed his shirt collar and twisted.

The snow current hit the cabin. The wood shuttered and their teeth rattled. Sam heard things fall in the other room. They both watched the door through squinted eyes, anticipating a white monster to break through at any moment. Azzy squealed his name and nearly choked him. He pulled at her arm and as quickly as the snow rushed into them, the shaking slowed. The roar made him think of listening to airplanes taking off at close proximity.

"It's passing," he yelled. He pulled her to the window and they watched the white sea toss around the sides of the cabin then fill up their view. Azzy laughed like an infant's screech as the room went dark. Still facing the window, they listened to the snow roll away.

The glow of the fire could be seen under the crack of the door. "Holy shit." Sam laughed.

"Did you see that?"

"Did that happen?"

"An avalanche!"

"I can't believe that!"

They spit out more meaningless words of wonder and shock, then Sam took her hand and led her to the main room. Their fingers twitched with adrenaline. The fire lit the dark room and they looked at the window. Azzy asked him how deeply covered they were.

"I don't know." He frowned.

"What is it?"

"I wonder how much weight it can take when..." He paused. "Well, if it turns to ice."

The fire sizzled as though it had always been in control of the situation.

Sam continued. "Looking out your window as it passed, it looked pretty low. It must have come from the mountain." He chuckled. "Duh. We're lucky it came in so slowly. It could have plowed us. I guess it started low on the mountain. They've never had an avalanche here. It's so weird."

"First time for everything."

"Yeah." He pushed back his hair. "I hope Barb and Kevin are okay." He turned to the fire. "It'll be like an ice box in here."

Azzy looked at the flames in Sam's eyes. He looked to her.

"You okay, Az?"

"Ohhh. I think we might be in trouble." She sucked her lips into her mouth.

"What?"

She closed her eyes then opened them for the flames. "I better show you something. I noticed it earlier this morning, but I decided not to tell you and worry you needlessly." Azzy led him to the wood closet beside his room and opened the door.

"Soaked." He ran his hand over the wood waste. "All the way through."

She chattered teeth. "It's cold back here."

Sam took a handful of her hair and gently shook it from side to side. "We'll be okay. We still have wood in the other closet. Plus, there's lots of wood furniture."

His calm eased into her the way laughter spreads. "Yes. We'll be fine."

After a moment of silence, Azzy told him she had an idea. He liked it. They got to work stripping the beds and taking the tarp off the wood piles.

After a few hours, they settled on the couch, which was scooted much closer to the fire. Their tent was secured above the mantle and to the floor with chair and couch legs. Very warm. Food and water stayed under with them and books hid under the couch.

They made hot cocoa.

"This isn't so bad." He fanned the remaining pages of his book.

Azzy snuggled into her coat, although she was sweating. Sam praised her for bringing a carton of cigarettes along. Azzy glanced at the ashtray filled with her mostly smoked butts along side Sam's headless filters.

Sam told her he would like to teach English at the college level someday. They talked about literature as they paged through the books.

Azzy held up a Dostoyevsky. "You've never read Crime and Punishment? I think you'd like it. Interesting characters." She handed it to him.

"I've always wanted to read it. You like good characters, don't you?"

"Those are my favorite kind of books. I prefer a good story with it, but it's not necessary."

The stove was inoperable. They made spaghetti again by holding pots over the fire until their arms ached. The water pipes were frozen, so they stuck to the water jugs.

They fueled the fire slowly and time passed.

Discussion of childhood came up and Azzy told Sam she'd grown up in Mobile. Her father took her deep sea fishing once a month.

"We have a special bond. I can't explain it, but we really understand each other. I've never felt that way around anyone else." She sipped water. "Have you ever noticed how people say things to each other and don't have the same meanings or understandings for those words? For example, if I were to say to you, 'You have beautiful feet,' you could take it to mean that the rest of you is not beautiful, or that your feet are your best feature, or that it is a simple compliment. It's giving the meaning you would give it if you were to say it to someone else."

"Mixed with your own self image."

"Exactly. It's a gap between people. I think it gets better when two people know each other longer, better. With my father, I always felt that I knew what he meant no matter what words he used. Almost like he and I could see into each other's heads and know one another's meanings for every word we knew. It is both intense and easy." She looked into her clear glass.

"So, does this mean you think my feet are beautiful?"

She grinned and hit him on the knee.

He said, "My mother and I have always been close. I don't think it's quite what you describe, but I trust her more than everyone alive. Jeremy, too. As you know, we grew up together." He told her he lived in the hills of North Carolina and that he and his friends used to run around in the woods together. "Once we hit middle school, Jeremy and I were home schooled and Lori went on to public education. Our social life in the teen years revolved around going to Lori's friends' parties."

"Why home schooled?"

He gazed at the fire and rubbed his toes.

"Did you go to college?"

"No. I decided to travel, then go to work. They like younger people to do the teaching, so I took the opportunity while I could."

"The government." She watched his jaw twitch, but sensed he was not uncomfortable. The magic, she thought. She wanted to poke him to tell her more, but decided it was better for him to talk on his own.

After a slow nod, he did. "Yes, the government." He leaned back. "But not the government you know. Not the U.S. government." He was completely still, like the shadow of a statue, then he shook his head. "I have no idea how to explain this to you. I've never done it before."

He was unmoving for so long that Azzy thought his bones might stick that way. She was unsure if he needed a push, but chose to try. "Why are you afraid?"

His wide eyes explored hers.

"You think I won't understand."

He smiled. "I'm afraid you'll be afraid."

Azzy dropped her coat to the floor and leaned back against the pillow. "I know the kind of person you are." Sam covered the chills on his arms. "I respect you. I like you. I like your feet."

He grinned. "Okay." He turned his body to face her. "You were right about night person being a sort of title, but it's more like a race, an ethnic group, in a way. I am one. Jeremy is, too. My whole family are night people. It's genetic." He watched for signs of discomfort from her, but saw none.

"There are many of us, but not even enough to have a whole percentage of the world population. It does pass on genetically, but if night people have children with someone like you, then the trait weakens. By third generation mixing, the trait is gone.

"We originated in the Americas. We don't know much about our history except that we kept who we are a secret. There are ancient types of writing, but it's difficult to translate. We kept our identities hidden because the natives would kill us when they found us out. Our kind were always outnumbered and never accepted. For the most part, we don't mind our secret lives. You'd be surprised of all the different kinds of people there are in the world who have lived like we have." He watched her smoke.

"Yes, Azzy. We have a government. Most night people aren't active in the government. They chose normal lives and do not spend much time practicing their skills. I'm not one of those people; my life revolves around what I am.

"When night people reach puberty, their ability begins to blossom. Before then, they could not do, ah, what night people do. But we'll get to that. When Jeremy and I came to this age, we had fairly strong shines, which means that we had a strong ability. Nobody could keep us from staying out all night if we felt the desire to. We were doing terrible at school because we were falling asleep half the time." He smiled. "At that time in a night person's life, the urge to do our thing is overwhelming and exciting, especially if we were raised to believe that what we are is a good thing. With a strong shine, there's almost a need to do so inside of us. You remember that age. Everything is extreme. We didn't care about school or much else. We were failing our classes, sleeping all day. Our parents decided to teach us at home. My mother understood. She had to be home schooled, too."

Azzy tilted her head. "She has a strong shine."

He smiled.

"You're a good teacher. What is shine?"

"Okay, now the hard stuff." He rubbed his hands together.

"Sam, do you like telling me about it?"

He glanced to the side. "Yes, Azzy. I do." Looking back to her happy face made him enjoy it more. "There're not many people who want to know. They really don't. You see, the magic you spoke of isn't actually magic. It would seem that way, appear that way, but it's natural. It's as natural as the human mind's ability to know how to split an atom. Our bodies are born with the ability to utilize moonlight."

"Moonlight?"

He nodded.

"How?"

"We take the light in through our eyes. We can store it in our bodies."

"Moons." She sat up. "I know Jeremy refers to your moon eyes. He'll tease you by calling you headlights."

Sam laughed softly. "Yeah. The shine appears as moons in our eyes. It matches the phase the moon is in. If we have moonlight in our bodies, which we almost always do, you can see the shine anytime the moon is in the night sky and we are looking at it."

"Why can't I see them?"

"Very few will see it. We are careful not to show our shines."

Azzy shuffled what Sam had told her into the holes of what she knew about him. "Will you tell me about your ability?"

"You're really fine with this, aren't you?" He smiled. "It's just...Well, it's great. You're making this so easy. I don't feel any judgment, and it's wonderful."

Azzy leaned forward and tucked his hair behind his ears.

"I'll start with the balls of light you saw. That's exactly what they are – balls of light. We call them moonballs, and you can imagine how much fun people have with that name. We basically capture moonlight and make a light source."

"So, if you learn these things at puberty, were you and Jeremy teaching the boy how to make them?"

"Yep. Jeremy and I are a team of teachers. We spend four months with a kid as he reaches the age to be able to start using moonlight. We show him how to do things, how to hide his talent, how to control it. As you can imagine, we have to do a lot of psychological work with them. Many of the kids hate what they are and feel isolated from the rest of the kids they know. Night families try to live together as often as possible for their children's sake. Sometimes they plan pregnancies at the same time."

"Do these kids want to show their friends what they can do?"

"Some do. At that age, they can't do anything overly wowing. And the few who do show quickly find they are either shunned or not believed, and most of the time both. It makes the boys angry.

"Jeremy and I teach only boys. Women teach the girls. Since there aren't many night people, there aren't many to teach, but all of them get training whether it's from us or the parents. Most parents want it done professionally since we have experience and it's free. The government pays us, our lodging and living expenses. Although not a whole lot of money, I have tons of free time. I love my job."

"I bet you do."

Sam looked at the dimming fire. "We're working in Galveston, Texas, right now. Several families live there. We have some down time right now with the new moon and the day cycle."

"I was wondering about that. The moon is out in the day sometimes. Why are you called night people?"

"The sun is too bright for us to capture moonlight during the day. There are a couple days a month when we don't even see the moon in the dark. Those of us who chose to live using our moonlight abilities adapt night lifestyles. It's easier to keep on a regular schedule than to spend a week or two living a day life then switching to night when the moon is out most of the night. Some of us can hardly sleep when the moon's in the night sky."

"You're one of those types."

"Yes." He grinned. "I don't know if it's just psychological." He went off in search of the wood closet. He settled back on the couch after reviving the flame.

Azzy stretched out. "I guess that's why I had Texas on the mind for a few months. You were there. I'm surprised you spent the money to fly up here to meet me."

He answered her with a wide stare.

"What?"

"I didn't take a plane."

She opened her mouth to ask if the government had a helicopter they let him use, but Sam had a strange look on his face. He was in the beginning stages of a smile, but his eyes wouldn't let him follow through.

"Are you? Did you...Sam?"

He chuckled nervously and rubbed his chin. "It's not exactly flying." He watched her carefully, wanting to see every bit of her reaction. Why had she believed all of his story? She hadn't had any proof. However, she accepted everything he'd told he because she just knew it was real. In her own way, she had already seen without doubt when her daydreams solidified into his existence in the Colorado cabin. "Azzy, it's more like becoming moonlight. You wouldn't be able to see me. It took me about an hour to get here from Galveston. The part that takes the longest is pinpointing where I'm going. Downside is," he tugged at the too-large shirt, "can't really bring along luggage."

"No way. That's amazing!" She leaned close to him as though looking for pixie dust on his shoulders. "What does it feel like?"

Sam grinned and folded his hands. "It's kind of like swimming. Really uncomfortable in shoes or heavy clothes. It's fast, but it doesn't seem like it. The moonlight carries you, but the moonlight inside keeps you in one piece. You have to come down quickly when your shine runs low."

"What happens when clouds cover the moon?"

"You're high over the clouds."

"What's the farthest you can go?"

"Average person can go about 500 miles. Some of us more, some less."

It seemed to Azzy that Sam had the "more" side of the ability. Galveston, Texas was quite a distance from the lodge. "Can you see in the dark? I know you can run in the dark without hitting a thing in the woods."

"Yes. We can see like cats. We have to have a little bit of light to do so."

Azzy rose and prepared hot cocoa as they talked. "Was I right about Barbara? Is she like you? Is her husband?"

"You were right about her." Sam watched her back and wondered how Azzy had guessed that. "She's a night person. Kevin's a day person."

Azzy spun to face him, candle light capturing her confusion.

"They are like us, but they use the sunlight. The government consists of both day and night people."

She blinked a few times and the pot of cocoa lowered onto a log without her noticing. "You're kidding?"

"No."

"You aren't kidding."

"They can do different things than we can, but it works the same way."

"But moonlight is a reflection of sunlight off the moon. How can the two be different?"

"They are." He looked at his hands.

The pot was singeing on the log, but she looked at a candle flame. She remembered something from her daydreams, an explanation. She closed her eyes. She would not bring that up. She would never say that out loud her entire life. It wouldn't be fair. None of it seemed fair.

"Azzy? You okay? I think the pot's going to dump over."

"Sorry." She poured cocoa for them and sat on the couch. "Are you able to get us out of here?"

"There's nothing I can do."

She asked about the festival at Gai Lodge. He told her it was a gathering for all the day and night people who wanted to come. The government paid for it. Azzy wondered where the government got all of its money, but she did not ask.

They slept at either ends of the couch and, after wake-up coffee, they broke apart furniture. They stacked it outside their tent and collapsed on the sofa with feet in each other's ribs and books in hand. They commented that the whole entrapment felt like a game, and they felt no worries.

Barbara could see out her bedroom window to several of the cabins. There was no snowfall, but thick cloud cover blocked the sun. All the cabins she could see, including the lodge, were buried over their porches. The high ceiling rooftops and smoking chimneys poked out of the snow blanket like troll houses. She sighed in frustration.

Kevin wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her hair. "The sun will come out soon, and when it does, we won't have to worry. You need some sleep, Barb."

"I hope they're okay. Especially Sam. Sam and Azzy."

They watched the distant chimney attached to Sam's cabin smoke.

"I'm sure they are." He rubbed her arms. He saw her face relax in the reflection of the window's glass. Then she covered the glass with her hand where her eyes had been. "We are so lucky it rolled in as slowly as it did. Windows didn't break here and, as far as we can tell, nothing collapsed anywhere else. It really seemed like a low bedspread, didn't it? We are lucky."

His lips touched her ear. "Yes, we are. Go to sleep, Moonshine."

Sam finished his book and he went to work making tuna fish and crackers. "Mayo's frozen solid. Didn't know it could do that. Good thing we put the tuna under here."

She looked up, smiled. "I don't like mayonnaise in my tuna, anyway."

"You really are a bad liar." He sat on the floor across from her with the low fire to his back. The first of the broken furniture was crackling in the fireplace.

"It burns so quickly," Azzy said as she munched on a cracker, sounding as though she spoke of a cheap candle in June.

Sam also seemed unconcerned.

They discussed bad restaurant experiences as they ate.

The furniture lasted only a few hours. They didn't know if it were day or night, but it felt like night to him. They played cards until the flame went low, then looked into each other's eyes.

Azzy took his hand. "We'll wait until we're really freezing. When we really need a little warmth."

"Okay." He nodded and let out a long breath.

They had dozens of candles and continued the card game as the last ember darkened. They didn't notice. Sam moaned that although she couldn't lie, her poker face made him question her every motive.

Her face was a painting in reply and he laughed. He told a few corny jokes, the kind he found to be her favorite, but only her eyelashes appreciated them with a flutter.

"I saw a twinkle in your eye. I did. I can tell that after this turn you are going to drop your cards and go out on me. I know when you are about to win." He discarded an ace to save points.

Azzy grinned and snatched up the ace. "I wasn't until you left me that."

The night carried on that way until Sam noticed Azzy's white breath. The cold had eaten up their heat faster than the desert soaked up water.

"Yeah," Azzy watched his lips, "It is kind of cold now."

"We'll be okay."

She thought so, too.

He slipped his hands inside the thick quilt draped around him and looked to the blank fireplace. "Why don't we get cozy under blankets and tell ghost stories?"

Azzy put the cards aside. "Are there such things as ghosts?"

He shared his fingers with her. "Who knows for sure; nobody can really ask the dead, can they? Or can they? I believe in ghosts." He narrowed his eyes, spoke softly. "Something happened to me some years back..."

She lightly slapped him on the arm.

"I'm serious. Come here." He pulled her down on the couch beside him to keep them warm and Sam told her his ghost story, one with a scary and contrived punch line.

"Well, that reminds me. Something happened to me once, but I've never told another living soul."

"Oh, really?"

"Oh. Really." Azzy continued on with her own tale of terror.

The sun did not come out the next day, but after noon the temperature rose for a couple of hours. Snow on top melted into snow on the bottom. As dark approached, the temperature dropped again, making the wet snow harden into ice.

Azzy and Sam stayed close to each other, warming their hands on their own bellies then covering each other's noses.

"This isn't so bad, Azzy."

She pinched his nose.

A few minutes after he spoke, they heard a furious crack. It sounded like the cabin was having its bones broken. There was a crash behind them, but it was a whisper compared to the loud vibrations of their small house. Sam jumped on top of her and held her until all was still. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, his hair tickling her icy cheek.

"The candles!" Sam jumped up. She followed, and they gathered the flaming candles that had rolled onto the floor. Once they were sure they had them all safely accounted for, Azzy grasped a lit candle stick and they left their tent.

Sam could see everything much better than Azzy. However, she wouldn't have wanted to see much more than she could.

The porch had collapsed, taking with it the windows, door, and part of the front wall of the cabin. Snow had surfed in to rest on their wood floor. To Azzy, it appeared to be spying.

They heard a creak. She bent down and held her gloved left hand over the snow as though warming it on a fire. "It's cold enough to burn, Sam." Her feet tingled and itched, but she did not mention this to him. Instead, she whispered, "Give me a hurricane."

He put his arm around her and kissed her cheek. "We'll be okay."

"I know."

They returned to the couch and took down their tent so they could pile up the blankets. They discussed moving to the back of the cabin, but decided that the back porch might go down as well. An hour later, it did.

They were out of cigarettes.

Azzy curled up between Sam and the couch. "I didn't know it could get colder in here."

"Yes. It's like a meat freezer."

They were still and Sam heard her breathing too evenly. "Let's play basketball."

"We don't have a basketball. We don't have a net. We don't have a ref."

"Come on." He stood up and held out his hand. "We have pillows, a trash can. That desk we couldn't demolish to put it on."

"You'll kill me."

"We'll play HIPPOPOTOMUS."

"Hmm. We used to play HORSE."

"This is much more fun. We need to move around."

They played HIPPO a few times, Sam winning, then he made up a basketball game with the pillow. "Watch out for the candles."

She complained at her ability to make a pillow in the trash can. Sam told her he needed to regain his pride after she had beaten him a thousand times in rummy. He smiled as he watched her sense of competition move her body and increase her shots. Her cheeks flushed more with blood than cold. She could keep her grip on the pillow as her hands warmed and tingled, as could he.

Azzy hugged her heavy coat after a shot across the snow lined room. "I'm heating up."

"Me too." He retrieved the pillow from the trash can. "Dinner time?"

"I think tuna's going to be frozen. Did you see the water jugs?"

"Crackers don't freeze."

They ate with dry mouths, then filled their mugs with snow and held them over candles until they had water.

Azzy toasted with him. "Drink the enemy!"

He repeated and clicked, drank. They snuggled into blankets.

"Azzy, you've got some good moves. Once we're out of here, I think you should go into training."

"Are you my coach?"

"Hmm. Sure. I always wanted a prot?g?."

They carried on this way for some time.

"Sam, I'm very curious about night people. Would it be too forward of me to ask you if you can show me something you can do?"

Sam sat up. "Not at all." He blew out a candle and laid back down. He took off his glove. "This is about all I can do out of the moonlight that you could see, other than disappear."

"Disappear?"

"It's not too exciting. I like doing this, though." Truth was, he didn't want to scare her, so he stretched out his fingers. "Some of us can store a tiny bit of moonlight under our fingernails. I almost always have at least one nail loaded. Of course, sometimes it gets knocked out." He looked under his nails, then pushed his thumb up under his index finger. "It took forever to get the aiming right." He flicked. Azzy watched the candle wick flare.

"Wow!" She clapped her gloves and laughed. "What was that? Moonlight lights things on fire?"

"No, it's electricity. Some of us can produce lightening, though we don't know why. Usually people who can carry more moonlight in their bodies."

"That is really neat."

"Yeah." He chuckled. "I love doing that. It's only the tiniest bit of energy, but it has a few good uses."

"I see."

He felt warm from her lack of fear, her acceptance. After a pause, Sam rubbed her neck with a re-gloved hand. "After Barbara called, I poked around the Internet for possible references to your name. I was looking for a picture."

"Yeah? Did you?"

"Do you mind if I ask you about what I found? It seems kind of personal."

"You can ask me anything. I know so much about you and it's not really fair that you don't know as much about me."

"There was an article from a newspaper somebody had put on his web page, something about victims around the country who overpowered their assailant. The article said that a man broke into your apartment with a gun, ready to kill you, but...you talked him out of it and convinced him to turn himself in. It said he agreed to be sent to a three month drug rehabilitation and psychiatric program, which he did." She said nothing and he leaned back so he could look in her eyes. She was relaxed. "That's you?"

"Yes."

"Do you mind me asking? How did you do it?"

A think bloom of white slipped out her lips. "I asked him to talk to me for three hours first. I had met him once at the funeral parlor, I could tell he was lonely. His mother was the one who had died. I asked for three hours of conversation as my dying wish, saying that it was my favorite thing to do."

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"And he agreed?"

She nodded.

"What was wrong with him? Why did he go after you?"

"He popped lots of pills. He was lonely, very lonely. Believe me, I didn't want to die. Clearly, my only self-defense was my mouth; he had a gun and was much bigger than me. I thought that maybe I could get into his head. It was worth a try. I..." She glanced over Sam's shoulder to the candle he had brought to life with moonlight hidden under his fingernail. "I wanted to. I found him..." She caught Sam's eyes again and felt the same acceptance he had from her. "I don't know."

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it. I really do want to know, though. I wouldn't judge you."

She felt he wouldn't. "I want to tell you, it's just something I've never talked about because I think that people will consider me a complete nut. But, since you already know I am, what with me coming looking for you and all... Maybe I am a nut. But I honestly found this man who wanted to kill me fascinating. I wanted to know everything. Why me? Why did he want to do it at all? How did he feel? And I found out. I knew exactly what to say to make him not feel alone. He told me all kinds of things. I told him a few of my secrets, too. He wanted me to. He didn't ask, but I could just tell."

"Why you?"

"He connected me with his mother's death. She was the only person he was close to. He liked me when I helped him pick out the funeral necessities. Later, he was angry at me. He worked it up in his mind that I was only being nice to him because of the situation and that in the 'real world', I would never even speak to him. He has very little confidence, and I believe his mother was a real witch, put him down all his life. Anyway, he wanted to do something extreme to ease his pain and anger. He took a bunch of pills." She shook her head. "He was so lonely."

Sam listened with his ears and eyes.

"He really was going to kill me, then kill himself. To him, I represented relationships he would never have with other people."

Sam stopped rubbing her neck and took her hands. "Did he tell you all of this?"

She looked down at his hands and rubbed his gloved knuckles. "Not exactly. It wasn't hard to figure out from the things he did say. But there is a really crazy thing about the experience." She met his eyes again. "I really want to tell you this, but I want you to know that I am not a nut. I don't think you'll see me that way. That's why I want to tell you." He watched her breath drift into her eyes.

"I want to know, Azzy."

She smiled. He smiled back.

"The crazy thing is that I liked him. I felt connected to him as we sat at my kitchen table drinking hot tea and talking about insanity with a loaded gun between us. I was afraid. We visited dark places, it was very intense. But it was exciting in a way I can't describe. Almost fulfilling." She blinked. "It could be the captive-captor situation, but I felt more and more like the captor as time passed. I understood him. He felt understood."

"Have you seen him since?"

"No. But I know he's okay."

"How?"

"I just get the feeling he is. I think he was well on his way when the police cuffed him."

"You know, that's the second time I've heard you talk about the connection you crave between people." He linked fingers with hers. "Thanks for telling me about it."

It was cold. They moved closer together.

"Thanks for listening."

Sam wouldn't let her sleep for any length of time. He made her play pillow ball a couple more times, but her feet hurt too much to go another round. His ached, too. They ate more crackers and drank melted snow.

Sam sat across the coffee table on the floor and heated his second mug-full by warming the cup over a candle flame.

"How did your parents meet? Do night people always try to marry other night people?"

"No, but it is easier. They understand each other, don't have to worry about the day when they would have to explain what they are to a spouse who had no idea what their kids were going to face.

"My parents are both night people and met when they were nineteen. They were full-blooded hippies. Mom took a trip to California and they met at a music festival. We didn't have our own festivals back then, otherwise they might have met sooner. Anyway, very romantic stuff. If you get them talking about it, they start steaming from their skin. They saw each other from across the crowd, started dancing without a word. As they dated, he wrote her a thousand poems and she painted him as many canvases."

Azzy folded her hands under her chin and grinned.

"From the looks of it, you're a romantic, yourself."

"Sometimes. Are you?"

"Sometimes. Do you have someone back in Mobile who's worried to death about you?"

"Nobody can ever 'have' anyone. That's the problem with love. Everybody wants to own somebody."

"I take it the answer's 'no.' But I sense bitterness." He raised his eyebrows.

"Not me. What do you mean?"

"Sound's like you might have had your heart broken."

"I have killed men for saying less than that. No, I've never had my heart broken."

"Really? Then you must be the heart breaker."

She grinned and nibbled on another cracker. "No."

"Explain."

"People let their hearts break. Other people cannot do it to them."

"Many might argue."

"Let them. Then let them try it my way."

"Sounds strong. Sounds a bit lonely."

"Maybe." She smiled. "But I don't find it lonely. Why do you think it would be?"

Sam sipped his water and offered her some. She accepted. "It sounds like you never let anyone close enough to you to, as they say, give him your heart."

She chuckled. "Never. My heart belongs to me, but my love has been and always will be the gift."

"What's the difference?"

Azzy sighed dramatically, as though he had asked her to spell the alphabet. A white cloud blew around her and disappeared. "To say I give a man my heart is to say that he is in possession of part of me. That will not do; it does not interest me to have that kind of blackmail in a relationship. To give my love, however, is an emotion that I can continually give from my heart as long as I am the one who is in possession of the heart. Giving love lasts much longer and feels much better than giving heart."

He laughed and clapped his gloves. "Bravo. Point taken. Your heart will never be broken."

"Nope. However, if the love gift is no longer accepted, the heart will be sore and swollen from backed-up love, but it eventually evens itself out."

Sam was tickled with her explanation. As the cold nibbled at their blood flow, the conversation grew downright silly.

Time passed and Sam looked up at Azzy huddled in blankets, unused to this kind of weather as a fish is to swimming in the tree leaves. Her eyes drooped and her hair occasionally vibrated against her cheek in unconscious shivers.

"Azzy?"

Her glazed eyes met his.

"I think we need warmth, Az. A little bit."

Her eyes brightened. "It's time?"

"I think so."

"You think we should?"

He bit his lip and watched a still candle flame. "Yes." He joined her on the couch and they met gazes with the sharpness of mutual sadness. Sam reached below the couch and pulled out a handful of books. She did the same. He whispered for her to come with him.

They piled books around the hearth. Sam fired up his lighter, then let go. "I don't know if I can."

"I'll go first." She held up an old Sherlock Holmes, then paused. "Let me find one I don't like. Maybe that will be easier."

She read the titles. "Can't start with one I've never heard of."

"No, don't know what you're losing out on."

She paused on the Kellerman she had read a few days earlier. "Ah. I liked this. First book I've been able to read in months. I could read it because I found you. I think it's appropriate that this be the first to warm us. Agree?"

Sam bowed his head and nodded.

The burning of the books commenced. They re-discussed them as they lit the pages and felt the warmth. Their noses ran like chickens from the ax man.

As the last few books went in, Sam tucked his hair behind an ear inside his hood and asked, "Azzy, did you tell me everything you know about me?"

"Yes."

He knew she couldn't lie well and everything about her said she was telling the truth, yet she could hide all in a game of cards.

Barbara was frantic. She stared out through the night at the dark chimney. She had watched smoke twist out of it again for a short time, but it was dead. At least she was sure they were okay at the moment, but what if only one of them was? What if Azzy was hurt? It was apparent that the porches had collapsed, but how much of the cabin had gone with them? What if one of the kids had been under the danger zone when it tumbled?

Never, never, never an avalanche before. Why now? What could they do?

Kevin was equally as worried. Why weren't they burning their wood? He had watched the sky all day for signs of the sun. No luck. Not even a ray.

Once the short-lived book fire cooled, they settled back under their blankets and wrapped their arms around each other. They covered their heads. They would not let one another sleep, though Azzy drifted off a bit more than Sam. He asked her a thousand questions.

"Are you trying to keep me talking?"

"Trying to even the personal knowledge score."

"Bother you that I know about you?"

He pet her coat. "A little. Not so much now."

"Good. That makes me very happy." Azzy wondered about her parents at the beach. Her father was fishing on the pier, mother reading by the pool. The pool was frozen solid and children slid around the surface on their bellies. Azzy looked back to her own book and barely noticed that it was on fire.

"Az. Wake up. Were you a girl scout?"

"Mmm. Yes. Cookies." She sighed. "What do you guys do for fun since you have so much free time? It must be hard to meet new people every four months."

"Sometimes we go to clubs. We're both pretty good at making friends now. There's a coffee shop in Galveston I like to go to. It's a popular place among the night people there. Great decor."

"Mmm. Sounds nice. Why do you like that Cure song?"

He laughed. "It was one of the first songs I learned to play on the drums. So much fun."

"I like that song, too. It's played on jukeboxes in the bars in Mobile a lot."

She breathed steadily again and he poked her. "Are you a barfly?"

"Used to be. College. Once in a while, now."

"What kinds of places do you go?"

"Places with lots of different people."

"What did you do there?"

She tucked her face into his chest. "Play pool, dance."

"I bet you get lots of free drinks."

"Only when I read palms."

"Read palms? You never told me you could do that."

"I can't. It's a party gag. Gotta be really vague. It only works if people want to believe it, and drunk people always do."

His lips moved slowly and he opened his eyes. "Maybe you're psychic."

"No. Are you thinking that is why I could pull you out of all the people in the world and daydream about you?"

"Nope." He blinked several times in the dark covers, not trying to see. "Psychics can't learn that we are night people."

"Why not?"

"Just can't."

"Sam?"

"Yes?"

"Have you been to Mobile?" Azzy felt warm, but believed she had no toes. Such a bother, toes. Don't need them. Always have to cut the toenails.

"No."

"Been on the Gulf?"

"Galveston, now, silly. I went to New Orleans once."

"You sound like you didn't like it."

He held her more tightly without realizing it.

Azzy saw her father on a boat, deep-sea fishing. It was night. She stood next to him, setting the bait on her rod. The waves were rough. Rough. Too rough, and she sailed over the rail at the end of the line her father cast. She couldn't swim. Ice chunks floated around her. She reached for the clear sky and tried to hold on to the moon. It felt like a frigid quarter slipping through her grasp. Voices. Splashes. Warm water, but ice. How could that be? She open her mouth for air and the ice drifted into her mouth, her nose, ears...

"Azzy. Azzy?"

"Can't swim." She sighed.

"Really? I never would have guess that. I thought you said you spent lots of vacations at the beach." She said nothing. "Azzy? Wake up, Azzy." Sam pulled the blankets off their heads, rolled her on her back and clutched her face in his gloved hand. "Az. Azzy." He shook her.

She opened her eyes. "I was thinking."

He smiled at her. "Sure you were."

Azzy touched his lips with her gloves. "You're more beautiful than in daydreams." His hair slipped out the edges of his hood and his concern for her sleep status fell away to the compliment. He chuckled, and she heard his loss of thought.

"So are you." He slid his arms under her and looked into each other's eyes with the ease and enjoyment of staring at a starry sky in the fall. Azzy left the dark ocean waters and came back to the cabin.

He kissed her softly with cool lips, then kissed her cheek. Their eyes met again.

"I'm in love with you, Sam."

"I love you, too, Azzy."

They smiled and vowed to get out of the collapsed cabin.

Someone they did not see watched them and smiled a different kind of smile at their words.

3

They kept each other awake, unaware of the time, with conversation and long stares, kisses and warmth. They were not aware it was morning when it came and had no idea that the sun shone brightly just after ten a.m.

Kevin knew.

He watched out the second floor window to the clouds. He saw the break coming and opened the window. Cold air rose the thick hair on his arms. He stretched out his palm to the sun rays and turned his hand until he though he had the place where the window was buried in his aim. Squinting, he twisted his wrist half and inch to the right. He nodded to himself. A flash of light built in his hand, then an instant flaming glare shot into the snow with a sound like a crackling broadsword slicing the air. It stopped at the ground just before the cabin. Steam rose from the snow. He squinted again and held his palm with a higher tilt than before and muttered, "Yes." A moment later, he watched and heard the window shatter. Glancing back at his worried wife, he nodded and hopped out the window. Barbara rushed to the open square and watched her husband appear in front of the broken panes. He kicked the frozen wood frame apart and climbed inside.

Kevin found them under blankets on the couch. The place was a mess. He shook them awake from their first unstoppable slumber and took Azzy in his arms. He climbed out the window and said, "Hold on, darlin'." She did. Then she was floating. She looked down at a short trail cut in the snow that ended at their cabin. She wondered if she were able to fly; she couldn't see the man she had wrapped herself around. However, she could feel him there, hear him breathing in her ear and was aware of his chest moving against her with each time his lungs filled with the frosty air. She squinted up to the sun and said, "Hi there."

Kevin said hello back to her and for a moment she thought it was the sun returning the greeting. The unseen man eased her into a window and Barbara pulled her through. Then Azzy was aware of being in a water bed and Barbara was feeding her hot soup. Azzy smiled and told the older woman she loved her and she shouldn't let her husband cheat at trivial pursuit. "He thinks he's funny, Barbara." The girl fell asleep.

Next, Azzy awoke lying in a sunbeam. Someone was giving her a pleasurable foot rub.

"Sam?" She squinted and saw Kevin. Barbara, sitting beside her, said, "He's fine." Azzy closed her eyes. Barbara scratched the young girl's hair and chuckled with relief.

They put her back in bed and let her sleep. Kevin kissed his wife's cheek. She turned to him with her eyebrows lowered. "Babe, do you cheat at trivia?"

His hazel eyes widened.

Azzy slept through the night, but Sam awoke at four a.m. He watched Azzy snooze beside him for a few minutes, then kissed her hair.

He found Barbara downstairs by the dining room fire with a couple of the college kids.

"Hi, Sam. How'd you like our water bed? I was just telling Kenneth and Clarissa here about how you and Azzy climbed out a window, dug and hiked your way here."

Kenneth held out a hand. Sam shook it. "That's amazing, man. Glad you're okay. Must have taken forever."

Barbara apologized for the tenth time as to the status of the wet wood closet. "Shall we make some tea on the fireplace upstairs?"

They brewed in a kettle, then settled at the kitchen table by candle light. Sam puffed on a warm cigarette.

"I'm so glad you're okay. You and Azzy."

"Thanks for the rescue. Or should I say, thanks for making us heroes."

She laughed and sipped tea. "I have to ask, but kick me if I'm being nosy. What happened in there?"

"She's honest. She's...we talked a lot, played lots of cards." He looked into his mug and his ash grew and dipped like a witch's nose. "She's a wonderful person."

Barbara smiled softly. "How did she get these dreams? Did you find out?"

"Well," he tipped the smoke into the ashtray, "they weren't dreams. They were daydreams. She thought dreams would be more believable. She knew that I was a night person. She said she thought you were. She knew about it, but didn't understand it. Barbara, do you think she's a seoli, possibly a seoliu and doesn't know it? Maybe we bumped elbows somewhere..." He shook his head.

The woman leaned back. "A seoli. How could she not know it by now? Especially a seoliu. I've never heard of them having daydreams about people before." She leaned forward again. "Was she adopted? Seoli is a genetic thing."

"No, she wasn't adopted."

"What else makes you think she's a seoli?"

"She talks about how much she loves understanding people. She said she can read palms, but she makes it out to be a party trick. What if it's not?" He dropped the drained cigarette in the tray.

"I can't imagine she's a seoliu. They are as rare as avalanches at this lodge. But a seoli... Still, how would she keep getting new information about you?"

"If we did bump elbows and she gathered some facts about me, maybe she brought it out in daydreams."

"Hmm. That doesn't fit. Seolies don't work that way. But actually, she said a strange thing when we brought her in half-conscious. She told me not to let Kev cheat at trivial pursuit. I asked him and he admitted that he did sometimes just to get a rise out of me when he won by a landslide. How could she know that?"

Sam shook his head. "No clue. We'll ask her later."

The owner drummed her fingers on the table. She stopped after a minute and looked into Sam's brown eyes. "You like her? Really trust her?"

"Completely."

She relaxed. "I like her, too. I did right away. You'll see her again?"

He smiled and she saw how much he intended to see her another time, and perhaps several more after that.

Azzy awoke after the sun rose and tried to remember what happened. Did Kevin fly her across the snow? What had he done to her stiff, numb toes? She could move them. They were pink. She bathed and found everybody downstairs in the dining area playing morning bingo. Sam hugged her and Kenneth gave her a high five. Barbara fed her and apologized several times. "Azzy, I'm so glad you're okay."

She sat next to Sam and played a few rounds of bingo. Occasionally, Sam would steal a chip off her card when she wasn't looking and, upon realizing it, she would return the sentiment.

Later that afternoon, when they asked her about her comment on Kevin's trivial pursuit ethics, she said she didn't remember saying anything. She told them she didn't even know they played Trivial Pursuit.

The sky cleared and remained that way.

At nightfall, Sam took her into her bedroom, hugged her and stroked her hair. "I am going back to Galveston tonight. The kid we've been working with is having a tough time. I don't want to leave Jeremy on his own."

She tucked his brown wavy locks behind his ears and stared up at him.

"You're beautiful," he whispered and kissed her nose. "Can I come to Mobile? Do you want me to?"

"Yes. Yes."

He laughed. "Are you sure?" He kissed her lips, her neck.

"I'm going to miss you, stuck here until the snow melts." She tilted her head. "Speaking of that, I'm still confused as to exactly how they got us out of our ice box."

"Kevin's a day person. In the sunlight, they can make some impressive fireballs and heat rays."

Her eyes widened. "Wow."

"Yeah. Day people get to have all the fun."

Sam left later than he had planned, since he didn't want to leave at all. She watched him jump out the upstairs window and disappear. She felt he was still looking at her and she leaned out the window. She twisted until she spotted the crescent moon and the sensation that he was with her made the cold air turn warm as an island breeze.

4

A month later, Azzy was cleaning up her apartment and blaring The Cure through her stereo. Sam was coming to visit. She had taken a few days off from work for the occasion. Her boss was most kind about her request even though she had missed so many days due to her snow-in. Of course, she hadn't been on a cross country road trip when she went to the Gai Lodge; she was only looking for Sam. Her boss told her her work performance had been "stunning" since her return and he wanted her to remain this happy.

Azzy did not daydream about Sam in the way she had before. She only thought about him in the way that normal people in love do and anytime a distorted and consuming fantasy touched her, she found it easy to push aside. The real thing was much better and she fiercely wanted him to have his privacy, in case she were to learn more about him without his consent.

Before he came, Sam told her he had friends in Mobile. He told her that he had learned that a young, married night couple had moved to Mobile and resided in a neighborhood off of University. He was looking forward to seeing them as he had not seen them in a few years. He said they were some of his festival friends, meaning that they usually only saw each other at the festival at Gai Lodge.

Night people in Mobile, she thought. How interesting.

He drove to Mobile in his dark green SUV and he hugged her a little too tightly at the door.

They ate dinner at a seafood restaurant. She made him eat crawfish and told him, "They say, 'suck the head, bite the tail'."

He smiled, but didn't seem to catch the sexual reference, which was odd for any male. Although the crawfish were coated in Cajun spices, Sam never touched his drink. She felt like the table they sat at was twice its size and that if she held out her spicy fingers to him he would not be able to reach her. It seemed that each time his eyes brightened, they would dim as quickly as they had shined. He didn't talk much, only responding to her chatter. She began to feel judged as though he had reconsidered his love declaration once the romantic, life-threatening danger was cleared out of his mind.

Azzy had been deeply in love with him before she even met him, and despite his behavior, she assumed it was her imagination and fears that made her see him this way. She decided to give him his gift. Removing a present wrapped in snowmen paper, she smiled and told him she had a surprise for him. His eyes widened and he looked more like she had pulled out a gun than a gift. He opened it, sucked in his breath and bit his tongue.

"I thought we burned all these."

"I hid Crime and Punishment away for you. I knew you wanted to read it. I thought this copy was special, and one more burned book wouldn't make much heat." She felt guilty for what she had once thought was a nice idea. She twisted her hands and looked up from the book to his eyes. He met her gaze and she left her guilt for confusion. Was it love she saw? Was is sadness?

He put the book down and reached across the mile-long table to take her hands. He glanced at his glass of water, then back to her. "Azzy, is there anything you haven't told me?"

"What do you mean?"

"About what you know of me. Is there anything else?"

She opened her mouth, then leaned back a bit. Her head fell to the side as though testing to see if any unspoken information would rattle out her ear. "I love you, Sam. I don't know anything else." She wondered why he would ask again. "I know you are bothered that I knew what I knew; I would be, too, if I were you. But that's it. That's all."

He nodded at her hands and whispered, "Okay."

They left in silence and Azzy drove him to his friends' house at his request. They both got out of the car, but Azzy never got the chance to meet his friends.

Sam put down his opened bottle of Mountain Dew he'd left in the car before dinner. "Wait." They stood in the tree-shaded yard a few feet from the curb. A yellow street light shone from across the street, but it only hit them in patches left from low tree branches. A light in the house teased them through the blinds.

"Sam?"

"Azzy, I'm sorry. This isn't going to work."

She took a step back. "What?"

"Us. You and me. I have to tell you something." He looked at the house. "You were used to serve a purpose. It's something you can't understand. It's only something that people like me can."

Azzy tugged her thick hair. "What?"

"It's done now. You did well, but you just have to forget about everything. I don't love you."

She felt like she had shrunk to age nine and looked up to the adult who told her that her family didn't want her anymore and that she'd have to live with monsters from here on out. "I don't understand."

"I never really cared for you. I had to play a part. I am sorry you were used, though; nobody likes that. However it had to be done. I think you are a nice girl and I hope the best for you." He lit a cigarette.

"You're lying. Why are you lying?" His gaze of pity stopped her lips.

"I'm not. You were a test."

"But Sam-"

"Azzy, don't whine. Look, I let you win at cards, I kept you alive when you were passing into a cold sleep. What more can I do? The shut-in wasn't supposed to happen, but I made the best of it. Without me there, you would have been a popsicle. You could barely light a fire."

Yellow light through the trees investigated her eyes as she turned her head away. It found a very moist place to swim in, but her cheeks stayed dry.

"Oh," he smirked. "Don't tell me your heart is actually breaking." He shook his head. "Bye, Azzy. I'll pick up my car when you're not around. I'd appreciate it if you didn't pop my tires." He flicked his smoke into the street. "Have fun comforting the grieving. Don't enjoy those stalkers too much."

Sam walked through the darkness and into the house. He walked into the unlocked, empty house and locked the door behind him. Turing off the light, he stood in the middle of the room with his arms crossed. Had another night person been watching him with gray night vision, his face would be seen etched like a dark, marble bust. He did not hear her car, so he poked through the blinds. She leaned on the hood of her car smoking a cigarette. She puffed, looked at it, twisting it from side to side. After a final huff of smoke, she flicked it into the road. Short cigarette. He thought she must have eaten half the thing.

Azzy drove away, letting one tear escape when she noticed that the book she'd given him was riding along with her on the floor board. Once at her apartment, she left the book on the hood of his car. Inside, she called Stephen. He wasn't home, so she called CeCe.

"Az, what is wrong? What can I do?"

"Why do my two best friends have to live on the other side of the country?"

"You need me? I'm there in a plane ride."

"No. Just talk to me. On the phone. I need to tell someone, but I can't tell it all. Please, will you talk to me?"

"It's about my turn to play therapist, don't you think?"

She covered the receiver. "Never," she muttered, "I'll never daydream of him again another day as long as I live."

"Azzy? You there?"

4

2 YEARS LATER

"You've got a nice city here, Stephen. San Francisco feels great. No wonder you have such nice legs." Azzy linked arms with the one she spoke to and let him drag her up a steep hill. Her face was shiny with the night city lights and her Japanese American friend told her that lime green was her color.

"You look like a summer field, I swear it. Isn't this weather what it's all about? You really should move out here. They have a thousand newspapers. Look." He pointed to a building with windows lining the circular top. "That building, see the windows? That's it."

"Coffee without cigarettes. California's gorgeous, but everything else is backwards." Azzy hadn't craved a smoke since she stopped thinking about Sam, but oculd still remember the combination was fantastic.

"Sorry, Az. I praise each day I'm not in Mobile."

"Don't slander my city."

"Don't slander mine."

"Touch?." She grinned.

They made it to the building, Azzy trying to hide her heavy breathing, and rode the elevator to the top. An expensive coffee shop surrounded by glass watched the city.

"Well?" He put a hand on his slender hip.

"Perfect. I love it. All kinds of interesting people. Look at that guy. He looks like the cover of an art magazine. Think he's nice?"

"I think he's taken. Look at the view, doofus!" They walked to part of the counter that ran the length of the windows.

"Woah. Very high. Beautiful, but high."

"Chicken. You just want to people watch."

They sat at a table in the middle of the mostly crowded coffee bar and ordered six dollar latt?s.

"Geez, where's my shot of rum?"

"Atmosphere, babe. Paying for the room."

The coffee arrived and they toasted to atmosphere. "You're right. It's wonderful. Thanks." She grinned. Stephen returned her smile, then he started talking. He spoke of his current relationship and then problems with his sister in Arizona. He spilled like he hadn't done in months. He had looked forward to her visit for eight weeks; talking to her on the phone just didn't do it like in person. She understood him. She accepted him. He was the most interesting gambit on the planet when she pried open her green eyes, cocked her head and said, "Really?" as though the one word was a fork prying into his soul to dig out a piece she would sweep back to be swallowed. It was more than pleasant.

"And so Jeff, from sales, asked her out and she said she's in love with me."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. She said she's afraid to tell him she's a lesbian because then men will never leave her alone."

Azzy laughed loudly and admitted she had told a persistent man she was a lesbian. "It backfired." They both laughed as she told him how the man had chased her.

Azzy's laughter did not go unnoticed. Two men sat at the counter overlooking the city lights and drinking coffee. One was tall, broad with short, curly dark hair and very pale skin. His azure eyes pierced though his whiteness, giving him a look as though he had walked off the jacket of a phantom novel. The man sitting next to him was the one who did not recognize his own reflection in the glass as he listened to her mirth. He twisted, long, dark hair swinging, and stabbed the back of Azzy's head with his round, dark eyes. He watched her long enough for her friend to raise eyebrows at him, then he turned back to the glass. His friend asked him if he was okay as he drained his own coffee in three swallows. "I'm thirsty." The blue-eyed man backed against his chair with wide eyes as his long-haired friend finished his coffee, too.

"I thought you hated sugar in your tar. Would you like me to get you more?"

"No!"

Stephen pointed behind Azzy. "Az-Taz, looks like you've got an admirer. Much more your speed than art cover man."

She turned around and saw the familiar face of a man she'd never met before. She spun back to Stephen. "That's Jeremy."

"You know him? I was talking about the guy next to him." She peeked over her shoulder again and caught the barest glimpse of a head ducked down and brown waves riding over a blue shirt collar. "Azzy, shall we go say hello?"

"Oh, my God." She spun her mug, glanced down at it. It was the pink mug she'd used in the cabin. She blinked and the latt? cup reappeared.

"Az? Did they do something to you? Did they hurt you?"

"No. No, Steve, it's okay. Okay." She took a deep breath and held it. Stephen saw red blotches appear on her chest.

"Oh, my shingles, you're having a panic attack."

She exhaled into his face. "I need a pen. A napkin. A pen and napkin."

"Sam?"

"I can't believe she's here." He covered his face with his hands and spoke as though he'd sucked down vodka instead of coffee.

"Who is she?" He glanced at her as she turned. Their eyes met. She spun away.

Sam sighed. "Oh, man. That's her. Azzy."

"Azzy? The cabin, Azzy?" He looked out the window but didn't see the city. He remembered when Sam returned from Colorado with stories of a beautiful woman and an avalanche. It was a side of his life-long friend he had never seen and rejoiced much from it. Two weeks later, Sam had scoured their apartment to shining cleanliness and said he never wanted to talk about her again. He had never been the same, sometimes bordering on paranoia over keeping the living space clean. Jeremy assumed that she had broken Sam's heart, which would not be difficult if Sam were to actually fall in love, and his unhappiness was showing as he worked through his feelings and wiped the kitchen sink dry with a dry towel after every use. This was her? Here?

"We should leave," Sam said, barely moving his lips.

"Okay."

Jeremy saw the hand slip the folded napkin in front of Sam before Sam opened his eyes. But Sam smelled her perfume. He put his hand on the cocktail napkin and stared at her reflection walking away.

Jeremy watched Azzy and the stylish man she was with leave the shop. Sam pushed his thumb into the napkin and flipped it open.

I KNOW YOU LIED

Below it was a street address. He closed his eyes and covered the napkin with his palm.

His tall friend rose without a word, having also read the napkin and wondering what it meant. Had Sam called it off? Sam pocketed the tissue and they left.

Azzy slept on the couch bed that night. Nothing her friend could say calmed her tense body. All she said was, "Am I delusional?"

"Not in a million years. You were always the sane one." He sat with her until she fell asleep.

Azzy awoke to a soft knock on the door. She knew it was Sam and she sat up with such force that the bed bottom lifted off the floor an inch.

He appeared calm. "Hi, Azzy. Would you like to come outside and talk to me?"

She slipped the door shut behind her. Stephen lived in an apartment setup in the back of an old, white house. The neighborhood was quiet and the porch full of shadows. Sam seemed like one of them. She folded her arms across her red pajamas and watched him lean back on the railing with his ankles crossed. He put one hand in his pocket. For a moment, she believed he had not been lying. How could anyone be this relaxed with that kind of falsehood on his conscience? He showed no joy at seeing her again.

Azzy couldn't watch him for long, so she tossed her gaze around the porch. "I left a bottle of water out here somewhere this afternoon. Where could it be?" She looked under the two chairs and over the railing.

"Get dry mouth when you're nervous?"

She stood straight and forced her arms to her sides. Azzy had read somewhere that to cross arms was a defensive stance, and if that were true, she wouldn't take it.

"Azzy, I read your little note. Why would you think I lied? You said it yourself: I detest dishonesty." He offered her a cigarette. She declined.

"Why did you come, then, if you were telling the truth?"

He examined the glowing tip of his smoke. "I'm curious. And I want to make sure you know that I didn't lie to you."

"You can't convince me of that."

He shook his head and stared at her. She wished for a moment that she could see the moons in his eyes.

Sam continued. "I think it's pathetic that you haven't let it go after two years. Forget it happened. It'll make you a much happier person." There was no sarcasm, which made her feel like a dumb creature pawing at a stranger for attention.

She kept her arms down and waited, unaware that he regarded her with bright vision.

He flicked his butt over the rail. "Why is it? What makes you sure I lied?"

She bent over the railing, but couldn't locate his discarded cigarette. She faced him. "You didn't finish your smoke."

"Yes, I did. That's why I tossed it."

"Not that one. The one from the last night we saw each other."

He folded his arms. "And that makes me a liar?"

"It makes you uncomfortable, like the first time we sat on the cabin porch and I told you what I knew about you. Every other time, you drain it until there's nothing left but abused cotton."

"Not finishing a cigarette has been known to happen occasionally. Are you telling me that you've spent two years tagging your hopes on an unfinished smoke?"

She put her hand on his arm after a slight hesitation. Sam did not meet her eyes, but instead looked at her shiny fingernails. "Sam, whatever you did it for must be a good reason. I knew it that night and I know it now. I gave you that note hoping you'd come to me, but mostly wanting you to know that I know. I know that you never wanted to hurt me. It must have killed you to do that. You don't have to tell me why. I am guessing that there's something you found out about our strange circumstances and you don't ever want me to know."

He stared at her hand and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. Licking his lips, he stood from the railing and shook her hand off him like a dry leaf in the fall. He stared at her for several minutes in silence, then turned to leave.

"Is there anything I can do? Any way I can make it better?"

"Forget me." He started down the stairs.

"I'd do anything."

At the bottom, he turned and looked up to her. "There's nothing either of us can do."

She clenched her fists at the sound of anger in his voice. An emotion was showing; she must push harder. "Sam, I haven't told you something. I lied, too." Only his hair fluttered in the breeze.

"What?"

"I lied to you, too."

A night bird cackled.

He rested his hand on the stair post and lowered his eyebrows. "About what?"

She chewed her lip and he realized she was playing cards. He wanted to walk, but couldn't. His ears simply wouldn't let him.

"About what, Azzy?"

"I know more than I told you."

"More than you told me about what?"

"About you."

Sam took the short flight two steps at a time and grasped her shoulders. She expected to see hostility in his eyes, but there was none.

"Sam, it's not that I wanted to hide things from you, it's just that it seemed too personal to mention. If it's accurate, I mean. It's not fair that I know these things about you. These are things only you know and you should be the one who decides who you share with."

"Tell me. Please."

She blinked at him.

"Azzy, I'd tell you anything." His eyes brightened with the effort to convince the thick-haired woman before him. "I'd want you to know, if anyone. You have no idea how much. Please, tell me what you know."

She said nothing.

"Azzy." He touched her lips. They moved beneath his fingers.

"I know that when I met you, you'd never been in love before. You couldn't trust anyone that much."

He loosened his hold and brushed his hands up her arms. "Since I met you," he whispered, "I believe it's possible to trust someone without knowing she exists." He kissed her forehead.

"What do you mean? Why are you sad?"

"I have to go."

"No. Please don't."

"Goodbye, Azzy."

"No, there's more. Does it make a difference? Does it?"

"More what?"

"More about you. There's something else. I just don't feel comfortable saying it out loud. I won't, unless you think it will help us."

"More." He held her hands between them. "What more?"

Azzy's heart took a short a vacation to her throat.

"Please tell me."

"It sounds crazy. Maybe it was just part of the story. The daydream story. You know, the stories and the facts are different, but this seemed like a fact. I think. I'm not sure."

"Azzy?"

"Give me a minute. I really need some water."

"No. No, first tell me, please."

She watched her feet shuffle from side to side, then she closed her eyes and leaned up to his ear. His hair tickled her cheek and she forgot what she was going to say. Then an image of Sam in a field at night came to her. His eyes watched the bright moon without blinking. She could even see a thin film of moisture automatically washing his eyeballs so the lids would not have to close. Her stomach tightened. "You talk to the moon. He talks back." She leaned against him and over her shoulder the night person looked down.

He stumbled away and jumped the flight, barely bending knees on landing.

"Wait!" She bounded after him, except she used the steps. "Does it mean anything? Can I help?"

"We can't see each other again." He reached his car and opened the door.

"What is it?" she yelled.

"I'm sorry, Az." He jumped in the vehicle and drove off into the night.

The young woman sat in the street and yanked on her hair until it started coming out.

Sam picked Jeremy up and asked him to drive. He took off his shirt and wiped every surface. "Sam? You okay, man?"

"Keep driving. Please. Anywhere is fine. I think this is the safest place to talk." He rubbed his face with the shirt. "Damn. I need to talk." He put his shirt on and sat in the passenger's seat again.

Jeremy glanced over, then took the highway on-ramp. He let Sam pace himself, anxious to help, but doubting that his friend was completely with him.

Once they were at speed, Sam leaned back. "I don't know what to do, Jer. I never thought I'd see her again. Never, not tonight. I still think about her all the time. I was thinking about her on the way up to the coffee shop. I was remembering how she looked with the fire behind her." He looked at Jeremy and drummed his knees. His voice dropped in volume. "A couple of weeks after I got back to Texas, a man came to see me. A man I had met once before. You will remember." The night person Azzy found most beautiful told his friend a story. Some time and several miles later, Sam was quiet again. Jeremy wiped the sweat of his hands onto his jeans and shook his head.

"Shit, Sam."

"What would you do? Seriously, what would you do? I have no choice." He tapped his fist on the window beside him.

"If I were you, I'd do the same as you are doing."

"There's no way out of this. You know, just about every time it rains I stand in it and curse it. Jeremy, it happened so long ago. I swear that at that age, I couldn't have saved his daughter."

Jeremy turned around at an exit and started the ride back to the city. He wiped his hands again. "Do you believe Azzy really wants to help you?"

Sam nodded.

"Flip the situations. What would you want her to do?"

Sam shook his head. "Not the point. Have to let it go. Just have to. All those eyes and ears everywhere. I never know if I'm being watched. I've mastered the one minute shower."

The driver glanced at Sam. He understood much more about his friend's strangeness over the last two years. Why had he kept it inside for this long? He told Jeremy that he didn't want his friend to live with the paranoia, either. Didn't think it fair that he be watched, so Sam tried for separate rustic cabins without running water every chance they got. Jeremy watched the road as though it were gray daylight. His friend was not going to take the chance at what might end his problems. Jeremy didn't blame him for his decision. How could Sam really make any other one than this? However, Jeremy wondered what Azzy would have to say. She might beat Sam unconscious for not telling her. If he were Azzy, he certainly would.

Sam might not be capable of making the decision to tell Azzy, but Jeremy was. He couldn't watch his friend continue living the way he had been. Azzy deserved to know. Jeremy nodded to himself. Perhaps he was a touch of a romantic. He thought love could conquer all, or at least water, if there were good friends around to make the tough decisions.

Sam might freeze him into oblivion, might never speak to him again, but Jeremy couldn't let Sam live on this way. Jeremy had an excellent memory and had caught a glimpse of the address on the napkin. He squinted his eyes as he tried to read the numbers and letters on the napkin in his mind. He wiped his hands again, although they were dry.

Stephen had awoken early to find Azzy watching Casablanca on AMC.

"Have you been up all night? When I left you, you were snoozing."

"I woke up around three."

He sat on the fold-out and touched her knee. "Is he worth it?"

"This is my favorite part."

"Are you even watching?" Stephen turned to see Bogart help a young husband win at roulette.

"He came."

"What! Why didn't you wake me? Are you okay?"

She sat up. "It's okay. I was right. He was lying. He wouldn't tell me why."

Stephen leaned forward and hugged her with his minty breath. He questioned Sam's honesty to himself, but said, "I'm starting you a bubble bath, lighting some vanilla candles, and you're going to soak. Then you're sleeping." He did just that.

He was gone for work when she left the tub. He was right; she had relaxed and fell asleep wrapped in clean, yellow towels.

At noon, the door called Azzy awake with its wooden voice. She glanced at the clock and put the pillow over her head. She didn't want to see anyone.

The knock came again. "One sec." She groaned then threw on shorts and a Dauphin Island T-shirt. She cracked the door. "Jeremy?" She squinted in the bright light.

He smiled. "Hi, Azzy."

She welcomed him inside.

"Do you mind if I..." He picked a damp towel off the floor. Then the other. He put them outside. He closed the bathroom door, stuffing dry towels in the crack. He emptied her water cup and put all the wet dishes in the dishwasher. He ran a dry towel around the kitchen sink, then looked around the apartment. "Not too sure how far to go with it, but okay."

She held her hands out. "Okay. Thanks for cleaning. Should I tip?"

They put the couch in and sat on it. "I came to talk to you about Sam."

"I figured as much."

He sighed. "He'll kill me if and when he finds out I'm doing this, but I thought I'd take a shot."

She nodded.

"Sam was right. You're very easy to talk to."

"Thanks. You're easy to listen to."

He crossed a foot onto a knee. "I'm here to offer you the explanation of what has happened between the two of you." He scratched his ear and looked at the floor. "But, Azzy, there's a hitch. Once you know, you'll have to decide what you're going to do right away. If you choose to let it go, then that's it. If you want to try to set things right, it could be extremely dangerous for you. You could die. Or I could leave now and you could bring your towels in and we can pretend this never happened."

"I want to know."

"Good." He rested his elbow on the top of the couch and looked at her. "Sam told me the story last night after he came to see you. A man is out for revenge on Sam and he was using you as a tool, an experiment when nothing, or no one, has worked.

"You are special, Azzy. You have a gift you were not aware of, but this man picked up on it a few years back. He has this gift, too, but to a much lesser degree."

"Who is he? I know him?"

"You have met him. His name is John Galen."

A pause. "I don't remember him."

"I guess you know all about night people. We have our own ability which we are born with. You have one, too. What you are called is a seoli. A seoli is sometimes referred to as a 'magician's psychic'."

"I'm not a psychic."

He smiled. "Galen is also a seoli. It runs in families, and parent seolies always tell their children if they are born with the seoli trait. They are usually told at a fairly young age. I don't know why you never were. You might want to ask your parents."

"What exactly is a seoli?"

"Ah, how to explain?" He lost his fingers in his curls. "They are much like psychics. They specialize in character, such as strengths and weaknesses. If well trained, they can sit next to someone, like you are sitting with me, and pinpoint what they are looking for in a short time. For example, if you wanted to find out who my best friend was, you could look into my head and find out. The strength of the ability and how well trained the seoli is determines speed and accuracy."

"Why do you say, 'magician's psychic'?"

"Psychics can't read most people, like Sam and I, who have special abilities. A seoli can read anyone, and with ease they can go in search for what they want to know."

"You said a seoli sits next to someone and gets this information. I never met Sam."

He nodded and slid his tongue over his teeth. "That's what makes you special. A seoli such as Galen must be in close proximity to or touching a person to learn anything. However, there is a stronger kind, an upgrade, if you will, called a seoliu," he paused, "which is rare. All kinds of people and rings try to get a seoliu under their protection."

Azzy touched her temples. "I'm sorry, you're going way too fast for me."

"Forgive me, I didn't know how much Sam had told you about people like us."

"What's a ring? Why is there a need for protection and why would other people want to give it? I don't understand what a seoliu is."

He laughed softly. He wasn't worried about this part of the conversation; it seemed to him that any seoliu who did not know the secrets of the world must on some level know there are secrets at all. She would accept them as easily as trying a bizarre flavor of Ben and Jerry's.

"Okay. I'll start with you. As a seoliu, you have a great feature that other seolies don't have. You don't have to be in the same room with the person you are reading. You just have to know they exist, then you do what is called 'getting a line' on that person. Once you have it, you can access information. It tends to take longer than sitting next to someone, but it works just as well."

"I can't do that. Are you saying that's how I learned about Sam? I didn't know he existed."

"You did. This is where Galen comes in."

She twirled her hair at the ends. "I take it you're not going to let me grab a coke."

"See how quickly you pick up on things? Believe me, you don't want a drink right now. Once I finish, you'll understand why."

"Are you nuts?"

He grinned back at her. "A little bit, but you probably knew that."

"I am not this seoliu."

"I bet you have people telling you all the time how easy it is to talk to you. Am I right?"

Nod.

"It's a trait of a seoli. The really good ones rarely have someone who is uncomfortable in her or his presence. People feel understood and accepted, interesting and not judged."

"I don't know. This is weird." She folded up her legs. "What about this Galen fellow? What about rings and protection?"

Jeremy was nowhere close to being a seoli, but he could see that Azzy was excited at being told she was special. Who wouldn't? Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes the bright green of a cat on Halloween. "Talking about Galen will explain all of it. He is not only a seoli, but he belongs to the water ring. The water ring is for people who have the ability to manipulate water, in a way similar to our using moonlight. You can't look at them and see their ability like a night person has shine. There are only around thirty people in the whole world on this water ring, but there are always a few loners who do not join the ring."

"Why do they join it? What does that mean?"

"It means they are a team and they watch each other's back. There is always some kind of power struggle and they protect each other so that water people remain strong and do not get wiped out by other types of people. Let's face it; there's always some guy out there wanting to be the strongest, baddest man around."

"It's genetic?"

"Yes, but with them, one can never tell where along the bloodline the trait will come out. Like I said, there are very few."

"What other rings are there?"

"It's elemental, like lots of books like to speculate. Fire, air, earth and water. Most of them have very little power. Therefore, the rings. Earth people don't form rings; nobody knows much about them except that there are only a handful and they keep to themselves. They are supposed to be pretty tough, but they just don't bother with the rest of us."

"Does that mean they are the strongest?"

"Actually, as an element, probably. But as a ring, the water people are the most dangerous, especially for day and night people. A powerful water person can throw a cloud over the sky and block the sunlight and moonlight."

Silence.

Jeremy bobbed his foot. "We far outnumber any group. Most of anyone's 'magic,' as perceived by a normal person, is not the explosive kind you would read about in a fantasy novel. That is, for the most part, unheard of, which is unfortunate for those of us with our abilities." He stared at the blank television.

"Why?"

"If someone catches a glimpse of strangeness, the impulse is to destroy the person who caused it. It's hard to protect from a mob, or more often just one man with a gun, when you can't create the lightening storm of the century like they think you can."

"So it's hidden."

"If the person is smart, yes." He looked over and patted her arm. "You have nothing to worry about. Nobody wants to kill a person who claims to be psychic. If they can't see a fireball come out of your hand, they aren't scared. Also, in the supernatural world, a strong seoliu like you will always be protected. Everyone wants a seoliu on their side. A powerful CIA all in one person. Most of us don't ever want to actually fight with our abilities; not only does it attract attention to us, but people die.

"For example, suppose you are protected by the night people, which I'm sure the offer is open to you if you want it. Nobody is going to mess with you or your family. They won't threaten you to help them."

"Why not?"

"Because it is an unspoken understanding that if someone messes with a protected seoliu, then the group protecting her will basically kick ass."

"Why unspoken?"

"Seolius refused to help out anyone because they were afraid of being threatened. So groups offered protection in order to enlist the services. For example, if a fire person threatened you to help him, then you would tell the night people. The fire ring would not stop us from punishing the guilty person. It's a crime that nobody will stand for. However, if word gets out that you are a seoliu, you better find protection, or else you most likely will be threatened."

"Does that mean I owe the group protecting me?"

"Yes. You would have to use your ability on request. Don't worry; another blessing for a seoliu is the right to deny a job you feel is morally wrong. Nice, huh?"

"Why do they get such good treatment?"

"Like I said, peaceful warfare. Also because there are so few of you. I've only heard of two other ones."

Azzy twisted her back then looked at the door. She thought about the yellow towels on the other side. "Who is John Galen?"

"He lives in Mobile."

"Mobile? My city? I swear I don't know him."

"He found you in Mobile. He lived on the Gulf all his life. Most of the water types live by the water. He's one of the strongest men on their ring, capable of making clouds form."

"Is he a bad man?"

"He doesn't have the reputation of being one. He keeps to himself, for the most part, yet he has many powerful friends."

"Why is he after Sam?"

Jeremy stretched his legs out and folded his hands on his stomach. "When we were sixteen, a group of us went down to New Orleans for a week. One night, Sam went deep sea fishing while we prowled Bourbon Street. Galen was on that boat. He couldn't see Sam's shine, but with his seoli ability, he learned Sam was a night person. Galen's fourteen year old daughter, who was with him, could tell, too. She's also a seoli."

"He has a daughter? Four years younger than me. Is that how I know him?"

"No. She died that night. There was some rough water and his daughter accidentally went overboard. She couldn't swim."

"You're kidding. He never taught her? It seems like a water person would teach his kid-"

"Ironic. He adored her. Spent a lot of his time teaching her the seoli art. He doted on her completely. Anyway, both Galen and Sam went after her. Although Galen can manipulate the water a million ways, Sam could see in the dark. He's the one who pulled her up from deep under. On deck, Sam and the other six people on board watched Galen take the water from her lungs, but her heart had stopped. CPR didn't work, either. Sam told me Galen begged him to help save his daughter, but there was nothing Sam could do.

"Galen remembered Sam, of course. He remembered the name of everyone on the boat, but especially the night person."

Azzy stroked a piece of her hair. "Why does he hate Sam? Why wasn't the girl wearing a life vest?"

"Don't know why she wasn't wearing one, but I can tell you why he's after Sam. Sam was determined a Ral by the government when he was twenty. Do you know what that is?"

"No."

"I figured he wouldn't tell you. He's shy about it. A Ral is determined by the brightness of the shine. Right now, there are twelve night Rals. They are the strongest of our kind. As night people age, our shine becomes brighter depending on how often we use our ability. The other eleven Rals were named after they were forty. Sam's the youngest ever known and some see him as a prodigy.

"He's always been bright, but in his late teens it exploded at a fast rate, which isn't entirely unheard of. It's just never happened to the extent of making someone a Ral.

"Although Galen keeps to himself, he has friends in all the groups, including night people. When he heard Sam was a Ral, he became enraged. Any Ral would be able to start someone's heart with electrical pulses and he claims that Sam was too afraid of being noticed by the people on the boat as otherworldly if he were to start the girl's heart."

"But Sam wasn't a Ral at sixteen."

"True, but Galen reasons that to be named a Ral at twenty, then he was strong enough at sixteen."

"Is that right?"

"Sam says he couldn't have done it. However, most people would agree with Galen."

"You don't, do you?"

Jeremy glanced at the window. "No."

"What is this revenge?"

"Galen wanted to hurt Sam as deeply as he had been by his daughter's loss. He searched for a secret Sam might be hiding with which to destroy his life, something to use against him and hang over his head. He tried a seoliu who was under the water ring, but he couldn't get anything of value. You see, often a seoli will not get anything of extremely personal value unless the subject is likely to trust the kind of person the seoli is."

"How strange." She remembered Sam's words the night before, that he now thought it was possible to trust without knowing the person existed.

"Galen tried another strong seoli friend who went to meet Sam in person, but learned nothing."

"Sam doesn't trust many people."

"No. Galen had people with their ears open here and there, but didn't find out anything. Then, one night in a bar in Mobile, he saw a girl reading palms and wearing a sign around her neck that said she'd read for drinks. He read you and saw that you were an untrained seoli. He asked you to read his palm and was surprised at how well you did. He watched at how positively others responded to you. Eventually, he struck up conversation with you for a deeper read, and learned you were a seoliu. He said you were very trusting. If you had been trained, you could have been able to block him."

"How so?"

"I don't know. Seolies just know how. Anyway, he was impressed with your unawared strength and charm, so he devised a plan. He didn't want to train you, said it would take too long and you might not be willing to help him. Instead, he somehow enchanted a picture of Sam. He didn't say how he did it. By doing this, he could cause you to get a line on Sam without your knowing it and leave you to learn."

"I never saw a picture of Sam."

"No. Galen found out your haunts, went to a place you were at one night, and showed the picture to some guy. The enchantment was strong enough so that you would be hooked even by seeing Sam's image in this guy's head. Galen paid the kid twenty bucks to talk to you for an hour."

"I don't remember anything like that."

"You probably get guys doing that without the bribe. Galen has a special ability of some water people. He can watch and listen through water, drinks, anything wet, although some things are better than others. Apparently, he watched Sam this way even before he met you. And, yes, it works with ice and snow."

Her eyes widened.

Jeremy nodded. "Galen intended to leave you dreaming of Sam for a year, then find some way to question you about him. He didn't think you were sharp enough to dig up the dirt and desire to go looking for him. He wanted you to believe that Sam wasn't real so this wouldn't happen. I hate to tell you this, but he'd been spying on you, too. Once he realized you were gone, he listened in on Sam's end until he heard that Sam was traveling up to the Gai Lodge. You see, he has to know where to look before he can spy on you. He told Sam he overheard all your conversations in and outside the cabin. He asked a fellow wind person to blow the snow storm south. The avalanche was no accident, either. He wanted to keep you two in there longer so he could find out more."

"Oh. Oh, no wonder." Azzy squinted at him. "Why am I still alive? If this man wanted to hurt Sam, why wouldn't he kill the woman Sam loved?"

"This is where it gets tricky." He took a deep breath. "Sam said that when Galen confronted him two years ago after the snow-in, the man spoke of you with admiration, as though he were the one taken with you. He told Sam that Sam was forbidden to see you. He said that, although you hadn't been able to get at Sam's secrets, denying Sam the happiness of love was good enough for him. He insisted Sam make a mean, clean break of things with you, leaving you to cry and carry on with your life. He wanted Sam to continue on loving and missing you, thinking of you carrying on your life. He said that if Sam didn't do this, then Galen would kill you. He would watch and listen to Sam every chance he got to make sure there was no contact."

"The wet towels."

"Yeah."

"Why didn't Galen take it up with the night people?"

He sighed. "For some reason, he decided to take matters into his own hands. Said the night people wouldn't punish him properly."

"Why didn't Sam take it to the night people?"

"He was afraid they'd take Galen's side and, also, Galen threatened to kill you if he did."

"So Sam let his own life turn to hell? You mean for two years Sam's been harassed and afraid of being watched at all times?"

"Yes. I haven't been able to figure out the change to clean freak and two second showers until last night. He says the only thing he doesn't mind so much is drinking because he feels he can cut the contact simply by swallowing, but even that gets to him." He opened his mouth to say more, but decided to let Azzy come of it on her own.

She did. "If I'm this magician's psychic, then can't I help? Couldn't I get into Galen's head? You said I can learn strengths and weaknesses. If Sam's seen him, couldn't I look into Sam's eyes and get this, uh, line on Galen?"

Jeremy tapped his belly. "It's not that simple. You were enchanted with Sam's line. You are untrained and you'd have to be taught."

"Taught." She tucked the hair, then flipped it over her shoulder. "Okay." She looked him over. "Is that why you came? Is that the decision? Damn it, why didn't Sam tell me? Two years... He knows I'd do it."

"Sam didn't think you could until last night. Galen told him you weren't strong enough to get to the heart of a powerful person's most hidden and unspoken secrets. Not only does the person read need be inclined to trust, but the seoliu needs to be very strong. Sam told me last night he found out that you were. He simply couldn't bring himself to ask you to risk your life for him."

"Not for him. For us. He'd risk, too. He'd stay with me while I learned, right?"

"He couldn't go with you. Galen's watching him. We can't let Galen know that you're reading him. Sam should carry on as though nothing were different. Galen is not interested in killing Sam, and Sam couldn't protect you in daylight or once Galen throws a cloud cover across the moon. And trust me, a semi-automatic couldn't touch this kind of guy.

"Sam is so afraid of your dying because of him that he wouldn't even ask you to learn your seoliu thing. If I were him, I'd do the same thing. But I am not him. I know he's miserable and that there's a possible way out of it. If I were you, I'd kill him in the afterlife when I found out he never told me the truth. I came here because I thought you deserved to know and to make the decision yourself."

Azzy touched his shoulder. "What decision? Let's go talk to Sam." She stood and smiled down at him. "Thank you."

5

Sam and Jeremy were living in campground cabins, which Jeremy hadn't understood the reasoning for over the last couple years. Of course, as of the night before, he could see why Sam had pushed for the arrangement. He respected Sam's desire for the rustic living now, and he also secretly thanked his friend for their separate living spaces so that Galen would not be watching him, too.

Azzy spied Sam sitting on the porch drinking coffee. As Jeremy said that he would run up and dump Sam's drink, Sam saw Azzy in the passenger seat.

"What? Az? What the hell are you doing here?" Sam looked down at his mug as though it had bit him, then he hurled it over the rail.

Jeremy and Azzy hopped out of the car and the woman in the ponytail walked to the stunned night person. Sam grabbed her shoulders. "What are you doing? Go home. Get out of here, now."

"Sam, I'm going to help. I told you I'd do anything –"

Azzy almost heard Sam's neck pop as he looked to Jeremy, who put his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground. Sam released Azzy and rushed his friend, slamming him against the side of the car.

"What the hell have you done? Why did you do this? Did you tell her?" He pushed Jeremy again. "I trusted you. Damn it, Jer. Why would you do this? Why?" He shook the taller man. "Look at me." Jeremy did, turning his face to one side in anticipation. Sam opened his mouth to say more, but instead took a fierce swing at Jeremy's jaw. He didn't try to block and met Sam's eyes again after the blow. Sam flexed his hand, trying to control his raging arm's desire to pummel more. He spit a few profanities instead, but found this only made him want to hit Jeremy more. He stepped back.

Azzy touched his arm. "I wanted to know. Please, Sam."

He wouldn't look at her. "You take her home right now." Sam rubbed his eyes and paced to the cabin, slamming the door.

"Are you okay, Jeremy?"

"Yeah." He winced as he spoke.

"Could have been worse. I'll talk to him." She smiled up into his blue eyes. "You did the right thing. He'll agree once he calms down."

Azzy knocked on the locked cabin door. "I'm not leaving until you talk to me. I can help, Sam. You know I can. I'm not afraid of trying. I want to. I really do."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he called through the door. "I can't let you risk your life. I can't. Don't you see where I am coming from? If you are so understanding, then understand this. What would you do?"

"I'd let you help me."

"Liar. Get out of here."

"Sam." She rubbed the door. "I'm doing it no matter what you say. I'd rather do it with your help. Jeremy's taking me to a seoli who's going to train me. I'm going today." She put both palms on the door as though her touch might dissolve it. After a moment of silence, he opened his room up to her and she crossed his threshold.

Once inside with the door closed again, she put her arms around his waist and pressed her lips into his neck. It was at first like hugging a dead tree, then he relented to her embrace with all the touch he had desired for the last two years.

Some time later they lie in his bed under a thin, white sheet. He balanced an ashtray on his stomach and they smiled as though they'd never left Colorado.

He kissed her hair. "We really like our cabins."

"Mmm. We do. Thank the weather god it's summer."

He laughed and told her that she made him love snow.

"Sam?"

"Yes?"

She sat up and put his cigarette out. She put the ashtray on the floor, then touched his belly, saying that she loved him. "Remember right now if things get bad. Remember how we both feel, connected and safe as though nothing could ever hurt us. Sink back into it like you fall into a dream from the night before in the middle of the day."

He watched her and barely breathed.

She slid her fingers over his chest and into his hair. "Remember that this is why it's worth the risk."

He whispered, "Okay," and pulled her close. They stayed that way for a while longer, gently tracing each other's skin so as to fuse the feel of it into their memories.

After they dressed, Azzy asked him about Galen.

"If I get a, what did Jeremy call it, a line? If I got a line on you from looking into someone's eyes, could I get one on Galen from looking into yours?"

"I think so, but you don't know how to do it on your own. The image of me you saw was enchanted somehow." He rubbed her neck. "It's amazing that you got as much as you did about me in such a short time."

"Six months doesn't seem like a short time."

"It is for someone who's untrained and unaware of her talents."

"I have to figure a way to get him."

"The seoli you are going to see will teach you. I don't think we should see each other until you are sure you've learned how to get a line on him from my mind. I don't want to risk him catching us."

"Wouldn't it take him a long time to reach us even if he could see us?"

He sighed. "Some water types have a way of getting around really fast. He's one of them. I don't know exactly how he does it; I've never learned much about the ways of other people. I've never wanted to be involved in that world anymore than teaching night people. After Galen came to me, I could have found out about water people, but I just didn't want to know." He shook his head. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again and I didn't want to know the ways Galen could get to me because it would make me even more paranoid."

Azzy pressed her lips to his shoulder and told him how sorry she was that he'd lived the way he had over the last two years. "I'll find out about him. Don't worry."

He said he knew she would. "If anyone in the world can, I believe it's you."

Time felt short suddenly, as though the man from Mobile was trying to peek in the closed blinds. Sam's chest tightened as he opened his door to the sunlight, half-expecting to see the shadow of clouds and a man on the porch. Jeremy was the only one they saw. He sat on the ground picking weeds, but stood when he saw them. His jaw was swelling.

Sam walked over to him and faced him for a moment, long enough for a breeze to toss his hair into his eyes. He pushed it away and patted his friend's arm. "You made a decision I couldn't make. I'm sorry I hit you. Take that jaw to the moonlight tonight?"

"Yeah." Half his mouth smiled.

"Really, I'm sorry."

"Nothing to it. Are you ready, Azzy?"

She nodded. Sam insisted they take his car because it was in better shape than Jeremy's. Sam leaned into her window and kissed her goodbye.

"Sam, remember what I said to remember."

"I will." He watched the car drive away, then went back inside. He smelled the sheets, remembering her, then paced the small room.

Outside the cabin, Sam's discarded coffee cup evaporated the last of moisture that clung to the ceramic.

Jeremy and Azzy stopped at Stephen's house and she collected her belongings. She left her friend a note. They went to the bank and she withdrew all of her savings.

The road was wide open and day turned to night as they headed east.

Around nine p.m., Sam's cell phone rang. He had just returned from work, which had not distracted him a bit from worrying about Azzy. He turned on the phone and gave the traditional greeting question.

"It seems like every car in California has a cell phone."

Sam stopped breathing.

"Too bad you didn't have two: one for you and one for your car. Nice car, too. I didn't know you kept Carolina plates on the back still. Funny little detail that escaped me."

Sam said nothing, only closed his eyes dropped his head low.

"I guess they'll be stopping for gas at some point. It's been a few hours I've been tailing them. They at least have to be very thirsty."

He opened his eyes.

"You should have listened to me. Didn't you think I was serious? Did you think the old man would forget after a couple years? You never, ever forget the pain of losing the one you loved most. But I guess you'll find that out, won't you? Such a shame, I do like her. Too bad for you the moon set an hour ago. I'll leave you to your imagination."

He hung up.

Sam didn't. He threw the phone at the wall, shattering it. The night person sat on the floor and covered his face, digging his fingernails into his face.

"Time for gas," Jeremy said as he pulled off the highway into a service station. He pumped and she went inside to browse the drinks. Unlike Jeremy and Sam, she wasn't especially paranoid that John Galen would be watching her from the bottles in the cooler. She looked the beverages over, trying to decide which one he would be if he were looking back at her. She tried to decide between Peach Nee-Hi and Dr. Pepper, pausing to wonder how Galen always knew where to locate Sam. Maybe there was more to his water eyes than they knew.

"Nah." She muttered and stepped sideways into the man standing next to her. Azzy's bare arm swiped his damp jeans. She glanced up at a handsome older man with a deeply lined face. His black hair was combed to the side.

He was a fisherman.

She smiled. He smiled back. Sweat dripped down his temples and cheeks.

Azzy took a Mountain Dew out of the cooler and took it to the counter. She muttered, "Oh," and told the worker she would be right back. She left the drink and leaned out the door. "Hey, Jeremy, do you want a drink?"

The wet man walked behind her to the counter with two jugs of spring water.

"No, thanks."

"What? Can't hear you over that truck engine. I need more money, anyway."

Jeremy yelled louder, although he glanced at the pickup truck fueling beside him. It wasn't awfully loud.

"Hold on." She reached the pump as he anchored the nozzle.

"No, thanks, Azzy. But you didn't have to walk all the way—"

"Act natural. He's here. Don't look."

He shuffled his feet and glued his eyes to her face. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He took out his wallet and slipped her all the cash inside. "Go," he whispered as the store's door bell chimed. "Go. No matter what. Don't come back."

"He's the one with the wet clothes."

Smile and a head bob. She hopped into the passenger side, then climbed into the driver's seat.

Jeremy couldn't see wet clothes, but the water jugs were noticeable. The man walked quickly towards him, lid off one jug and a finger dipping inside.

Azzy cranked the engine as Jeremy approached and said something to the man. The tires screeched as she pulled away. She looked out the window when she pulled out of the station and saw Jeremy on his hands and knees. Water cascaded out his mouth like he was a human sink faucet. A water jug lie next to him, emptying onto the black pavement. She caught a glimpse of the weathered man running toward her car. Other people shouted at him to stop.

She floored it to the highway, but feared getting on. She sped to top speed for a few miles on the dark interstate, never daring to light her front torches. She wished for a moment she were a night person and could see the road like it were day. On impulse, she slammed on the breaks and bumped into a low ditch. Azzy rammed into the steering wheel, but held steady, gasping for air like the friend she had left at the gas station.

She snapped off the engine. Could he see her from the road? She was tilted at an angle and had the sensation that the car was about to roll. She coughed.

Waited.

Nothing happened.

"Damn it." She rubbed her breast bone. Listened to cars pass. Surely he had already passed... and she remembered him. He had a sailboat. He had told her all about it, made it interesting. He had been interesting. She had liked him much as he had grinned at her and told her how she charmed the other people waving their palms around the bar. He had asked her if she knew she had a gift for it, a real knack...

She fired up the engine and all her bones shook as she pushed the four wheel drive onto the road. She dipped into the median and pulled into the road going the other way. She flipped on her lights, chewed her tongue and accelerated, expecting not a wet man in a car to ride up in her back window, but a tidal wave.

She wanted with all her soul to go back to Jeremy. What had Galen done to him? The night person had said not to come back. She asked the car interior if Jeremy was okay and was a touch surprised that she received no answer.

Azzy passed the exit she had recently left. She could see the lights of the service station, but could make out nothing more than cars at pumps. Was Jeremy there? Was Galen waiting on a ramp for her to pass? She cruised to the next exit and parked on the ramp. She could barely open the glove box, but managed to do so and dig out a California road map. Highways, she felt, were out of the question. She found the one she was on, then the road that led off of the exit she was parked on. She would never be able to find the seoli who was to train her. Jeremy said the name and the city the woman lived in, but Azzy couldn't recall even her initials. Why hadn't she written it down? Why had they felt so confident? It didn't seem real that any man could really do this thing, watch and listen at all times.

She sucked in her breath. Had Galen been following them? He would have the plate number. He might have ways of tracing her other than water snooping. She was almost positive he did. She traced the small road leading southwest, catching other small roads on down from there. A plan poked at her mind like a weak and cloudy dawn.

Yes, Galen was a well-liked, powerful man. She bet he had plenty of friends.

Azzy shook herself all over and made a mind-clearing noise. She refocused on the map. Time to go. Had things to get done.

Moments after Sam pieced his phone into working order, Jeremy called him from a pay phone. He explained that Azzy had gotten away and that Galen had run after the SUV on foot. Jeremy tried to watch him as he coughed up water the man had shot into Jeremy's lungs, and he managed to see the angry man chase the car into the street. The next time Jeremy looked up, Galen was gone but the car he had stolen remained. Sam rode out into the night to pick up his friend from the gas station.

On the long ride back to San Francisco, Jeremy continually reassured Sam. "Galen would have called to let you know if he had caught up with her. You'd be the first to know."

"What did he do to you?"

"I don't know. Somehow he put the water from the jug into my lungs. He didn't drown me, though. He just wanted me out of his way."

"Sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. I am so sorry."

Sam shook his head. "I don't think he has her."

"No."

"Thanks, Jer. For trying. She'll call soon."

Azzy was exhausted by six a.m. and she stopped, against her good judgment, at a motel whose faded sign read, "EVE YTHING OES". She eyed the water stained white stucco and thought that shady motels were the least of her fears. Would she even be able to sleep?

She backed into a space behind the building and stayed aware in bed for an hour.

Upon awakening, she skipped bathing and hit the road. How could Galen have known and caught up with her?

She followed back roads in California to her destination, which wasn't too far off, now.

Why had Galen been covered in sweat? Why was he wet? Were all water people this way?

Azzy turned up the radio and tuned to an LA alternative station.

6

CeCe let her old friend Azzy in her Huntington Beach apartment. "What in the world are you doing here? Stevie called and told me you left him some mysterious note and that you wouldn't be visiting. Hey, you don't look good." CeCe ran her fingers through her short, bright red hair.

"I need your help. I'm in some trouble."

The short woman swallowed her eternal urge to let loose a jibe as she examined Azzy's fishtail hands. She put her friend on the green-plaid couch and grabbed two beers out of the fridge. Handing one to the shaking Azzy, she joined her on the sofa.

"Talk to me." She waved her beer. "Sorry this ain't the good stuff."

Azzy's eyes watered from a deep sip. "Cec, can you get me a license plate? Preferably not a stolen, but a fake. I need to keep on the move, and—"

CeCe let a spark of admiration light her voice. "Are you on the run?"

"Well, I guess. Yeah."

"Shit. No way. What's going on?"

"I don't know if you'd believe me if I told you." That wasn't true, though. Stephen cared nothing for it, but CeCe was one of many who keep their eyes peeled for something outrageous to believe. She swore she'd seen ghosts and very much acknowledged Psi ability. Azzy just wasn't sure she wanted to involve her friend with a man like Galen.

"Let me make some calls."

"Yeah. Thanks."

CeCe raged with urgency as she tracked down a guy named Pierce via pager. He would see what he could do.

They waited, listening to the soft sounds of a local ska band fill the room from CeCe's speakers. Fifteen minutes later, he called back with a price which would leave Azzy with very little traveling money. She agreed.

While they waited on Pierce, CeCe asked the nature of Azzy's pursuer. "Can't you call the cops?"

"No."

"What does he want?"

"He's trying to kill me."

The redhead leaned back. "Woah. No kidding, huh?" She bent a knee against her chest and propped a foot up on her couch. CeCe had taken ballet all her life until she was eighteen, and no matter how tough she tried to make herself look, natural grace took off her edge. Sometimes she complained about it, but Azzy knew CeCe secretly loved her natural femininity. "Why? Why would anyone want to kill you? Is this like the funeral parlor stalker?"

"No. This man wants me dead to get revenge on someone else."

"Who?"

Azzy sighed. She took another deep drink. "You don't know how much I want to talk about it, but that might be too dangerous. I just don't know. I haven't figured it out yet."

A frustrated singer inside the stereo claimed, "living on Crackerjacks is too sweet".

"You know I'm alright with a little danger. As long as it's for you. Especially for you. You know you're my favorite."

Azzy smiled. "Favorite what?"

"Favorite matchbox car racer. What do you think?" She shook Azzy's shoulder.

"He wants revenge on the man who loves me for something he didn't do."

"You didn't tell me about any man who loves you. When did this happen?"

"It's such a long story." She closed her eyes.

"Okay. You can tell me on the way."

"On the way where?"

"To where ever we're going."

She opened her lids. "No, Cec, you can't—"

"You're right." CeCe slapped the couch. "I should get packed." She drained the beer and sprung up. She left the tiny living room and went into the even smaller bedroom. "Am I dressing for warm or cold?"

Azzy didn't answer and instead peered down into her beer bottle. She wanted Galen to be looking back up at her. She wished he could see her drain his window into her throat, thinking that Sam had enjoyed the same sensation. The thought made her giggle.

"I take it that's a warm weather laugh. I know, it's summer. I'm dense."

Azzy needed to leave her friend in LA. She listened to CeCe talk to her boss on the phone, getting out of work indefinitely. She said she had won a free trip to Hawaii. Azzy wanted her friend's companionship more than anything; she had never been one to try to rough things on her own. The woman tugged her hair and opened her mouth to try to convince CeCe that it wasn't safe for her to go, but she didn't think that was true. Azzy's gut told her it would be fine. Galen hadn't killed Jeremy, had he? She suspected that the man had no desire to hurt anyone but her. It would be fine if CeCe came with her.

She finished her beer and put the bottle between the couch cushions, unwilling to move unless she had to. She listened to CeCe sing along with the CD and wondered if she was fooling herself because she needed a friend to help her. Shaking her head, she told herself it was fine. Fine.

Pierce delivered the goods out of his backpack when he came. "California okay? Just don't speed."

CeCe drove first as Azzy directed her to the right highway. Azzy told her story and CeCe asked questions. When most of it was finished, CeCe commented that she knew it all along.

"Knew what?"

"That there were other things going on in the world. Just knew it."

Azzy listened to the wonder in her friend's voice and the story took on a fiction quality that was relieving.

"I also knew there was something different about you. Can you do it to me now?"

"What?"

"The seoli thing."

"I don't know. I don't know how, really. I have to be trained, like I told you. I have to learn how to control it and use it at leisure."

"Sure. But I swear you can read minds sometimes. Are you sure you can't do it already?"

"Pretty sure. I'm going to work on it. After doing it with Sam, I think I know what it feels like."

Even CeCe's fingers were graceful as she slid them around the steering wheel. "Keep heading east, right? So, tell me more about Sam. I don't remember much about him from our conversation two years ago. Actually, I don't think you said a whole lot."

Azzy forgot about water and looked at the moon, low on the horizon. She thought of him with his legs folded on a hilltop, looking up to the white ball as his eyes dampened themselves without his intent. She only knew of one place to look for help, as it wasn't the lodge in Colorado. She thought Galen would be more likely to watch for her there. She needed to find night people. Night people who knew Sam, trusted him, might want to help him.

They drove without resting for two nights, taking turns at the helm. Azzy flipped through a phone book when they arrived, they checked into a motel to bathe, and then headed down to a coffee shop called Starry Night. There were other shops in Galveston, Texas, but CeCe agreed that this seemed a likely place to be the hang-out of night people. They ordered coffee from a well-pierced, head shaved fellow, then settled at a table in the corner.

"Love the Van Gogh paint job on the walls. So, Sam said there were a bunch of night people in this area?"

"Yes. This is where he lived when we met."

"You think you can do your mind reading and tell if they're night people?"

"I don't know, but I don't know what else to do."

CeCe poured three packs of sugar in her mug. "You could wear a sign around your neck that says, 'SW Seoli looking for shiny night person who's hung like the moon.'"

"That's disgusting."

"I don't know, hung like the moon sounds good to me."

"I meant your sugar with a drop of coffee."

She grinned. "Keeps my dentist employed. Will you tell me if you come up with anything cool?"

Azzy nodded and her eyes scanned the room, feeling achy and tired as though she had been horse back riding for three days instead of sitting in the car. Her friend, however, was as perky as ever. "Must be all that sugar."

"What, Az?"

"Nothing, just thinking about you out loud."

"Thanks. I am pretty sweet."

There were six other people in the shop. Four women and two men, excluding the one behind the counter. He glanced over at them quite a bit. She thought he seemed like a nice guy. Two women sitting together chattered and waved their hands like they were doing a TV ad for the shop. The other two women sat with one of the men. They laughed loudly and frequently. They were college kids studying philosophy and she never saw them glance once at the Descartes books on the table. The other man sat alone by the window. He was older than the rest, browsing a magazine. He was very much at ease.

"I don't know how to make it work. I feel so weird staring at them."

CeCe reached into her purse. "Gotcha sunglasses right here. You really shouldn't be exposing your eyes in this bright light the day after your surgery." She whipped out a pair of wide, black rimmed sunglasses.

"Oh, yes. The surgery. How careless of me."

"You really should take better care of your eyes. Otherwise, you might not have had to have surgery in the first place."

Azzy slipped them on and commented on how much better her corneas felt. Then she leaned back and watched freely. CeCe read a magazine.

The man behind the counter came to the table and refilled their coffee. He had not done this for anyone else. "Your eyes okay?"

"Yeah." She explained about her surgery.

"Ah. Maybe it's the glasses, but there's something very mysterious about you two."

CeCe raised her eyebrows at him. "You don't miss a thing."

Azzy anticipated another refill. People came and went; Azzy switched to decaf. A woman with black hair came in alone and drained a latte. She seemed nervous. Two men came in together and she picked up words here and there. They were writing songs together, excited yet self-conscious. They were afraid of performing, however, and playing together gave them confidence. They were good friends, but hadn't know each other long. Azzy thought it was funny how certain personalities bring out the best talents when put together. CeCe whispered that the guy in the "cords" was a babe. "Can you tell if he's noticed me?"

Azzy snickered.

The coffee man came back. "Since you are my only three-hour customers of the night, I will grace you with my name. I hate to think of you as Shades and Red every time I look over. I'm Jake."

CeCe held out her hand. "I'm Shades."

"I'm Red," Azzy said.

"Oh. Wise guys. I see. Trying to fool everybody. Do you always dress up as each other?"

CeCe lowered her uncoated, long lashes. "Only when we want to confuse the coffee man."

"You aren't from here, are you?"

Azzy noticed the tattoo of an eagle on his neck. "Why do you say that?"

"Never seen you in here. This place has its regulars, mostly."

CeCe leaned back and ruffled her hair. "Consider us regulars, then."

"Okay, but I'm calling you whatever name I feel comfortable with. You can't change my mind." He shook an empty coffee pot at them and walked away humming.

CeCe sighed as she watched Jake's hips sway. "I really need to dye my hair again. I'm sick of being called 'red'. When I had blue hair, nobody called me 'blue'."

"Didn't you have a boyfriend call you 'Raven' when you had black hair?"

She dropped her head into her many ringed fingers. "Thanks for the reminder. But it wasn't because of my hair color."

"Do I want to know why?"

"Think wing-span."

"Never mind." Azzy watched. The shop closed at midnight and the two women said goodnight to Jake.

"What, not staying to help mop? We have a sky-high water bill, thanks to you."

"See you tomorrow." They waved.

Back at their motel, they fell sound asleep in minutes, despite the caffeine.

The same night Azzy spent in Starry Night, Sam received an email. All it said was: I HAVE MANY FRIENDS AND CAN SEE ANYWHERE. I WILL FIND HER.

Sam told Jeremy about the message. "How did he get my email address? Did I say it out loud at some point? I've been careful not to. I've changed it at least six times in the last year. Can he actually read the screen?"

Jeremy shook his head. "She's okay, though. At least you know that."

"I feel so... I really thought she would have tried to call by now, but I'm glad she hasn't just because it seems like that ass would find out. It really does seem like he can see everywhere. I want to confront Galen. Just get it over with and let Azzy have her life. I don't think he'd go after if I'm not around to mourn her."

"Don't talk like that. She'd kill you for it."

He groaned. "I know. I know. I keep trying to think of where she'd go." He looked to the ceiling and put his hands on his head.

"Where would you go if you were her?"

"If I were in her place... That's the thing. She doesn't know anyone else in our world. If I were her, I'd try to get help. I called Barbara, even though I doubt she'd go to the lodge." He continued to watch the ceiling. "What does she know?"

Azzy and CeCe hit the Starry Night late afternoon the next day. They brought food and set up camp at the table they'd used the night before. Azzy watched four other people through her shades as she nibbled her sandwich.

"CeCe, this thing is weird."

"What thing? This whole thing, or your ham and cheese?"

One side of her lips curled. "It seem the more I try, the more confused I get. Have you ever played the games where you try to read your friend's mind and your friend does the same to you? It's close the first few rounds, then it gets hazy. A thousand ideas come to mind for what your partner could be thinking. Frustration sets in, and you try to recapture the simplicity of the beginning, but you can't."

"Trying to hard. Wanting to force it."

She nodded and squinted behind her dark glasses at a business man a few tables away. "Yes."

"Want to know what I think? I think that when you start getting frustrated, you should do two things. First, remember that you don't have to have the information right now. Take your time; you have lots of it. Second, get your mind off of it. Think of something else. Discuss this Cosmo with me. Anything."

"Yeah." She bobbed her head again. "You know, that sounds good. It's hard to do, though. Every twenty minutes or so, I am struck, as though I touched a live wire, by my situation. These things just aren't real. But now they are. There is so much more out there than I ever knew."

CeCe licked a cucumber out of her sandwich. "You knew."

"What do you mean.?"
She crunched loudly on her vegetable. "I think you always knew, otherwise the sensation would happen a lot more often than every twenty minutes. You'd be in the nut house."

"What about you? You are taking this as easily as driving in a new city."

"I always knew, too. I just did. Nothing freaking me out."

Azzy tipped her sunglasses to look her in the eye. "How do you know?"

"Well, you know I want to believe. You know I have had ghost experiences. But mainly, I have watched you since high school. You don't hide a thing. I am a sensitive person; I pick up on stuff. My weird-o-meter went through the top of the charts when I met you in gym class in ninth grade. But what I want you to know is this: I don't think it's weird. I think it's different, I think it's more. I think the way you handle it is beautiful." She took a sip of her coffee, blushing slightly from giving the compliment.

Azzy watched her and felt as though her blood had ceased to flow for a moment, and instead it vibrated up and down, in and out of her cells. She slid the glasses up and looked to the rest of the shop, breathing softly and feeling warm. The image of fourteen year-old CeCe approaching her in gym and asking her if she wanted to sneak off for a cigarette came into her mind. Azzy declined, but went with her.

She rubbed her lips, wondering how impossible it was that they didn't get caught ditching class that day. What would have happened if they had? Azzy's eyes drifted over the people and each face took on the beauty of flowers in a wildflower garden. Which one would she pick?

"Hey, Cec. I think I got something."

"Really?"

"I'm not sure, though, but I just have a vague impression that that guy in the suit is a vegetarian, like you."

CeCe opened up the bread of her veggie sub as though checking to see if she actually was a vegetarian.

"I'm not sure. Go ask him."

She paused. "Just like that?"

"Yeah. Tell him you were trying to read his mind."

She laughed and slapped the table. "I'll never keep a straight face."

She did.

When she returned to her seat, she nodded. "I can't believe it. He is."

"He likes your legs, too."

"You can tell that?" Her mouth stayed open.

"Yeah, from the way he watched them walk the whole way back to the table. He's still looking." CeCe looked up and the vegetarian found a fascinating article in the newspaper in front of him.

She grinned. "I like this town. Men aren't afraid of unnatural hair color."

"And they are in LA?"

"I'm afraid of men in LA. So you weren't sure? But you were right."

She finished her last bite. "Yes. It wasn't like just knowing things as I did with Sam. It was more of a hunch."

"But why vegetarian?"

"Don't know." She watched CeCe finish her veggie.

When Jake came on his shift, he made a fuss at seeing them. They didn't pay for a thing all night. People came and went. Azzy had been excited by her success with the man in the suit, but she grew weary as the night passed. She suspected she knew many things, and most everyone was definitely a night person at one moment or another.

CeCe left her around eight to get food and Jake stopped by her table. "You've been hitting the coffee pretty hard."

She smiled and took a sip.

"Ah, I'm just complaining because I can't have a cup when I'm working. Makes me hyper. Mind if I ask why you're spending so much time here? I'd like to think it's my manly physique, or at least my ability to make a mean brew, but I stopped deluding myself hours ago."

She liked him. He was kind and had a tendency to have girlfriends who took advantage of him. "I'm looking for someone."

"Who? If it's a regular, I might know him."

She tried her best to sound dramatic. "I'm sorry. I can't really say."

He didn't buy it and he lowered his voice. "Are you in some kind of trouble? If I can help, I will."

"Thanks, Jake. I'm okay. As long as you don't mind me being here this long."

His voice resumed prior volume. "The place is yours, but the offer stands." He did a little bow.

By the third night, Azzy had been able to achieve her palm reading sensation just looking at people, an idea of CeCe's. She could pay attention to people-watching for longer periods of time, but she still second guessed herself repeatedly. She told CeCe that she never felt certain about any of her assumptions. In order to help her, CeCe would question Azzy about what she had learned.

"So you think that lady's a control freak? Her control issues must be pretty out there with shoes like those." She pointed at a man in his early thirties. "What about him?"

"He was here the first night we came. By himself."

"Is he a vegetarian?"

Azzy smiled. "I doubt it."

"Is he addicted to caffeine?" Those were CeCe's two favorite questions.

"He doesn't drink his espresso, he takes in an espresso."

CeCe giggled.

"How can you stay so upbeat? I am getting so discouraged. If it weren't for you, I don't know what I'd be doing."

"Thank you. I love you, too. But you don't see things the way I see them. I think this is amazing. You're doing it. I know you say you can't tell if you are, but you are. Either that, or your stream of consciousness is more like a bunch of puddles in an overgrown trail. All the things you come out with are so unrelated."

"I don't know."

"You don't have to. I do. Let's go, sore eyes." She pointed at the espresso drinker. "Is he married?"

"I bet he has kids. Girls."

"How many?"

"Two. Cute." Azzy's smile faded.

"Does he cheat on his wife?" CeCe poked Azzy's arm when she didn't answer. "You with me? Must be a steamy affair."

"Yeah."

"Really?"

"No. I mean, no affair. I just have this feeling... How many parents take their kids for walks in the woods at night?"

Her eyes popped out more with her desire to meet a night person than impressed by her friend's ability. "None I know."

"It was just a hunch. What if I'm seeing things I want to see? I think everybody is a night person."

"The other times you thought someone was a night person, you didn't really have a reason. Forget about the woman you embarrassed yourself in front of last night. You covered really well. You got a good, solid image this time. Get to it."

Azzy squeezed the table edge and breathed deeply. She watched the man sip his drink and she wished she could just read his thoughts. Maybe a nightly wood walk was simply an eccentricity. Maybe there was no wood walk.

"I don't know. I think I made it up."

CeCe gripped her arm. "Does it matter? Really, really, really. What in the world do you have to lose if you do? Nothing. What do you have to lose if you don't and he is one of them? Think of Sam's big brown eyes. Think of them looking at you in your casket."

Azzy winced.

"Go to it."

Azzy scratched her head and accused her friend of verbal brutality.

"Am I right, or am I right?"

"Alright, Cec. You are," she sighed, "right." She walked over to the stranger.

He really loved peaches.

"Hi. Mind if I sit?"

"Um..."

"I just want to ask you a question." She sat and removed her sunglasses with a shaky hand. "I have a friend named Sam. He was in the area a couple years ago teaching a twelve year old boy. Sam taught with his friend Jeremy. Do you know who I mean?"

The man stared and Azzy remembered the way Barbara had looked at her during their first conversation.

"I'm trying to find that family. Can you help me?"

He started to shake his head and Azzy touched his hand. "Sam's in trouble." A little bit of not true, but it worked.

"Okay. Step outside with me?"

He stood and unlatched a cell phone from his belt. Azzy glanced back to CeCe, who gave her a thumbs-up.

Once outside, the man pulled a card out of his wallet and dialed a number. "Nancy? Yes, this is Ryan. There's a young woman here who says she's looking for you." He leaned towards her. "What's your name?" She told him. "Yeah, I know you don't know her. She says Sam's in trouble and she wants to talk to you." He listened, then handed her the phone.

"Hi."

"Hi." Silence.

"I didn't know where to go, but I knew Sam had been here. We're both in trouble, actually. I'm the one he went to see in Colorado. We were trapped in the cabin—"

"Oh! Oh, yes. I knew the name was familiar. You two are in touch again? I thought..."

Ryan was looking away, but Azzy felt as though his ear watched her more intently than his eyes could have. "Yes, we're in touch, but something bad has happened. I'm calling to ask for your help. I have to warn you that it's a risk for you, but I didn't know where else to go."

"Where are you?"

She told the woman.

"I'll be there in about twenty minutes."

"Thanks. Here's Ryan." She handed him the phone and went back inside, leaving him privacy to talk about her. She didn't want many people to know about her, but she supposed that night people were great at keeping secrets.

Nancy let Azzy and CeCe park in the garage. She had recognized Sam's car at once.

The three woman sat at the kitchen table, sipping cranberry juice and talking. Her husband Roy worked at night. She had asked their son to spend the night at a friend's house.

"There's a risk, like I said, in your helping us." She felt there wasn't, but she attributed it to the sensation that there wasn't any danger at all unless it was in direct vision.

"If this man Galen doesn't know where you are, how could he track you here?"

"He knows Sam was working here when we met. He might think to check here."

"I see." Nancy examined her diamond wedding ring. "Then we'll have to act fast."

"You'll help?" Azzy and CeCe both leaned forward.

"So surprised! Baby, night people stick together."

"Then why hasn't Sam gone to the night people for help with Galen?"

She shook her light brown curls. "The water ring can be fierce. Sam probably doesn't want to start some kind of issue between them and the night people." She slowly licked her lips and Azzy sensed uncertainty in the woman's words. "I completely believe Sam's innocent, though. He would never stand there and watch some girl die. That's just not like him. It's almost laughable." Nancy twisted her ring.

Azzy looked to CeCe and saw her face was devoid of emotion.

Nancy gave them a fold-out couch in the basement rec room. She pointed to the back door, "In case anything should happen."

"You girls must be beat. I'll leave you to your own. Once my husband comes home, I'll talk to him and he'll know what to do." She left.

CeCe turned to Azzy and whispered, "You think she's for real?"

"Why?"

"I just get the feeling she's hiding something. I don't know."

Azzy didn't know either. She seemed like a nice woman and sounded as though she sincerely liked Sam. However, Nancy did give off nervous waves. "She's probably just uncomfortable with the situation."

CeCe was asleep by midnight, but Azzy's mind drifted. She saw strangers' faces float in her mind. Had she the sharp hearing of a night person, she would have heard Nancy's feet pace the kitchen floor upstairs.

Nancy rubbed her wedding ring and looked at the clock. Roy was usually home by two, which gave her two hours to wait.

By one, Nancy's feet were numb from her frantic walking about the house. She stopped to read the clock, standing completely still next to the phone hanging on the dark green wall. She picked it up and dialed.

"Hi. I know I shouldn't do this over the home phone, but I didn't want to wait."

The basement was as unseen as the dreams Azzy shook out of. Had there been a noise? CeCe snored softly.

Azzy stood up and put on a pair of sweat pants. It seemed to take a long time and a lot of effort to keep her balance as she stood listening to the room. She looked through the darkness to the sound of CeCe, but feared waking her. What if she was being paranoid? Had there been a noise? A yell? A door? Just a door. Night people, up all night.

She waited a little longer, unable to move back to the bed much like a child will refuse to leave one for fear of a toothy beast beneath. She whispered to herself that it was better to be safe and paranoid rather than ignore her fear and let the bed monster get her. She found her way to the back door. Although she turned the dead bolt like fine tuning a violin; the sound seemed to shake the foundation of the house. She closed the door behind her and climbed the steps to the backyard, where she prowled and pretended she was a shadow. She went to the edge where the yard blended into forest and looked back at the house. All the lights were on. Every single one.

Shoes? Why, why hadn't she worn them? She felt as though she had donned fifty bras and a tube top. She edged onto the prickly, dry leaves. She saw the shape of a man in the kitchen window and froze, although he wasn't facing her. Was that Roy? Why were all the lights on?

Azzy popped up on the balls of her feet and changed her imagination from shadow to ostrich. She kept this dance up into the woods, but fear got the best of her. She slammed flat-footed onto the crunchy ground as the sound of shattering glass, big glass, seemed to call her name behind her.

It was darker than it had been a moment before and Azzy heard every touch her body made with the wildlife. She stumbled and fell, producing a sound almost as loud as the glass.

"Take my hand," she heard a male voice whisper. She jumped up and saw no hand. She whimpered. A warm palm slipped into her left hand. Leaves crunched far behind her and she squeezed the invisible hand. The voice continued. "I'm going to carry you."

Azzy couldn't argue, could not think of an argument. This hand was good, those sounds were bad. The unseen arms hefted her and rested her against a clear body. Legs veiled in darkness moved her almost soundlessly through the trees. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her face into the stranger's neck. She heard the other sound in the woods go to the left of them.

"Don't be afraid. I'm taking you to a cave. I know it well." Well inside the darkness, he set her down. Taking her hand, he led her into the cave. She felt the cool dirt and stumbled over loose stones.

"I probably should carry you some more. We could move a lot faster." He lifted her again. "I can see. These caves are shallow. There are lots of holes above to let in light." He slowed on rockier climbs and asked her to hold down on his indiglo watch when all was dark.

Some time later, they emerged behind some run-down buildings. She noticed lights on in the second floor windows. The night person set her on the ground.

"Are you Roy?"

He nodded his shaggy head. "Nice to finally meet you, Miss Azzy."

"What happened back there?"

"I'll tell you all about it in a minute. There's a Laundromat in one of those stores. I'm going to get you some clothes and shoes. Sit tight." He had a nice smile.

She liked him very much.

Azzy had used up her daily fear allotment and as she waited fifteen minutes for Roy's return, she felt as safe as she had sleeping next to Sam in the frosty Colorado cabin.

"I bought these from a kid inside. They're still a little damp, but they'll make you look bigger. We gotta disguise you at least a little bit." Roy handed her clothes and shoes.

Once changed, she wore large, dark jeans and a university sweatshirt, size nine men's tennis shoes and thick socks. She started sweating almost immediately.

"You bought his shoes?"

"Sure. Gave him enough cash to buy two nice, new pairs. Now all we need is a ride. I don't know who to call, though. He'll be watching everyone I know."

"Galen?"

He nodded.

"Should I alter my appearance more? Maybe dye my hair?"

"Nah. We have to make sure your passport works since it's a fake."

"Passport?" He didn't say anything as he was lost in thought. She touched his arm. "Galen is here. Was that him at your house?"

He nodded.

"What about your wife? CeCe?" She tugged her hair and stepped back in surprise that the man would leave his wife with Galen.

"They'll be alright. He's after you."

Yes, she thought. "How did you know? I mean, you were in the woods."

"Nancy called me at work and told me you'd come. Galen's got a real talent with his water tricks, being able to watch you through your toilet and what not, but he can't watch everything at once. I figure he's got someone bugging the phone. He's a damned determined man."

Azzy paused in her hair stroking. "How do you know so much about him?"

"I'll tell you about that after we find a ride. Someone Galen wouldn't watch or question. Gotta think." He crossed his arms and looked up at the windows. A light went out.

"I have an idea. What time is it?"

"Just after five."

"Yeah. I need to get to a pay phone."

"There's one in the Laundromat. Who are you calling?"

"The Starry Night. I think they open very early."

She called and got Jake's home number, then gave him a ring. They waited for him in the shadows between the Laundromat and an empty building. Roy told her that Sam had called him at work a few days ago.

"He rang up another guy's number and asked not to be transferred to my phone. He said he thought if he were you, he would come here. He was right. Told me the whole Galen story."

"You didn't tell Nancy?"

"Nah. Worry her to death. She knows about the rings and all, and is loyal to the night people, but she'd be scared silly if she thought she might be listened to on the phone or watched through her iced tea. Besides, she's not always good about keeping quiet when she's in a tizzy."

"Oh. She's not a night person. I didn't realize it."

He watched the road. "Nah." He smiled more with the lines around his eyes than his lips. "Sam asked me to get you ready a passport and an ID. Said to call one of his Ral friends who's involved in the government to set you up with a plane ticket to one of the more or less secret government places where he thought you might be able to get some help learning to be a seoli. After Nancy called me, I called Chris and he scheduled you a flight around noon. He's the only one who knows where you're going and you'll be safe that way. He said he'd let the folks know about you so just tell them your name when you get there."

"How'd you make a passport?"

"Sam had an Internet photo of you. I knew a friend of a friend of a friend who can do that sort of thing. Your new name is Snow Smith. That alright? I called you Snow since you met in a snow storm. Sam said to tell you he's afraid that you shouldn't contact him until you have something on Galen."

She smiled. "Thank you so much."

"Anything for Sam. He's a great guy. Once he and Jeremy were through teaching our boy, he was a thousand times calmer than he'd ever been. The government had already sent out one team before them and they couldn't do a thing. My son lost so much anger. There's just no way Sam did what Galen says."

"I agree."

Jake arrived in an old cluncker. Roy took the back seat.

"Morning, sunshine. Looks like it's going to be a bright one, eh? Speaking of, I notice you're not wearing your shades."

"I don't need them anymore. I can't tell you how thankful I am for your help."

"Pleasure's mine. Where's Red?"

"Dying her hair."

He chuckled.

Once at the airport, Azzy turned back to Roy. "Are you going to tell him I made it?"

"I think he's keeping in touch with his buddy about it. Just go to the counter and tell them you're picking up tickets. Don't forget to use your new name."

Jake slapped his thigh. "I knew you were a mystery lady." He approved. He loved to help women in distress.

Roy gave Azzy her identification and some traveling money. Jake popped open his glove box and pulled out a black ball cap. He propped it on her head. "Good luck, Shades, whatever you are doing."

They watched her until she entered the airport. Azzy soaked in every life form she saw, feeling as though she could read the plastic plant life. Did Galen have comrades who were stalking the airport in search of her at this moment? She relaxed a bit. He wouldn't want to kill her in public.

He was determined to drown her.

Her ticket told her the name of a place she had never heard of. She wanted to ask the woman behind the desk where it was, but knew it would sound crazy. She had a few hours to kill.

Azzy sat on the floor with her back against a fat column, which would hide her from most of the passerby's eyes. She denied her thirst and held her bladder.

Having nothing to read and no desire to move around the airport any more than boarding the plane, she tried reading people. She worried about CeCe about every three minutes, but the certainty that Galen wouldn't hurt her washed her fear away every time.

Why wouldn't he hurt her?

Azzy didn't notice a woman a few seats away look at her like she were on drugs. She squinted in her mind's eye and tried to read Galen's palm.

"I think he likes me," she muttered. The woman shook her head and turned back to her romance novel.

Galen hadn't killed before.

7

"Still no mail?" Jeremy joined Sam outside the cabin.

"I never see who does it. I've had my parents and Lori send letters express mail. None of them have gotten here. At least we know he's watching, but how does he do it?"

"I just got a crazy email from an unknown address that said, 'The kitty's in the litter.' Do you have any idea—"

Sam jerked his head up so fast it nearly came off. He pulled his hair back and grinned.

"I take it you do."

He clapped his hands and started pacing. "She alright. Damn, she's okay. She can do it. I know she can learn to do it." He looked up to the night clouds where the moon was hidden. "I don't care if it rains for a month."

"That's great. I'm glad that was a good message. I was afraid it was a veiled threat."

"No. Good email. Hey, Jer? Would you mind if I took a couple of days off? I need to take a trip. There's someone I need to talk to in person."

Planes changed and Azzy slept during most of her flights. Her air rides ended on an island in the Pacific. It smelled glorious. However, it was not her final destination. A white man with red eyes and gray beard held up a sign that read, "Snow Smith". She trotted to him with a grin.

"I'm to take you for a boat ride. Are you up to it this morning?" His breath was sweet vodka.

"Sounds nice. I've forgotten what the surface of the planet looked like."

He cackled joyfully.

They were the only two people on the small ocean yacht. Although surrounded by water on all sides and riding with a drunk stranger, Azzy felt safe and happy. He offered her a vodka martini and she accepted.

"Make it dirty." She thought he must be a day person. She was almost certain of it.

They sat on deck and Azzy nibbled one olive after another out of the generously dirtied drink.

"My real name is Azzy."

"Mine's Ricky. I bring the vacationers out to our island. Get the food supplies. I love the water."

"Are we going to a resort?"

"The best you've ever been to, if you like exotic beauty and seclusion."

"I'm a fan of both."

He cackled and offered her a cigar. He told her it would take a couple hours.

"The ride or the cigar?"

"Well, we'll find out. Want to wager?"

"I have a feeling you'd win."

She found out from Ricky that the island was owned by the government. "Our government." He said they turn a big profit from charging the very wealthy of the world to stay in the various fancy huts, "though they aren't exactly what you'd call roughing it." It was one of several secret places the government ran and only trusted night and day people worked or lived there. Azzy was not surprised to find that it had an extensive library covering all kinds of topics on "our kind." The hair on her arms rose.

"We got all kinds of literature you ever wanted on day and night people covering from the first day the sun rose and somebody accidentally caught her mom on fire until now. Lots of books on water types and seolies, which should help you a good bit. Word is, you should read those. Chris says he doesn't want to risk flying a seoli out here to help you because he's gotten several reports from the seolies that they are being watched. Once you get your tricks down, you'll be able to peg if someone is watching you, too."

Azzy sipped, barely wetting her lips. "You really stick together, don't you?"

"Of course. Especially for someone like Sam. Everybody likes him. I've never met him, but he's got a great reputation and he's great with the kids. Damn tough job. I'd rather stop drinking than do that. Anyway, whatever this water guy wants from Sam, he isn't getting."

Azzy said nothing. Ricky didn't know the story or that Galen wanted her dead. She supposed the rest of the people in the government paradise would know as little as the boat man. She guessed they only knew they were helping Sam by letting an untrained seoli raid their library and sleep safely.

Francis swung open the double doors to the library, complete with domed skylight.

"Wow. Not what I was expecting."

The day woman patted the bookshelves. "Thought we'd have an archaic study buried deep below the island surface? Luxury's not just for the guests." She pointed to the sections. "We have a great mythology and ancient history section, by far the biggest in the world. We've always been the most united of the groups, also the largest. However, I doubt that kind of thing will interest you. We also have books on the elements. There's water. Over there are the seoli books. If you get curious, you can see we have stuff on darks, dreamers, banshees."

"I've never heard of them, except for banshees."

"Well, that's what we call them, though they aren't the same thing as the Irish legend. Similar in that they like to wail and are all women, but I think that's it. I feel sorry for them. Read about them, if you like." She led Azzy around a couple of tables to the seoli books. "History, training, even fiction. Seolies love to write about themselves. Anyway, there are instruction books, old and new."

"I'd like to read more about night people, too. I'm curious about Sam's ancestry."

"Sure." Francis led her to the books.

"So many."

"Yes, it's in sections of its own. Read a few spines and you'll figure out where you are."

Azzy pointed to the high, out-of-reach top bookshelf. "I guess you don't read those much."

"Not many who can. Those are written in a dead language. Some nice pictures."

"What language is it?"

"Not sure. A Native American one. Incan or something like that. The pages of the books are replicas of cave drawings, pottery writing, stone carvings. No one can be completely sure what they say, only that they refer to our kind. We have translations in the shelf below, but nobody can say how accurate they are."

Francis cooked for the people on the island. She was not a social woman and Azzy could tell she wasn't a reader. Francis most likely spent her free time alone in the island sunshine. Azzy made a mental note to read more about day people.

"Okay, Azzy. All we ask is that you don't leave the library with any books and to always lock up when you leave."

"No problem," she said as she stared up and out the skylight into the perfect blue sky.

Francis left her at a luxury hut and told her they'd be eating in a couple of hours. Azzy's room was beautiful and the bathtub large. There was a tote bag on her bed with her name written in marker on the front. Inside were many pieces of skimpy clothing, including a swimsuit and a note that read, "Making sure you fit in." It was signed Kristen. Ricky had told her Kristen was the official head of the resort and a night person.

She bathed and changed into new clothes, then climbed into bed for a short nap. She didn't wake until the middle of the night, hungry.

Azzy made her way to the check-in and dining house, where the library poked its mysterious glass dome from the lower rooftop. Francis had told her that when the occasional guest inquired about it, they were told it was an unused activity room in need of repairs.

A woman in the dining room was watching the door as Azzy walked in. "You're awake. How do you feel?"

"Rested."

"Want a sandwich? I made one for you in case you woke. I'm Kristen." She held out a hand and smiled. She wore her brown hair feathered, reminding Azzy of a Dynasty star. Her eyes were crystal green and Azzy thought they must be breathtaking when her shining moons soaked in them.

"Starving."

The woman was tall and Azzy could see the muscles moving in every part of her as she walked back to the kitchen. Upon returning with the food, Kristen sat and told Azzy she would be happy to help in any way that she could.

"I met Sam once a few years ago at the festival. I very rarely get back to America. I thought he was a great guy and I hate to see anything bad happen to him."

Azzy chomped on her tuna sandwich. "I don't even know where to start."

"Francis told me you've seen the library." Kristen spoke with her hands as well as her lips. Azzy liked people who did this, felt they were able to express themselves with their whole being. She desired to open up to the older night person, feeling Kristen's understanding nature the farther down her sandwich she chewed.

"I had a run-in with Galen in California. I think it's possible that I already have a, uh, line on him."

"Have you found anything out?"

"Well, I don't think he's a killer by nature. He's never murdered anyone before." She sighed. "I wish I were good at this, instantly."

"Are you sure that information is accurate? I only ask because I don't want you to believe what you want about him. Can you tell the difference?"

Azzy explained about her palm reading. "Sometimes there was a certain sensation when I was right. Almost as though I were in a trance. It's a good feeling, tiring also. However, I'm not completely sure that what I learned about Galen is correct. I just felt like it was, in comparison to the trance feeling, but I just don't know."

"I don't know the whole story, but have you ever done your seoliu work before?"

"Once. Once that I know of."

"Were you accurate?"

"Yes."

Kristen smoothed the wood tabletop as though taking out the wrinkles on a clear tablecloth. "I think you'll be fine, then. Just fine. Like I said, I'll help you any way I can."

Azzy did not want to tell her the enchantment part of the one time she was a success. She enjoyed hearing confidence, needed it like a high school kid going into a test unstudied for. "Thanks, Kristen." They spoke of other things, such as the rich and famous guests and the eight people who ran the resort. Azzy finished eating and told Kristen she wanted to get to work in the library.

"I'll show you the books I think might help. I've poked my nose into almost every one of these books over the years."

Kristen muttered to herself as she picked out seoli books, then handed four to Azzy. She lit a candle for ambiance and left Azzy, saying, "If you need anything at all, I'll be in the office working on the books."

Azzy read about seolies. Her kind. They didn't have much recorded history. They simply had always been. All over the world, no less. Most were weak in their readings due to natural ability or lack of practice. Their specialty was that they could poke into the minds of the gifted person, thus giving them the nickname she heard from Jeremy, "magician's psychic".

She murmured the term out loud and read on. They mostly received insights into character, but some more trained or powerful seolies could soak in past experiences. Azzy had gotten some of Sam's, like the fact he had traveled to Europe and liked Greece. She'd seen him and Jeremy working with a night child and incorporated this image into hundreds of daydreams.

She read more, then flipped to a chapter on seolius. They were rare, both loved and disliked in the supernatural world because they could be a strong weapon. Both kinds of seolies left people desiring their company; people felt understood although they might not know or realize that was the reason.

There were a few pages about seolius and the element of trust. There was much debate about how a person could trust a seoliu he or she had never met. For example, if two seolius who were considered of the same strength were to read the same person neither of them had met, they would get varied degrees of information. It was reasoned that a trust was achieved when the seoliu first reads the subject.

Azzy opened an instruction book for seolies. There were meditation practices, some especially for seolius, but she had never been the meditative type. Daydreams would attack her mind instead of concentration clearing it.

She flipped to the index and looked up "daydream". Nothing.

She went outside to smoke and think. When she returned, she read a little more. There was much literature about seolies dealing with other seolies. A danger of being a working seoli was that one had mountains of information about other people that another seoli could pick out of the mind. However, to Azzy's relief, if the seoli had an emotional attachment to the person whose secrets she kept, it was more difficult for any nosy seoli to get the info. Further down, there was an explanation that a trained seoli could tell when someone was picking her mind. All kinds of defenses were listed. She closed the book, deciding that she couldn't take on seoli warfare until she could do her thing. Reading such things was difficult to understand, much like writing down what it is like to ride a bike for someone who never has. Her confidence that she even had the ability ached after reading the books.

She walked over to the literature on night people and pulled one called, "The Ability." It featured a photo of a half-moon on the front. She sat and opened the cover, reading of many things Sam had already told her. Seeing in the dark, hearing the slightest sounds far away, and the ability to seem invisible in dimly lit places were the things they could do with minimal effort and without the aid of direct moonlight. In the light of the moon, night people had varying degrees of talents. Most could make the glowing balls of light, or moonballs. Many could heal different levels and kinds of injuries. Some could fly and most could do seemingly inhuman acrobatics. They could create piercing cold bursts and a few others, mostly the strongest ones, could make electrical pulses, lightening.

She put that book away and looked at the books high above her, the old writings that were copied into the pages. She felt that the subject matter that lie within might be easier to understand than the unbelievable words she had browsed. Obscure references and meaningless myths sounded fabulous.

High on a chair, she pulled a couple from the shelves. She scuttled to her table and opened one. She saw many pictures and writing. There was one of a man's face whose eyes were simply quarter moons. Men and women walking on the moon. Trees filled with watching people and people walking below. Spooky.

She found Kristen and asked her to pull out the translations for the books she had. Unlike Francis, Kristen was obviously pleased that Azzy took an interest in night people.

"I've read through these. They're pretty vague and filled with mythology and superstitions. The ancient night people were skittish and stuck to primitive living in the forests and jungles. The moon was the big honcho god, although there were others." She found the matching translations by floating up to the higher shelf and snatching them down. She dropped to her feet without a sound. Azzy tried not to show how thrilled she was with the demonstration.

"Have you read your seoli books?"

Azzy touched her forehead. "It's just so much. Overwhelming. I needed a break from them."

Kristen rubbed Azzy's arm and wished her luck. Then Azzy was alone again with the candle.

She opened the translation and realized that the English was almost as hard to read as the odd writing of long ago. Oddly, she found it as relaxing as she thought it would be. It seemed like picture book fiction, Dr. Suess, and Azzy's face relaxed as though she were sleeping or watching a movie seen a thousand times while daydreaming of Sam.

She gathered that ancient night people did indeed worship the moon and that they were very much afraid of the natives. Some stories indicated that there were natives who idolized night people, but most groups burned forests to flush them out in order to kill them. At some point, day and night people decided to live completely in secret and to hide what they were to normal people. The day and nights were not as good of friends in those days, Azzy learned.

The special people developed their own small villages and passed themselves off as natives. They sometimes took other normal people as husbands and wives, never telling. There were stories of men and women killing their night children at puberty, thinking them cursed when their ability began to show. There were a few that thought these children were blessings from the gods.

Azzy especially liked the myths. Night people believed the moon was a man and he had sex with a native woman. This was how night people came to be. In dealing with day people, they declared the sun folk superior since the sun rose every day. However, the groups did not mix much, and Azzy assumed that they must have been equally afraid of each other.

There were stories of other gods, and she saw one name several times in one particular book. Ralle was described as highest servant to the moon. One passage read:

"Ralle tells no more young Ralle, as the moon's heart breaks for those who leave him. Some hate for Ralle. It is the way of his people, and the moon cries for he loves them despite."

There was a drawing of a man staring up at the moon. The text continued.

"The moon is lonely with just one Ralle. And the moon's servant god is a thunderstorm covering the earth and brings cold to freeze the forest. Ralle screams to night people he is cursed, the two are as one. It is not his choice."

Another picture showed the night person looking up where the moon had been in the last picture, but in this one, a man in the fetal position looked back down to him.

Azzy combed the ends of her hair and thought of Sam. He talked to the moon. She learned that, although he hadn't actually verbally confirmed it. He hadn't denied it and told Jeremy she knew things about him that were impossible for anyone to know. "That's nuts," she whispered as she touched the crude face of the image who sat on the ground.

Azzy had not understood some of the things she had learned about Sam. She had not believed he spoke to the moon, but had told him she did in a desperate attempt to make him stay with her that night in San Francisco. It seemed to be a part of him in her daydreams, the most private secret a person can have. She didn't think it could be a real fact, but it felt like it was. So many of the things she had seen were simply unbelievable. Azzy remembered that she had imagined Sam as a child in a moonlit field talking out loud to the moon. Once, some night children, including Jeremy, caught him and made fun of him, but Jeremy stood up for Sam.

In other daydream-stories, Sam was grown and would sit somewhere where there were no people for miles. He would stare at the moon, sometimes for hours. He wasn't talking out loud, but his eyes never blinked. She couldn't hear Sam, but she knew, knew he was talking...

Azzy found Kristen and dragged her to the library again. As the sky in the skylight grew light, they bent over the translation.

"I think this is an interesting myth. Do you know more about it?"

She read. "I've read this before. I don't know what it's about, really. I think this is the only book here with references to the Ralle god. Let's see," she flipped pages, "Somewhere in here there's something about this guy blowing up a village. Ah, here it is." She tapped a page and paraphrased. "He has a night person for a wife and some natives killed her. He destroyed their homes with lightening and froze the survivors." There was no picture, probably the reason Azzy had skipped the page. "This god did it in the daylight, too. Pretty tough, huh?" She grinned at Azzy.

"These writings in this book span several hundreds of years and I've seen his name pop up throughout."

"Yeah, he seems to have been a hot item in those days. The moon spoke through him, as I recall."

Azzy turned to the page she originally showed Kristen. "Do you believe the moon is masculine? I know that most American Indians believed it to be feminine, but some thought it was masculine."

"Well," she laughed, "We don't think it anything. Some of the more loony, pardon the pun, night people talk to the moon and swear it has presence, but those are myths and stories. For example, take this god Ralle. He's supposed to be able to have massive destructive power and night people used to cower at the thought of his name. However, now he is a myth; only the few of us who have tried to read these books know actual stories, if you can even call them that, about him. His name, to the night people who know it and like to delve into ancient history, is a joke. A myth, like Zeus or Thor. We know that moonlight is a force, an energy. It's a truth; education brings reality and nobody's afraid of the moon or Ralle or any other moon gods coming to punish them."

Azzy nodded. More than ever, even during the two years she questioned his lie, she wanted to talk to Sam.

They put the books away and Kristen said goodnight. "Don't get a sunburn while I sleep."

Azzy went to breakfast. She saw a few famous people she recognized, one of whom was talking with a man that, as far as Azzy knew, was not her husband.

He was her husband's tennis partner.

She looked over at a tired musician. He was alone and looked happy to be so. She thought he was definitely the loner type.

A stock broker and his wife, both around thirty, drank coffee and ate eggs. He was obsessive compulsive, his wife so laid back she could have been a recliner.

She watched them and thought they seemed to be good for each other, then looked back to her own omelet. She wondered if Galen was a morning person. It must be the middle of the day in Mobile. Was he awake? She formed a mental picture of what his house would look like, trying to see pictures of his daughter on the walls. She would have long, dark hair, past her shoulder blades. Braces, yes. Right age for braces. Bangs, sweet face. Stubborn adolescent pinch to the jawline. Black eyes. At fourteen, not quite formed as a woman, thick around the waist. She liked dresses. She didn't like the water. Galen knows why. It makes him sick.

He has a large tub of water in his house. A person could be completely submerged.

He is not a killer. He doesn't want to hurt Azzy. But things must be set right. For Kats. For everyone. Sam must be punished, Galen's way. That's really the only fair way, or else Sam might do it again.

Azzy's mouth watered.

Francis touched her arm. "Azzy? Those eggs okay?"

She twitched and looked up, feeling like she had cat whiskers which extended to the woman in front of her and touched to see if she was really there.

"You look like you don't feel well. Do you need anything?"

Azzy smiled. "I was just in shock at how good the breakfast is."

A genuine return-smile came at her and Francis thanked her. She quickly patted Azzy's back without looking her in the eye. "You need anything, you let me know." She walked away.

Francis was a most self-conscious person.

Azzy's attention turned to the water tub in her mind's eye. What was that for? He always kept it filled, but not to bathe...

The books on water people had a very long list of manipulations of water known to be done by water people. Individual talents were more varied than with the night people. She read about Galen's talent of watching through water. It seemed that this could be dangerous to do for great lengths of time over a long period. It made them ill. She also read about how Galen had gotten to her so quickly in California. It seemed that some water folk could trade places with water. For example, if Galen knew where a body of water was that was deep enough to cover him completely, he could swap out his body for water, thus ending up in the lake and leaving a body-sized column of water to fall splashing in the space where he had been standing. That is why his tub was always full. Just in case he needed an escape to his house, he could focus on that tub and exchange with the water within. Not many of the water types could do this.

Some could also form water balls hard as iron and with the throwing force of a cannonball, depending on the power of the person's ability. Most had to have water on hand to do this, but some could suck the moisture right out of the air. The ones who could do this were the same ones who could form clouds, a night person's greatest fear if confronting a water man like Galen under the moon.

Azzy went down to the beach and sipped a daiquiri as she kicked back in a beach chair. Glorious weather. Azzy forgot she passed time as the sun held her skin and kissed her lips. She thought about her father. Yes, he was a seoli. Why hadn't he ever told her that she was, too? Didn't he know she would find out?

She returned to no-thought for a couple of hours, then retired to bed.

8

She awoke at sunset feeling slightly crispy from her morning at the beach, despite the sunscreen. She bathed and dined with a married day couple who worked at the resort. The husband had served her daiquiri earlier that day.

"I'm surprised how light your skin is even though you've lived here fifteen years," she said to the woman, Cherise.

She sipped a diet coke and explained that day people can control the effects of the sunlight on their bodies. "I could remain in the desert for years and never darken a bit. We also can protect our eyes, like super-dark sunglasses without everything looking dark."

"That's amazing."

"I think what you can do is amazing. Doing what I do is as natural as drinking water to me."

This woman was a whiz at Scrabble.

"No, Cherise. I can't even do what I'm told I can do. Every now and then I can pick up on something, that's all. Do you feel like finding a board game after dinner?"

After a couple games of losing at Scrabble, Azzy walked down the beach and away from the outdoor night bar activities. A portion of the thirty-some guests let their laughter chase after her. She heard the sounds of the three piece night person band last before only the waves told her a calm whisper. She smiled to herself, remembering the waiter Harry's friendly wink when she walked by the bar and he moved behind the steel drums for another night of music and fun.

The moon was above, almost full. She sat in the sand and watched it. Could someone unseen be prowling in the green behind her? She didn't think anyone was there. She felt safe. Foolish, but safe.

"Hi." Her voice sounded weak, even against the soft waves. She cleared her throat. "It feels weird to be talking out loud...to the moon. My name's Azzy. I'm a friend of Sam's. I really want to see him. Can you tell him where I am?" She inhaled the sweet island air and lost half her block of inhibition. "I don't know if you can, or if this works. I thought it was worth a shot." She felt heard. With a smile, she wondered at how almost everyone could say they had a secret bond with the moon.

She stretched out in the sand and thought about Sam, trying to imagine the night Galen's daughter went overboard. She wasn't wearing a dress. Not on a boat. No life vest. Galen was thrilled to be at sea with her. It was his birthday, after all. Night fishing was Kats' gift to him. He hated that she feared the water, thought it was his fault that she did. That night she wanted to prove to him how much she loved him – she was willing to do this fishing trip. There had been a fight days earlier. He thought she was being brave that night, no vest and standing close to the rail. Leaning over it to catch the spray of water in her mouth.

Galen became much stronger with his water ability after she died. Azzy remembered when they met each other in the bar in Mobile. He thought of his daughter, Azzy reminded him of her. Close in age, seoli ability, that was all it was. Azzy knew that. However, he liked her. He likes many people. He was grateful to Sam for his help in pulling Kats out of the water, but now... Now John Galen cannot think clearly about it. He did not want to.

There were no words in Azzy's head. She was on the boat standing beside Galen. She was a seoli, trying to catch his thoughts without his noticing. When she would reach a stop in the story, she'd push her imagination to find the right way to go. She left her trance and sailed in an inside world.

She decided to stroll back to her room. She climbed into bed in the dark and stayed eyes wide as the unnoticed red clock light moved and waves outside counted how long she was gone.

Sam found a private beach and slid his feet into the cold sea foam. The moon was well on its way to being full. Two more nights and it would be. Work had gone well that night, although it seemed crazy to Sam to call it work. The boy they were teaching was quiet and drank in every word they said, bouncing it around in his head like light in a cut diamond.

He scanned the area and saw no people, then sat back in the sand and watched the moon. His eyes never blinked or moved; they kept moist on their own accord without the help of eyelids. Soft wind fluttered the ends of his hair.

A few moments passed, and Sam blinked. He jumped to his feet, mouth open, then he disappeared.

Azzy acquired food from the dining room around two. She spoke with Kristen, but couldn't recall what the woman had said. She didn't even notice Kristen's odd expression and uncomfortable laugh when Azzy bit into her plastic-wrapped sandwich by mistake.

The mindless seoliu took her food down to the beach to eat in privacy. She had told Kristen she wanted to watch the moon set, but that was partly a lie. She didn't want distractions. She was at a great place to pick up her story about Galen, couldn't wait to make up what happened next.

The moon was halfway into the tropical waters when Azzy felt a tap on her shoulder. Irritation made her lips turn slightly down, and she turned to look up into the eyes of the night itself.

"Sam?"

"Hi. I got your message." His white teeth caught the moonlight.

Azzy's daydreams were as though they never were and she jumped up into his arms. When they pulled away, the moon was set.

She gazed into his eyes, wishing yet again she could see the moons someday. She wanted to question his arrival and jump up and down, but instead she told him several times how good it was to see him.

"I wanted to find you, too, take the chance at talking to Chris and get him to tell me where you were, but I haven't been able to reach him. I'm terrified that Galen's been after him, maybe figured things out. Chris did well, though. This is a great place for you to be."

"You know about it?"

"I've heard of it, but I didn't know where it was."

Azzy held her hands up and smelled the air. "Yeah, this place is great."

"I was talking about the library. Nice sunburn, by the way." He grinned.

"I thought you see in grays with those night eyes."

"Okay. I guess I should say, nice new shadings." He touched her collar bone softly. "I can fix the burn spots for you if you want."

"I like a slight crispy feeling once in a while. Makes me think of good times at the beach." She hugged him again and spilled more words of happiness.

"Azzy, I have a lot to tell you."

"I have a lot to tell you, too. Let's go to my room."

They stopped in the kitchen to make a sandwich for Sam. On the way out, they ran into Kristen and another night person named Calvin.

"Sam! What are you doing here? How in the world did you get here?" Kristen grabbed his arm.

"Great to see you again, too." He introduced himself to the wide-eyed Calvin.

"You didn't fly here, did you?" She folded her arms when he nodded. "Geez, you must be drained. I can't believe you made it all the way here. Azzy said you were in California."

"Yeah."

"This Galen fellow doesn't know you're here, does he?"

"I don't think so." He smiled at Azzy.

"Wow." Kristen shook her hair more than her head and her lips stuttered soundlessly. She found a scratchy voice and added, "You two must have a lot to talk about. Go on, I'll chat with you later."

Sam and Azzy sat on the bed with a lamp lit low and a smoking ashtray between them. Sam assured her that CeCe was fine and was anxious to hear how Azzy was. He asked her if she had any luck with Galen.

"Some." She told him what she thought she had learned. He confirmed that Kats looked as Azzy described her, except Sam only knew her as Kathleen.

"It's probably a nickname." Sam rubbed her hand. "You make him sound almost like a good guy."

"Strange, but I don't think he's an evil person. Think about it. He hasn't strong-armed night people to bring me to him. He didn't threaten my family or friends in order to make me come out of hiding. For a villain, he has an odd set of rules. I get the feeling he wants to keep as few people involved as possible." She laced fingers with Sam. "He likes night people, generally. I think he knows quite a few and that's part of the reason he's keeping this whole ordeal quiet. I get the feeling he doesn't want any big contention with the rest of you guys. Just you."

"How do you do it? Your seoliu magic, I mean."

"At first, I was imagining things, the trance sensation was there and then the facts just came." She was quiet.

"Then?"

"I don't know. I started daydreaming."

"Did you learn a lot that way?"

"I don't know." She shrugged and looked away. "It doesn't seem like I got far after that, but I think it just takes time. I almost feel guilty, like when I daydreamed about you."

"Why?"

"Well, it was just today."

"Why did you feel bad?"

Azzy looked at the walls and licked her teeth. "It's addictive. I didn't want to stop. I wouldn't have, except you came. It feels really good."

"What kinds of things did you learn in your daydreams?"

"I get little things about him that don't really seem to matter, such as he has a pool table and likes to play nine ball. His boat is named after his wife, Melanie. But I think the little things add up to a big picture, don't you?"

"Yeah." Sam stubbed a filter and moved the ashtray. He sat closer to her. "That's what I need to talk about to you. I went to see your father."

"What?"

He took both her hands. "The way you described your relationship with him made me think that you inherited your ability from him. I went to see him and we had a great talk. I thought it might help you. Are you angry?"

"No. No, of course not. I came to the same conclusion about him."

He rubbed the back of her hands with his thumbs. "He is a seoliu, like you. As a matter of fact, after some work he got Galen's image from my mind. He said he would work on it, but I haven't contacted him since because I got your message. His grandfather was a seoli, too, and told him what he was at an early age, had him trained. When he was in his late teens, early twenties, he did freelance work for various types of people. That can be dangerous for a seoliu; he had no protection. Your father told me that something did go wrong, very wrong. He said what happened doesn't matter now, but that he had to assume a new identity. He wanted out of all of it. Needless to say, he was a wealthy man when he married your mother. He never told her about his ability because he thought it was highly unlikely that they would produce a seoli child, especially not another seoliu. Once he picked up on your gift when you were young, he decided to never tell you about it. He told me he thinks it's an all uphill road to walk."

"Because of what happened to him?"

"Yes. He said that it is a life of game playing and robbing people of their privacy. Even as he was saying it, though, I got the feeling he missed it. When people like us are born with an ability that feels as natural as breathing once we can use it, it's hard to walk away from. It's like finding you can sculpt beautiful things from wood, being one of those people who look at a log and see a crocodile within. You sculpt for years, then never touch it again, but you see wood and shapes they bare everywhere you go."

"It is like creativity, for me, anyway."

"That brings me to the other thing I need to tell you. I asked your dad for advice to give you after I told him our story in its entirety. Well, he was very upset that you were daydreaming about me. He said that it is a big danger for seolius. Seolies don't have to worry about it; they get their information by proximity and once the subject is out of sight, the connection is out of mind."

Azzy's eyes widened and Sam saw a touch of light boil in her green eyes. "Why not daydream? That's when I really know someone, like with you. I learned all kinds of things about you. Little things, big things. Big picture. No crocodile can be carved without taking the time to shape the bumps on its skin or polishing the shine of its teeth."

"Well," Sam rubbed her stiff shoulder, "that's the problem. A trained seoliu can go in and get the needed facts, skipping over the unnecessary. By nature, a seoli is a lover of personalities. Details. Everything that makes up a person. When a seoliu daydreams, according to your father, the seoliu will get all kinds of things big and small over a period of time. The seoliu can live an almost real life in her mind, yet control the story to a degree. You have a real person with real human quirks in your grasp, but a world and life of your own making to live in. It's very attractive.

"Galen knew you were untrained. That's why he was giving you such a long time to collect your information about me. He was gambling on your sinking into daydreams and finding out everything you possibly could about me. Your father also said that the danger is not only loss of quick learning, but the seoliu will obsess and lose interest in the real world because she's enjoying her internal life with the subject. You see, the daydreaming leaves the seoliu in a hanging-out, getting-to-know state with the person being read. It is a feeling of strong connection, a warm and understanding bond, which seolius seem to desire much more than the average person.

"Azzy, Galen knew this was dangerous for your mental stability when he did it. I am afraid that you will like him, think he is a good guy, like you described him. I want you to remember that he used you without concern of hurting you. I want you to keep sight that right now, at this moment, he wants to murder you."

Azzy shook her head. Her shiny hair slipped over her shoulder and across the back of his hand.

"I don't want to make you feel bad. I want to help you. I want you to live. I can tell that this is the last thing in the world you want to hear."

She pushed his fingers off her arm. "I looked up daydreaming in the seoliu books. I found nothing. If it was a big problem, wouldn't it have been in there?"

Sam sighed. "I'm sure it is, but they don't call it daydreaming. Your dad called it absorption, being absorbed with a subject. I want you to know how dangerous this is for you. I know it feels wonderful, but you need to learn to do the seoliu trick straight, without being sucked into the personality and fascination of the subject, Galen." He pushed her hair back from hiding her face and saw that the sunburn on her neck had moved to her cheeks. "Azzy?"

She looked over his head. "I don't know."

"Are you angry? Be honest."

"Yes."

He touched her warm cheeks and she looked down at the hands in her lap as though they were somebody else's, and her own hands that she controlled were the ones in her mind. He kissed her forehead and said nothing, continuing to pet her hair and face.

A long time passed before Azzy looked up at him, eyes touched with tears. "I want to help. I want to be with you. But even now, I want just as much to slip back into the unfinished story in my head, then start on another one I have forming."

"Stay with me." He kissed her eyelashes, then her lips, and she forgot her anger. Azzy bookmarked her daydream and pushed it under the bed.

Sam fell asleep after dawn and Azzy suited up for the beach. Outside, she saw the day couple she'd played Scrabble with, one in front of and one behind the bar. They chattered and Azzy took a daiquiri down to the sunny sand. It might seem strange to drink one in the morning, but it was evening on her body clock. Only a few clouds surfed the horizon. Her body tingled from the night before and her mind felt like rubber.

She would not daydream. She could control it.

Azzy had a book. A horror novel, at that. Those always kept her attention.

She wondered if the guests were at all curious about the resort owners. A bartender who opened up at seven in the morning and several others who slept until the afternoon. She didn't think anyone even recognized their faces from day to day, so wrapped up in relaxation were they. Besides, islanders were eccentric, were they not?

There was only one other person on the beach. The young stock broker. He had a bottle of lotion, magazine, and sunglasses lined up in a row, biggest to smallest, bottoms touching the edge of his blue towel. He worries about not having enough money, but he spent it extravagantly because he wanted to seem care-free.

She looked at his arrangement of things and wondered if he was the obsessive type. It seemed like it. She wanted to ask, but instead smiled and sipped her drink. Galen had a nice house. He had been a boat captain on the gulf and was good at predicting weather.

He lost his wife when Kats was young. She had been a demure woman, yet jealous. Azzy could see her when she was young. Galen called Kathleen Kats, but he nicknamed his wife Kitten. He thought of her as a kitten, too. He loved her with complete heart and soul, but his desire belonged to someone else...

Her cold drink tipped onto her bare belly and she lost the trance. After watching the waves for a few minutes, she reformed her image of Melanie. She could fit in nicely to the story from the night before. Azzy could control the level she sank into the daydream. She could keep it light.

She groaned, put down her drink and picked up her book. Page one is always so hard.

Azzy crawled into bed with Sam around eleven and dozed. He awoke at one and smiled at the sweet smell of suntan lotion on the woman beside him. He looked at her darkening skin and the way her hair had stolen the sun. He touched it softly, trying not to wake her.

Sam saw the book lying next to her towel. It was new, probably brought over by Ricky. The spine wasn't broken.

There was something Sam hadn't told Azzy about his visit with her father. He could remember how the older man had push his fingers in his hair and hid his soft tears from Sam, saying, "I did the wrong thing. I should have trained her. You have no idea how strong she is, something different about her than any others. She got it from me." He had swallowed and rubbed his face with enough force to triple his wrinkles on his cheeks. "I never thought it would matter. I never thought someone would be so cruel as to do to her what this man did. And that man is a seoli himself!" He had stilled his attempts to hide his wet eyes and looked at Sam. "If she continues to be absorbed, if she gets absorbed with John Galen, it could shatter her. I know how she is; she finds everybody beautiful and it could come back at her. You sure you don't know where he lives?" Sam had told him for the third time that all he knew was that the water man lived in Mobile. Azzy's father had ducked his head again and pleaded for Sam to help her. Then they spent hours while the man tried to relax Sam enough to be able to take Galen's face from his mind. He said he would work on it, but it had been so long. Bitterness steamed from her father's muscles as Sam watched him remember...remember something Azzy's parent found so awful and painful as to leave what he was behind.

Sam had hated Galen more at that moment than he ever had. He wanted to fight Galen, beat him with his fists and teeth. Now, lying next to the pink and tan woman, he determined that he would not leave her side. If the time came, he would force Galen to kill him before he hurt Azzy in hopes that the water person would have no desire for her death once Sam was gone.

As far as keeping Azzy from her daydreams, her father said that she would have to be constantly forced into reality and reminded of the dangers. He was much more worried about being able to do this after her reaction the night before when he told her what he knew. However, he was confident, he trusted her sense of reason and would rely on her love for him to keep her from kicking him in the groin every time he tried to pop her back to the surface of the world around her.

9

"How are you doing, Kristen? It's great being somewhere that doesn't require shoes."

"Hi Sam. We're cooking up Mahi-Mahi for a late lunch."

"Are you taking applications to work here?"

She laughed. "You'd give up your American tour?"

"I've had my job for five years and they passed me over twice for a Hawaii job. It's about time I had some island work."

He sat in her office passing friendly words with his bare feet propped up on her desk. Eventually he asked her to open up the library.

Once inside, he pulled a book on banshees and read. After a while, he went outside for a cigarette. He nodded at a young couple who passed by and rubbed his chin with his thumb as he ran his confirmed knowledge through his mind. He had suspected there was only one way that Galen had the picture enchanted and that was with the help of a banshee. The only other kind of spells he knew of were the kind in which the people involved wanted to believe there was magic. Banshee spells, on the other hand, were the real thing, impossible to deny, control, or break by will alone. Sam couldn't figure out why Galen would do it. Anyone who asked a banshee for help paid a high price, the bargain, which was always to the banshee's advantage. The human making the bargain got the so-called short end of the stick and the spells often backfired. Banshees mostly stuck to matters of the heart and dealt with women. Why would one help Galen in this way? Surely a powerful man like John Galen would know the banshee trade-off balance.

He finished his smoke and went back inside. He browsed the seoli books and picked out one called, Will I Awaken? It was fiction, a story of a seoliu who became absorbed with a subject and was eventually committed to a mental hospital. How could Azzy have missed this one? He thought that perhaps she simply did not want to see it.

Sam flipped through the pages. The character was a trained seoliu, but gave in to obsessive absorption of an actress. The hero was another seoliu who came to him in the hospital and rescued him from his imaginary world. By the end of the book, he was well on his way to keeping focused and enjoying real people in front of him.

There wasn't much information as to exactly how that was done. It sounded to Sam that it was more of a "help yourself" kind of thing rather than a set method.

Sam found one other book with some words on absorption. There wasn't much literature about it, but he attributed that to the fact that there were so few seolius. This book's chapter on the subject said the same thing Azzy's father had said: Don't do it. Period. Get more training if you start to do it. It also said to be trained by a person; no book can really train a seoliu.

Sam closed the book and drifted towards the scent of lemon-pepper fish.

Sam played beach volleyball with three other guests after the meal. The actress vacationing with her secret lover asked Sam if he'd noticed the strange time schedule at the resort.

"What do you mean?"

"The meals come off at all kinds of different hours and the bar is open all the time."

"Actually," Sam said, "I have noticed that. At a place like this and for this kind of money, I think they do just about anything to give us what we want. I like it."

"Really?" said the young stock broker.

"Yes. It makes for variety. I feel like I am far away from the real world with its set rules and way of doing things."

The broker agreed with much gusto.

Azzy met Sam in the well furnished lobby around sunset. His legs were stretched out along the couch and he peered at her horror novel. Without looking up, he said, "I'd recognize that footfall anywhere."

She chuckled and sat on his legs. "How's the book?" She bent down and kissed his furry thigh.

"Very scary. I'm glad you came in. I was starting to suspect there was a madman with a big knife behind the couch."

"That book is about werewolves."

"Werewolves aren't real. Madmen with knives, however, those are."

Azzy stopped smiling and examined the wicker coffee table.

"Azzy, I wish I could read your mind right now."

"You can. You say, 'Beautiful one,' and I immediately know you refer to me and I turn. Then you say, 'What are you thinking about?'"

He took her hand, praised her beauty extravagantly, then asked what was on her mind.

"I'll always tell you, right? I read something I want to show you. It's in the library. It might be nothing, but I want you to see it and tell me what you think. And," she leaned close to whisper although he would have heard her ten feet away if he had wanted, "Will you tell me why you couldn't save Kats, but you can now?"

Sam's grip tightened, but he held hard to her gaze. "Before we go to the library, let's take a walk on the island, where there's no water and," he leaned close to whisper, "no bat ears."

She stumbled a bit on the trails in the darkness, but Sam helped her along. They climbed a jagged mountain a little ways and collapsed on a cliff shelf. The moon was high in the sky.

"It's full."

"Nope, Az. That's tomorrow night."

"Do you like the full moon?"

"It's wonderful. We always feel more energized. More light can come in." He rubbed her back and they sat in silence, the beauty around them making life easy.

Sam watched the moon for a few minutes, then smiled. "You're right. I talk to the moon. I've never told anyone. I've never said it out loud. Only crazy night people say they talk to the moon." He looked at her and her eyes grabbed the moon's reflection in the right side of her iris. For a moment, she looked like she shined, and the last fear of this conversation walked away with its hands in its back pockets.

"When I was a kid, before I could use my ability, I used to go out into fields and speak out to the moon. I'd just talk about whatever was on my mind – anything from basketball to snow sledding to action figures. Jeremy and I used to hang out with a bunch of other kids in our area, not night people, though. When I was ten, they caught me talking to the moon. Those kids started to tease the hell out of me, but not Jer. He stood up for me. I guess that's when we became as tight as we are."

Azzy remembered the story he told as she'd seen it in her mind. It gave her a chill that she could know such a thing.

"Anyway, I still talked to the moon when I got older. I might not have if Jeremy hadn't stood up for me. I guess it is a strange thing to do, but I think I did it because I felt like the moon would always listen and never judge me. You remember those teen age years when you feel so incredibly self-conscious all of the time. I never felt that way speaking in the moonlight. I never told anyone; night people would be just as judgmental about it as the rest of the world. Sometimes I really believed the moon had presence, but most of the time I told myself I was talking to the moon for personal therapy. Well, okay. I admit it was a fifty-fifty split."

They grinned at each other.

"When I was eighteen, Jeremy, Lori and I went to Europe, as you know, after we got our high school diplomas. The first night in Greece, I went out to an isolated beach and looked up at the moon, thinking it was time to voice traveler's observations. Before I could speak, my eyes started burning and I was on a different beach unlike any I can describe." His voice dropped in volume and words came more slowly, like trying to remember a recurring dream. "I couldn't now even if I tried. And there he was." Sam looked up at the almost round orb.

"I don't talk to the moon anymore. I talk with the spirit of the moonlight. He's real. After that, I have always been able to see him anytime I want to by staring up at the moon and mentally asking him to talk to me. My eyes burn a little, then we are together."

He pulled his knees up and looped his hands around them.

"What's his name?"

He laughed. "When I was a kid, I named him Ed. I used to love Mr. Ed. He said he liked that, so it stuck."

"I see." She kissed his cheek.

He looked over at her. "You really believe me, don't you? Did you see it in your mind?"

"I only saw you staring at the moon without a blinking and had a vague knowledge you talked with him. I knew it was a 'he'."

Sam nodded. "I don't blink?"

"Not that I saw."

He nodded again. "That makes sense. Sometimes if I talk to him for a very long time, I'll have tears around my eyes or on my cheeks. I didn't think I cried. I guess somehow my eyes are keeping themselves moist so I won't blink away the connection. Huh, I never knew that."

"Tell me about him, if you want. What did he say the first time you spoke?"

He paused, then laughed. "It feels so weird to talk about it, yet so good. When he came to talk the first time, he told me he'd been listening to me since I first spoke to him. He said he liked me and felt we were kindred spirits. It's strange, Azzy, but I felt that way about him the minute I saw him. He told me that we were combined now, that there was something of him in me and vice versa. I can't really explain it, don't know what it means, actually, but I feel it. My body felt different after our first meeting. I was fully energized, felt more confident in myself. I never feel alone.

"He said he has talked to other night people before. Only one at a time and only males. He said he finds one who he fits with, but I'm not sure what that means. I asked him why no women, and he said that he is a masculine strength. The sunlight can commune with women.

"It might sound like he's a god, but it's not like that. Our ability doesn't come from the moon, but the light cast from it, and he is the personification of that energy. He's light, a consciousness same and very different from ours. He watched you on the beach last night asking for me, then when I went to him he told me. I never knew we could do that."

"You've never asked him?"

He stretched his legs out and took her hand. "No. I never wanted to know. I feel it's wrong to have an unfair advantage by using him that way, by asking him to help me with whatever powers he might have. I don't think that's right."

"What do you talk about?"

"Life. We tell stories about what we see. Talk philosophy. Great conversations, never dull."

"He talks abut what he sees?"

"Yes. Wherever moonlight touches, he can see and hear, or acknowledge. Honestly, I never asked him about it, but I always assumed that he chose one place where he watched. However, last night he explained that he sees everything at once. Definitely a consciousness we can't comprehend, right?"

She laughed.

"He told me he was willing to help me, but he didn't want to butt in unless I asked for his help."

Azzy turned her eyes to the moon, waved. "Thanks."

Sam hugged her. "He likes you, by the way."

She looked over the moonlit tree tops and wondered if, in her past, she had done something bawdy under the watchful eyes of this energy. Other than a harmless skinny dip in Gulf Shores, nothing came to mind and she sighed in relief. "Sam, how does this tie in to Galen?"

He folded his legs and claimed her knee in his palm. "Before I met Ed, I had a strong shine, but I was nowhere near being a Ral. After I started talking to him, my ability grew in endurance and precision. I can understand utilizing moonlight like those who have spent their lives learning it. When I was in New Orleans, I could not have saved Kathleen. Had I tried, all I could have done is blown her chest open. I hadn't the control or skill to give her the electrical pulses to start her heart. But after I was eighteen, my shine steadily grew to where people noticed and called me a Ral. Who would believe the truth, though? As you know, Galen found out I was named a Ral and assumed what would have been correct for anyone who became a Ral four years after Kathleen drowned: I could have saved her, but I didn't." He ducked his head, moonlight streaking his hair as though his shining friend were offering consolation. "I wanted to."

"I know." She mixed her fingers with those of the moonlight's and combed his locks.

He leaned into her hand, then quietly continued. "I don't know how to prove this to Galen. Fly around the world and have another night person tell him my shine has not weakened from the effort? He'd never believe the night person who told him; if he did, he'd think it was a trick and that for hours I stood beside him, invisible, laughing at the trick I was about it pull. That's really all I could do, other than tell him to go on the other side of his house and whisper a corny saying to the moon, which I could repeat back to him. He'd say that was another trick, that another invisible night person listened to him. Obviously he can't get the knowledge from my mind, or else he would know. You're the only one who has. What is there I could do? It's not the kind of thing people can believe, would even want to believe." He lit a cigarette.

"Sam, have you ever heard the name Ralle?"

"No." He inhaled, then blew out smoke. "Wait. You mean the myth? The god?"

"Yes. Have you ever read books or writings like the ones in the library here? The ones from ancient times?"

He squinted. "The South American ones? No, I haven't. Not too many of us do. Not much interest in vague mythology and history mixed with superstition. Why do you ask?"

"What do you know about Ralle?"

He waved his cigarette and watched the red light glow supernaturally against the night world. "Let's see. He scared everybody, pretty passionate deity, if I remember right from the stories my mom told me. She loves that stuff. I told you she was a hippie, liked mythology. He was the moon's assassin of bad night and day people, I think. Sometimes the good ones, too. Pretty bad ass, thought he ruled the world. Why?"

She glanced up at the moon once more to make sure it wasn't crimson, then said, "I want to show you something I found. It might be nothing, but you can ask Ed about it if you think it's interesting."

10

Azzy opened up the book to the picture of the man looking up to the fetal man in the night sky. He browsed the passage that went along and rubbed his chin. "What are you thinking, exactly?"

She put her finger on the moon-man. "It makes it sound like this Ralle isn't a god, at least to me."

"Why do you say that? He was apparently around for hundreds of years."

She looked to the side at his profile and took her finger off the page. He stared at it, then shook his head.

"Azzy, these books are all legends and superstitions. I think I know what you are getting at, but..."

She watched him.

"Don't you think we'd know if this was true? The things this Ralle can do are impossible. Besides, it was only written about ages ago. If it could be done, had been done, in times other than ancient, it would have been noticed and we'd know about it now."

"Maybe some of it is myth. Have you and Ed ever talked about the other night people he has known?"

"No. I asked him about it once, but he didn't say much. I got the feeling he didn't want to talk about it. The only thing he said was that they were much older than me. Honestly, I don't ask him many questions. We just talk about every day life."

Azzy recalled the story in the book about Ralle blowing up a village. Then she thought of how Sam loved his way of life as it was. "Sam, if he picks those he feels are somehow like him, then it stands to reason they could be the kind to keep quiet, like you. Maybe it just took him a while to figure out what that type was."

Sam straightened and walked to the section about day people. "Day people have a goddess," he muttered, "who is a sister to this Ralle." As she had watched Kristen do earlier, Sam floated up to the top shelf and pulled a few books. He dropped down without a sound.

He sat at the table beside her and pushed the night people texts aside. He flipped pages. "Looking at pictures." He pushed that book aside and did the same with another. He stopped on a page in the third book of rough translations and tapped his finger on the picture of a curvy woman dancing with the sun. Their arms were fused together, leaving them both without hands. He read out loud from the page opposite. "'Ralla is perfect. She moves with the sun; she is shy. Her brother Ralle is cause of pain for people. Moon chooses poorly and Ralla must watch her brother.'"

He flipped slowly and stopped to read a story. "If I understand this, it's saying that Ralla burned Ralle in his sleep for misbehavior. Even though the night people feared Ralle, they hated her for burning their god, then there's something about her vowing to live always in quiet. Maybe that means secret." He sat back with his arms crossed. After a moment, he closed the book. He paused long, re-shelved the books, then held out his hands to her. They walked to the beach and sat in the sand.

"Moon's set now. I'll ask him about it tomorrow."

Azzy's impulse was to take back her suggestion as to the nature of Ralle, but she held herself still and kissed his shoulder once to let him know she was there, in case he'd forgotten.

Sam rubbed his fingers in the sand. "All that can't be true. You think Ralle is a title? The word Ral comes from those old gods." He traced patterns, making small scale Zen rock garden circles in the dark grains. "It must be mostly myth. I mean, if this is true, that Ralle is a, well..." He stopped his fingers and smoothed over the pattern, then touched her calf. "I'm glad you showed me. I admit that it scares me a little, but I'm not really sure what you are thinking is right. It makes sense in some ways..." He sighed, then put his arms around her and pulled her back into the sand. "You know, Azzy, it really is the men who cause all the problems. Ralla's 'perfect' and the brother is so awful she has to kill him."

She smiled. "If all of it's myth, at least the philosophy is accurate."

Waves crashed, wind blew in ripples.

"You okay, Sam?"

"Of course. Whenever we men use our brains, we are less respondent. It's weird, the differences between day and night people even though we are both from the sunlight. It's just two different energies. Day people tease us about how imperfect the moonlight is because it is a warped representation of the sun rays. It's strange, but although night people have more varied abilities than day, days are stronger and usually happier people."

"Lack of sunlight can cause depression, and if many night people live night lives, then that could be the reason for their disposition. I don't think the moonlight is a warped version of sunlight. It's just something different and equally as beautiful. Honestly, I don't think I could have fallen for a day person."

He pulled her hair over her face. "You think you know everything."

"I do. You said it yourself. Woman is supreme."

"I'm humble. You are most knowledgeable, Let's go back to our room and you can begin educating me. I want to be as wise as woman."

"It's going to take a lot of effort. Many hours in the classroom and doing homework." She said she thought he had the potential to graduate with honors.

He told her he would rather be a professional student.

An hour after sunrise, Sam woke and joined Azzy down at the beach, determined to keep her from her daydreams. As he trickled sand over her glistening feet, he told her to focus on a fact she wanted to know more about.

"Why? You think that will work?"

He wondered if she had read the books. It had been the first thing written about in every handbook in the library. "I saw that in a book. What do you want to know?"

"I want to know why Kats was afraid of water."

"Focus on only that."

She did, but it felt like one of those games where one person looks at a card and the other person has to determine whether it is a circle, square or squiggly line. "I can't do it."

"You indicated to me that the other information you got was in chunks, not daydreaming. Right?"

"I let my mind drift, without concentrating."

"Not even a little?"

"I don't know. I guess my mind drifted in the direction of Galen."

He rolled her over on her belly and rubbed her neck. "Maybe this will help you relax." She cracked an eye and listened to the bartender talk to an unrecognized voice. She focused her gaze on the sand grains inches from her face. She pretended she was an iguana, eyeball darting from meaningless grain to meaningless grain as though they composed the whole world. She remembered making a gift for her mother in elementary school in which she layered different colored sand in a bottle. Her mother still had it.

Kathleen felt responsible for her mother's death.

Azzy tried to picture the woman. A sweet woman, as Galen thought. Quiet, jealous. That's what she knew. Azzy pictured their house in New Orleans. Had there been a large tub there, too? Yes, there had. What kinds of things did the two of them do together? For fun?

"Azzy?"

"Hmm?"

"What are you thinking about?"

Her lizard eye popped open as she hadn't realized it had closed. It swung from grain to grain as she tried to keep her voice friendly. "Kats felt it was her fault her mother died."

Sam rubbed her shoulders. "I could rub your back all day. Ever had a professional massage?"

"No."

"Me neither. Do you like beach volleyball?"

"Not really."

"They have games in the afternoon. I played yesterday. The waves aren't too big out here, are they? Kristen said there's a strong undercurrent on the other side of the island. Ever been surfing?"

"No."

"I guess you can't on the Gulf."

Her lips formed words, but her jaw stayed stiff. "Some kids use pieces of boxes and ride sea foam like they are skateboarding."

"Sounds fun."

"They hurt themselves all the time."

"Yep, sounds just like skateboarding."

She had tried to do it when she was young. She fell on some shells and cried hysterically when the salt water washed into the fresh cuts. Azzy thought it odd that parents often tried not to laugh as they consoled their crying child, as though they thought the child's pain was adorable. Galen wasn't like that. Kat's mother was. The girl always went to her mother with her tears. She liked her mother's smiling sympathy as opposed to her father's straight face. The man simply didn't know what to do.

Kathleen was sobbing when her mother finally got her talking after a week with no words. She told her mom that her father had a monster in the water tub last week. Mom had been out; Kats had been sleeping, but awoke and went to see what the noise in the tub room was.

The monster was a woman. Kats had not understood what the two of them had been doing in the water together, and she was also too young to have had her father's water ability explained to her. Two pairs of eyes spotted her and then one of them disappeared, the entire woman's body changing to water.

Galen did not go after the hysterical daughter. He just wanted to let the incident pass.

This information came to Azzy as though placed into her head. As though she'd always known it. It fit...it fit into the story from earlier...nicely.

Sam worked on her lower back. "You have beautiful skin." He prattled on about his sister's obsession with her skin tone. "She looks great, but when she was in high school, she'd spend an hour each night washing her skin." He asked her if all teenage girls do that.

"Yes."

Did she? Of course. Did it help? Not really.

Her lips stiffened and moved. "I know what you're trying to do. I'm not daydreaming."

"I'm not trying to do anything. Just talking."

"Remember, I know you."

"I know you, too."

Azzy sat up. "Thanks for the massage. I'm going to take a walk. You should get some sleep."

"I'm fine. I can stay awake for days as long as I have caffeine and good company."

"I just want to be alone for a while."

He rubbed his hand down her slick arm and took her fingers. "Azzy, let me help you."

"You are. You can by letting me be alone."

"I'm just afraid...I can tell you're daydreaming because you don't respond like you normally do."

"How's that?"

"Usually you have a comment to make no matter what I say. I could tell you I have a toothache and you'd tell me about the time you had your wisdom teeth pulled."

She did not smile back at him. She wanted to walk, stop talking. "Sam, you keep firing questions at me like you did when you were trying to keep me awake at the cabin in Colorado. This is not at all life-threatening. I'm walking. Don't follow."

He watched her move down the beach with her head down and ponytail bobbing. Then he turned to the ocean and held an unlit cigarette.

Azzy didn't need a towel when she finally decided to stop, didn't care if grains stuck all over her. She stayed in her fantasies. Time passed.

"Damn it."

Ignoring the nauseous taint of guilt creeping into her daydreams, Azzy yanked her hair free and decided to take a swim. She bobbed in the soft waves, feeling useless as seaweed without acknowledging why she felt this way. She was nothing but fish food, mind incapable of saving her from the nibbles of her imagination. She pushed farther out into the sea, determined...determined to what? Her legs swooshed and her arms ran light circles around the salt water. Irritation filled her, directed at herself, but she continued to tread water. Her lips parted and steady breaths helped her stay afloat. Her legs ached and she hated her body for keeping her here working, leaving her mind numb to the stories half finished. Why were her limbs doing this? Had she commanded them to? A hand of water slapped her neck and for a moment she thought it might be Galen taunting her, threatening that the next palm might close into a fist.

Azzy ducked her face under the ocean surface but did not open her eyes to the salty water. Instead she saw a monster, a hideous monster. Its skin bubbled with holes like geysers and spit dripped from the bottom lip, rabid. Sagging black eyes and yellow-green plants growing from its head. It reached to her from Galen's tub, mouth opening to speak and revealing rotting teeth. Azzy's face shot out of the sea and she screamed.

Azzy was certain it was in the sea with her, casually brushing her foot, then thigh. It was waiting until she panicked, was at her worst moment of fear, then she would...she would... Azzy tried to keep her strokes even, but another burst of water tackled the back of her head. No longer seeing anything but the tub and tasting salt phlegm, the young woman in the ocean flailed, screeched. It was speaking to her, voice as cracked as thousand year old stucco in the desert sun. It told her that everything was her fault. She was responsible. She was guilty. Guilty.

Azzy's knees scraped on the wet sand and her hair covered her eyes, not that she could see around her. She ran on hands and feet until she felt warm, dry grains beneath her, then she fell onto her side and breathed. It had not gotten her. It had not been in the water at all. Azzy had never been the object of the monster's hatred.

From a distance, the wet, heaving body would have looked like a shipwreck survivor finally making it to sacred earth. Up close, her eyes were both blue and green as she watched nothing. Moments passed, and the woman jumped up, taking off down the beach in the direction of the resort.

Sam held the magazine high over his head to block the sun from his eyes while he read. Azzy was mostly dry, yet wild with nature, when she fell next to him, knocking the magazine away. She braced both hands on either side of his head.

"I'm sorry."

The magazine pages chattered nervously in the breeze. Sam sighed. "Az, are you okay?" His ears picked up on the distant bartender mutter, "Crazy seolies."

She fell onto him and he held her close, closing his eyes to the sun. A few other beach-goers watched curiously, thinking that a lovers' quarrel was coming to an end.

"Azzy, will you talk to me?"

"There really is a monster. A real one. That's what made Kats terrified of the water. The two of them were in the bathroom and the monster told her that it was Kats' fault that her mother was dead. She never told her father that there was a real monster. It was awful, hideous. A woman, a walking nightmarish aquarium."

They sat up across from each other and Sam tilted his head from the sunshine. She patted his knee. "I don't think her mother's dead."

Sam glanced up the beach. "What do you mean?"

"I saw her. In my mind. After I saw the monster, I saw faces, images of people, felt things with each one. Melanie looked different, but I recognized the feelings for her. Galen's feelings for her. God, Sam, even her face was changed, but she was Melanie. Kats saw her once before the boating trip. That's what they fought about, that's why she decided to give him the fishing trip as a present. You see, he told her she was being childish and that her mother was not a ghost. He told her she'd dreamed it, but he was very angry. She couldn't understand why he was.

"She felt so guilty and that she was the cause of her father's pain. She didn't want to be childish and didn't want to hurt her father by bringing up her mother's name to him in a way that implied Melanie could speak to her. Kats knew how disappointed he was that she was afraid of water, so she wanted to make the argument up to him by taking him on the Gulf."

Azzy paused to scrutinize Sam in his extraordinarily supernatural stillness. "What is it?"

He shook his head.

"Tell me. Do you know something about this?"

He brushed sand from her hair. "Az, I don't want to anger you, but are you sure you're not getting your daydreams mixed up with the real thing?"

Sunbathing guests anticipated round two and Azzy's mouth emitted a high frequency. "Why would you say that?"

He leaned back. "I'm sorry. Really." Blink. "What did her mother look like?"

Azzy matched his prior stillness.

"Please, tell me."

She watched the magazine pages toss about, then said, "She was absolutely beautiful. She wore a black cape and hood. When she walked, she had no feet. She told Kats that she was, indeed, dead. The girl thought her mother was a ghost, had never seen a person like her. What is it, Sam?"

"You're describing a banshee." He slapped the magazine and tucked it under his towel.

"But wouldn't Kathleen know she was a banshee? She's a seoli, right?"

"You're a seoli and you didn't know she was a banshee. You didn't understand how I was a night person, not very well. Neither of you knew what a banshee looked like, felt like." He rubbed his chin. "It makes sense as to how the photo of me might have been enchanted. Banshees don't usually work in matters not concerning the heart." He watched a bird fly low over the ocean. "And Galen doesn't appear to be paying a huge price, unless he's paying later."

"But why is she a banshee? Did the monster I saw do it to her?"

"I don't know why, but nobody can turn a woman into a banshee. She chooses it herself as part of a bargain she makes. She asks something of the banshees and in turn, they strike up the bargain that she become one of them. It doesn't make sense, though. Azzy, I'm worried about you."

"Why? I know the difference between a story and the facts. I can tell."

"But there are no such things as monsters. Azzy, you were not aware of Melanie as being a banshee, only a ghost-like thing. You see a monster coming out of the tub and accusing Kats of being responsible for her mother's death. Do you see what I'm getting at?"

He saw tears glitter on her eyelashes in the sunlight. "No."

"From the way you describe it..." He sighed, took her fingers. "Were you swimming?"

"What?"

"Today, were you swimming?"

She nodded. "Why?"

"Have you always been able to swim?"

"Of course."

He shook his head as though the last few spoken words had been edited out of the conversation. "But, from the way you describe the things you say you learned today..."

"What? What are you talking about? Why don't you trust me?"

"I trust you."

"You don't believe me when I tell you I know the difference between the daydreams and the truth."

He leaned forward. "Don't you think these images, this information is a little odd?" He rubbed his thumb over her eyelashes. "Picture them. Picture this monster you tell me Kathleen saw. What seems odd to you?"

She hummed a low note. "I was there."

"How could you be?"

"What do you mean? I wasn't really there."

"I mean, if there were only two people in that room and you faced one of them in your mind's eye, then..."

Her lips twisted. "But you saw her dead body."

He squinted. "Yes."

"Oh. Oh, come on, Sam. I can't read the dead."

"Do you see why I question your facts?"

"That's impossible." She tried to pull her hands away, but he wouldn't let go. "I know they are true facts. They are, damn it. I know it, I know."

He leaned to her face and kissed her cheek. "Hey, I trust you, okay?"

"They are the right things, but I can't read the dead."

"Never heard of it before."

Her shoulders slouched and her eyes wet once again. "What are you doing? A minute ago, you thought I was believing in daydreams, and now you are looking at me like you're my biggest fan."

"I am your biggest fan. Just because I've never heard of it before doesn't mean it isn't possible. After all," he smiled and lowered his voice, "think of Ed."

She stared at him and her lips twitched.

"Azzy, seolies have been known to read banshees before, and they are considered dead."

"Why did you ask me if I am able to swim?"

"Do you remember when we were in the cabin at Gai Lodge and I told you I had been to New Orleans?"

"No."

"You were very sleepy. Right after I mentioned it, you told me you couldn't swim. You sounded like you were dreaming, but at the time I thought it was strange. I had the image of that night in my mind and you spoke those words."

"I don't remember that."

"I do. I haven't thought about it until now. Seolies work well under stress, as you know from your experience with the intruder in your home in Mobile. It's possible that while you were half-frozen, you picked up on my memory, then maybe to hers as well."

Azzy turned from him and took in the seascape. She thought she knew the depth of the horizon in all its reality. She sensed the motion of the other beach goers. She felt Sam like a warm sun instead of the moonlight stored inside him. Azzy leaned back and put her head in his lap, looking up into his eyes. He told her things she needed to hear without saying a word.

Azzy awoke at sunset while Sam stayed in his dreams. She saw his arms twitch and his eyeballs roll behind his closed lids. She whispered, "Look who's the dreamer now." There was something amazing and disturbing about watching anyone sleep, from a dog with running legs to the man she loved quivering without consciousness, something that made her want to freeze for fear of stopping the process, afraid to pull him out of a world she could never enter but could only imagine. She had her own dreams, didn't she? She joined them in sleep and in waking, eating, showering, walking, with every breath. Was there a difference in her wide-eyed mental travels and those which she wandered aimlessly through in her deep slumbers? She watched Sam's lips move slightly and soundlessly, then he muttered, "Don't want sushi." She had never loved him more.

She showered slowly after Sam's show had stilled, half wishing he would awaken and join her. Azzy imagined the woman, then the monster in Galen's tub. Galen kept his tub full not only for a place to retreat to in case he needed to get home in a hurry, but also, in his past, for his water woman lover to join him when the house was quiet.

A fantasy poked its fingers into her head as she massaged shampoo into her long hair. She opened her mouth to the water and thought of Sam, filled with the desire to run wet and naked into the bedroom, jump on top of him, and shake him violently from his dreams. She smashed her fingernails into her scalp, feeling a nail on one of her middle fingers bend back and tear. She snarled, then bit her lip. Continued the pressure.

Without a trance, without a daydream, Azzy pieced it together. It was as though she had known it all along. Melanie, woman turned banshee. She had made a bargain, a bargain of the heart. Tiny Kathleen had confessed to her mother that she had seen a woman in the tub with Daddy, a woman who had turned into water before her eyes. Mother had remained calm before her daughter, but in secret wallowed in her realized jealous fears. She couldn't live with his infidelity, but she could never simply walk out on him. Melanie knew the secrets of Galen's supernatural world. He must pay. Galen took her love from her when she discovered his affair; she would take his away from him. She imagined that his lover was most beautiful, as she herself was not, or at least that is how she believed herself to be. She had never felt more disgusting and unappealing than she did when she went into the bathroom after her daughter's revelation and glared at the water-filled tub. He had been with her there. She had drained the water from the tub. A beautiful water woman, a secret beauty he kept his true desire for, a woman who pleased him in ways she had not. How could she face him again? How could she walk away and start another life without him? Melanie had refilled the water. She couldn't leave him that way. She saw only one solution. She sought out the banshees, made a deal. Deform the lover, end her life and live that of a wailing woman of endless beauty. She would not be bitter like the rest of them. She would not crumble away under her enchanted cloak. She would have purged her bitterness as she watched unseen when Galen faced his lover's new appearance. Melanie did not see when the water woman visited her daughter. Nobody saw that but Kats. A horrible scene, a hissing creature telling the small girl that her mother had not disappeared, but was dead. Dead because Kathleen had told what she had seen and now the girl would have to live the rest of her life knowing that her mother's death was her fault. The terrified child blocked the scene as well as she could, but it was always there in the back of her mind, living afraid that the monster would come up out of the water to taunt her and remind her, to steal her breath from her lungs with the fear and horror of her shape.

Azzy saw touches of red water ride down her chest and torso. She pulled her nails from her scalp.

The man in Mobile was a seoli. Could Azzy show him the image she knew from Kathleen's eyes? Would this make a difference? If he believed she had some kind of link to his daughter, he would not kill her.

What else could the dead child tell her?

Her shower must have been a long one, because Sam was gone when she came out of the bathroom. He left no note.

No matter, she had some thinking to do. She had to get in touch with the mind's eye of the eternal slumbering. Was it really possible that she could do this? Was it hard proof that there was some kind of life after death?

She dabbed her hair with a towel, taking longer than usual to comb the knots from her sensitive scalp. She thought of Sam's lips moving in his sleep. The daydreams must be fought off, but first she had some reading to do.

Sam coasted the night island trails with a thermos of coffee in hand. He had wanted to ask Kristen if she knew anything about seolius communing with the dead, but decided not to let Azzy's secret out. He was eager to ask questions, but doubted if Kristen was the right person to ask. Besides, could it happen? Could anyone actually do that? In truth, he accepted the mysteries of the world as much as any night person does, if not more.

Sam found a clear view of the full moon and sipped his coffee until it was gone. He made himself comfortable, took a breath as though he wouldn't be using lungs for a while, then stared up to the moon. Had night people been watching him, they would have stumbled back at the brightness of the shine in his eyes.

Ed once told him that the places they met in and Ed's appearance were a result of their combined imaginations. Tonight, they sat atop tables in a library filled with splashes of glowing white light. Thousands of bright books lie everywhere, opened and closed, on every surface and shelf. Plants and vines grew from unseen sources with a movement all their own.

"It seems we're in a book jungle. Feeling the need for hidden knowledge, Sam?"

"Actually, I am."

"Subconscious works in mysterious ways."

"Yes, it does. In this case, doubly so. You heard my conversation with Azzy last night, right? She showed me some books in the library about night people of ancient times. I want to ask you about them."

"What did you read?"

"The translations are difficult to understand, but we saw the stories about the god called Ralle. Azzy thinks he isn't a god, but a night person."

"What do you think?"

A vine crept up Ed's bright arm. Leaves uncurled in wide, flat spades, blocking his iridescence.

Sam told Ed about the picture of the night person staring at the man in the sky. Through any of their conversations they had ever shared, Sam always felt comfort and acceptance, friendship without strain. On this night, however, he sensed something different. He caught himself choosing words as carefully as though he were measuring out ingredients for a difficult to make cake. "When I saw that drawing, well, it felt familiar. You told me you had spoken with other night people through the years, but only one at a time. What I want to ask is, does the name Ralle refer to us? To people like me?"

Another vine curled around Ed's knee, opening leaves and popping open a deep purple flower. "Yes."

Sam stared at the bloom and felt his non-body tighten. "You don't want to tell me about it. Why not?"

"I'm afraid to, Sam."

"What are you afraid of?"

Ed's human-like eyes grew bright moons in the corners of his irises, echoing the light shining in the night person sitting under the moon on the dark island in a place that seemed only imagination to them both at that moment. "So far, you have been my favorite. When I first spoke to night people, I made many mistakes. I chose young men, your age, who had their whole lives to learn what they could do and master it. At first I even helped them all I could with encouragement. These people also had their whole lives ahead of them to find out who they were, to grow and change. Grow and change with this strength they get from contact with me. How could I know what they would do? Yet time after time I made the same mistake. They changed with this power. Eventually, they would stop talking to me altogether." He held out his hand and looked down at his fingers. "I watched them overpower people. I watched them destroy themselves without being able to say a word to them, without being able to reach out. As you know, the first meeting is my choice, but all the rest are yours. So many of them did such terrible things. One froze a forest in a fit of anger.

"I was alone, crushed, for a long time. I could watch night people, listen to them, but I would not allow myself to contact any of them. I eventually tried again, but I chose old men who only had a few years left to their lives. They had not the time nor care to learn their strength. While I was thrilled to have companionship again, I wished that it could not be so short lived. You see, Sam, it's not the power I give to you and those like you, it's friendship. However, the strength comes with it.

"You are different. I watched you and listened to you. I did not believe you were interested in power, and so far you have not tried to test what you can do. You haven't even asked me about it, although you must know, must have thought something was possible. I've seen how you fly for thousands of miles at a time, but that's all you'll do. You've never said a word about it. You don't question it. It's all you want, I believe. Still, I didn't want to tell you anything about it." He picked the vine off of his arm. "Never. You're the first young friend I've had in too many years to count. I couldn't help but meet you, although I reasoned long and hard about what a bad idea it might turn out to be. I wish you hadn't read those stories, but I can't lie to you and say they are myths. I only ask that you try not to persuade me to teach you."

"You're saying it's possible to do the things I read?"

The vine on his knee split, one creeping down his calf and the other up his thigh. Purple flowers sprung open. Ed picked one and twirled it. "Only in your imagination can I pick a flower."

Sam watched the spinning petals, which looked less like a flower and more like a cocktail umbrella. "And you say in yours I can freeze a forest."

The vine grew up Ed's chest, a wide bloom settling over his heart. "I have always thought power was something you would never want."

"I want to be able to make sure Azzy doesn't die."

The vine twisted around the moonlight's neck. "Even if I try to tell you what I know of how you could do it, it would take you ages to learn."

"How do I learn? From some kind of practice?"

"Somewhat. Once you grasp it, it's yours. How long of periods of time you can sustain it is the hard part. Being able to control it..."

"Do you think I can?"

Ed said nothing.

"Do you think I can do it?"

The vine crept up Ed's jaw, uncurling small leaves, like green teeth, over his mouth.

Sam blinked his eyes and watched the moon for a minute. He wiped his lower lids of their moisture. He took his thermos, rose, and spoke to the sky. "I'm sorry."

11

They weren't breakfast, lunch, and dinner anymore. They were simply meals. Azzy finished some reading about water people, then joined Sam for a meal. They say alone at a table for two and listened to other diners chatter.

"Are you okay, Sam?"

He cut a piece of steak and swallowed without chewing. "Yes. Sorry. Just spaced out. Not enough coffee tonight." He drained his mug and the night person waiter/musician who had winked at Azzy a few days earlier refilled it with a smile.

"Thanks, Harry."

"You're welcome." Harry seemed like he never had a thing on his mind, as though he lived in his own jolly world of steel drums and pina coladas, but he was, as they say, sharp as a tack.

"Az, what are you thinking about?"

She watched Harry walk away. "He likes you. I think he suspected you would be a brat."

Sam laughed.

"What?"

"I believe he heard you."

"I spoke quietly."

Sam tucked hair behind an ear and tugged the lobe.

"Oh." Azzy covered her mouth. "Bat ears." After rubbing her blush away, she told him what she read about water people, especially about their ability to watch the world through water. "If he's as obsessed as he says about watching you and me, catching us, then he's been at it constantly. Two years ago, he said he'd been watching you for a while already. In the book, it said that people who do this too much for too long get sick, namely, they sweat too much. They can get so bad as to sweat everything out of their bodies."

"He's crazy. Can you imagine being that warped as to slowly kill yourself over revenge?"

"I think I've pieced the story together. Ironically, I did it in the shower." She touched her tender scalp and told him her ideas. He nodded and started to reply when Harry came back with more coffee.

"You kids doing alright?"

Two yes answers.

"I bet you can't wait to get off this island. You kids should be hitting the clubs, the social life, rather than this." He winked. "I'm going inland next month to Vegas. I'll earn my salary in a week, better believe it. Either that, or I'll have to pick up another job." He walked away laughing.

Azzy smiled. "I bet he will."

"Me too. I know I'd have to get a second job if I hit the casinos."

"No, I mean I bet he'll double his salary."

"No way."

"Look at him. He's a card counter."

Sam shook his head and grinned. "He sounded like he thought we were vacationing."

"He's just joking around. Ten bucks and a back rub says he counts cards."

Sam squinted at her. "My little seoliu."

"Nope. This one's all hunch. How about that bet?"

He sipped his coffee. "You're on."

Azzy hailed Harry. "Speaking of gambling, sir, we have a bet."

"I love it when a pretty woman calls me 'sir' and says 'bet' in the same sentence. What's that gamble we got going on?"

"I bet Sam that you are a card counter."

He tossed his head back and laughed like a coyote. A few diners glanced over. He knelt down and put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Hey, man. Don't you know better than to bet against a seoli on these matters?" He chuckled and pointed at Azzy. "You make sure he pays up." He walked away with a grin.

Sam glared at her and jabbed his fork in her direction. "That was dirty. If you wanted a back rub, you could have just put your bikini on again."

"I didn't know he was a card counter."

"Yeah, sure, sure." He grinned and took a bite. "I'm going to have to get a second job to pay up that ten."

"If I put my bikini on, will you forgive? Although I really didn't know."

"Don't buy it."

"No, I promise."

"Azzy, there's not a person on the planet who would look at Harry and think he's a card counter unless there was some inside," he tapped his temple, "information."

"Maybe that's why he gets away with it. I promise I didn't even try to read him. I swear. Honest bet."

"Oh, I'll pay up."

Azzy looked across the room at Harry as he picked up plates with all thirty thousand teeth showing. The middle aged woman and object of his shining smile was touching her sunburned cheek. She was a voyeur and obsessed about sex in public places.

She turned back to Sam. "Don't you think I'd tell you if I poked into everyone's head? Think of all the great stuff I'd pull out if I could do it as easily as looking at Harry and knowing he was a card counter without the slightest effort. I'm not that good. Besides, I wouldn't do it if I could."

"Okay. I give. If that's the case, then it's a risky bet. Very slim odds. I should probably pay you twenty times the original bet."

"Twenty back rubs and two hundred dollars?"

"Well, that's not what I had in mind, but if that's what you prefer."

They stepped out to be by the sea. "Azzy, do you still like Galen?"

"What do you mean? I don't like him."

"You said you didn't think he is a bad guy. That he didn't want to kill you."

"I remind him of Kats. A seoli, young woman. He liked me when he met me."

"He liked you, yet he used you and turned your life upside down, made you think you were crazy. Now he wants to kill you. I'm afraid that if you trust him, he'll trick you. He'll get you. Eventually we'll have to face him. We can't wait until we suspect he has sweat away to nothing."

"Look." She waved her hands and he glanced around. "No, you don't get it. It's the only way I know to be. Sorry, I want to be alone now. I'm going to try for more information. I won't daydream."

He called to her back. "You always run away. Why do you do that? Just talk to me."

She didn't. She went inside to the lobby, collapsed on the couch and sunk into a daydream before her head hit the pillows.

At some point during a night which, for Azzy, held no clocks, the band took a break and Harry caught her staring off on the couch in the lobby.

"Don't tell me he's so bitter he's making you sleep on the wicker."

Only her eyeballs moved at first, landing on the big man's shape. She wanted to pretend he wasn't there. "You don't hate brain snoopers?"

"Aw, no."

"I really didn't read you, Harry."

He laughed. "Sure you didn't. Good story."

She tried to hide her irritation at his interruption with a sleepy voice. "I really didn't."

He sat on an opposite couch, glanced around. "You sound like an old seoli girlfriend of mine. She was always telling me she never read me, but always popping out with something about me."

"You didn't believe her?"

"Hell, no. She had to have been. Honestly, I don't think she knew she was doing it. If you ask me," he leaned in close, "there's no such thing as an untrained seoli. The difference is where they keep their information."

"What do you mean?"

"Seolies are always getting other people's brain trash all the time. Can't help it, just like we take in moonlight each time we catch a moon ray in the eye. If you ask me, a seoli has lots of bags in their subconscious and that's where they stick the brain trash. They make it part of their own mind without knowing it's there. That's just my idea. Not too many people want to buy into it."

"Why not?" She sat up.

He scratched his beard. "I honestly don't think many bring out the trash into acknowledgment at all. You see, not too many seolies want to admit they get facts without knowing. I guess it doesn't feel like they are getting information in that they aren't aware of ever possessing it, so therefore they insist that they never took it. For example, she says, 'Harry, how would you like a peanut butter and pear preserves sandwich? I got some pear preserves at the store today on a whim.' I say, 'Quit reading my head. How'd you know I love those things? I ate them every day when I was growing up. You don't even like peanut butter.' She says, 'How many times do I have to tell you? I have never read you, not once. That's ridiculous. I just wanted to try it. It's a coincidence.' Do you see what I mean?"

Her attention faded as he paused. She flashed with images from her daydream, but she wanted to listen to this night person. He continued. "I think that's why you knew I was a card counter when you thought you were betting. Although your 'bets' are a lot more accurate than mine, I'm a lot more sure." He chuckled.

"That's hard to believe."

"Think about it. It makes sense in as much as the subconscious makes sense. Now, I'm going to get out of here before I fall in love with another seoli girl." He got up, patted her on the head, and walked away.

The daydream was mostly pushed down, but it crept back as she sat in silence, trying to focus on Harry's observation about "her kind". Her fingers turned stiff and skeletal as she tugged her hair in the sore places until her eyes watered.

Azzy found Sam on their bed reading a book. He started to apologize, but stopped his words and grabbed her head. "What happened? You're bleeding. Are you okay?"

She closed her eyes and explained that pain made the daydreams stop.

"You did this to yourself? Az, there has to be another way."

"What way?"

He held her close and suggested they try it his way.

Out on the beach in the light of the full moon, they sat side-by-side. "You're not allowed to run away. Yell at me all you want, but you're not allowed to run away."

She agreed.

"No hurting yourself."

Nod.

She would stare off for a while, then he would start conversation. She snapped at him a couple of times, but he kept her from dashing into the darkness. As dawn broke, Azzy initiated talk with Sam for the first time since they sat in the sand. "We have to go find him, Sam. I'm ready. I know a way to keep him from killing me."

"How?"

"I'll show him what Kathleen has shown me. Is there any way to prove to him that you couldn't have saved her when you were sixteen?"

"No."

"I have to open my mind to him. I read that seolies can do that to each other in order to give specific information. Push it into someone's mind, even. Once he knows what I see, I'm convinced he won't kill me, but I'm not sure if he'll still want revenge on you. I don't think he will."

"He's crazy, Azzy. He's not going to drop this because you can read his dead daughter."

"I believe that it is his character to do so."

"Why? After everything he's done, why?"

She reached out to his hair and tangled her fingers in the ends. "He is a touch mad, but once he sees that it was his affair that made everything bad happen to him, his self-guilt will win out. That is his character. He is not an evil person, just selfish and devastated at how his life is ruined. He has a very weak mind and gives in to his emotional reasoning."

"Why? Why would he do all this? I don't want you to risk your life."

"You said you trusted me. The only real risk I find is that we have to watch out that he's not working by himself. We already know he has friends who have helped him. We must try to catch him alone. He is a man who can be influenced, and we need to try to be the only ones there to influence him. We can do it."

Sunlight came over the island behind them and changed the color of the sea. "Show him about me, then. Show him what you know about me, if you can, about Ed. Maybe then he'll understand."

"No, that's not necessary."

"But if it will save you, you should."

"Nobody needs to know that." They watched each other's faces in the new day's light. Azzy did not voice it, did not need to, but she thought that if anyone were to know Sam's secret, it would destroy his life. "Even if he saw the images of you and what I know, he'd never believe it, right?"

"You don't think?"

"No. He might think I contrived the image."

"That's possible?"

She nodded with an honest face, but knew nothing. "I read about it."

"He'll believe that about Kathleen, don't you think?"

"No. I have images that could not be contrived. Sam, I am not very focused. I did not see the monster woman from Galen's point of view, although he has seen her. The things I will show him about her...I have absolutely no doubt that he will believe them. Please, let's find him."

He held her hand and pondered the turning waters. "I don't want to go there unless we have more protection. Even if Galen can cloud the sky, we can't go without others with us."

"I agree. Galen doesn't want to kill. It will be less likely that he'll try to hurt anyone when there are more people to hurt."

Sam sat still a little longer, then looked at the dark spots in Azzy's hair. "We should go to Chris, the one who sent you here. I don't think we should make any calls; we should just go to his house. If he's not there, then...Then we could go to another of the Rals I know. I don't know any of them as well as Chris, but I doubt Galen is watching all of them, if any. I don't know if they'll help, but we can try. Once we quietly get a group to go with us, then we can find Galen in Mobile. Somebody must know where he lives. I can contact the head of the government if I have to. She might be able to give us an address. We have to surprise him, like you said. We should –"

"Shh." She put her head on his shoulder. "One step at a time. We'll see what Chris thinks. I'll read a little more about this seoli information exchange before we go." She wondered if Sam had asked his friend in the sky about Ralle, but decided to mention it another time.

"Let's get out this afternoon."

12

It was a two hour drive from the airport in Arkansas to Chris's house. The late morning sun was bold, yet welcoming. Azzy drove.

Their body-clocks were off, but Sam was alert. He rode in silence next to Azzy and thought about Ed. During the day, he thought. He could do things during the day in the hot sunshine that could only be done under the light of the moon. He compared it to sitting in the freezing snow and imagining swimming in the summertime ninety-plus degree weather. He turned his palm up in the sunbeam coming in the closed sunroof window. He pictured a moonball growing, a small light blooming until it filled half his hand. He kept repeating the image, but nothing happened. He opened the sunroof and propped his left hand on the armrest between he and Azzy, light warming his forearm and hand. He watched his fingers, the lines on his palm. No moonball.

His mind drifted to the library he and Ed had spoken in on the night of the full moon. Their imaginations built it together. There was a feeling to each of these places they met in that was the same. He tried to feel it...Could he possibly use moonlight without actual moonlight?

He watched Azzy's hair toss around her face. He told her she looked great in sunglasses. She tipped them down and winked. She cranked the radio as "White Rabbit" began to play.

In one of their conversations, Sam told Ed that he thought it was amazing that the ageless moonlight never got tired of watching the world and always found something to be fascinated with. The spirit replied that he hadn't been bored since women started walking upright.

That feeling touched him, the one when they were together, talking. He flexed his awaiting hand. He was two players on a basketball court when he was with Ed. Were he playing one-on-one with Jeremy, it would be two-on-one. Two bodies thinking together, moving together. When he was not in direct contact with his moon light friend, it felt more like a two-player game again, but he had an entire stadium of ghost fans only he could see and hear.

He scratched Azzy's shoulder and called to her over the wind and music. "It's a good thing he trusts you, even though he's crazy."

Azzy spun her black glasses his way, reminding him of a bee. "What?"

"It's good he relates you to Kathleen, otherwise you couldn't get as much information from him as you have."

"He doesn't realize that he does. He consciously thinks of me only as a tool to hurt you with."

Sam tapped his knees to the song. She slapped his legs a few times, trying to keep rhythm. "Are you one of those drummers who drum when you're driving?"

"You caught me."

He laid his hand open on the armrest again. He watched his palm and imagined moonlight pushing through his veins. He thought of how shine looked in other night people's eyes, how beautiful and familiar it was to him. Seeing it made him feel his own at times, almost as though he could breathe the light or feel it moving inside him like a frosty drink after a long run.

There was only one thing in the world he wanted more than to not disappoint Ed, and that was to keep Azzy safe. His friend had been afraid, and Sam had never seen his fear before. He didn't know the spirit could be. There must be a way, there must be some solution. Sam didn't want power, he wanted peace. Was it true that sometimes the only way to peace was war? Otherwise, why would there have been so many battles? His lips tightened. Misunderstandings, bullies. He probably wouldn't even need to use it and he certainly would never use it again after this, if he could get the "magic" down. Never.

He was afraid. He remembered Ed covered in vines. Ed picked him because they were alike. Because he liked Sam. The others Ed picked must have been like Ed, too. He pushed up his sunglasses. He saw the glowing figure pick a purple flower, twirl. Eyes really can't tell about the vision, a vision of two fused imaginations, a world created by two daydream worlds. Although Azzy's daydreams were built of the minds of two people, the setting was all of her own. He and Ed fused conceptions of all the senses, yet they were actually nowhere in physical space. Sam could see the flower twirl, could smell the fragrance, like the perfume his mother wore when he was a child. He felt like he was flying over thick clouds, a crescent moon to his left. He was a million motions of wind and light at once. He smelled the flower, and for a flash could see the shine in his own eyes. A cold vibration, a basketball game and a glowing jawbreaker rested in the palm of his hand, brighter than sunlight.

He took off his sunglasses and stared at it. Had he stolen it? Was he about to get caught?

He'd never seen a moonball at noon. Sometimes in the early morning he could see one left to fade in the soft light, but never at high noon. He rolled it in his hand. Closed his fingers over it, squeezed. He looked around outside; the moon wasn't even in the sky.

He said nothing, shaking slightly.

"Sam, if banshees are so beautiful, then why do men fear them?"

He licked his lips and put his sunglasses back to his eyes. "What you see is an illusion. Their real bodies are dead and dry, and as their bitterness grows, their dry flesh cracks. They no longer exist when they finally crumble. Why do you ask?"

"Galen's bargain with Melanie is to live the rest of his life with her once he has made peace by avenging Kathleen's death."

"Oh." He rubbed his palms together, trying to stop his tremors. "Makes sense. No wonder he doesn't mind killing himself by watching us through water. Banshees make men into slaves so they can feel touched. Their banshee illusions are senseless, but their dead human bodies yearn for affection."

"Sad. He loves Melanie, but I got the impression something about her disgusted him."

"Yeah. Not only that, but he's not allowed to do anything without her permission once he lives with her."

They glanced at each other and flying hair touched.

They ate lunch before going to Chris's house. Sam said that although his wife, not a night person, would be up, Chris wouldn't rise until after two.

Around three, they walked up Chris's walk. "Azzy, you look beat."

"This is a beautiful place. I feel like I've been here. Maybe I saw it in your mind."

A dark-skinned Indian woman with graying hair answered. She welcomed Sam with many happy words. Azzy glanced over her shoulder at a bird bath in the yard. It was dry.

Introductions were made. Mina served them iced tea.

She was a needy woman and looked to others for acceptance all her life.

Mina made them feel as though they were a prince and princess come to visit. They sat at the kitchen bar and watched her as she prepared cheese and crackers. Neither had the heart to tell the enthusiastic woman they'd already eaten.

She was thrilled to tell them that Chris was back from his trip. "You know how he is, always running around the countryside exploring the world. He has been taking lots of short trips lately, you're lucky you caught him."

Chris seemed to catch the cue and he made his entrance. He wore his wet, long brown hair in a ponytail to his waist and spied on the world through small, round, gold glasses. His looses clothes fluttered as he walked into the room and floated around him as he hugged Sam. He looked familiar and Azzy thought she must have soaked his face from Sam's mind, as well as his house.

"Hi, Chris. This is Azzy."

"Snow Smith." He smiled and held out his left hand. She took his greeting. Did she make him nervous? Perhaps the slightly shaking fingers was discomfort with her being a seoli.

"Thanks for getting me out of Texas."

"You're welcome. What brings you two here? Did you work things out?" He rubbed his hands together.

"No. No, not yet."

"Really? What's wrong?"

Azzy's glass clambered to the countertop. "Oh, I'm sorry. Slipped through my hands. I haven't slept much." She wiped with her napkin. "We were wondering if you'd let us stay for a few days. We just need some place to rest."

Sam looked to her. She was playing rummy. Of course, he realized, he never would have known except that he knew this wasn't the first question on their minds. Nor did they "just" need a place to rest.

"Yeah." He turned back to Chris. "There are some things we need to do, but traveling has wiped us both out. Is it all right?"

Chris touched Mina's arm. "Okay with you?"

"Of course. It's a pleasure."

Azzy thanked her and explained that they had some things they wanted to do in town. "Don't wait up."

A block away form the house, Sam slowed down and faced her. Neither had thought to put on their dark eye wear. "What was that all about?"

"Chris is not your friend."

"What? I've known him for years."

"Wait." She pointed at the road and Sam accelerated, taking them out of the secluded country neighborhood and down the road to a gas station. He parked in the back by the car wash.

"Sorry, I wanted to look at you when we talked." She took his hands. "The house and Chris were somewhat familiar images, and I thought they were from you. They're not. He was hesitant when he shook my hand. A moment later, I realized that I don't know him from your mind. It's from Galen's mind. I've seen many faces in Galen's head, like I told you, and feelings that go along with it. It struck me as odd that Chris should be uncomfortable around me, so I looked at him carefully. I felt him out, I felt the connection to this man from Galen. They know each other well. Galen considers him a good friend, most helpful. That's why I blurted out that we wanted to stay and that we had things to do in town before we crashed."

"I can't believe this." He looked out the windshield at a car leaving the wash. "I mean, I do if you say so, but..."

"I know."

Another car pulled up and a man started filling air into his tires. "So you think he'll tell Galen we're here. You want him to come to us."

"Yes."

"But Chris wouldn't...Why would he do that?"

"I don't know."

"Are you sure? I mean, are you certain that you aren't getting him mixed up with faces and feelings in my mind?"

"It wasn't that way when I thought of you. I constantly daydreamed, never focusing on anything but stories, fantasies, getting little nuggets of facts as needed. Random rainfall in the desert. With Galen, I have been able to focus clearly at times, like when I scared myself while swimming to exhaustion. That's when I saw so many faces. Chris's was among them."

Sam took his hands back into his possession and rubbed his face. They heard the hissing air pump beside them and the man with the nozzle's whistle. "If what you say is true, we cannot go back there. We can't face Galen now. It just...I..."

Azzy murmured to the dash. "It must have been Chris who kept Galen up to date on your moves. Don't you think that makes sense?"

He closed his eyes. "No. No, it doesn't. Why would he do that? Of course, it crossed my mind that someone in the government might be passing the info on to Galen, but certainly not Chris. He was the one who helped me the most with the whole Ral thing. I was so angry at the reactions I was getting from all the night people, Azzy. I was so sensitive about it, about the name calling and whispers. I didn't want to be a Ral. Chris came to me and talked to me about everything, made me feel like it was okay – let them talk all they want because I know who I am. The people who cared about me knew who I was. He made me realize that that was all that mattered. It doesn't make sense. If he was in with Galen, why would he send you to the island where there was a library of knowledge at your disposal? Why wouldn't he have let Galen know where you were?"

"I know, I know how crazy it sounds. I know. I just know it's the truth."

He held the steering wheel and twisted his hands around it, making a rubbery sound. "I have to just ask him."

"I don't think that's a good idea. He'll lie. He's obviously very good at it. Then he'll know we're on to him. It could be more dangerous."

His knuckles whitened. "How could I tell the difference if he lied or told the truth? Azzy, I do trust you, but I'm pretty good at picking up on who's good to take stock in. I just can't see how this man I've known and trusted for years would do what you're saying."

"Chris caught you in a time where you needed the kind of understanding words he offered. I have a feeling he's very good at false sincerity."

Sam continued to shake his head and Azzy let him have his thoughts for some time. He released the steering wheel. "Damn it, you think it was Chris who gave him my email address? It's not listed on the Internet; I made sure of that when all of this started and I opened another account."

She touched her fingertips to his cheek, but he didn't feel it. A breeze blew through the open window. After a moment, Sam took her hand from his face and squeezed with too much pressure. "Do you think he could tell?"

"That I knew about him and Galen? I don't know, but I think that he'd expect us to run if I did."

He started shaking his head again.

"Sam, what is there to lose if I'm wrong?"

He sighed.

"If I'm wrong, then Chris is your friend and he will understand that you have a paranoid seoli for a girlfriend. He won't be mad when you are overly cautious for her life."

He rubbed his face.

"What is there to lose if I'm right?" She leaned her head onto his shoulder.

Sam tipped his head to hers and spoke slurred words of a mouth just popped by a wooden fist. "Then we have to make sure he knows we're coming back."

"I have a plan. When does the moon rise?"

He told her he thought it would be around ten o'clock.

"I saw a caller ID box in their kitchen. We can call later and they will see the local phone number."

"I...I can find a way to contact some people to help us. If this is right, then we can't work alone."

Azzy reached back up to his neck. "I am convinced I can keep Galen back. I don't know about Chris or what he wants out of all this. I will try to get a line on him while we work out things for tonight."

Sam groaned, shook his head several more times. He wrapped an arm around the woman beside him. "Okay. I trust you more than anyone. We will be all right." Her lips were cool and soft on his. "We'll be just fine. Just need coffee. Coffee and the Internet."

"Jeremy! I'm glad you came early. Your friend Sam called."

"What? Where is he? Is he okay?"

The mother of the unseen twelve-year-old night person patted his arm. "He had our number in his email account. I wrote down some information for you."

Lori pulled up her work email and tapped her desk with her pen, muttering, "I don't know this address. Delete? Trick porno spam? Nah." As she read, her blonde eyebrows arched. After she finished, she gazed out at the darkening sky. "What is Sam doing? Well, I could use a little adventure, although there's not much to go on in this email." She repeated the words "could be very dangerous" and decided that they didn't reveal anything at all. To her, it was like being told to keep her hands inside the roller coaster car. She would never have the strength to make it that far on her own in the light of the moon, but that's what airplanes were for. She just had to get about six hundred miles closer, and she'd be fine.

Jeremy's mother came to Veronica's house after sunset. "Let's go for a walk."

Sam's mother laughed at the woman. "We haven't taken a walk since we both had dogs. Ten years ago, maybe?"

"Veronica, I need to work on my thighs. Lets go." Once down the drive, she whispered that she was afraid someone might be listening in at Veronica's house. Their jaws worked and their eyes stretched. "I can't make it that far to help. I want to go, I really do. I—"

Veronica squeezed her shoulder. "Don't worry. It will be okay."

"Oh, god, you know I want to go. If your husband was home, I wouldn't feel so badly about it."

"I guess I could try to call him in Boston, but I don't want to try. I don't know if he could make that distance, either, and it's too late to catch a plane. It's better that he not have to sit and worry."

"He was very emphatic about the possible danger and that he didn't want any night people contacted other than those who trusted him."

She nodded. "I trust him. I've suspected he had some secret for years. Maybe that's what he's protecting."

"Whatever the case, the Ral Chris would be believed before Sam. That might be the cause of the hush."

"Perhaps it's both."

Sam was as cautious as he could be in contacting his people, although he didn't know if it mattered. He made one last phone call to Chris to say they wouldn't be back until around midnight. His stomach cramped as slow, steady words were delivered to the man on the other end. Could Chris hear his throat constrict as he thanked him for his help?

Azzy had been left to her inner eyeball and a cup of joe at a table in the dining part of the Internet caf?. He didn't let her out of his sight. When Sam returned to her, her coffee was gone and head on the table. He leaned over to see if her eyes were open.

"Az?"

"Too tired."

He pet her head. "Let's take a ride." He lit a smoke and was out the door before he could be yelled at.

Sam drove aimlessly.

"Don't get lost. You need your sleep, too."

"I'm fine. Kick back, put your head in my lap." She did. After five minutes of his fingers in her hair, she worried no more on the conscious level. Her dreams were thick and dimensions seemed to have fourths.

Sam turned the radio off to listen to her breathe. After a few miles, he rolled down the windows and thought about Azzy's ability, which he felt was a thousand times more magnificent than his own. His skin had crawled with pleasure and fear the first time she spoke to him on the cabin porch at the Gai Lodge. She had known so much about him, so many things.

She seemed to weigh more than before.

The moon had not yet risen. When he, Lori and Jeremy were teenagers and first putting gas petals to the floorboards, they'd drive around and hit mailboxes at night on open streets, but not with baseball bats. Lori couldn't play, but she loved to watch. The game was Jeremy's idea, and although at first Sam was uneasy about it, he found himself to be the one suggesting it on slow, moonlit weekend nights. There was much joyful competition until it made the news that mailboxes were being knocked down by unusual means and their parents came down on them. He smiled to think of it and his hair fluttered onto his lips.

Sam held a hand out the window and tried to remember how he had felt earlier that afternoon. He was on a long country road with no mailboxes, but there was the occasional street sign. The car drove steadily along, bare arm hanging out the side. The vehicle only swerved once, simultaneously as a thin flash of light cut the air, screaming, and knocked a sign proclaiming "Old Creek Road" to a thirty degree angle with the earth. The crisp smell tickled his nose as Azzy's head hit the steering wheel.

"What! What noise?"

"Nothing, Azzy. Go back to sleep."

"Mmm." She shook her head, then curled into a ball.

He rubbed her hair again, but left the windows down. His fingers shook against her ear, but she didn't notice. He told himself he probably wouldn't even have to do it. He shouldn't get too worked up about it. Azzy knew what she was talking about, and the moon would be out. He puckered his lips and blew air out as though it were cigarette smoke.

Lightening without moonlight. He continued to shake, but not so much from the strange thrill this new level of ability brought to him. His vision faded for a moment, and he thought of the fifteen or so street signs he had driven past without a peep from his palm. Old Creek Road's letters had only been seen for a second, then they disappeared, giving him the image of Galen's face next to that of Chris.

He had told Azzy he would wake her at ten so she could work on getting information from Chris, but as he parked on an empty, dark road flanked by fields, he glanced to her sleeping body molded to the opposite door and couldn't bring himself to shake her from her dead slumber.

The moon had risen over the field to his right. He climbed on the car hood and stared into the white face.

They met in what seemed to be the middle of a field. High grass swayed and instead of sounding like whispers, Sam heard soft chimes. Streaks of light trickled down the moving blades.

Ed listened to Sam and Azzy's plan. He said that he knew nothing of the boundaries of what seolius could do, didn't know if they could read the dead. "I know nothing of afterlife." He combed the grass. "I wish I knew where spirits like you went. Where ever it is, moonlight does not touch there."

Sam stretched his legs out and flattened the high, weed-like plants. "I want to tell you. I want you to know that I tried it today. I could do it. I worked moonlight without the moon, even in the high sun."

Ed didn't look up and the grass found its way around Sam's legs, making it more difficult to see his friend.

"You should know. I don't want to hide anything from you. I have to try, just in case Azzy's wrong and Galen still tries to kill her. I'm afraid of what Chris wants. He's a much more skilled fighter than I am, but if I can get some kind of edge if I need it, well, I should learn. For her." Sam turned his palms up to the thick starry sky and saw dots of light reflecting on his flesh. "Ed, why would he do this?"

"I didn't know Chris was against you. I saw nothing."

"Of course, I know you didn't. I trusted him. I still only half-believe it." He ran his fingers up a blade and watched strange light squeeze upwards with the pressure. "But Azzy made a good point in that we would be better safe than sorry." He let go of the blade and fiddled with another. "I know how worried you are about my learning to do the things you say I can. I don't blame you." He thought of the street sign and the faces it held.

Ed was still and wind blew louder chimes.

"I was wrong."

"About what, Sam?"

"I said I could freeze forests in your imagination. That's not right. The truth is that I can fly around the world in yours, and that's the best there is. That alone is more than I could ask for, but now I want to help her. Please tell me you understand."

Ed stretched his bright legs and flattened weeds between them. They stayed down. "I knew you did it today. I was there. Couldn't you tell? When you succeeded in your attempts, I was there. I was with you."

The chimes seemed to have more structure, sounding more like distant clock bells. He watched the dots of light brighten on his hand and arm. "Yeah. I guess I knew."

They enjoyed their surroundings, Sam watching the strange lights of the grass and Ed doing the same.

"Prophetic would be to tell you I'm not going to let you down, Ed. If I say it, then it seems almost certain that I will." He smiled. Ed almost returned it. "What I will say is that I don't want to and that I'll do everything I can to keep it from happening. With the people I called coming, I don't see that we need to worry. I don't."

The chiming deepened, sounding more like enormous church clock bells than before. "I trust you, Sam."

The two of them were linked inside each other, and that is why Sam felt most sharply the fear living in the moonlight.

Azzy awoke and peered up through the window to the unblinking man on the hood of the car. She felt she was eavesdropping, but she folded her arms on the dash and watched. Finally, her sense of respecting his privacy overcame her admiration, and she leaned back to watch the moon. Clear skies, thank all.

She closed her eyes and mustered up Chris's face. She was overcome with his loyalty to the government and to night people in general. Many people came to him for help. He knew countless secrets. He most enjoyed those seeking his confidence, feeling he did all of his kind good when he could help another night person.

Could she have been wrong about seeing his face in Galen's mind? Was she fooling herself? If not, could Galen be blackmailing him? That didn't fit, either. It wasn't Galen's way to blackmail someone he had nothing against.

If that were true, why would Galen use her without her consent or knowledge?

She didn't see the moonlit field or the figure of the night person on the hood. She felt Galen. It had not bothered him to use her. He didn't think of it as manipulating her, but subconsciously he thought of it as giving Kathleen a chance to get even. He connected the two of them without being aware of it, a man who knew not why he did many of the things he did. Emotional man, but not evil. Easily manipulated when his emotions are touched because he never takes the time to understand why he feels the way he does.

Now he wants to kill the woman who reminds him of his daughter. Easily manipulated, but by who? By Chris? Soon it would be by her, by her mind, by the images stored in her memory. Her conscious memory.

Azzy disliked Galen with syrupy pity. She didn't hate him as Sam did. She understood him, and that made it impossible to hate.

Night people were in the air, heading this way.

She tried Chris again. She thought about the trip he supposedly had taken recently. To her surprise, she saw him in the desert at night, resting high on a rock as though sunbathing. He loved his trips, what Mina had said was true. He took many of them. Why? Azzy squinted at the waning moon as though it had a lunar flare. She felt Chris in the moonlight. He works things out. On his own in the quiet, emptiness of night, he could work things out. Little things took only a night, maybe a few days. There have been times when he went off for weeks at a time. Once, for a year. He wanted to be perfect, he wanted a depth of understanding that everyone would admire.

He had taken many of these trips lately, as Mina said.

From the way Sam had described him, everyone felt the respect for him that he searched for.

Azzy tapped into Mina's mind, seeing only Chris. Her identity was completely wrapped up in the man's happiness. She felt as though she failed him every time he flew off into the night to find solace in the moonlight.

Sam rejoined her in the car. "You're awake."

"Perceptive. I've been thinking."

"Reading in the dark? Don't you know that's bad for brain cells?"

She told him what she had learned. They talked and smoked cigarettes as the moon climbed out of the view of the windows. At twelve thirty, Sam pulled her out of the car and hugged her for several minutes. "We'll be okay. You won't get touched. I promise."

"You always say that."

"Have I been right so far?"

"You and your mouth."

"You've never complained about it before."

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, Azzy."

"Let's go."

13

The lower parts of Azzy's legs moved like those of a marionette's as they walked up the walk to Chris's front door. A few lights were on.

Chris let them in and asked if he could make them a couple of drinks. They accepted coffee and iced tea. Everyone was smiling.

"All this caffeine. I thought you two would be beat."

Sam looked down into the dark liquid. "I drink so much of this stuff, it's like a sedative to me."

Azzy thought he was most natural.

Sam requested that they sit out on the back porch for a while to unwind. "I know it's dark, Az, but you should see their back yard. It's beautiful. Lots of space."

As they walked out and settled in, Chris gave Mina most of the credit for the landscaping.

Sam sat where he could see the entire yard. "Where is Mina?"

"Already asleep, sorry to say. She wanted to stay up to see you, but she was beat. Figured she'd get more chances to see you in the next few days." He turned off the kitchen light behind them and lit a couple of candles on the table.

Azzy said, "I hear water. Do you have a fountain?"

"Yes," Sam said. "There's a statue of the Roman goddess Luna in the middle."

Chris chuckled. "That was actually Mina's idea. It was a birthday present."

Azzy wished for the thousandth time she could see the moons in the two men's eyes. How much brighter was Chris? Her mind drifted into this question as Sam's eyes scanned the yard. She touched the older man's mind as he resettled his ponytail, pulling hard, as she imagined dandelions coming out of his scalp rather than the long tresses. She focused on his eyes, on his thoughts of his eyes. He couldn't see his own shine, of course. He could see Sam's. He thinks it is strange, bluish. He cannot compare, but he can listen. He has heard people say it out loud. Sam's shine, so bright. Maybe brightest of all, you think? Brighter than any Ral I've met.

"Seriously, Chris, thanks for letting us stay here."

"No problem. Glad you two are okay."

Chris sounded sincere, but as Sam stared into the perfect lawn, his ears did not hear Chris's questions. He did not ask what had happened. He did not want to know what he could do to help.

"So, what did you two do all day?"

Sam rubbed his neck. "Had to look up some stuff on the Internet. We ate out."

"That's too bad. We have access here."

"Well, don't want to spend too much time in one place, especially for your and Mina's sake. Don't want to put you in any more danger than we have to."

Azzy almost wanted to applaud how well Sam kept sarcasm from his voice.

"Thanks, but don't worry about us. Nobody will find you here. You're safe."

Sam and Azzy had considered that they most likely wouldn't face Galen until sunrise, but they had to find a way to push the situation so that confrontation, if any, would take place in the moonlight. Sam waited for the go-ahead sign. He watched the yard.

Tension grew, like mist clouding into a thunderstorm. Azzy thought that each chit-chat word grew a charged ion.

As Azzy sipped the last bit of iced tea, Chris rose to gather her another. The door slid shut and Sam saw a moonball flash in the yard. Azzy didn't miss it and the two exchanges glances.

Chris came back and delivered Azzy's drink. Would he have drugged it? Sam patted Azzy's hand. "Be right back. Bathroom." He left the sliding door cracked and walked straight to the bathroom, which was down a lit hallway behind the kitchen area. There were two other closed doors. Before going in, he glanced back to the lit staircase on the other side of the living room. It led to an upstairs den. There was a bathroom up there, too. Sam had spent the night in that room once. He remembered that it had been the first night of peaceful sleep he had had since he was called a Ral. Chris had talked him into a state of comfort; he felt understood that night. Was it only a few years ago?

Could Galen be up there? Was he behind this bathroom door?

Sam forgot to turn on the light. He didn't need to; he could see perfectly. The tub was dry, as was the floor. His chest tightened and he left the small room. He walked soundlessly to the study door a few steps down. With hand as gentle as falling feathers, he tried the knob. Locked. He fought the urge to breathe loudly. He eased down to the door at the end of the hall. The master bedroom. He listened, hearing nothing. This doorknob yielded and he opened the door. The bed was made, empty of the supposedly sleeping Mina.

Sam leaned back against the wall, one small gasp escaped him. He knew. He knew. Chris's lying face took the place of the empty, gray bed. His teeth squeaked in his mouth as his jaw tightened. His hands fisted and he took a step out of the room. His only thought, only image in his mind was smashing the man's head into the tabletop outside. Then he remembered Azzy, alone with him on the porch. Not alone, though. No, she was being watched. His breath stopped as did his ability to make decisions. A plan. Wasn't there a plan? Galen. If Galen were here, attacking Chris would be a very bad move. They had to keep it quiet until the time was right.

Closing the door, he explored the room, heart pounding and full of needles. He went for the bathroom.

In shades of gray and black, Sam peeked into the empty room. The garden tub was dry, as was the floor. He left the bathroom and touched the door to the walk in closet. His hand trembled slightly, but he turned the knob without a sound. He didn't notice his knees bend, bracing himself for the wet man who might lurk on the other side.

The closet was full of clothes, shoes, boxes. A hamper crouched against the far wall, anticipating him. Sam rubbed his face and backed out. He paused, eyeing the hamper. He walked to it, lifted the lid as though winding a jack-in-the-box. Nothing but dirty clothes. He ran his hand on the rim, then reached into the pile. Down, down to the bottom, where his hand touched something damp. He tightened his hands around the cloth and pulled it out. A towel. A very wet towel. He reached back in. More dampness. Blue jeans. Wet blue jeans and a soaked button down shirt. Sam heard his heart beat inside his ears and through the air, and for a moment he cursed his sensitive hearing. He simply could not turn it off this time. He dropped the clothes back inside and moved as slowly as he could allow himself back to the bedroom door. He listened for motion or noises outside the door, but all he could hear was his pulse. Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he cracked the door. Nothing beyond, just a lit up, empty hallway.

In the light of the hall, he looked down to his transparent hands and feet. How long had he been invisible? He slipped up to the locked door and looked out to the staircase across the den. Should he go there? Another bathroom, and surely that's where Chris intended for them to sleep. Kind, understanding, hospitable Chris. Galen was somewhere near by, but where? Could Sam pass to the stairs without Chris looking back to see him go?

Sam decided it was best to work with this door first before risking the hated Chris seeing him snoop. He didn't want Chris to follow, didn't want the confrontation inside. It had to be under the light of the moon, where he had friends to back him. He had to bring Galen out.

Sam held his finger to the hole in the doorknob, digging his thumb nail up under his index nail. It was the trick he used to pull on his siblings when they locked their bedroom doors. Oh, how they hated him for it. He flicked the electric pulse into the lock. Chink. He listened, but still his heart beat denied audio knowledge. He turned the knob and peered inside.

The study was empty, only a bookshelf and desk. A small storage closet door rested in the wall in the other side of the room.

The door had been locked. Why? Was he in the closet? Sam had seen the closet before and he doubted that anyone could fit in the tiny space between the shelves and the door, and certainly not John Galen. But why was the door locked? Sam had to check, although it was unlikely.

As he moved across the floor, halfway through he heard a sound, like walking in wet tennis shoes. His shoes were dry. He dropped to the floor, dipping his fingers into the carpet. It was soaked as though a hot tub party had been going down seconds earlier, in a space that was large enough to be a man's body, lying down.

Azzy and Chris sat in silence after Sam left. Chris looked more to the glass door than to the beautiful night. The man inhaled his soda.

"I can slightly see the shape of the fountain now. I want to get a better look at it tomorrow."

"Of course."

"So you and Sam have been friends for a few years now?"

He nodded and looked into his shallow drink.

Her jaw clenched, but her tongue won. She felt safe; unseen friends were watching. "That was nice of you to help him when he was having such a hard time. So many people must have been jealous. After all, he is so young to be a Ral. Most people have to work their whole lives to achieve it, right? At least that's what Sam's friend Jeremy told me."

He rattled ice and looked back through the door. "Some people aren't at peace with themselves."

"Yes. I know."

He looked at her with eyes just rolled out of bed, and swallowed the last bit of his beverage. "Going for more." He rose, pulled his loose shirt down, and went inside.

Her breathing faced unevenness and darkness crept in the sides of her already black vision. She stole to the brightness of the moon and whispered, "We'll be okay."

Sam watched his invisible palm make a print in the wet carpet. Galen had been here, breathing on the other side of the door as Sam held his finger to the lock hole. Now he was gone. To where? The fountain? Too shallow. Sam must move, must find Azzy, make sure she is safe.

He pushed into the carpet as he rose, but didn't make it all the way up. A bigger, invisible body shoved him to the ground. A fist knocked the wind out of him.

Sam made a noise most supernaturally painful and he rolled on his side. "Chris?"

His answer was another slam to the gut, this time with a foot. He was battered on the right side of his face, feeling the cold metal of Chris's wedding ring.

Chris picked him up and dragged him to the closet. He dug boxes out of the floor space and replaced them with Sam's mostly limp body. He locked the door, propped a chair under the knob. He also locked the door to the study on his way out and exited from the front of the house, unseen.

Sam gasped and cramped, curled into a forced ball at the bottom of the tiny closet. He bent his arm out from his body and laid it across the bottom of the door. He felt for the locked door knob, a tight squeeze between the shelf above him and the hard wood. He rubbed the cool brass without knowing why he did so, until his ears pounded him with a distant scream.

Azzy watched the yard, wishing that one of the night people would give her another reassuring flash. Nothing happened. She waited.

The sliding door opened. "Sam?" She turned.

"Not Sam." The man appeared to be showering where he stood. She jumped to her feet, listening to the sound of water patter on the wood porch. Two wet hands grabbed her shoulders. She opened her mouth, so much to say, all the things she planned to say, but moonlight was her enemy and it caught him in the face. She saw him clearly, eyes that seemed to be crying on the outside as well as in. Facial bones built like jagged rocks in a stream bed guided nasty torrents of liquid over the devastatingly thin man. She left her mouth open, but instead of carefully planned verbal reasoning, she wailed.

He dragged her down the porch steps and into the yard. How could he have such strength? He pulled her toward the dark shadow of the goddess Luna and the louder falling water. Azzy heard the air scream and a bush to their right burst into flames. Galen stopped. Her nose burned. Another flash came from the left and Galen's left arm flailed.

"Damn it! Damn you people!"

"Let her go," said a woman with a smooth, high voice. "You'll get more freeze if you don't. She's done nothing wrong."

Galen rubbed his stiff arm on his wet shirt. "None of your business. Stay out of this. I don't want to hurt anyone else, but I will if I have to."

Azzy recognized Jeremy's voice. "We'll kill you if we have to. Let her go."

Water washed Galen bones. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes as another woman, voice tinged with gravel, cursed him. Light flashed beside a dark tree and Galen stomped in place. His foot was chilled by the unseen night person.

The air felt damp.

The high-voiced woman spoke. "We can talk this out reasonably like the people we are, not beat each other to death like monsters."

Monsters, Azzy thought. She had wanted to tell him something about monsters. What was it?

The woman continued. "There must be some part of you that can understand that, that can do that."

"Oh, god," Jeremy gasped.

Azzy looked up at the sky. Hazy. A thin cloud danced with the moon, creating a halo, then it thickened in seconds. There was no longer a moon, only a faint glow.

The night people began to shout. Someone tried to pull her away from Galen, but the sweaty man turned his stiff palm to the invisible person and wind passed Azzy's face. The cloud above thinned for a moment as she heard a woman scream. Azzy could see her now, fallen against a small tree from the force of Galen water burst. She heard the leaves above still shaking from the impact.

Another tried to break his hold on her, and after Galen's hand spit another ball of water, she saw Jeremy lying on the ground, groaning.

The clouds thickened again as they walked to the fountain, and as they reached it, rain began to fall.

The other woman tried to stop him as he grabbed Azzy's hair, and Galen released her. He dipped his fingers in the water, then into the darkness beside him, and Azzy saw the woman, recognized as Sam's mother, fall to the ground gagging. It was very fast, and Azzy simply stood as still as the statue beside her, watching.

Galen turned back, picked her up and dumped her in the fountain.

"Wait. I have to tell you something."

He folded her face-down to the water. Her damp hair pushed to the side and she felt rain drops on her neck.

"Let me sp—"

He pushed her face in.

Sam's eyes watered in frustration at the sound of the yells. He did everything but bite the closet door. He had to focus, had to calm down. He reached up for the locked door again and tried to aim for the lock hole. Doing it without being able to see knob would be difficult. He missed three times. He restrained himself from kicking the walls in panic, hoping he wouldn't run out of fingernails.

He leaned back as well as he could and tried to drown out the sound of voices outside. He tried to think of Ed, of what he could do earlier that day. He imagined the moonball in the bright sunlight, but could see it as well as he could see the doorknob. Instead of using his mind's eye, he used his mind's voice and ears. He asked Ed for help, with no reply. His foot cramped and he took off his shoes.

Closing his eyes and leaning forward, he asked again. Sam could almost hear his voice, but there were no words. Just inflections and smoothness; even his voice gave off luminescence. For a moment, both the world around and inside him was silent.

Sam's mental lips moved, but he did not ask for help. He said that he read Crime and Punishment, finally, after he met Azzy in California. He told Ed that he had been afraid to read it, afraid that it would be about him. Sam's monologue discussed the ideas in the story, the style of the writing. He mentioned how well he liked the detective. He was almost certain Ed replied. It didn't matter whether it was actually him or not. Sam could hear the voice, knew the words he might have said if they were sitting in some glowing, spacious closet sharing thoughts.

He tried his aim again, missed, but got it on the next. He heard the lock turn and he twisted the doorknob. Icy cries filled up under his skin and threatened his brain as the door would not budge, but this time Sam could push panic down. He thought with stillness for only a moment, realized the door was blocked, then maneuvered his body to where his feet faced the door.

"Jackrabbit, think jackrabbit." he mumbled, then paused with his feet in the air. "No, jackrabbit crossed with an elephant." His legs began pumping.

Azzy was aware enough to hold her breath, and the shock of a watery death brought her mind back into focus. She did not struggle, but with every bit of mental imagery and strength she could muster, because that's as wide as she could be, she made a picture. A few bubbles escaped her, tickling her cheeks on their way to the surface.

The hand on her neck loosened. Azzy came up for air.

A couple of teenagers in the neighborhood drinking stolen parental liquor stayed up late by the pool. They mentioned how strange it was that the air had become so dry in the last fifteen minutes or so. Maybe they'd both had too much to drink.

Azzy heard the pouring rain mixed with the splashing fountain as her image broke up and she sucked in air. Her stomach cramped and she threw up into the water. Spit rolled down her chin as she tried to focus. What had she done? Her stomach ate her from the insides, her head throbbed. Galen stood outside the stone rim, holding his hands to his head.

"Galen."

He clenched his teeth so hard that she heard them grinding above noise of the water. "What..."

"Galen, look into my mind. I can read her, look."

"It hurts. How could you..."

She wrapped her hands around her chest and shivered. "I won't push again. Just look."

"Ah," he gasped, and rubbed his temples. "You're full of delusions." He opened his mouth as though popping his ears.

"No delusions."

He opened his eyes. Even in the darkness, she could see the rain mixing with the water from his own body. Shaking his head, he removed his hands. "You think you can fool me with your contrived imagery?"

"Not contrived. Look."

He reached to her again.

"You have nothing to lose by looking. You'll be able to tell I didn't form these pictures. You'll feel it like I have." He took her by the back of her neck. "Galen, think of what you lose if you don't look. You miss out on her, the possibility of once again touching her mind."

"She has no mind; she's dead."

"Her body is, but her heart is not." He squeezed her skin to burn. "Just see inside me. I have it right here for you."

"How do you learn so much? How did you push that image to me? You are a liar."

"Do you want me to show you more, force it upon you? I will. I'll do it until you see what I want you to see. There's a less painful way. Take it, I know you can. If then you don't believe me, well, there's nothing more I can do." She doubted she could do that thing again. Her knees loosened, but he held her up by her neck. Her throat constricted and threatened another spew.

He released her. She stumbled, then stood straight, losing her already dark, wet vision. "Azzy, I never thought you to be a liar."

"See why she was afraid of water."

"I know why."

"No, you aren't aware of the real reason. Look." She spit up more juices and leaned back, grasping the foot of the hard goddess Luna.

Unseen Sam hopped up on the fountain rim directly beside Azzy and Galen. He wouldn't let Chris have the opportunity of watching his footprints again. Azzy must have her chance to try, but Galen was not going to put her face below once more.

John Galen placed his fingers on Azzy's face like alien suction cups and stared at her mouth, then her nose. Sam saw water pouring out of the corners of his eyes, but not tears. Where did the man store so much liquid? It seemed to wash in and out of him like Sam's moonlight when in flight.

The three previously slammed night people grouped around the fountain. Lori bumped shoulders with a man. She thought it was Jeremy, but a second later realized that it could be Chris. She eased back.

Sam held a hand out to Azzy's shoulder, inches away. He couldn't touch her, but he held his hand out all the same so that maybe somehow she would know he was there.

All at once, the rain weakened and Galen released Azzy, falling to his knees. His forehead rested on the rim of the fountain and he cradled his cold arm. "How?" His throat gurgled with water, making him sound like a heavy smoker in the morning. "Not possible."

"You can see that it is."

Galen rocked back to sit on his feet. Sam thought it a perfect opportunity to jump on the man, but he resisted. Light rain tapped through the leaves and grass, carrying on life as usual. "I felt her. I felt her as I know her. How could that be, how?"

"I have no answers."

Galen licked his thumb of water. Shook his head. "My fault. That's what you tell me? All of it is my fault?"

Azzy said nothing.

The man pushed his hands into his black hair, sobbed softly. Sam imagined that he cried tears of air. Galen repeated that he had felt Kathleen as he knew her.

"How could I contrive that? I can feel her as you do when I read you, but I cannot sustain the effort to cover entire images. You saw them – things from your memory, from your point of view, then things from her vision. You felt her. That's who she is. You saw things you never knew happened, also things you'd long forgotten, but she hasn't."

"You say I killed her."

"I say nothing."

Galen fell onto all fours, then slowly rose to his feet. He would not look at Azzy. He whispered through the faint drizzle, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He turned away.

A voice behind them, towards the house, spoke with the evened tone of a spider dropping from a thread. "John, you don't really believe you caused her death, do you?"

The man did not reply. He stood still, head down.

Sam's eyes widened as though letting more light in would grant him Chris's figure.

The older night person continued. "She'd do whatever she could to save her life."

"It's no trick, Chris. I saw. I know. Real images."

"Whether or not she fools you makes no difference. This is not about how Kathleen came to be in the water that night; it has to do with the man who refused to save her out of selfish cowardice."

Azzy tilted her head to the clouds. They were thinning and she could see the round shape of a hazy moon.

"Killing this woman would be like drowning my Kats again, with my own hands."

"Kats would be alive today if Sam had helped. Remember, that's what this is about, not ghosts from your past."

"I'm going home."

"Before you go, think for a moment. Think back to that night. Think how she looked, cold and wet on the deck of that boat. Can you speed back to your home tub leaving this boy unpunished for what he has done? Or, should I say, did not do? He'll do it again. He'll do it to some other poor family because he does not have the mental strength and courage to properly use the gift given him." Sam hissed through his teeth. Azzy glanced his way.

Chris's voice was closer. "He is the reason for all of this, not some old, long-gone memory of a chain of events. If it weren't for Sam, you'd be able to read your daughter for yourself."

Sam crouched down, speaking deeply in anger. "Why, Chris? Why do you hate me?"

Jeremy spoke from behind Galen. "I've known Sam all my life. If he could have saved her, he would. He wasn't strong enough at that age."

The sound of Chris was even, full of wise confidence and touched with a speckle of sadness. "We all know the truth about that, Jeremy. He's fooled you too, just like he fooled all the people on the fishing boat that night to believe he was nothing more than an ordinary Joe. We all know that anyone four years from being a Ral could have started her heart. He is a coward, and must learn that there's no place for cowardice in a man with his strength."

Veronica's tone matched her son's. "He's not a coward. You are, Chris, for turning against your own kind and your friend. He looked up to you. You should know as well as all of us that if he could have saved her, he would have."

"You are blind. Of course, John, they would be loyal. They are all sightless from years of his charm. Think, all of you, what the government board would say on the matter? Those who don't know him? The answer would be so obvious, you'd cry when you realized it. What would they say, do? They would shame him as he should be shamed. There would be punishment."

Veronica spoke louder. "Even if they wouldn't believe him, there wouldn't be death. You're right that I'm blind. When I thought of loyalty to night people, I thought of you. You dedicated your life to our ways and know our secrets because as a whole we believed you'd never betray us. Why are you doing this?"

"I am not betraying. I am protecting from a person like Sam, who, given a strength he never worked for at an impossibly youthful age, will misuse what he has. Nobody so young should have so bright a shine. I guarantee that if he doesn't learn his lessons now, he'll eventually do far worse than neglect saving a young woman's life."

Lori splashed water in the fountain. "You're jealous."

"I have nothing to be jealous of. I have worked for and learned my power. I have respect for what is given to me and for what I have grown into. What you and he do not understand is that with that kind of strength comes a responsibility learned while acquiring it, including accepting the risk of being noticed in order to save someone's life."

Lori hopped up on the fountain rim beside Sam, suspecting he was there from the direction of his voice. She stood tall. "That's bullshit. You're jealous because you wish it had been you at his age."

"Yes," Azzy whispered.

Chris ignored them. "John, please think before you go. Think about Kathleen. Think about the next man with your pain due to Sam's immaturity. The only way for him to understand how wrong he was is to experience it himself, losing a loved one because of his own folly. In this case, the folly would be his neglect to save Kathleen. If he doesn't learn, he'll do it again."

Sam faced Galen, but addressed Chris. "If you really feel this way, then why didn't you come to me? Why help Galen destroy my life?"

Azzy squeezed her wet arms. "He was never your friend, and was Galen's long before he came to 'help' you. He's been plotting on the sly because he'll do anything not to look bad in the eyes of the rest of the night people. He is afraid that if they heard about this, you wouldn't be punished."

Chris stayed serene. "Seolies sometimes see what they want."

Sam watched Azzy this time as he spoke. "Chris, why would you send Azzy to the island and not tell Galen where she was? I don't understand that."

The darkness from the direction of the house was silent. Azzy answered for him. "He didn't want you to know he was against you. If you knew, others would find out how hateful he is. Think; as soon as Roy in Galveston called Chris to set up the flight, Galen was on his way. No sooner. I don't think he believed I'd make it to the island, but once I did, he probably figured I couldn't stay long, thought I couldn't really learn from books. He wanted to keep looking good, sending me to the right place to be, all the while in some way staying loyal to night people by not giving out the location of the secret place. I doubt he had any reports of seolies being watched. He believed that I could not learn on my own and would have to return."

Galen looked into the darkness. "You knew where she was?"

"I couldn't get in touch with you before I left for my trip, which I absolutely had to take. I fully intended on letting you know as soon as I could reach you. As it is, she came to me the day I returned."

The clouds stopped thinning as Veronica held out her hands in attempts to catch moonlight.

"John." Sadness filled his voice now. "I did not neglect to save Kathleen. I have done everything I morally could to help you teach Sam a lesson he must learn. That is what I told you I would do when you first came to me about this matter. Do you think he's been punished enough for watching her dead on the boat and folding his arms?"

In seconds, there was not even a memory of moonlight as the low cloud filled with water. Rain fell again like a midday summer storm. Galen shook his head. "What can I do? I will not hurt this young woman. I do not want to hurt any of these innocent night people."

"There is one among them who is not innocent."

Water fell thick as before. Galen's fingertips seemed nothing more than dripping faucets open at the knuckles. He turned half his face to Sam's direction and the young Ral did not recognize his distorted features.

Chris spoke over the rain. "There is one who is a coward above all you know."

"Yes." Water spit from his lips.

Azzy shivered at Galen's profile. "Not a coward, Galen. I can show you more."

"No more. I don't want anymore." He held a shaking, stiff hand to his temple. "If you are not a coward, you will face me now. Show yourself."

"Don't, Sam." Azzy looked to the darkness beside her. "He won't hurt me."

"Sam." Galen shuddered at his own cold rain. "You made me an offer after Colorado. Your life for hers. You said it stood no matter what the circumstances. Are you going to prove your cowardice and hide in the dark?" He looked around. "I'll give you a fighting chance."

Veronica walked closer to Galen. "Not a fair fight if you block the moon."

"Not a fair fight if I don't. Face me, Sam. Prove you aren't a coward."

Galen spotted a dark figure twenty feet away, standing by a tree. Sam called out, yet his voice seemed soft. "Is it brave to let a man kill you just to prove you aren't a coward?"

Azzy jumped out of the fountain and ran to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Galen! Don't hurt him. I lied. I can't read Kathleen. I can't get a line on the dead. I'm the one you should kill."

"She is much more brave than you, Sam. She shames you. Move, Azzy."

"No."

"I don't want to hurt you." To Sam, his skin looked like gray, melting wax.

More dark forms grew around the accused night person. Sam's head twisted from side to side. "Don't do this, guys. Let him have his best shot."

Lori tapped his arm. "What did you call us here for? Your funeral?" She blinked back rain.

Chris, several yards away, thought the same thing.

Galen spoke as though trying to gargle mouthwash. "I don't want to hurt the rest of you. My problem is with Sam. If you don't back down, I'll have to hurt you all." His hands rose into the air, trembling. Then the man went limp, hanging his head. "I can't."

Chris leaned over Galen's shoulder and spoke softly, but the night people heard him. "He proves he's a coward. He's hiding behind those he says he loves, allowing them to take the blows for him."

After a pause, the rain instantly slowed to a drizzle. Lori muttered, "Oh, shit." The man's hands shot up to them, and they barely had time to see it coming, only the swift image of his warped body behind a flying wall of water. They scattered like bowling pins.

Jeremy had been standing in front and was flung to the side unconscious, with several broken ribs and a shattered knee. Lori had held her hands up, which broke both her wrists and an arm. She choked from the impact, then fell unconscious. Sam's mother slammed across her thighs into the tree trunk nearby, splitting both her legs open. The pain left as her mind shut down. Azzy was torn from Sam's grasp. She flipped through the air and landed on her broken back.

The only bone cracked in Sam's body was his skull. His head smashed into a large, decorative garden stone surrounded by moon flowers. His black and gray vision turned to shades of red. He tasted metal, like he had a mouth full of paper clips, although he had no fillings. Not any more.

He heard rapid breathing next to him and he inched out his hand. No one was there; he heard his own lungs. He listened to Chris inform Galen from across the yard, "I saw him move." Sam heard footsteps, then saw Galen's face.

"I'll let him get up on his own." He squished through the wet grass to the fountain. The rain picked back up.

He heard a moan a few feet away, then Chris's voice beside it. "Don't worry, John. I'll heal her when this is through." Sam squinted at the raindrops invading his optical comfort, then twisted his neck to the voice. Lights flashed, metallic taste returned.

Azzy. Her eyes were open to the rain, mouth moving without sound. Her body looked strange.

Sam rolled onto all fours. "Azzy?" he said, but he heard, "Trash can?" As he inched over to her, he felt as though he were on a snow sled. He chuckled, thinking that he was on red snow. It seemed to make a lot of sense in a punning sort of way. He leaned over her face and asked her why she was a boomerang. He gasped as her cheeks filled with wet, dark blood.

"You're face is bleeding." His eyes blurred as he wiped at the dark, wet stains on her cheeks.

Galen called his name. "Let's end this. Come on, coward. Do you still hide behind them? You'll kill them all. Now, do the right thing."

Sam didn't hear him. He heard birds singing. They sounded like twitters, but there were words inside the songs. They sang, even the rabbits inhibit the habits when carrots are green. He remembered the childhood chant and muttered along with the songbirds. The chickens get into the to-ma-toes. He thought Azzy joined in, swore her mouth opened and said, Squash.

"Stand up, Sam. I'll not wash up a man on his knees. Show me any honor you might have and face me."

Azzy met his eyes. His wet, tangled hair mopped his face and dripped black water onto her face. Heavy breathing shook his shoulders.

"Sam?" It sounded like a hiccup. "What about chickens?"

He stopped whispering and stared at her. The birds continued on without him.

"Oh, can't move."

Blood dripped down Sam's lower lip. "Chris is a liar." He panted. "You're pickled. He can't fix your spleen."

His vision became edged dark as the back of his eyelids on a new moon, making her look like an old-timey reddish photo in a frame. She was dead and he knew it, but her lips moved. They moved up her face and into her eyes.

"We'll be okay," she whispered.

A photograph that could smile and speak...fascinating.

"Remember when we were happy? In the cabin, Sam?"

The blood draining from his lower lip landed on hers. "Burning books."

"Not that cabin."

Galen's voice regained its water tones, and even if Sam had been able to listen to him, he wouldn't have understood his threats. "Coward? Stay by her knowing my hit will kill her, too?" The most wet man flexed his good hand.

"No, Sam. Other cabin, in the daylight. White sheets."

Sam remembered the sheets. He could smell them, smell her on them right after she left. He became aware that there were footsteps coming to him, but he swore he could feel the grass warning him of the approaching man more than he heard the squeaking blades. He felt very happy. He smiled down at the beautiful woman, blinked, then his vision was gone.

Galen yanked his head by the hair and listened to Sam's short yelp of pain. He could not see the blood washing his fingers. He dragged the night person across the yard to the fountain. Sam didn't fight; he was remembering how she smelled, how the light had not seemed like the light from the one they had known, but one they put together just for that moment. The cabin room looked like one he and Ed might meet in, except the light would be white. It was always white, even when the moon was red or yellow. He never had to squint, wasn't that odd? Come to think of it, the cabin felt just like one of those rooms. Yes, just like that, songbirds and all.

14

Galen dropped Sam on the ground beside the fountain. "This ends now." His eyes were small, damp. He flipped Sam on his back and grabbed his hand, then dipped his other free, stiff hand into the water. He closed his eyes and in that moment Sam's hand slipped from his grasp. He reached down to reclaim it, but it wasn't there. He opened his eyes. Sam wasn't there. Galen pounded the stone with his healthy palm. "Show yourself!"

Rain played songs on the grass and the patter in the fountain water kept time.

Chris stood close to him, unseen. "John. You let him get away."

"He simply wasn't there anymore."

"How could you let him get away like that? You had him."

A flash of lightening lit up the clouds. He blinked at it. His clouds didn't make electricity. Looking back to the yard he called out for Sam to face him.

Azzy watched another thread of lightening twist among the clouds. She tasted Sam's blood on her lips.

Jeremy's eyes opened at the sound of crackles from above. He mustered up a hissing voice and asked the sky, "Chris?"

Chris did not answer.

Lightening split open a few trees along the far side of the yard. The earth shook as they hit the ground, making Jeremy's ribs ache. Azzy felt nothing except ringing in her ears. Limbs on the ground smoked with orange flame, despite the rainfall.

Galen watched all of this and the rain fell thick. "Chris, what is this?"

"You can't leave yet. He's here somewhere."

A bolt screamed and the two men covered their ears. When they gathered awareness from the shock, they saw Chris's house in flames. Galen gripped Chris's arm before the invisible man could slip away.

"He's here somewhere," Galen repeated and squeezed Chris's arm. "He's right there." He pointed up to the flashing clouds.

"That's crazy, John. Crazy. He has someone working for him. Another fool who thinks Sam worthy of breath." The stronger of the two tried to pull free of Galen's grasp.

A bolt ten feet away knock them to the ground. Chris cursed. Galen jumped on top of him and grabbed his prickly jaw. "Nobody working for him." Looking up into John Galen's face, Chris felt he was watching a B horror monster melting away and half-suspected his own flesh would burn at the acid touch of droplets.

"Dammit, John. You are so blind. Don't you see any truth?"

Galen dug his nails into the man's cheeks. "Nobody working for you." He covered the night person's face with his arm. He said not another word, but the unseen Chris was suddenly soaked with a body-sized amount of water, which, to Jeremy's half-opened eyes, displayed an instantaneous visual water mold of a man-shape.

An instant is all lightening needs. The stone fountain beside the man cracked with the impact of the bolt. The flash was brilliant, blue-tinted, and for a few minutes Jeremy was blinded. His ears buzzed and his skin grew a million bumps.

A strange smell filled the air and the rain stopped. The clouds dissipated.

Azzy opened her mouth to the moon, trying to fill her body with its light. Sam's silhouette appeared above her.

Healing commenced, and Jeremy sat up in amazement as he watched Sam roll Azzy onto her belly, push up her shirt, and plunge his hands wrist-deep glowing white into her spine.

15

Everybody was awake and their broken bodies fixed. There were many unvoiced questions; each time someone drew in an inquisitive breath, the smell of sizzled flesh gagged the intended words. There was no body, only a wide, dark hole next to the cracked fountain and tilted statue of Luna. Nobody turned night eyes to the depth of the chasm.

Sirens could be heard. The five people piled into the rental car, Veronica driving, and sped away from the burning house. Azzy sat in between Lori and Sam in the back seat and rested her head on his shoulder. He watched the back of the passenger car seat the entire ride back to his parent's North Carolina home. He did not eat. He did not speak. He did not touch the woman beside him and his fingers never closed over hers when she clasped his hand.

Jeremy and Lori wanted to stay, but Sam asked them to go back to their lives. He didn't look them in the eyes when he thanked them for their help. After they left, Sam's mother let him know she would listen if he wanted to talk. He nodded and went into his and Azzy's room, alone. Almost a week passed during which Sam would not fall asleep next to her, but would sneak into bed when she was unconscious. As soon as she woke, he would leave the room.

One night he awoke her from her sleep. She assured him she had only been drifting.

"I'm sorry, Azzy."

"Why?"

"For being so quiet."

She stroked his cheek and told him all that mattered to her was that he was okay.

"I'm not okay."

She nodded against her pillow.

"I did a terrible thing."

She offered him her hands. He didn't hold them, but touched over her fingers and palms.

"He's right."

"Who is?"

"Chris."

She sat up slowly. "Why do you say that?"

"I shouldn't have this thing. I am too young. I will misuse it. I think maybe he knew I had it."

"No," she whispered. "He was a man eaten by jealousy."

"I am a coward, Azzy."

"No. No, do you remember the first time I told you what I knew of you on the cabin porch in Colorado? Galen was listening. He heard me tell you I knew you feared you were a coward. They used it against you."

"Why do you think I'm afraid of it? Because I am."

"How?"

"I can't face him." A pause. "Ed. I let him down. I did what he was afraid I would do."

"Not a coward."

He spoke more quickly. "It could have been worked out another way. Chris didn't kill anyone. He wasn't threatening me at the time. I took his life, defenseless."

Azzy fought the urge to squeeze his hands and she let him rub her fingers at his own pace. "Chris would have let us all die if it meant getting you. He wasn't strong enough to get you on his own with sheer strength."

"He's experienced with his work. He didn't intend for me to die, just to teach me a lesson."

"He intended for someone to die. He had no problem with my death. He wanted to get you. Couldn't kill you on his own because he didn't think he could and, if he did, he didn't want the blame. Didn't want the night people to catch him. He manipulated Galen. It didn't matter to him whether or not you had refused Kathleen's need; he saw a way to get you."

"Azzy—"

"He's the one who did things the wrong way. He was the coward. Not you."

Sam left her hands and put his own on his lap, watching them fold and unfold. "I abused what I have. It wasn't right to..."

Azzy gave in and touched his shoulder. "Something else is bothering you. What is it?"

He folded his fingers together.

"I will always want to listen."

He sat still for a moment, then rose. He paced beside the bed and she could barely hear him. "I enjoyed it." He stopped moving, faced her. "I enjoyed what I was able to do." His eyes widened and he punched his hand. "I hated him so much." Sighing, he rubbed the back of his neck, breaking eye contact with her. "I am ashamed for giving in to that. I am at his level. I should have found another way."

Although he stood in place, she could see him leaving the room. She didn't know what to say, so she spoke honestly. "I think you did the right thing. He would have tried to hurt you again."

"Would he? Would he really? After I blew up his house in a heavy rainstorm?" He turned around and slapped the dresser.

"He would have told people you could do it."

"Who would have believed him? Only you, Galen and Jeremy. You two certainly wouldn't have backed his story, and Galen gave me the door to k—do it. None of the three of you would corroborate with him." He turned back to her, only catching her eye every few words. "I'm sure that was Galen's way of feeling like he had found some kind of justice." He leaned back on the dresser. "I'm sorry. I know you are trying to help. But, Azzy, I just can't believe I did it, that I was – am – capable of it. It's wrong of me to have this...thing. I don't want it." He dropped low. "I don't want to like it. I just..." He shook his head and looked back to her. "Does it bother you that you have a strange gift? An ability that nobody else has? You know, your father knew all along."

She blinked at him a few times. "Knew what?"

"He said you had no idea what a strong seoliu you were. He could tell."

Azzy remembered her few days previous phone call to her parents. She could tell her father had been crying, but they didn't mention the seoliu "thing." Azzy sat quietly, then answered slowly. "I haven't told you because I know you didn't want to talk about these things. I, uh, I can't read the dead."

"What?" He stood straight.

"It was a trick. I knew I could manipulate him with it, I just didn't anticipate there would be another strong manipulator, Chris, when I did it."

"What trick? You saw all those things from Kathleen's eyes."

"They were in Galen's mind, only he didn't know they were there. My father's not talking about reading dead spirits, but something else." She cleared her throat. "Trash bags."

"What's that?"

"Remember Harry, on the island?"

Nod. "Card counter."

"He told me something that explained why I could see Kats' memories. It's his hypothesis that seolies are always reading, even though we don't know it. He called it putting the impressions in the trash bags of the subconscious. Kats was a stronger seoli than her father, and even at a young age she could protect her privacy from his reading her. However, there's always an exchange."

"Info falling into the blind spot in the brain. Why wouldn't he know about this?"

"Harry said a seoli will bring information up every now and then, but have no idea that it's fact, truth. For example, I must have known Harry was a card counter, but I wasn't ware of it. Like you said, who would look at Harry and think that? Somehow I gathered the fact and stuck it in my bag.

"I think the gift my father means is that I can read the blind spot in another seoli's head. I can go through their trash. Very valuable for a seoli to be able to do, I imagine. I bet I could makes lots of money. Maybe that's how Dad did. But I don't have any great and special ability that sets me far apart from the others."

"Why didn't you tell me you were going to trick Galen?"

"I didn't want to take the chance that he'd pick that knowledge out of your head."

"Oh. That was smart." He sat down on the bed, noticed her eyes looked blue, then looked away. "Azzy, I think I need to go away for a while. I have to figure all of this out."

"Can I help? Do you want me to go with you?"

"No." He finally committed to holding her hands. Azzy heard the air buzz as it only did when she was alone in silence.

"Okay."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I love you."

He watched her fall asleep, then left.

15

Jeremy was thrilled to see Sam a few weeks later when he came to visit in Tennessee. "What a shock; let's get some beer." They drank Corona on Jeremy's apartment back porch and Sam listened with a slight smile as his friend told about his new teaching partner. "Remember how we were trained by older, more experienced guys? Well, that's me. The all-knowing trainer. This kid's good, but he's a little too scared to say the wrong thing to the boy."

After another lime was split open, Sam asked Jeremy what he thought about the night at Chris's. Jeremy guzzled beer, then told Sam he'd noticed a change in him since one night on their trip in Europe. "We were in Greece. Lori and I hated it there, but the first night you went out and came back in the best mood. Spaced out. I think I asked you if you got laid."

"You did."

Jeremy swirled liquid in his bottle. "If you're asking me how I feel about what you can do, about whatever happened to you in Greece, I think all it did was change your ability. Not who you are. I'd pick you to have it over anyone I know, including me."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I have a feeling I'd abuse the hell out of it, and so would most people. It's been six years since we were in Greece, and the only thing I've noticed you do that was extraordinary, aside from your shine, is fly for a really long time without ever getting weak. We've been around each other constantly all these years. That night at Chris's house was the first time I've seen you do anything else. Do you understand what I mean?"

Sam tried to peel the painted-on bottle label from the glass bottle.

"If what you are asking me is how I feel about what you did that night, I'll tell you the truth. I'm amazed you had the will-power to hold out on fighting as long as you did."

Sam chipped a nail on the bottle. "I didn't hold out at all. I didn't know, Jer."

"Oh." Jeremy rubbed his curls. "Well, I think you did the right thing. I really do."

"But would you tell me if you thought I'd done the wrong thing?"

He nodded, sipped beer. "Yes." His mouth almost let out a joke, but all of his self-restraint kept it at bay. And then I'll hide. He patted Sam on the arm.

A month later, Sam found a group of seven or so southern banshees. He asked a few questions and was told the banshee Melanie had, indeed, made a home for her and her living, sickly husband in the secluded wood. Sam did not wish to see him; the thought of his dripping face made him sick, made him shake with anger.

He would trade his ability for Azzy's any day. External conflict had kept the two of them apart for a long time and now was gone, but the he felt the more unbreakable internal discord had grown from it.

Sam often turned away from the moon, who had watched what he had done.

Sometimes the smell of Chris's lightening-hammered flesh touched Azzy's nose in the mornings, and it was those times she could stop herself from being angry at Sam's unending silence.

It was March already. She kept busy working at the newspaper, stayed in touch with her friends, including Stephen and CeCe. She tried with everything in her to understand what was in Sam's mind, then laughed at herself in the mirror for all her ability to understand the human spirit.

One day, she turned on the TV. An hour later, she began to board up the windows of her apartment.

The following day, Azzy opened her door to a darkening day and a wind-blown Sam. They grinned like children at first sight, for just a few minutes forgetting everything they kept trying so hard to let go of. They hugged, kissed cheeks, touched arms and lips.

"Heard you were having a Hurricane. I brought a deck of cards and an umbrella."

She laughed loudly and told him he'd see that a snowstorm was a fender bender compared to this.

A bag opened in Azzy's mind and it filled, overflowed. Her head could barely contain it. Without knowing why, she felt self-conscious. They made spaghetti and listened to the howling grow outside as he fired questions at her about her life. She watched her words.

"CeCe's great. She wants to meet more supernatural people."

He smiled at that.

Eventually, he paused to light a smoke after their meal. She took her chance and asked him with as much casualness as she could what he had been doing all year. She wanted to cry, wanted to let him know how serious she had begun to feel inside, but something held her back. Keep cool, she thought. She didn't know why.

"This is my second semester at UNC. I'm finally getting around to trying for that English degree."

"Close to home?"

He grinned. "Good basketball team."

"Are you working, or did you have money saved up?"

"I do have money saved, but I'm also working in the English department. I completely lucked in to a job there. I owe it to you – I got into a discussion about Emerson with the right person."

"Claiming my wisdom as your own?"

"Expounding upon your wisdom. Giving you credit, even."

"I bet all the girls love you. Not too many sexy men are English majors."

"I know. They're all basketball players, but I have chosen to pursue the mind. I'm thinking about a double major in philosophy."

She told him he'd be very good at that, then pushed a little further. "Are you keeping in touch with your family? Friends?"

He dragged slowly on his smoke, then shook his head. "No, not really. I went to see Jeremy once."

"How is he?"

"I saw him in June. He was doing well."

"Haven't talked to him since?"

"No."

She tugged her hair gently, trying to appear relaxed. "You haven't talked to anyone?"

"No."

"Oh. Mind if I ask why not?"

He shook his head. "I felt like getting away from everything for a while, like I told you. I needed to think." He watched her puff. "I'm sorry it's been so long, Az, but I figured some things out. I drove down here hoping you wouldn't be furious, and you'd take me in for the storm."

"We'd be forced together again?"

"I've never felt forced to be with you. In the last months, I've never missed anyone or anything more than I've missed you. I want to talk to you, like we're doing."

She felt she was allowed to show a touch of hurt. She didn't look at him, but asked what he had figured out.

"I know I have a good future ahead of me, with lots of things to learn. I know that I have good friends, family. I found that I can make a new life for myself and be at peace. I know that I love you."

"What about the night people?"

He blinked smoke from his eyes and dropped his butt in the ashtray. "Consider me a non-practicing Catholic."

"They are often so bitter about their faith."

"Not so much their faith as their religion."

"Are you saying you don't consider yourself a night person?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying. I can't help what I am, but I can choose how to act."

She brushed her long hair back, then yanked a lock back to her chest. "You're giving it up? Is that what you mean?"

He took her hand from her hair. "I don't expect you to understand, Azzy. All I ask is that you accept me. I'm not crazy, I'm not afraid. In fact, I think this might be the only brave thing I've ever done."

"Brave to give up what you love, who you are?"

"It's not who I am, it's what I am. You know who I am. Now I know myself better, too." He stood up and pulled her close to him, brushing his lips over hers. He whispered, "Trust me."

Wind rattled a loose board outside as the eye of the storm reached Mobile bay.

In a dark space two figures were admitted, one shining and white, the other smooth and dark. The bright one screamed as never before, "Why did you do that? Never, never leave so long without speaking to me. Not for this reason." He settled back into the space without surfaces, folding his legs and wiping his face. His voice softened. "Thank you, thank you for coming back. I thought I was losing you."

Sam's cheeks caught the light of the spirit and he shone with the mystery and rapture of a full moon in December. "I came to say goodbye."

The end
