Those deep violet eyes blinked once, twice, tried to focus. "He…" Blaise said. It was his own voice, his own words, and for a split second Jay dared to hope. "He said… hold you."

He felt the cold wet touch of Ti Malice's flesh on his own as the thing's withered hand pulled at a shoulder. Don't look, Jay told himself. Like in the dream. Don't ever look up at the moon; if you do, you're lost. He had dreamed that dream a thousand times; he knew better than to look.

He looked.

The creature's mouth was round, like the mouth of a fish, and as it slid forward in jerks and starts, its tongue moved in and out. Its tongue was round, too, flushed with blood, red and glistening, like some obscene blind snake.

Its eyes were wise and cruel and terrible.

Blaise was fucking hopeless. "Hiram!" Jay screamed. Hiram's voice came from a long way away. "I can't hurt him."

Ti Malice's atrophied legs kicked feebly at Blaise's face as it moved off the boy and onto Jay. It must have kicked too hard. Blaise winced. For a moment, Jay felt his fingers flex.

The thing was crawling across him, his flesh crawling beneath it. But there was something important… "Shit!" Jay said.

"Master!" Sascha cried out in alarm.

Jay drowned out his warning with a shout. "Hiram!" he screamed. "Hurt Blaise, dammit. Hurt Blaise!"

Hiram kicked the boy in the head.

Charm was stumbling forward, Ezili, Sascha, but they were all late, too late. Jay had his body back. He rolled to one side and came down flat on his back, with Ti Malice clinging to his chest, thrashing as frantically as a worm impaled on a hook.

His hand came up, but his fingers were like wood.

Ti Malice slithered up his chest, looking straight down into his eyes.

Jay folded back three fingers, stuck one out, lifted his thumb, tried to point. His hand was shaking.

The blind snake came coiling out.

Jay stuck a shaking finger into Ti Malice's eye. There was a short, crisp pop.

Jay felt a sharp pain, and blood began to spurt from the hole in his neck, but he hardly noticed. The weight was off his chest.

Ezili screamed.

"Oh, God," Sascha said.

Blaise began to weep uncontrollably.

And behind him, he heard Hiram Worchester say, very softly, "It's over."

The Atlanta airport was crowded with weary delegates heading for home, still buzzing about a convention that no one was ever likely to forget. Brennan pushed through them, uncaring and unseeing, with Jennifer in his wake. They didn't even stop to join the crowd watching a midget being cut out of a cat carrying case. He staggered out, rumpled and redeyed, croaking, "Water, water!"

They were nearing the end of the line, but Brennan was feeling no elation. His anesthesia-provoked dream of the night before was still vivid in his mind. Intellectually he didn't blame himself for Chrysalis's death, but he realized that emotionally he did. He remembered the line from Tachyon's eulogy about the harsh expectations Chrysalis's ghost would have, but he knew that Chrysalis's ghost wasn't driving him. It was his own savage ghost, fueled by his unrelenting memories of her.. He wondered if he'd ever be able to lay her to rest.

They caught a cab downtown and stopped at a pawnshop to buy two guns, a Walther PPK automatic for Brennan and a Smith and Wesson. 38 Chief Special for Jennifer. He paid cash; the proprietor didn't ask any questions.

Noon

The hospital wanted to admit all three of them, but Jay was having none of it. He hung around just long enough to answer a few questions, cadge a fresh supply of painkillers, and make sure they were going to take good care of Blaise. Then he grabbed Hiram and had the nurse phone for a cab.

The cellar of the burned-out ruin where Ti Malice had set up housekeeping was almost an hour's ride from the center of Atlanta. Hiram stared vacantly out the window as they drove. Every now and then he had a fit of uncontrollable trembling, and a look of panic came into his eyes. "I'm all alone now," he said once. Jay didn't reply. Conversation would have required more energy than he had right now. He stretched out and closed his eyes.

The next thing he knew, Hiram was prodding him gently in the ribs. "We're here," he said.

Jay sat up groggily, fumbled for his wallet. It was empty. "I've paid the fare already," Hiram said. He helped Jay out of the taxi and into the hotel.

An alarm was screeching in the Marriott lobby; one of the elevators was stuck between floors. Jay winced; his headache was already a blinding band of pain behind his eyes, the noise was the last thing he needed. He jabbed at the call button savagely, and they took a different elevator up to Tachyon's floor.

Jay unlocked the suite with Blaise's key, turned on the lights, and went to the bar to mix himself a stiff one. Hiram poked his head into the bedroom. "Tachyon?" he called out. There was no answer. "He's not here," Hiram said, returning to the living room.

"Yeah," Jay said. "I figured." He sat down to wait. Hiram moved to the bar and looked at the bottles, but made no move to mix himself a drink. He just stood there, staring, like a big lost child. Then he started to tidy up. He rinsed out a couple of dirty glasses, picked up an ashtray full of cigarette butts, looked around for a place to dump it. There was a jar full of ashes sitting on the bar, next to the liquor. Hiram peered into it curiously for a moment, shrugged, and dumped the butts in there.

They both turned at the sound of the door opening. Dr. Tachyon sat in a wheelchair, his bandaged stump cradled in his lap. Behind him, pushing the chair, was Jack Braun.

"You," Braun said, glaring at Jay. "We've been turning over half the city looking for you. Where the hell have you been?"

"Jay, Hiram," Tachyon said. He started to rise from the wheelchair. "What's happened? Where's Blaise?"

"The hospital," Jay admitted.

Tachyon made a choking sound. "Is he all right?"

"He has a small fracture of the skull, and he's lost a few teeth, plus some bruises and abrasions, and a bad case of shock. But the doctors figure he's going to be okay. The hospital wanted to keep him under observation for a few days, that's all."

Dr. Tachyon staggered as if Jay's words were a physical blow. Jack Braun clouded up like a thunderhead and came storming forward. "You goddamned jerk. He's only a kid, what the hell did you think you were doing, dragging him into some sleazy-"

Jay pointed, Jack popped. Maybe Braun finished his thought center stage at Freakers. Then again, maybe not. "Sorry" Jay mumbled to Tachyon. "My head's about to split open and hatch, I just can't take any more right now. Should you be out of that wheelchair?"

"It was Jack's idea," Tachyon said. Jay could see how weak the little man still was. When he stumbled, he put out a hand to steady himself, but there was no hand there. His bandaged stump fetched up hard against the back of the sofa, and Tachyon gasped.

"Sit down," Jay said.

Tachyon sat back down in the wheelchair, cradling his stump in his lap. Jay turned back to the bar. "What are you doing?" Tach asked.

"Pouring you a drink," Jay said. "You're going to need one."

He filled the second tumbler up with bourbon and ice cubes, brought it to Tachyon, and put it into his unresisting left hand. " I don't… I don't drink bourbon," Tach said. "Drink it," Jay said.

Tachyon drank it, his pale lilac eyes full of dread. "Tell me," he said when the glass was half- empty.

Jay told him all of it.

To his credit, the alien listened without interrupting. Tears began to roll down his cheeks when Jay reached the part about the centipede man, but still he held his tongue.

"Once Ti Malice was gone, the fight went out of the mounts. Ezili pitched a screaming fit, and the other woman, the girl with the baby, made a break for it. The rest just gaped at us. It was like they couldn't quite comprehend what was happening. I was going to call the cops, but Hiram stopped me."