"Then God help us," Erwin said, at which reply Nordhoff turned his back, and picking up his pace marched off through the brass section.

"Go after him," Dolan told Erwin. "Quickly. Tell him you're sorry."

"Go to Hell," Erwin said, peeling off from the ranks and heading for the choked sidewalk. Dolan went after him.

"Nordhoff s not a very forgiving man," Dolan said.

"I don't care," Erwin said. "I'm not going to abase myself" He stopped, his gaze fixed on somebody in the crowd.

"What is it?" Dolan wanted to know.

"There," Erwin said, pointing to the bedraggled woman moving through the crowd.

"You know her?"

"Oh yes."

Testa was about a hundred yards from the crossroads when she realized where she was. She halted. It took Harry just a second or two to catch up with her.

"What's the problem?" he hollered to her.

"We shouldn't have come this way!" she yelled back.

"You know a better one?"

Testa shook her head. Perhaps with Raul's aid she'd have been able to plot an alternative route to Phoebe's house, but from now on she'd have to start working these problems out for herself.

"So we just have to plough on," Harry said.

Testa nodded, and did just that, plunging on into the press of bodies with the abandon of an orgiast. If only there were some way to harness the power of this communion, she thought; to turn it to practical purpose instead of letting it evaporate. What a waste that was; what a pitiful waste.

Caught in the grip of the crowd, unable to entirely control her route, nor entirely concerned to do so, she felt curiously comforted. The touch of flesh on flesh, the stench of sweat and candy-sweetened breath, the sight of oozing skin and glittering eye, all of it was fine, just fine. Yes, these peo pp pie were vulnerable and ignorant; yes, they were probably crass, most of them, and bigoted and belligerent. But now, right now, they were laughing and cheering and holding their babies high to see the parade, and if she did not love them, she was at least happy to be of their species.

"Listen to me!" Erwin yelled at her.

The woman showed no sign of hearing, but the expreS7 sion on her face gave Erwin hope that maybe she could be persuaded to hear. Her eyes had a lunatic gleam in them, and there was a twitching smile on her lips. He could not feel her temperature, but he was certain she was running a fever.

"Just tune in, will you?" he hollered.

"Why are you bothering?" Dolan wanted to know.

"Because she knows a damn sight more than we do," Erwin told him. "She knew that thing in my house by name. I heard her call it Kissoon."

"What about him?" Testa said to Harry, throwing the question over her shoulder.

"What about who?" Harry replied.

"You said Kissoon." "I didn't say a word."

"Well somebody did."

"She heard me!" Erwin whooped. "Good girl! Good girl." Dolan was intrigued now. "Maybe she'd hear better if we said it together," he suggested.

"Not a bad idea. After three...

This time Testa stopped. "You didn't hear that either?" she said to Harry. He shook his head. "Okay," she said. "No big deal."

"What are you talking about?"

She pushed through the crowd to an empty doorway, with Harry following. The store-a florist's-was closed, but the scent of flowers was powerful.

"There's somebody talking to me, Harry. Besides you. His name's Toothaker."

"And... where is he?"

"I don't know," she said. "I mean, I know he's dead. I was in his house. That's where I saw Kissoon." She kept scanning the crowd while she spoke, hoping to catch a glimpse of the presence, or rather presences, she'd heard. "He's not alone this time. I heard two voices. they want to get through to me. I just don't know how to tune in."

"I'm no help, I'm afraid," Harry said. "I'm not saying they're not here@'

"It's okay," Tesla told him. "I just have to listen-2'

"You want to find somewhere quieter?"

She shook her head. "I might lose them."

"You want me to step away?"

"Don't go far," she said, and closing her eyes, tried to shut out the din of the living and listen for the voices of the dead.

Dorothy caught hold of Maisie's arm, very tight. "What's wrong?" Maisie said.

"I really don't... I don't feel too good at all Dorothy said. Her surroundings had started to throb in rhythm with the band, as though everything had a heart sewn inside it (even the sidewalk, even the sky), and the closer the band came, the harder those hearts beat, until it seemed they would surely burst, every one of them burst wide open, and tear a hole in the world.

"Shall I get you something to eat?" Maisie said. The drums were louder with every beat: booming and booming. "Maybe a tuna salad, or-"

Without warning, Dorothy bent double and puked. The knot of people in front of her parted-not quickly enough to keep themselves from being spattered, but fast-as she heaved up what little her stomach contained. Maisie waited until the spasms had stopped then tried to coax her out of the sun into the shade of the diner. But she wouldn't go, or couldn't.

"It's going to burst," she said, staring down at the ground.

"It's all right, Dottie

"No it isn't. It's going to burst!"

"What are you talking about?"

Dorothy shook off Maisie's grip. "We've got to clear the street," she said, stumbling forward. "Quickly!"

"What's going on down there?" Owen said, leaning out of the window. "Do you know that woman7'

"The one who just puked? Yeah. It's Mrs. Bullard. She's a real bitch." "Extraordinary," Owen said.

Dorothy was pushing and shoving her way through the crowd. She was yelling something, but Owen couldn't catch it over the din of the approaching band.

"She looks really upset," Seth said. "That she does," Owen said, leaving the window and heading for the stairs.

"Maybe she saw the avatars!" Seth yelled after him.

"The same thought occurred to me," Owen said. "The ve same-"

Dorothy Bullard's warning had not gone unheard by the crowd around Kitty's Diner. As she strode forward they cleared a path for her, in case she intended to puke again. One girl, perhaps a little worse for drink, failed to get out of her way fast enough and was shoved aside as Dorothy charged the barricade. It fell before her, and she ran out into the middle of the crossroads, waving her hands wildly.

At the head of his shining ranks, Larry Glodoski saw the Bullard woman flailing in front of him, and was presented with a choice. Either he brought the band-and thus the parade-to a halt in the next ten seconds, or trusted that somebody would have the presence of mind to gei the bitch out of his way before there was a collision. In truth, it was no dilemma at all. She was one; they were many. He lifted his baton a little higher, and marked the beats with sharper motions than ever, as if to erase the woman from the street in front of him.

"I'm listening," Tesla murmured, "I'm listening as hard as I can." Every now and then she heard what might have been a munnur, but her mind was whining with hunger and heat. Even if it was the ghosts speaking she could make no sense of the sounds.

And now there was yet another distraction: some kind of brouhaha up at the crossroads. The crowd had become more frenzied than ever. She went up on her tiptoes in the hope of seeing what was happening, but her sight was blocked by heads and balloons and waving hands.

Harry had the scoop, however. "There's a woman in the middle of the street, yetting@'

"Yelling what?"

Harry listened for a moment. "I think she's telling people to get off the street@'

An instinct she would once have called Raul's had her out of the doorway in a moment, back into the swelter and stench of the crowd, pushing Harry ahead of her. "Clear the way!" she yelled to him.