He nodded. “I suppose so.” He fidgeted with his pens and paper, gathering his thoughts. “You know, I don’t feel so well. I think I’m going to go back to the apartment and lie down for a while. You think they can get along without me for an hour or so?”

She reached across and took his hand in her own. “I think they can get along just fine. It’s me I’m not sure about.”

“Then come back with me.”

“I thought you were sick.”

“I’ll get better.”

She smirked. “I’ll bet. Well, you’re out of luck. I have work to do. I’ll see you later.” She frowned. “Or maybe not. I just remembered, I’m supposed to go with Simon to the KIRO interview, then maybe to some press things after that. He hasn’t given me the final word yet. Sorry, sweetie, but duty calls. Ring me if you hear from Nest, okay? I’ll try to break free to join you.”

She smiled and went out the door, blowing him a kiss. He stared after her without moving, then pushed the pens and paper away and got to his feet. Might as well follow through on his plan and get out of there, he decided. He was already back to thinking about something else Nest had said—that a demon in Pioneer Square was killing homeless people in the underground city. No one would miss them; no one would know. Except the feeders, of course. And he didn’t see the feeders much anymore, so he couldn’t tell if their current behavior reflected the demon’s presence or not.

He stared down at his desk, unseeing. Sometimes he was tempted to try out his magic, just for a minute, just to see if he still had the use of it. If he did that, he might see the feeders clearly and maybe be able to determine if there was a demon in their midst.

But he refused to do that. He had sworn an oath that he wouldn’t, because using magic was integral to acting as a Knight of the Word, and he had given all that up.

He walked out of his office, down the hall, past Della and a cluster of new arrivals huddled about her desk, and through the front door. The midday sunshine was fading, masked by heavy clouds blown in from the west on a sharp wind. The air had turned cold and brittle, and the light was autumn gray and pale. He glanced skyward. A storm was moving in. There would be rain by tonight.

His thoughts drifted.

A demon in Pioneer Square.

Someone sent to kill him.

Someone sent to subvert him.

The Word and the Void at play.

He crossed the street and moved past Waterfall Park toward the doorway to his apartment building. The waterfall tumbled down over the massive rocks and filled the walled enclosure with white noise. The park was empty, the afternoon shadows falling long and dark over the tables and chairs, benches and planters, and fountains. He didn’t like how the emptiness made him feel. He didn’t care for the thoughts it provoked. It seemed to reflect something inside.