“John, listen to me.” Stef was speaking again, her face close to his, her body pressing against him in the darkness. “I don’t know why this happened. I don’t know how it happened. No one does. Not yet. So don’t go jumping to conclusions. Don’t be shouldering the blame until you know the facts. I’m sorry Ray is dead. But you didn’t kill him. And if it had to be someone, I would rather it was him than you.”

He opened his eyes, surprised by her vehemence. “Std.”

She shook her head emphatically. “I’m sorry, but that’s how I feel.”

She kissed him hard, and he kissed her back and held her tightly against him. “I just can’t believe he’s gone,” he whispered, his hand stroking her slender back.

“I know.”

They held each other for a long moment, and then she led him to the bedroom. They undressed in the dark and crawled into the bed and held each other again in the cool of the sheets. The streets beyond their window were silent and empty. All the fire trucks, police cars, ambulances, and bystanders were gone. The rain had faded away, and the air was damp and cold in the wake of its passing. Ross hugged Stef’s smooth body against his own and listened to the soft, velvet sound of her breathing.

“I could have lost you tonight,” he whispered.

She nodded. “But you didn’t.”

“I was scared I had.” He took a long, slow breath and let it out. “When you were inside, bringing out the last of those children, and I saw the flames climbing the walls, I thought for sure I had.”

“No, John,” she whispered, kissing him gently, over and over, “you won’t lose me ever. I promise. No matter what, you won’t lose me.”

The dream comes swiftly, a familiar acquaintance he wishes now he had never made. He stands once more on the hillside south of Seattle, watching as the city burns, as the hordes of the Void swarm through the collapsed defenses and begin their ritual of killing and destruction. He sees the battle taking place on the high bridge where a last, futile defense has been mounted. He sees the steel and glass towers swallowed in flames. He sees the bright waters of the bay and sound turn red in the reflected glare.

He finds he is cold and indifferent to what he witnesses. He is detached in a way he cannot explain, but seems perfectly normal in his dream, as if he has been this way a long time. He is himself and at the same time he is someone else entirely. He pauses to examine this phenomenon and decides he has changed dramatically from when he was a Knight of the Word. He is a Knight no longer, but he remembers when he was. Oddly, his memories are tinged with a wistfulness he can’t quite escape.

Before him, Seattle burns. By nightfall, it will have ceased to exist. Like his old life. Like the person he once was.