“Today, at four-thirty.”

He nodded. “Good. Get on that plane and get out of here. We have to do something to disrupt the flow of things, something to sidetrack this dream. Getting you out of here is the first step. I’ll nose around a little and see what I can learn. Maybe I can uncover something. If I can’t, I’ll leave, too. I’ve got a few days coming. I’ll just take them. If neither of us is here, the events in the dream won’t happen.”

She studied him. “You’ll leave before dark, before tonight’s celebration?”

His lips compressed tightly. “I won’t go anywhere near the Seattle Art Museum. I’ll stay far away.”

She was thinking about the promise she had made to herself to see things through to the end. But if she insisted on staying, he would stay, too. She couldn’t allow that. And if they both left, then the matter was ended—for the moment, at least. If Ross accepted he was in danger, that there was a demon out there working to subvert him, he would be on his guard. That ought to be enough. She had delivered the Lady’s message, and that was all she was expected to do.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll go.”

“Now?”

“As soon as I can pack my bag and check out. I’ll catch a taxi to the airport. You won’t have to worry about me anymore.”

He exhaled slowly. “Fair enough.”

“Just promise me you won’t forget to keep worrying about yourself. This isn’t going to end until you find out who the demon is.”

“I know,” he said.

And it wouldn’t end then either, and they both knew it. It wouldn’t end, because even if he unmasked this demon, there would be another, and another, until one of them succeeded in destroying him. It wouldn’t end until he either found a way to give back the staff or agreed to resume his life as a Knight of the Word. It was not a choice that would be easily resolved, and neither one of them wanted to examine it too closely.

“Will you call me in Hopewell and at least leave a message?” she asked him in the ensuing silence.

“Yes.”

She sighed. “I hate leaving this business unfinished.” She saw the sudden look of concern in his eyes. “But I’ll keep my bargain, John. Don’t worry.”

“That’s just the trouble. I do.”

She stood up. “I’d better go. Good-bye, John. Be careful.”

He rose, as well, and she walked around to embrace him, kissing his cheek. The gesture was stiff and awkward and uncertain.

“Good-bye, Nest,” he said.

She stepped back. “I’ll tell you something,” she said. “I don’t know that saying good-bye feels any better this time than it did the last. I’m still not sure about you.”

His smile was bitter and sad, and he suddenly looked older than his years. “I know, Nest. I’m sorry about that. Thanks for coming. It means a lot that you did.”