“Nest, what are you doing here?” the other woman asked, steering her to an open spot amid the knots of masked guests and skeleton-costumed servers. “I thought you’d gone back to Illinois.”

“I postponed my flight,” she replied, keeping her explanation purposefully vague. “Is John here?”

“John Ross?” A waiter came up to them with a tray filled with champagne glasses, and Carole motioned him away. “No, I haven’t seen him yet.”

“How about Mr. Lawrence?”

“Oh, yes, Simon’s here somewhere. I saw him just a little while ago.” Her brow furrowed slightly. “You heard about the fire, didn’t you, Nest?”

Nest nodded. “I’m sorry about Mr. Hapgood.” There was an awkward silence as she tried to think of something else to say. “I know John was very upset about it.”

Carole Price nodded. “We all were. Look, why don’t you go on and see if you can find him. I haven’t seen him down here, but maybe he’s up on the mezzanine. And I’ll tell Simon you’re here. He’ll want to say hello.”

“Thanks.” Nest glanced around doubtfully. The lobby was filling up quickly with guests, and everyone was wearing a mask. It made recognizing people difficult. “If you see John,” she said carefully, “tell him I’m here. Tell him it’s important that I speak with him right away.”

Carole nodded, a hint of confusion in her blue eyes, and Nest moved away before she could ask any questions.

A passing server handed her one of the black nylon masks, and she slipped it on. All around her, people were drinking champagne. Their talk and laughter was deafening in the cavernous space. Eyes scanning the crowd, she moved toward the wide staircase with the massive stone figures warding its various levels and began to climb. As she did so, a troubling realization came to her. She had forgotten about the dream, the one that had haunted Ross for months, the one in which the old man accused him of killing the Wizard of Oz—and perhaps of killing her as well. She had been thinking so hard about Ross and the demon and what she suspected about both that it had slipped her mind. It was supposed to happen here, in the Seattle Art Museum, on this night. He had wanted her far away from this place, so it could never happen. He had wanted himself far away as well. But she suspected events and demon schemes were at work conspiring to thwart his wishes. Simon Lawrence was already here. She was here. If he wasn’t already, soon John Ross would be here too.

She reached the mezzanine and glanced around anew. She did not see Ross. She felt a growing desperation at her inability to locate him The longer he remained ignorant of what she suspected, the greater the risk his dream would come to pass. But all she could do was to keep looking. She walked over to a security guard and asked if he had seen John Ross. He told her he didn’t even know who Ross was. Frustrated with his response, she asked if he’d seen Simon Lawrence. The guard said no, but asked her to wait and walked over to speak with a second guard. After a moment he came back and told her the second guard had sent a man upstairs not long ago to talk with Mr. Lawrence—a man who walked with a limp and carried a walking stick.