“Well, she’s not going!” Pick declared firmly. “So that’s it for John Ross, I guess. Thanks for coming, but I think you’d better be on your way.”

“Pick!” Nest admonished, surprised at his vehemence. “Be nice, will you?” She looked at Ariel. “What happens if I don’t go?” she asked.

Ariel’s strange eyes, clear as stream water, locked on her own. “John Ross has had a dream. The events of the dream will occur in three days. On the last day of October. On Halloween. Ross will be a part of these events. To the extent that he is, there is a very great chance he will become ensnared by the Void and will begin to turn. The Lady cannot know this for certain, but she suspects it. She will not let that happen. She has already sent someone to see that it doesn’t.”

Nest felt a chill sweep through her. Like she sent Ross to me, five years ago. If Ross is subverted, he will be killed. Someone has been sent to see to it.

“You are his last chance,” Ariel said again. “Will you go to him? Will you speak to him? Will you try to save him?”

Her thin voice drifted on the autumn breeze and was lost in a rustle of dry leaves.

Nest walked back through the park, lost in thought. Pick rode her shoulder in silence. The afternoon was lengthening out from midday, and the park was busy with fall picnickers, hikers, a few stray pickup ballplayers, and parents with kids and dogs. The blue skies were still bright with sunshine, but the sun was easing steadily west toward a large bank of storm clouds that were rolling out of the plains. Nest could smell the coming rain in the soft, cool air.

“What are you going to do?” Pick asked finally.

She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“You’re seriously thinking about going, aren’t you?” “I’m thinking about it.”

“Well, you should forget about it right here and now.”

“Why do you feel so strongly about this?” She slowed in the shadow of a large oak and looked down at him. “What do you know that you’re not telling me?”

Pick’s wooden face twisted in an expression of distaste, and his twiggy body contorted into a knot. His eyes looked straight ahead. “Nothing.”

She waited, knowing from experience that there would be more.

“You remember what happened five years ago,” Pick said finally, still not looking at her. “You remember what that was like—with John Ross and your grandparents and your … You remember?” He shook his head. “It wasn’t any of it what it seemed to be at first glance. It wasn’t any of it what you thought it was. There were things you didn’t know. Things I didn’t know, for that matter. Secrets. It was over before you found out everything.”

He paused. “It will be like that with this business, too. It always is. The Word doesn’t reveal everything. It isn’t His nature to do so.”