Charlie leaned in toward him. “The Well,” she whispered, “why in God’s name did you take me there? Why did you expose me to that horror? The blood, broken bodies, the stench. Christ, Whit, it almost killed me. It’s why I hit you that night, afterward. I couldn’t believe…” Her eyes searched his; she needed an answer. “Why did you want me to see what you were capable of? What were you thinking when you exposed me to that … living hell? Was it forgiveness you were looking for? Did you think I’d absolve you of your sins? Or were you just trying to drive me away, kill my love for you?”

Love. It was the first time she had intimated in any way that she had loved him. Did she love him still? Like her, he needed an answer. “It was none of those things. Charlie. Charlie.” His voice was as dry as a reed at summer’s death. “I wanted you to know everything there was about me, I wanted to let you in—the only person I would ever trust in that way. You made me feel … different. Better. You made me realize that I didn’t want to be alone anymore.”

Silence between them. The wind rushing by outside and their ears clogging and clicking open as the plane slid down the flight path of its final approach. His hand sought hers, their fingers twining.

*   *   *

By dawn’s early light, Preach saw the rolling hills of Virginia, wreathed in pearly mist, insubstantial as ghosts. That was fine by him; ghosts were as familiar to him as old friends at the dinner table.

Crow flew ahead of him, showing him seconds, minutes, an hour into the future, for in that state of being time had no meaning. Past, present, and future melded into one and ceased to have the meaning put on them by human beings in a vain attempt to draw order and structure out of chaos.

More blood, more death, this is what Crow saw. That was fine, too. In his long, long lifetime Preach had waded through blood and death more times than he could count. The transition was what interested him. Through Crow he had experienced what others called death, what he knew to be the metamorphosis from one state of being to another. Crow had assured him of this; through Crow’s eyes he had peered into the world beyond, and found it worthy.