To cap off Manfred’s unsettled feeling, when he stopped at the end of his driveway to open his mailbox, he found a bill from Magdalena Orta Powell. He opened it and winced when he saw the bottom line. He sat down at his computer to work with renewed dedication. If I ever have to go to court over this, he thought, I might as well forget ever buying a new car. Or my own house. He wondered what Magdalena’s house looked like. Perhaps the plumbing was made of gold.

Manfred reminded himself that while his car was humble, it was paid for, that he didn’t need a house, and that adding a room to the lawyer’s house was better than being in jail.

Much better.

17

Joe went farther on his morning run than he’d ever gone. He enjoyed the quiet time for thinking, not that there was exactly a cacophony in Midnight or that Chuy’s conversation was not welcome. But sometimes the solitude of running was just what he needed. This morning, with the sun already blazing on his back, Joe was thinking of their little Peke, Rasta, and of all Rasta’s health problems. The dog was getting older, and Joe knew there would be hard times ahead. He and Chuy had not aged, or at least not that Joe could perceive, in many, many, years.

That didn’t mean they were invulnerable. Just as Joe was thinking of the previous week when Chuy had cut himself with a kitchen knife, Joe looked down, saw a rattlesnake right in front of him, and tried to leap sideways in midstride.

Joe realized three things as he lay by the side of the road. First, the snake had not been a diamondback at all, but a gopher snake. He still would not have wanted to tread on it, but it wouldn’t have injected him with poison. Second, he had landed poorly and his ankle was hurting like a bitch. And third, there was no one coming in any direction.

“Okay,” Joe said out loud. “Okay. First, I have to sit up.” His palms and elbows were scraped and bleeding. That was minor but uncomfortable. Joe rolled onto his knees and pushed up. He glanced around for the snake, but it was gone.

Sometimes Joe saw a rancher or a commuter to Magic Portal on his morning run, but today was not one of those days. He hobbled back into Midnight, struggling not to say any of the words that popped into his head. The pain tempted him to break a promise he and Chuy had made to each other long ago. Joe looked up at the blue sky, at a vulture floating on the thermals far above, his wings spread wide. He took a deep breath, restraining himself. A promise was a promise. He limped on.