"I need your help with something," I said. I looked up and down the hallway. As far as I knew I hadn't been followed, and I'd been watching my back—but that didn't mean that no one was there. I was pretty good at noticing such things, but there were plenty of people (and nonpeople) who were better than me. "If you don't mind, can we talk about it inside?" Her expression became a little wary, and she looked up and down the hall herself. "Are you in trouble? Is this about the people at the store?"

"Pretty much," I said. "May I come in?"

"Of course, of course," she said, and stepped back inside, holding the door open for me. I limped in. "Oh, my God," she said, staring at me as I came in. "What happened?"

"A ghoul threw a knife into my leg," I told her.

She blinked at me. "You mean… a real ghoul? An actual ghoul?"

"Yeah."

Her face twisted up with dismay. "Oh. Wow. I've heard stories, but I never thought… you know. It's hard to believe they're really out there. Does that make me an idiot?"

"No," I said. "It makes you lucky. If I never see another ghoul, it will be too soon."

Her apartment was pretty typical of the kind: small, worn, run-down, but clean. She had mostly secondhand furniture, an ancient old fridge, mis-matched bookshelves that overflowed with paperbacks and textbooks, and a tiny, aged television that looked as if it didn't get much use.

"Sit down," she said, picking up a couple of blankets and a throw pillow from the couch, clearing off a space for me. I tottered over to the couch and sat, which felt entirely too good. I grunted and got my leg elevated onto the coffee table, and it felt even better. "Thanks," I said. She shook her head, staring at me. "You look frightful."

"Been a tough couple of days."

She studied me with serious eyes. "I suppose it must have been. What are you doing here?"

"The book," I said. "The one on the Erlking that I got from Bock."

"I remember," she said.

"Exactly."

"Um. What?"

"That's why I'm here," I said. "You remember but I don't, and the bad guys stole my copy. I need you to remember it for me."

She frowned. "The whole thing?"

"I don't think so," I said. "There were several poems and stanzas in there. I think what I need is in one of them."

"What do you need?" she said.

I stared at her for a second. Then I said, "It might be better if you don't know."

She lifted her chin and regarded me for a moment, as if I'd just said something bad about her mother. "Excuse me?"

"This is some bad business," I said. "It might be safer for you if I don't tell you much about it."

"Well," she said. "That's quite patronizing of you, Harry. Thank you."