He put his other hand on my other shoulder and faced me intently. I met his eyes while he spoke. "That fear is natural. But it is also a weakness. A path of attack for what would prey upon your mind. You must learn to control it."

"How?" I whispered.

"No one can tell you that," he said. "Not me. Not an angel. And not a fallen angel. You are the product of your own choices, Harry, and nothing can change that. Don't let anyone or anything tell you otherwise."

"But… my choices haven't always been very good," I said.

"Whose have?" he asked. He smiled at me and rose. "I'm sorry, son, but I have to go."

"Wait," I said.

He put his hand on my head, and for that brief second I was a child again, tired and small and utterly certain of my father's strength.

"My boy. There's so much still ahead of you."

"So much?" I whispered.

"Pain. Joy. Love. Death. Heartache. Terrible waters. Despair. Hope. I wish I could have been with you longer. I wish I could have helped you prepare for it."

"For what?" I asked him.

"Shhhhh," he said. "Sleep. I'll keep the fire lit until morning."

And darkness and deep, silent, blissfully restful night swallowed me whole.

Chapter Twelve

The next morning my brain was throbbing with far too many thoughts and worries to allow for any productive thinking. I couldn't afford that. Until I knew exactly what was going on and how to stop it, the most important weapon in my arsenal was reason.

I needed to clear my head.

I got my running clothes on as quietly as I could, but as tired as Butters looked I could probably have decked myself in a full suit of Renaissance plate armor without waking him. I took Mouse on his morning walk, filled up a plastic sports bottle with cold water, and headed for the door.

Thomas stood waiting for me at the SUV, dressed as I was in shorts and a T-shirt. Only he made it look casually chic, whereas I looked like I bought my wardrobe at garage sales.

"Where's the Beetle?" he asked.

"Shop," I said. "Someone beat it up."

"Why?"

"Not sure yet," I said. "Feel like a run?"

"Why?" he asked.

"My head's full. Need to move."

Thomas nodded in understanding. "Where?"

"Beach."

"Sure," he said. He hooked a thumb at the SUV. "What's with the battleship?"

"Billy and Georgia loaned it to me."

"That was nice of them."

"Nice and stupid. It won't last long with me driving it." I sighed.

"But I need the wheels. Come on. It's after dawn, but I still don't want to leave Butters alone for long."

He nodded, and we got into the SUV. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

"God, not until I can blow off some steam running."

"I hear you," he said, and we remained silent all the way to the beach.