Another semi-sleepless night, broken only by a recurrence of the strange music that came into my sleep and woke me as I sat up in bed to go to it. I had no idea why it seemed like such a good idea to follow the music, and even less idea where it wanted to take me, but apparently I was going anyway. Clearly I was falling apart, sliding rapidly downhill into gray, empty madness.

Monday morning a dazed and battered Dexter staggered into the kitchen, where I was immediately and violently assaulted by Hurricane Rita, who charged at me waving a huge stack of papers and CDs. "I need to know what you think," she said, and it struck me that this was something she definitely did not need to know, considering the deep bleakness of my thoughts. But before I could summon even a mild objection she had hurled me into a kitchen chair and began flinging the documents around.

"These are the flower arrangements that Hans wants to use," she started, showing me a series of pictures that were, in fact, floral in nature. "This is for the altar. And it's maybe a little too, oh, I don't know," she said desperately. "Is anybody going to make jokes about too much white?"

Although I am known for a finely tuned sense of humor, very few jokes based on the color white sprang to mind, but before I could reassure her on the subject, Rita was already flipping the pages. "Anyway," she said, "this is the individual table setting. Which hopefully goes with what Manny Borque is doing. Maybe we should get Vince to check it with him?" "Well," I said.

"Oh good lord, look at the time," she said, and before I could speak even one more syllable she had dropped a pile of CDs in my lap. "I've narrowed it down to six bands," she said. "Can you listen to these today and let me know what you think? Thanks, Dex," she went on relentlessly, leaning to plant a kiss on my cheek and then heading for the door, already moving on to the next item on her checklist. "Cody?" she called. "It's time to go, sweetie. Come on."

There was another three minutes of commotion, the highlights of which were Cody and Astor sticking their heads in the kitchen door to say good-bye, and then the front door slammed and all was silent.

And in the silence I thought I could almost hear, as I had heard in the night, the faint echo of the music. I knew I should leap from my chair and charge out the door with my saber clamped firmly between my teeth-charge into the bright light of day and find this thing, whatever it was, beard it in its den and slay it-but I could not.