By nine thirty Roman was in the shower, humming. Maggie sat in her chair. Patiently waiting in the dark room.

20

By ten o’clock Pete was insane. Mom was in bed but she wasn’t asleep yet. Couldn’t be. And it seemed like everything was happening too quickly. Exactly when should he leave? He couldn’t make up his mind. He was going to have to walk his bike back through the house because he couldn’t risk opening the garage. It was raining like mad outside and he’d have to bring a cover. He was nervous. Should he risk it and leave right now?

By ten o’clock Roman was behind the wheel of his black Mercedes. He wore a gray coat and he was smoking. The window was open, letting in some of the cold Goblin air and rain.

“Did you know that they’re buried standing up here?” Maggie asked.

“Yes,” Roman answered. “You told me so.”

21

By ten thirty Pete could stand it no more. He sneaked downstairs quietly. As he took his raincoat out of the closet the door creaked and his body stiffened. He waited. Then he walked through the laundry room to the garage. He opened the door very slowly and went and got his bike, then carried the bike back into the house. He thanked the rain for beating against the house, smothering any noises he made. Goblin was a friend in that way. He worried about Mom. What if she were to wake up and check on him while he was out?

She’d be scared. He’d leave a note.

He crept back upstairs and left this on his pillow:

Mom,

Don’t worry. I’m at a magic show at the old Domino Theater. I wasn’t sure if you’d let me go.

—Pete

He lifted his bike by the bar and opened the front door. The rain made a wall before him.

He stepped into that wall and closed the door softly behind him.

Mom would understand. She’d have to.

By ten thirty Roman and Maggie were walking through the gates of the Goblin Cemetery. Maggie held an umbrella over both their heads. They walked slowly and neither spoke. Maggie, Roman could tell, was yearning for it. Her quiet giggles gave her away.

They stepped around the tombstones, respecting the old idea that one shouldn’t step on another’s grave. Despite the fact that Roman was about to empty them.

The sky was black with rain. Roman liked that. Coupled with the trees surrounding the cemetery, he should have sufficient cover to do what he had to do.

22

By eleven o’clock Pete was whipping down Northsouth. The rain pressed hard against him, but it made the trip only more magically unreal. The wind, the rain, the time of day. Pete checked his pocket to make sure he had the ticket. The quarter, too. Both were there. Pete rode on.