“So, do you finally believe I don’t like you just because of the music?” she asks. Her breath brushes my neck.

I don’t answer. But I hold her tighter.

We stay there, holding on, for a long time.

Thea

I’ve emptied the root cellar.

Load after load of objects traveling back to the spots where they belong. Empty jars back to the kitchen cupboards. Ropes and buckets to the basement. Blankets to the laundry, then to the closet shelves, every bit of skin and hair rinsed clean.

I’ve scrubbed the X off the door. I’ve put the barrels and bags and other clutter back in the corners of the shed, and I’ve wiped everything clean, rubbing fingerprints and traces of anything else from door frames and stairs and walls and locks.

I’ve tied up other loose ends, too.

I went to the Crow’s Nest yesterday afternoon. The place was quiet. Only two tables occupied, and both of them out on the patio, in the warming May air.

Janos was wiping down the steamer when I walked in.

His face brightened. It’s nice to have someone’s face brighten when they see you.

“Hey,” he said. “Long time no see.”

“Yes,” I told him. “Crazy times.”

“Crazy times,” he repeated. He poured some fresh milk into one of the little metal pitchers. “You know what I think?”

“What?”

He ground some espresso into a filter cup and latched it into the machine. “Aliens.”

I smiled. “Aliens?”

“Yes. A small town. Isolated. Surrounded by woods. The perfect place for abductions. And people have been seeing strange things out there. Lights in the trees. Fast-moving objects.”

I couldn’t tell if Janos was joking. From the way he looked at me, he might not have been sure, either.

“But at least they brought one back. That girl.” Janos poured the espresso into a cup, followed by a rush of steamed milk.

“Maybe they’re good aliens,” I said.

“Like E.T.,” he agreed.

He pushed a cappuccino across the counter toward me.

“Thank you.” I reached into my pocket.

“No, no.” Janos shook his head. “You didn’t order that. So you don’t pay for it.”

I watched him for a second. He didn’t relent, staring at me with one eyebrow up and both palms flat on the counter.

“Fine,” I said at last. “Then thank you again.”

I waited until he turned away. Then I put all the cash I had with me into the tip jar.

I sat at one of the small tables near the edge of the stage. Up close, bare and quiet, it looked strangely small. Just a little carpeted platform. All its fire and magic and energy gone. Anders gone.

I could never get this close to the stage when Last Things played. I had to stay on the edges, so I could keep watch over everything. Now I wished I could have been here, this close to the music, just once. I could almost bring it to life in my head: Anders, tall and sharp, standing right above me. The sound of his voice in my ears, reaching me a fraction of an instant before it rang out to the rest of the room.