“I suppose not,” Stiles said. “But then, you’ve been at it longer than the rest of us. You know, I feel sorry for you, Mr. Danner, I really do. You’ve been running for so long and dreading your nightmares for so many years that you’ve forgotten about anyone’s life but your own. You’re twice damned, Sebastian. Once by your brother. And once by yourself.” He flipped off the lightswitch and closed the door behind him, leaving the old man alone in his own personal darkness.

Stiles went straight to the room farthest back. It was dark back there, even with the drapes open, and he didn’t bother turning on the light. He went stealthily through Ida’s room, past the autographed photos of Swaggart and Falwell and the holy bric-a-brac that covered the walls, and peeked through the window. It was dark out there, like the umbra of a distant planet. The big spruce that stood just a few feet beyond obscured the moonlight even more and left a zebra-stripe of shadows and dim light on the grass below. This was the place to leave from. But Stiles was still ill at ease. They could be out there, like sharks, circling, gliding just beneath the surface. Unseen until it’s too late. He flipped the latch as quietly as possible and eased the window open and waited for nearly a minute for a response, but nothing came. He still couldn’t see anyone out there. So he swung a leg up onto the outer sill and eased himself outside. The branch that reached closest to the window was part of the main trunk and half-again as thick as his thigh. He reached out and grabbed it and swung himself into space, and his throat caught when the branch began to sag. But then it stopped and held firm. He pulled his weight up onto it and slid along to the bough of the tree, one hand supporting his weight and keeping his balance, the other resting on the sword hilt over his shoulder. Still no one was in sight. So, little by little, he worked his way down, branch by branch, then dropped silently to the grass.

He moved to the corner of the house and peaked around. There was a female standing fifteen feet along, trying to work up the courage to approach one of the protected windows, and past her in a swirl of gathering fog were two more trying at another window and cursing their inability. Now, he wondered, what’s the best way to play this?

The most obvious, of course.