“I know what’s driven you to these things!” I said aloud. I was crying. My eyes were filling with blood.

“I would never have hurt that boy,” whispered the Voice inside me, only it was coming from this face, this tragic face, these lips, this one looking into my eyes.

“I believe you,” I said.

“I will never hurt you.”

“I will give you all that I know,” I said, “if only you’ll do the same with me! If only we can love one another! Always, completely! I will not suffer you to go into any other but me!”

“Yes,” he said. “You have always been my beloved. Always. Dancer, singer, oracle, high priest, prince.”

I reached out for the mirror, slapping my hands on the glass. The eyes were huge, and the mouth was long and serene with curving lips, expressive lips.

“In one body,” said the Voice. “In one brain. In one soul.” A sigh came from it. A long agonizing sigh. “Don’t fear me. Don’t fear my suffering, my cries, my frantic power. Help me. Help me, I beg you. You are my redeemer. Call me forth from the tomb.”

I reached out with every fiber of my being, my hands pressing the glass, shuddering against it, my whole soul wanting to pass into the mirror, into the bloody-red image, into the face, into the Voice.

And then the image was gone.

I found myself on the carpet, sitting there, as if I’d been pushed or fallen backwards, staring up at the bright empty mirror reflecting again the contents of the room.

There was a knocking at the door.

Somewhere a clock was striking the hour. So many chimes. Was it possible?

I rose to my feet and went to the door.

It was midnight. The last chime had just echoed through the hallway.

Gregory and Seth and Sevraine were there. Fareed was with them and David and Jesse and Marius. Others were nearby.

What had drawn them here now, just now? I was dazed. What could I say to them?

“There is so much we want to talk about,” said Gregory. “We’re not hearing the Voice. None of us are. The world’s quiet, or so it tells Benji upstairs. But surely this is only an intermezzo. We must plan.”

I stood there quietly for a long moment, hands clasped just under my chin. I lifted my right hand, one finger raised.

“Am I your leader?” I asked. It was so hard for me to speak, to form the simplest words. “Will you accept my decision as to the disposition of the Voice?”

No one answered for a moment. I couldn’t shake off the languor I felt. I couldn’t rally. I wanted them all to leave me now.