“It’s good to see you again, Mistress Jane,” he said, fighting to keep his voice steady.

“My dear Frazier,” she said, her voice the sound of rocks rubbing on sandpaper. “You will never know how very good it is to see you.”

For the first time, Frazier realized there was a slight hollowness to her voice, as if it were muffled by something over her mouth. Subtle, but there all the same.

“That means a lot to me,” he finally said. And he meant it.

“I’ve often been . . . cruel to you,” Jane said, taking a step forward. Though she was still mostly in shadow, Frazier could see that she wore a long, flowing robe, its hood pulled up over her head. Something glinted off her face, a flickering reflection from the fire.

Must be her glasses, Frazier thought.

“You’ve only ever done that which needed to be done,” he said. “I know I’ll have my reward some day, when we make the Realities as they were meant to be.”

“Frazier,” she whispered.

“Yes, Mistress Jane?”

“I want you to know that I love you as if you were my own brother. I promise never to be cruel to you again.”

Frazier felt a strange mixture of elation and sick fear. “The feeling is mutual.” His hands were sweating even worse than before. So was his face.

“That makes me happy, Frazier. Very, very happy.”

Mistress Jane stepped out into the full light of the fire, and a puff of sharp air escaped Frazier’s lips before he could stop it. He took a step backward, cursing himself silently as soon as he did.

The floor-length robe that draped over her head and shoulders and body was a brilliant yellow, glowing like molten gold in the flickering light of the flames. Where her face should have been, a red mask floated, bright as fresh blood. Though it sparkled like shiny metal, its surface moved and flowed, creating subtle facial expressions, alternating between anger, sadness, excitement, confusion, joy, pain. Small holes, as dark as the deepest depths of the ocean, made up her eyes, and somehow Frazier knew she was looking at him through the mask.

“Mistress Jane . . .” was all he could get out.

The flowing, red metal mask solidified into a stark expression of rage, eyebrows slanted up from the nose like a big V.

“He did this to me, Frazier,” she said, her raspy voice bitter and tight. “I tried so hard to make him see—to work with him, to help him. But in the end, he looked at me and threw all of his powers against me. He hurt me, Frazier. I will always be in pain now.”

“Who?” Frazier asked. “Who did this to you? What . . .” He almost asked her what was hidden beneath the yellow robe, but he knew better.