It was a messy sketch, not surprisingly, given that she had drawn it without actually looking at the paper. Even now, it was hard for her to describe where her mind had gone while she was drawing. She’d been looking up at the sky, through the two skylights, imagining, perhaps, that she was a bird, flying around up there, gazing down upon the house from the heavens. In the past, when she’d experimented with automatic drawing—clearing her head, letting her fingers seemingly work independently of her brain—she’d never had much to show for it.

Today had been different.

This was no adorable penguin she’d sketched.

She had drawn the man from Penn Station.

He was a kind of hybrid. Part rat, part coyote, with a dash of werewolf added to the mix.

He had a human-like figure, but with the rat-wolf head. Not some cute, Disney-like rat (or wolf), either. This was a nasty piece of work with piercing eyes and small, sharp, piranha-like teeth that could nibble off your fingers in an instant. He (she assumed it was a he) was dressed in a kind of long jacket, like a trench coat, and his feet were bare. They were oversized and furry, with long ragged nails. A bushy tail curled up from under the coat.

“Good luck turning him into a bestseller,” she heard John say in the back of her mind.

As rough as the sketch was, Annie had to admit that, from a purely professional standpoint, it was not half bad. If you were out to create a cartoon villain, you could do a lot worse.

But what in Annie’s subconscious had led her to put this image on a sheet of paper? What had prompted her to dredge up a distant memory from childhood that might not even have been real? Sure, she’d endured the worst year ever. She’d suffered guilt, she’d endured loss. Was this how it manifested itself?

She sat in the chair, picked up the pencil, and refined some of the character’s features. Made the teeth more individual, sharper. Worked some creases into the trench coat. Added some little hairs to the feet.

Were the creative impulses within her trying to send a message? Were they telling her to retire Pierce permanently? Was it time to abandon cute for creepy?

Take that pain. Take that hurt. Turn it into something.

Was that what was happening?

She put down the pencil and managed a smile. She imagined the look on Fin’s face when she told him she was abandoning a cute penguin for this nightmarish character. He’d have a heart attack. Even if she had no intention of switching gears, it would still be fun to tell him.