I have to give it to the cerva. He knows he’s screwed, but he’s still not backing down. Or maybe he isn’t brave. Maybe he’s just stupid, because I sure as hell would be trying to smooth things over right about now. Either that, or running like hell.

That feeling of some old, dark power’s continuing to build. It’s like we’re standing in the middle of an approaching thunderstorm that’s about to let loose a torrent of rain on the back of a swath of lightning bolts that’ll be as thick as the old redwoods back home. One of those wild storms that has no conception of friend or foe. It just takes down everything in its path.

Isn’t this . . . dangerous? I ask Jack.

Sure it is. Why do you think Raven and Ayabe are so nervous?

But you’d think the two of them would be enough to keep Minisino in check.

Jack shrugs. If it was only about power. But you know them. Like most of the old spirits, they just stop paying attention to the world after awhile. But Joe’s always in the world. Jack shakes his head and smiles. And you know what’s funny? He won’t even remember this when it’s over. He’ll just remember Minisino backing down—or at least I hope that moron’s going to back down. But that won’t stop Joe from taking that buffalo man down hard if he forgets and tries any of this crap again.

We never get to find out which way it’s going to go, because Anwatan speaks then. I guess she doesn’t know what’s going on, the way Raven and Ayabe do, or the way I do now, since Jack’s just explained it to me. She’s been standing there like her father and the humans, knowing that something bad could be coming down, but not knowing exactly what. And since no one’s speaking up, I guess she decides it’s up to her to defuse what looks like a real bad situation.

“There’s something else,” she says.

For a moment it seems as though no one’s going to listen to her. Then slowly Joe changes again. He’s back to his own size and turns from Minisino to look at Anwatan. None of us seem to know we’ve been holding our breath until we let it out in a collective sigh. There’s some foot shuffling as people adjust their weight. One of the humans—I think it’s the guitar player from Lizzie’s band—coughs.

“What’s that, darling?” Joe says, sounding more like Cody than himself.