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“You?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It isn’t necessary that you understand. I am bound in a certain way by a certain person. I wish to free myself. I didn’t think it could be done, but you and Jill have shown me that I am wrong.”

“How? If-”

“She came very close.”

“I see.”

She sipped at her tea, glared at it, then glared at me. “Why should I help you?” she said.

“Jill Quarrier,” I said.

She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“She is mine. I own her. I can do what I will to her. After her attempt to escape me, I put her in the hospital. I can do so again. And again. Eventually, I will have all of her.”

“You-”

“She is expected to get out tomorrow or the next day.”

Her mouth worked up and down, without ever closing completely. If looks could kill and so on. “I can put such protections on her that-”

“Against her will?”

“What do you mean, against her will?”

“I mean against my will. Think about it.”

She did so, grinding her teeth. I wondered if they were real. After a long time, she took another sip of tea, forgetting even to scowl at it. At length, she said, “What exactly are you offering?”

“Jill. Her life, her health, her freedom.”

“In exchange for telling you how to break free from whoever is binding you?”

“Exactly.”

“How do I know you will keep your end of the bargain?”

“You don’t. But you know what will happen to Jill if you refuse.”

“It will happen anyway,” she snapped. “And you know it-”

“Rubbish. If I release her, and leave her alone, she will live a full and normal life.”

“Yes, until she dies.”

“We’re all in for that eventually.”

“But when she dies-”

“She will be embalmed. Or maybe cremated.”

Her mouth worked again, this time from side to side, as if she were having trouble with her teeth. “What is it you want to be released from?”

“The same as Jill.”

She stared at me. “I have lived for many years, and I have seen my share of evil, but-”

“Spare me.”

“Spare you? How amusing. Perhaps someday you will beg me for exactly that.”

“Not likely,” I said. “And it might not be clever of you to make me think that I would rest easier with you dead.”

“I don’t fear you.”

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

She snorted. “And the Devil is quoting Shakespear.”

“Oh, hardly the Devil, I think.”

“The servant is the man.”

I laughed a little and played with my coffee cup. I said, “You know, I think, that I am not deliberately cruel.”

“I know nothing of the kind.”

“Then you should know it. Because I can be cruel if I want to be, if I see a need to be. If you think of betraying me in any way, you should consider it carefully. Whatever you do to me, I will take out on Jill, and I will show you what I have done to her before I do the same to you. It would be good of you to consider this.”

“Don’t threaten me, monster. I do what I promise.”

I laughed. “Tell it to the air, cigany; I know your kind. But I think you will this time.” I repressed a chuckle, suddenly remembering how Young Don had interpreted that word he didn’t recognize.

She glared at me again. “You’d best find paper and pencil to write this down; it is long.”

“Very well.” I signaled the waitress over. She asked if we wanted anything else. I asked for a pen. She provided one and went away again. I turned over the place mat and prepared to write.

The old woman said, “It must be done under the waning moon, the new moon is best.”

“Very well.”

“And you must begin at midnight.”

I laughed.

“You think it’s a joke?” she snapped.

“Of course. But that doesn’t mean I won’t do it.”

Her mouth twitched angrily and she began speaking. I wrote it all down. The paper was too coarse. I prefer typing, I think.

I have typewritten the instructions and set them aside until the moon should become newer. Why is it that we call the moon new when we can’t see her at all? For that matter, why do we say first quarter or third quarter when any fool can see it is a half-moon? Now, by the way, she is big and full and beautiful, rising early in the evening and setting as the sun rises.

I walked through the bitter cold that might be winter’s last serious effort for the year. The harsh winds, I am told, come from Lake Erie and make their way into the center of the state where they become mild and people complain of the cold. Those from Lakota consider themselves hardy, superior folk for surviving winters with winds like this; I think, perhaps, they are merely stupid; and I am including Laura Kellem in their number. I will not stay here a moment beyond the time I am bound; a time which will, I think, end in two weeks, at the dark of the moon of April.

But what if Susan wants to stay? Will I remain here in spite of the risks? No, not unless there is a way to protect myself from Kellem-protect myself thoroughly. And, of course, there is such a way. It makes me tremble to contemplate it, but it is not impossible. If it is that or leave Susan, well, it may become more reasonable. Or not. If I can free myself from Kellem, that is enough; she is stronger than I, and older, and, even if I owed her no gratitude, it would be foolish to take such a risk.

It is funny, I think, how I cannot conceive of life without Susan, and yet we’ve never talked about such things. Or perhaps we have-that she offered to give up her other lover is, I think, as unprecedented for her as these feelings are for me.

I believe I will go see her, and maybe we will talk about these things, and perhaps I will be in for another shock-an unpleasant one if my suppositions prove to be ill-founded. But it is better to know than not to know, isn’t it?

I spent the evening with Susan, though we didn’t go anywhere and I didn’t touch her, save for an arm around her shoulder. She seemed disappointed, and I was sad that I couldn’t explain.

We sat on her couch listening to Maazel conduct the Cleveland Orchestra through Shostakovich’s Symphony Number 5. I’ve always liked Shostakovich; he’s morbid. I said, “Jill isn’t back yet, is she?”

“No. I spoke to her, and she said she’d be getting out tomorrow. Are you going to be here to welcome her?”

“I don’t know.”

“Perhaps you should.”

“Yes. And then, perhaps I shouldn’t.”

She said, “You know, Jonathan, you never actually said that you’d stop seeing Jill if I stopped seeing Jennifer.”

“I implied it pretty strongly, though.”

She smiled and nestled closer to me. “Mmmm,” she said.

“But all right, I formally agree. Yes. Done. Compact made, signed, and sealed. An alliance offensive and defensive against this wicked world.”

“That will do,” she said.

“I will tell her next time I see her.”

She frowned, watched me with her big eyes, and said, “Do you think that right after she comes out of the hospital is the best time?”

“Somehow,” I said, “I don’t think it will break her heart.”

“Oh?”

“Trust me.”

“I do.”

“When are you going to tell Jennifer?”

She nestled her head against my shoulder and said, “About two hours ago.”

“Oh. Hmmm. How did she take it?”

“She’s a bit of a bitch. But we’re going to get together and talk things over.”

I almost offered to make sure she stayed out of her life, but then I thought that she wouldn’t like that. My next idea was that I could simply cause her to disappear, but then Susan might feel guilty about it. Perhaps I ought to just allow things to run their course. I’m glad I didn’t send that letter to Traci.

I said, “Confident, weren’t you?”

“Yes.” She stroked my hair.

“But,” I said.

“Yes? But?”

“What of the future?”