The nightmare began as it always did, as all the worst ones do; it began with a memory.

Nathan was alone in the house on Christmas morning. It wasn’t a surprise, waking to find his parents gone to the morning service. They always left him behind.

Just as well, he’d thought as he put another log in the fireplace. He’d have been annoyed to go anyway, Christmas morning and all.

After breakfast he’d decided to read in the living room. It was his favorite place in the house: spacious and yet somehow cozy, filled with comfortable furniture centering around a fireplace that had been doused with family pictures. If there was something better than kicking back in front of an indoor fire, Nathan was content not to know about it.

The doorbell rang just as he got settled. Grumbling, Nathan got up and walked to the door.

Jack cracked his familiar, crooked smile and brushed the snow off his shoulders. “Let a guy in before he freezes?”

His face aching from the grin threatening to split his face, Nathan threw the door open. “You said you couldn’t make it!”

Nathan’s brother laughed and drew him into a bear hug: well over six feet tall and built like the football player he’d been in high school, a hug from Jack was a bone-cracking experience that Nathan had missed for almost a year. “I said I’d probably be busy, and you inferred that I couldn’t make it.” Jack drew his little brother into an arm lock. “Sucker.”

Nathan took hold of his brother’s arm and ducked forward, trying to flip Jack tail over teakettle. Jack moved with his brother, rolling over Nathan's back and flicking him in the throat as he fell to the floor with a grin. “I win.”

Nathan rubbed his throat. “You’re the one on the floor.”

“You’re the one who got his throat messed up.”

Rolling his eyes, Nathan helped his brother up. “You are the teacher of the manly art of self-defense, and I only your feeble student.” Nathan bowed. “What can I do to appease you, master?”

Jack pretended to think. “Well, you could start by making me breakfast, grasshopper.”

“That will have to be your present,” Nathan said. “I didn’t get you a real one.”

“That’s all right,” Jack shrugged. “Didn’t know where I was and I let you think I wasn’t coming. Got one for you though.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“Let’s sit down first.”

They trooped back to the living room, Jack littering flakes of snow everywhere as they went. Once they’d sat, Jack reached into his backpack and came out with his hand closed around something.

“Remember how upset you were when your watch broke?”

Nathan nodded. “Yeah, but that was a year ago.”

Jack opened his hands, displaying the bracelet. “Fished it out of the garbage when you weren’t looking. I couldn’t get the watch to work, so I switched it out for a compass. More practical, anyway.”

“You used your rosary to make the strap?” Nathan stared at his brother.

The beads were a handsome burgundy color, worn smooth by long years of use. A crucifix still dangled from the band, a bronze cross with an abstract of Christ etched into the surface. It was a pretty thing, and a lot of people had asked Jack where he'd got it. Nathan had watched him make it.

Jack shrugged. “You need it more than I do. Now whenever you’re lost, however you’re lost, you’ll have something to point the way.”

“That’s amazing. I... I don’t know what to say.” Nathan settled on hugging his brother.

Jack smiled. “Take it, say thanks, say Merry Christmas, and make me breakfast. Oh, and since Mom and Dad are… Mass?”

“Mass.”

“Kay. Since they’re gone…” Jack reached into his backpack and handed him a thin folder.

“What’s this?”

“Couple things I don’t need mom and dad fussing about. Legal stuff for work. Hang on to it for me?”

“Sure, what is it?”

"Nothing important, just keep it from them, all right?"

This was where memory changed. That day Nathan had cooked his brother breakfast and they'd made small talk about anything but what had just happened, but in the dream Nathan asked the questions neither of them had dared.

"Why me? Give this to mom and dad."

"They won't do it, Nathan, you know that. You'll have to be there for me. Promise me."

"You're my brother Jack, I... I don't want to do this."

"It's my decision, and it may never happen. It's required for work, that's all."

"I'll have everything to worry about! Decide on someone else! I'm not going to-"

"You will, because it's my right! Promise me!"

Promise me…

“That's enough for today. Class dismissed.”

When the professor stopped his doddering it obliged his more wakeful students to shake stiffened bodies free of their desks and help their more restful fellows stagger out of the class. Some, like Nathan, even took a bit of prodding.

Someone poked him hard in the ribcage and Nathan woke with a startled yelp, his hands beating at fading memories. Then the someone prodded him again, harder this time, and Nathan realized where he was. A girl, dark shades over her eyes, was poking the tip of a cane into his ribs. Her face was a study in calm indifference, though Nathan fancied there was a smile flickering in the corner of her mouth.

“Ah…”

“Yes?”

“I don’t even know you. Why were you poking me?”

“You snore. I’m amazed the professor didn’t call you on it.”

“I talked to a couple people who’ve taken this course,” Nathan said. “Fitchson’s half deaf and prefers a monologue to a discussion.”

She snorted and Nathan gently brushed the cane from his side. “Did you stay awake, then?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I’ve had worse. History with Fitchson is rather more interesting than, say, calculus.”

Nathan shuddered. He had taken calculus in high school, and both his GPA and his pride were still in therapy. “True that.”

She smiled and turned to go. In a flash Nathan was out of his seat to go after her. “Wait! Are you… are you doing anything later?”

A cocked head was her only reaction. “I stab you with my cane and you ask me on a date?”

“Well, I…”

“Maybe another time.” Chuckling, she offered him her hand. “Besides, you’ll forget about me soon enough.”

Nathan took her hand and winced as his head throbbed, pain digging like a spoon at the back of his eyes. Damn it, I thought that hangover was done. “I doubt it, girl as pretty as you.”

Her eyes widened.

The girl’s grip tightened and suddenly it was all Nathan could do to keep his breakfast down, the headache surging against the inside of his skull. Without thinking, he tore his hand from her grip and she yelped, staggering. She almost fell, but Nathan caught her.

What the hell?

“Sorry, sorry. Don’t know why I did that.” He smiled hopefully. “But… um… what makes you think I’ll forget you?”

“Don’t worry about it. Low self-esteem, I suppose.” Whatever was bothering her, it didn't last. It took work to remember she hadn’t always been wearing that amused half-smile. With a curious little nod almost like a bow, she continued. “Perhaps names would be a good start, Mr…”

“Seldon. Nathan Seldon.”

“Mmm. I’m Maggie.”

“Wait, are you… changing your mind?” Nathan asked with a frown. “Agreeing to a date?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No no, it’s great… it’s just…”

She cocked her head. “Just what?”

Just odd that she changed her mind so fast, a nagging little voice said in the back of his mind. “Just great. Look, there’s a small party at the Disc. You know the place?”

“If I don’t, I can find out.”

“Good answer. It’s at six o’ clock. Music, food, dancing… maybe afterward we could eat out or watch a mov… sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said again, and made a show of mulling over his proposition. Nathan laughed. It took real artistry to be a pain in the ass and an enticing flirt at the same time. “I’ll be there. On one condition.”

“Oh?”

“Tell me what you look like.”

Nathan thought for a moment. “Well… I’ve got… um… short brown hair, gray eyes…” he winced. “I’m not very good at this.”

“Clearly.” Maggie shook her head, grinning. “Maybe I should do it for you. Would that help?”

“Uh… pardon?”

“Here, let me…”

Puzzled, Nathan watched as she reached towards his face, then understood and took her hand. He guided it to his cheeks, her fingers feather-light on his skin. She traced his jaw line, his mouth and nose, lingered for a moment on his eyes. She took his hand again, traced over his palm and fingers for a few seconds before moving up his arm, trailing across his biceps, his shoulder, his chest. Her fingers stopped there and rested for a moment.

“Interesting.”

Nathan blinked, lost in the delicate pressure of her fingers. “What’s interesting?”

Maggie took her glasses off and somehow met his eyes for a moment. A thin, pale scar showed on her left eyelid when she blinked. Perhaps it was silly, but Nathan had been expecting white irises or empty sockets or something. Instead her eyes looked ordinary, a brown so deep they were almost black.

“You’re thin, muscular even without working out. I think they call that a runner’s build. It makes you look taller than you are, about 5’ 10”, maybe a bit less. You have gray eyes, gray like iron, with a hint of silver and cloud. Your hair is brown, a little coppery, and your face is…” She grinned faintly. “It looks gentle, warm and inviting, and you have a heroic chin: it’s broad without looking ridiculous and has a bit of a cleft.”

Nathan stared for a while before speaking, unable to keep the wonder out of his voice. Maybe there was a little fear too, he wasn’t sure. That was creepy. “How did you do that? And… gentle. Did you have to say that? Everyone who describes my face says it’s gentle.”

She replaced her glasses, but Nathan could see a teasing glint in her eyes even through the shades. “I said gentle because that’s what it is. And… and what is that jangling?”

“What? Oh… this.” Nathan took his bracelet off and placed it in her hand. “I have a habit of rattling the beads when I’m nervous.”

“Nervous, huh?” Maggie grinned and then contemplated the bracelet. “Is this… what is this?”

“It’s a compass,” Nathan said, uncomfortable talking about something so near the memory he'd visited during his nap. That day had been haunting him for a while now. “My brother made it for me. Used his own rosary.”

“Wow. He must love you a lot.”

Nathan nodded. “He did, but you didn’t answer my question.”

Maggie handed him the bracelet. “What question?”

“How did you tell me what I looked like?”

“I’ll tell you later. See you at the party?”

He nodded.

“I’ll assume you nodded.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“I keep telling you, don’t worry about it.” She turned to leave, a mischievous smile still playing on her lips. “Besides, you’re cute when you blush.”

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“Wha? I didn’…” Nathan scowled. “How could you tell?”

“Your face was still hot. And your voice wavered a little, like now.”

She was gone by the time Nathan had recovered enough presence of mind to reply.

That was odd. Freakishly odd. She seems like a lot of trouble, the nagging little voice said.

“She’s gorgeous is what she is, and clever, and interesting, and willing to give me a shot.”

Did I mention that she is freakishly odd? What was that, with the I-can-see-you-with-my-fingers?

Nathan thought for a moment. “She asked someone before she did it.”

Too much detail. She got it all just by touching you. And what was that feeling when she squeezed your hand? Try and tell me it wasn’t weird.

“Shut up, cricket.” Nathan shouldered his bag and made his way back his dorm. Despite himself, part of him was still wondering just what he had gotten into.

The Disc was an amphitheater on its way to becoming a ruin. Benches ringed a shallow bowl on the campus mall, centered around a disk of weathered concrete. Trees shaded the place, thicker than the average armchair and sporting branches nearly as comfortable. Hammocks dangled from the trees like a tattered rainbow and patches of black dotted the concrete where rain had failed to wash off the ashes of many, many bonfires. It was an inviting place, despite the odd patch of broken glass.

One section of benches had been taken over by a drum circle and, having arrived about the same time they had, Nathan found himself idly strumming along to the slipshod music for over an hour while he waited. His guitar was an odd one: unusually narrow and shaped like a paddle. He’d bought it in high school, loving the idea of a guitar light enough to sling over his back and forget about. Some people made fun of it, or even grew nervous when they saw the case: because of its size, some over-imaginative people assumed it held a rifle.

Nathan would laugh when he heard that, and liked to pull out his “rifle” and start playing instead of explaining. He wasn’t half bad in his own opinion, and the opinions of others tended to rank him among the not-bad-at-all.

He eyed the crowd for Maggie while playing and reflected that, as far as parties had gone in his experience, this one was pretty tame. A small fire had been started, tended by a couple outdoor nuts cooking a pot of something that made his stomach rumble. Some people had tried bringing alcohol but they’d been asked to leave, partly because it would offset the mood but mostly because of campus security.

A few girls had come and gone, and one or two even tried to strike up a conversation, but Nathan couldn’t pay much attention to them, too consumed with the jittery energy of middle schoolers coming into their hormones.

He smiled ruefully as the third girl wandered away. Nathan didn’t want to admit it, but he was starting to think he had a crush.

“Hey, where’s the beer?”

Shit. What the hell is he doing here?

Nathan tried to drown his mind in music before he did something stupid. He knew that voice.

“Hey, dork.” Someone swatted Nathan’s shoulder. “Where’s the beer?”

Nathan sighed. “There isn’t any, Tyler. This isn’t your kind of party.”

If someone had shaved a chimpanzee with a steak knife, given it a taste for bottom-rack whiskey and taught it to smack the rear of every woman it passed, that chimp would have looked at Tyler Murren with raging contempt. With a stripe of mud-colored eyebrow and a long-armed, broad-shouldered body, Tyler had more than earned the nickname “Ape,” in high school. He grinned, and even Tyler’s toothy, yellowed smile gave an impression of chimpish evil.

“It's a party, isn't it? Why don’t you go smoke some weed or something, Seldon?”

“You were a lot nicer in kindergarten, Tyler. Pity things change.”

Tyler leered. “Kids are idiots. I certainly was if I ever thought you were worth having around.” He turned and began to walk off. “Send any hot chicks you meet my way.”

Nathan’s mouth got the better of him, and before he could stop himself snark was lacing every word. “But Tyler, I wouldn’t even do that to a Chihuahua. I wouldn’t want the poor thing left unsatisfied.”

Tyler stopped, turning to stare for a few moments before speaking with a quiet that had nothing to do with calm. “Think you’re funny, Seldon?”

“No, pin dick, I think your chances with a Chihuahua are.”

Several of the drummers snickered, Tyler’s face reddened and Nathan stood, meeting the larger boy's eyes before he could think of a response. “Tyler, you are not wanted here. There isn’t anything for you. The girls aren’t interested. No one will give you booze. There is, in fact, none to be had. Go away.”

Nathan tried not to let his surprise show; the words didn’t sound human as they came out. If anything, they sounded like something that might have come from the throat of a glacier. Now it wasn’t just the drummers listening. Everything came to an abrupt standstill as passing students turned and stared. Nathan thought he saw several of them flinch.

Tyler snarled but couldn’t hide the uncertainty in his eyes. “You think you scare me, Seldon? I don't care who your brother was, he's dead. I could snap you over my knee, you little shit.”

Nathan smiled at that, all teeth and no warmth. The ice slid from his voice and into his blood. He shifted his weight, body language suddenly screaming that he was not just ready for violence, but eager for it. Though a good thirty pounds of slab-like muscle heavier than Nathan, the other boy stepped back.

Nathan noticed and his cold grin widened. “Not going to try?”

Tyler didn’t meet his eyes. “You better watch yourself, Seldon.”

Nathan was almost disappointed as Tyler backed down but sat and turned away, hoping it looked dismissive and nothing at all like an invitation. “I'll do that.”

Nathan heard a few clomping steps and let out a quiet breath, shuddering as adrenaline protested lack of use. He heard a yelp, and Tyler’s voice again.

“Watch where you’re going!”

“How?” The answer came in a cool, feminine drawl. Nathan turned to see Tyler facing Maggie, her hand braced against his hairy arm as though to keep him from running her over. From the looks of things, he almost had.

With a grumble that might have been an apology, Tyler lumbered off.

Nathan grinned. “Nice to see you. Thought you wouldn’t make it.”

Maggie dusted herself off. “Just in time, I guess. Who was he?”

“We went to school together, just on the other side of town. Used to be best friends when we were little, but he became a jock who loved four-wheelers and football while I stayed a little shrimp with my nose in a book.” He shrugged. “We hate each other more on principle than anything, I suppose.”

Maggie tapped her way over and sat down next to him, rather closer than Nathan would have expected, not that he minded. “You scared him pretty good. Where did you pick that up?”

“I…” Nathan thought for a moment about what had happened. “I didn’t mean to sound so evil. I wasn’t even angry, at first. I just wanted him to go away.” He shrugged. “It seemed like the best option.”

“I’m surprised it worked.”

“Well, it’s a proven survival trick, so don’t knock it. You know what you’re supposed to do when a bear or a pride of lions or something comes after you?”

“Throw rocks, look bigger, make a lot of noise as if you’re the... ah.”

Nathan waggled a finger at her, and then rolled his eyes at the pointless gesture. Not that pointless, though. Ha-ha. “Exactly. He might have beaten the snot out of me, but I made him think I’d be too much trouble.”

Maggie smiled slyly, showing a dimple that Nathan hadn’t noticed before. “Doesn’t he know you well enough to know whether he can take you?”

He shook his head. “Not for a long time. I was kind of a loner during high school. For all he knows I’ve been attending ninja night school for the last four years.”

“Mmm. And have you been?”

“Been what?”

“Attending ninja night school.”

Nathan stared for a few moments, not sure if she was serious. “Uh… kinda? Mostly I just learned from my brother. He liked to bounce ideas off me.”

“Your brother? The one who made you the bracelet, right?”

“Yeah, Jack. He was in the military, sort of. He’d lead self-defense seminars when he’d come home.”

Maggie frowned. “What happened?”

“He died a few months ago.” Nathan said. “I’d rather not to talk about it.”

“I’m sorry. Ah... What are you going to do when he decides you are?”

“What?”

“When Tyler thinks you’re worth the trouble.”

“He won’t.” Maggie waited patiently, letting the silence get uncomfortable. After a few seconds Nathan raised his hands in mock surrender, glad she couldn’t see. “If he does, I’ll cheap-shot him or something. I don't think I could take him fairly.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” She patted his knee, that odd smirk still on her face. Nathan had a sudden feeling that she was trying to get a sense of his flaws, inspecting him the way a shopper palms an apple for bruises. He shivered, inexplicably repulsed by this strange girl, and had to beat down the urge to get up and leave without another word. Get a hold of yourself. There is nothing wrong with her.

Maggie pulled away and frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing, I’m just…” Nathan fumbled for an excuse and noticed the cooking pot down on the disc. Whatever was in it had started to boil. “I’m hungry, and was hoping for some of the stew they’re making down there.”

She laughed. “Trust me, it’ll taste nasty. They put too many spices in it.”

“How can you tell?”

Maggie tapped her nose. “Too few vegetables, too much jalapeño powder. You’re going to have to find something else to eat.”

“Figures.” He put his guitar back in its case, smiling. “I don’t suppose you’d let me offer you dinner?”

“Oh, that depends. What do you plan on cooking?”

Nathan laughed. “A little bistro on Main Street will cook. You don’t want me cooking.”

“…so we set it on fire.” Nathan said, laughing with Maggie as he finished his story. They’d finished dinner and were walking back to campus arm in arm. Nathan claimed it was strictly to guide her, which she accepted with innocence just as believable as his excuse to hold her hand. Her cane wove back and forth across the sidewalk as they took their time. The restaurant was only two blocks from campus, so Nathan enjoyed the date while he could.

“And what happened next?”

Nathan grinned. “You know, I don’t remember. That was the first time I was drunk.”

“And you lit a car on fire.” She tutted. “Arson and underage drinking. Terrible child.”

“Hey, it was ours anyway! Brotherly pressure is a terrible thing, ruining nice boys like me.”

“Pshh. I’m sure you were terrible to begin with. A good terrible, but terrible nonetheless.”

Nathan chuckled and steered her to the side so a bicyclist could pass. “Maybe. But enough about me. What about you?”

“What?”

Nathan rolled his eyes. “Maggie, we spent two hours in that place and you did nothing but ask questions. It’s my turn: tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to talk about? Hmm?”

“Well…” Nathan shrugged. “What about the hand thing?”

“Hand thing?”

Nathan thought about the feelings of nausea he’d experienced but chose not to say anything. “You weirded out for a second when you shook my hand after Fitchson’s class.”

“Oh, that.” Maggie bit her lip. “You weirded out.”

“You first, when I said I wouldn’t forget you.”

“It was nothing.”

Nathan raised an eyebrow. “You tried to grind my fingers together, how is that nothing?”

“I said it was nothing!” she ripped her hand from his, red-faced. The wind was up, cold in the sweat Nathan hadn’t known was on his palms. They moved onto the campus lawn in a sullen silence while he struggled to think of something to say, shifting his guitar case from his shoulder to his hand as he did. Like a fool he’d taken it with him rather than dropping it off in his dorm, and had gotten a few odd stares for his trouble.

“I’m… sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she said in a tone saying it wasn’t. “It’s just a… a thing.”

“Ah. A thing.” Nathan nodded sagely. She turned, scowling as if she could see him doing it.

“Look, you’re not exactly being forthcoming here. What did you expect?”

She threw her arms up and Nathan ducked out of the way; she had nearly hit him with her cane. “I don’t know, just… I don’t know. It’s complicated. I like you, but that's not... it's not what I expected.”

Not what she expected? What does that mean? “I… um… I don’t know what to say to that. Did you want me to be a prick or something?”

“No, I… look, just show me to my dorm and go away. I'm sorry, I’ve got a lot to think about.”

Nathan sighed. So much for a successful date. “Which is it?”

“MacCallister.”

Nathan’s mouth quirked. “Which floor?”

“Why?”

“I'm staying there too. Walk you to your room?”

Maggie muttered under her breath while they walked to their dorm, a long, squat place of mud-brown brick that looked even more like a prison block than most school buildings, and was just as cheerless inside. However, Nathan liked MacCallister, mostly because of the huge oak just outside the door. It was an old, old man of a tree, sporting a pair of half-closed wounds where branches had been sawed off. The scars looked like eyes, solemn and stately, and seemed to watch as they approached.

“He’s staring at me,” Nathan murmured.

Maggie smiled faintly. “The oak?”

Nathan glanced at her. “Yeah.”

Maggie walked straight for the tree and rested a hand on the old bark. “Did you know the Celts believed that oaks were gates between the worlds?”

Nathan shook his head and then smiled. Maybe I should get used to this; talking instead of nodding. “No, I didn’t. Nice tree though.”

She continued as if he hadn’t spoken, whispering to herself. “Oaks that get old enough rot on the inside. They get too thick to stay healthy, so hollow out as they age. Sometimes they open up. The holes looked like doors so people told stories. Fairyland, Avalon, heaven.” She turned, an odd look on her face. “All the magic. The fairies, the wizards, the angels, all of it, hidden away where we can’t see.”

That sparked something in Nathan’s memory. “Don’t some Arthurian legends say that Merlin was imprisoned in an oak tree?”

Maggie looked surprised “Not a lot of people know that.”

“Like I said, nose in a book since diapers.”

“So wha?” They turned as Tyler staggered down the sidewalk. “Seldon thinks he’s… he’s smarter than everybody. Thinks he’s better. Just because he knows a few big words.”

Nathan turned to Maggie. “Let’s go inside.”

“You scared, Seldon? Scared. A scared little shrimp. Not a real man. Just like when we were kids. Gutless.” Tyler leered at Maggie, crooked teeth bared as he stumbled closer. “Why you with him? I can show you a better time than he can.”

“You can leave her alone.” Nathan stepped between them, gently pushing Maggie towards the door as he did.

Maggie scoffed and pushed him aside with her cane. “I can fight my own battles, thank you. Tyler, is it?”

Tyler stopped little more than three feet away, leering. “Glad you know my name. I like it when girls say it.”

Maggie ignored the comment, offering Tyler her hand. “Why don’t we start over. I'm-”

Tyler slapped her. Knocked off balance, Maggie fell to the sidewalk. “But I don’t like it when they talk,” he jeered.

Nathan snarled, dropped the guitar case and leapt forward, sinking his fist into Tyler’s stomach. Retching, Tyler swiped at Nathan with one hand, backing away as the other went to his pocket.

Raising his fists, Nathan eyed the much bigger boy as Tyler pulled a long, wicked knife. It glittered under the streetlights, the white splotch of a barcode sticker still half-stuck to the blade. He saw the look on Nathan’s face and cracked a hideous smile, wheezing “I’ve wanted to do this for years, you little prick.”

Nathan forced calm into his voice as he shifted his feet, bracing himself. “Tyler, this isn't a game. You're drunk. What you want is a night of sleep before you do something stupid. Drop the knife. Don't do this. Please.”

Tyler lunged.

Nathan ducked sideways, then grabbed Tyler’s arm and spun into the blow, bringing Tyler’s elbow down hard on his shoulder, forcing the joint to bend in a way nature never intended.

Tyler’s scream wasn't enough to drown out the sickening crack. He dropped the knife and fell to his knees, sobbing. Nathan stared, lost in memory for a moment. The man before him as a child with a scrapped knee, sobbing just the same way. He felt a bizarre urge to go to Tyler’s side and comfort him, just as he had done years ago.

He went to Maggie instead, shaking as he helped her up. A glance at the dorm showed several lights flicking on. Nathan had to yell to be heard over Tyler’s wails. “Get inside and find someone to call an ambulance. He’s going to need help. Go. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

Maggie stared for a moment, a strange look on her face.

“Go!”

Maggie bit her lip and turned, then turned again to lunge past him. He started to follow, wondering what she was doing, then went rigid as something drove into his back.

When he was two, Nathan’s parents had bought dry ice for Halloween, and when they weren’t watching Jack had broken off a chunk and dared him to hold it. When he’d refused, his older brother had pinned him on his stomach and dumped it down his shirt. Nathan had laughed for a moment before screaming in pain as the cold tore into his skin, ripping the heat from his body in a grinding tide of misery.

This was worse.

He groaned as he collapsed, suddenly limp as a doll. Tyler was swiping at Maggie, a bloody knife in one hand, his other arm dangling. Heat bloomed from Nathan’s back, slowly spreading over him like a blanket, and he felt like laughing. It was nice that someone had thought to tuck him in…

No. Nathan tried everything he could to force himself to stay awake. His vision going fuzzy, he watched as Maggie evaded Tyler, puzzled that despite her blindness she was dodging his swings with startling grace.

“Move, bitch,” Tyler roared. “Move so I can stick him again.”

Maggie swung her cane into his hand, knocking the knife away. “Touch him and I’ll kill you.”

He cursed, groping in the grass, then throwing himself forward. Seizing a fistful of her hair, he dragged her off her feet and snarled in her face. “How you gonna do that?”

She smiled then, the expression something out of nightmare, and Nathan’s eyes were drawn to the shadow she cast as it rippled like black silk in the wind. Suddenly the thing outlined on the sidewalk was no longer a young girl. The shape of some monstrous angel spread like a stain beneath her feet, wings of ash and bone curling around Tyler in obscene parody of an embrace. Nathan trembled as Maggie reached out with a finger and stroked Tyler’s face. “I'll kill you... like this.”

Tyler collapsed, screaming as though every devil in hell was suddenly clawing at the inside of his skull. Maggie knelt and searched the grass with her hands, ignoring Tyler as he began convulsing. The smell of urine began to reek from his pants.

“Stop it…” Tyler gasped. “Stop it… stop it, stopit, stopitstopitstopitstopit…”

“Do it yourself,” Maggie snarled, slipping Tyler’s knife back into his hand. Nathan turned away and heard only the slow, ragged hiss of air leaving a dead man’s lips. When he looked back Tyler was smiling, almost blissful in the profundity of the relief on his face, his grin mirrored by a red mouth gaping across his throat.

“What are you?” Nathan coughed, blood coming to his lips. “Shit…”

“Shut up, I need to think! Something…” Hands clenched to her head, Maggie paced back and forth. She stopped, nodded to herself, and then turned to the dead man at her feet.

Nathan, shaking as his vision began to go dark, fought to keep an eye on her, watching as she gathered Tyler’s blood in one hand. Her eyes flicked in Nathan’s direction and she smiled faintly.

“Remember those old stories, Nathan? Those stories of Merlin being locked away?” She stood and walked to the old tree, careful not to spill her grisly handful. She dipped a finger into her cupped hand and began dabbing intricate, looping patterns onto the trunk.

“They weren’t stories.”

As Nathan blacked out he could have sworn the tree yawned open, gaping a crooked, wooden maw to swallow him. Maggie reached for him but he turned away. He saw his guitar case sitting nearby and on impulse he reached out to take the strap in his hand. Vikings who died with swords in their hands went to Valhalla.

I’ve got a guitar, he thought stupidly, so where am I going?