He told her he loved her too, then watched out the window as she walked away. Blinking hard, he turned and aimed for the closet in the corner. Not much to miss here ... Darm had scraped and saved for the flop room. If it hadn't been for luck, even between the two of them, they'd have never come up with enough. Ten years and they still only had the bed, the couch - he reached up and after a moment of digging around on the top shelf, his fingers found the strap. With a tug, the backpack slid out, raining papers, odd socks, and bras down on him ...

Sighing, he bent to gather the mess up and stuffed it all back where it fell from. The new jeans, the favorite ones, a couple of shirts, underwear, the sleep mat ... Darm stopped filling the pack. He couldn't do it. Not again. Not to Sheila. Ten years - ten years of happiness, of stability ... reality.

The mirror above the dresser caught his attention. He refused to look at himself. Her picture stuck out of the corner of the frame, the one her brother took at the lake last summer. He pulled it down, smiling a little. The best time he could remember having in - it hit him again. The questions, the puzzlement - Sheila's dad slapping him on the back, saying, 'I swear you look younger now than the first time Sheila brought you here, Darm - what's your secret?'

It would only get worse - never should've hooked up in the first place. The corner of a yellow folder poked from an open compartment and Darm pulled it out. The photo disappeared between the covers, and he shoved it back in the pack. He slung the bag over his shoulder and grabbed his hikers on the way to the can. The travel case was where he usually left it, under the bottom pile of worn-out towels. She always put the best ones up top - the fight to stay rekindled ... He looked up from his shoelaces at the beat-up front door. How many times? Everything else faded to nothing as he headed for it.

***

The cloudy, scratched plexiglass rattled in the bent aluminum frame every time a ziptrain whizzed by. Darm pulled the balcony door curtains. It shut out the noon glare, at least. But the feel of the place - it made it worse if anything.

He gave the only chair in the room a kick. Too bad he bought it ... But he'd needed a safe place. It wouldn't do anymore. Too many ways to get himself into trouble here, and he didn't need any more of that. Supper, he needed. And coin, but it was so blasted hot out ... go anyway. The heat would take his mind off ... There never was home.

The clothes hit the floor as he walked into the can. Control handle was loose - was that why it wouldn't warm up? Like he needed hot water today ...

He caught it reflected in the door mirror - a black spot at the top of his thigh. It didn't scrape off with his nail. A jet-black squiggle, a backward 'ess' - oh, for - of course, it would be backward in the mirror.

His head came up and his expression gave him a goose - jeez, did he look miserable or what? Darm relaxed his eyebrows and tried to smile at himself. Yeah. So genuine. His blue eyes stared back, cold.

He stepped into the cool spray and scrubbed. Well, whatever it was, it wanted to stay. Giving up, he finished and dried off, tying his hair back still dripping. He dressed quick and left, stopping to listen for the click when he swiped the lock.

The protection offered by the thick 'crete walls of the flop-house vaporized the instant he stepped out the front entrance. The furnace embraced him and little beads of sweat popped out all over. Shimmering waves rose from the sidewalk - he'd have red highlights to pay for drying his hair in the sun.

The idea of hurrying was far away and he stuck to every shadow -

"Shelby! Hey, Shelby!"

Oh, no! Running into people he knew was not on the to-do-list. "Hey, Trev. How're things?"

"Where've you been? And what the ... you look - fantastic! How can you look so young?"

Darm smiled at the tall, white-haired man, but his insides were trying to hit the pavement. Trev looked fifty. Last time he saw him he would've passed for half that ... How could it have been that long? "Can we hook up later? I have a date with the revenue machine. I really can't be late, you know how it is?"

"Ooh, rotten luck ..." Trev grimaced, then suddenly smiled, eager. "Meet me at the tavern. I'll be there by six."

"You bet." Darm reached out and gave him a slap on the arm. "We'll get caught up." He walked away with a wave. Definitely couldn't stay here ... but finding somewhere suitable - a familiar glint slowed him, then he stopped altogether, squinting. Oh, look at that! He picked the chit out of the trash piled against the light post and gasped. That was enough to do him for a long, long time - looking around, he shoved the little green square in his pocket.

His hand went to his collar and touched the silver chain around his neck, then he turned back and headed for the tavern. What did he have to lose? His whole life he'd fought it. His whole life he'd either ignored every sign or talked himself into believing he was nuts - or both. And where had it gotten him?

Trev's aged faced floated in his mind as he walked. Same old. Everyone else bit the dust. One way or another he'd be alone. The cycle wasn't ever going to stop. Except for him. The desire, like a flame, lit up inside. He'd beaten it, he'd put it out - for so long. If there couldn't be someone for him, there had to be some thing ...

The mark ... He'd read of such things - didn't have to worry about it right now. Or decide. And there a few little details that had to be taken care of, either way. Supper was the first one.

***

"You can't leave yet! You still haven't told me how you stay so -"

"Shh." Darm raised the beer to his lips and polished it off. The band had stopped. Didn't want to be overheard. "I'll get to it, but I need you to go to Maggie for me -"

"Aw, Darm - I'm squeaking by with her as it is."

"I got into an accident a little while ago and my face got messed up. The medics felt sorry for me and put me on to this new skin treatment - it did too good of a job, as far as I'm concerned." Wasn't right to lie - but all he had was tonight. Get him, keep him interested -

"So tell me where you get this treatment!"

A slow smile started as he pulled a small envelope out of his pocket and slid it across the bar. "You think I wouldn't? Tomorrow - when you're good and sober and not before - check this out. It'll tell you everything you need to know." He sat tight, hoping like mad Trev wouldn't open it now ...

He pulled his wallet out and tucked the envelope inside. "Thanks, Darm, but you and your mysteries ... sometimes you make me wonder. Come with me to Tent City. You can hang with Chuck while I'm talking to Maggie."

Still smiling, Darm stood up. "Too late to be dragging him out of bed." Nuts! He didn't want to be seen -

"Just stay outside, then. I won't tell her you're with me." Trev drained his pint. "Let's go."

He didn't argue. At least there weren't any questions of why he didn't just do it himself. The two walked out into the murky shadows cast by the streetlights. It wasn't far to go and luck was with him. Trev kept it to banter. How would he have ever explained - he never would have, that's how.

The musty smell of damp canvas assaulted his sinuses as they approached the endless rows inverted dark 'V's. A flapping sound carried on the breeze. He could make out snores, low voices ... It was really late. Darm stopped under a dim pathway light, fighting the urge to sneeze. "I'll wait here for you," he whispered.

"You should just come in," Trev said.

He winced at his friend's loud voice. "Shh! You'll wake the dead! Everyone'll be up in arms -"

"Cripes, Darm! Can the drama, huh? I'm going."

Trev walked down two tents and stuck his arm inside the second one as Darm hugged the light pole. Oh, nuts. She wasn't home? What was he going to do now?

"What are you up to, Darm?"

The woman's voice had come out of nowhere. He twisted around. Maggie! How'd she get behind him? It was impossible! He would've -

"You think I'm deaf? Get inside."

She brushed past and he followed her - oh, no! Trev was gone! A little bit of green glimmered, reflecting the faint light. The chit! It was stuck in a seam on the edge of the right tent flap.

Maggie pulled it loose. "A biggie. Who'd you rob?"

"Very funny." Darm tried to keep the nervousness out of his voice. He didn't blame Trev for taking off on him. Hiding was a mistake. "I'll give you fifteen per cent," he said, as they climbed in the door.

She turned around to look at him, pushing her salt and pepper curls away from her face. The night air was cool, but it was humid - not the usual. She went back and stood at the tent flaps. "A bit of a breeze - instead of this hot air! You can't expect me to believe this is legit. Look how much it's for, never mind how you're carrying on!"

Darm reached into his pocket. "You know I've never screwed with you - and you can have this ..." He held out a heavy gold ring with a decent-sized rock and her eyes widened, shining.

"And you aren't thieving -"

"It was my dad's. I can't eat it. I found the chit, fair and square, Maggie."

She put her hand out. "All right. I don't have to tell you what'll happen if -"

"You're an angel." He moved close to her as he dropped the ring into her palm. "Can I hug you?"

Looking a little surprised, she nodded.

"Stick with Trev," he whispered near her ear. "He's on a roll." He gave her another squeeze and stepped out into the darkness. "I won't forget your help," he said as he ambled away.

***

He needed to turn his arse around and walk right out of here. He'd beaten it. He didn't need to do this - even without selling the ring, he had enough to go indy. Darm's eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light. The wooden tables were set in neat lines, dull, lonely-looking ... As if they'd sat there forever waiting for someone to use them and gave up. Rows of books covered every wall, towering over him, sentinels observing his every move.

He tip-toed down the middle aisle, the confidence he'd started with long gone. Whatever had made him think that he'd just know when he had the right one? His nervous scanning narrowed, pulled by a large book lying on the table ahead of him. As he was about to pass it by, recognition kicked in. What the blazes was it doing there? He'd expected it to be lost somewhere among the thousands of - who knew he was coming? It was bait in the trap. His head swiveled, searching for the stalker, the hunter ...

There wasn't a sound - no sign of anything living, not even a fly.

The shot of adrenaline ebbed away, replaced by longing. What couldn't he do with its wisdom? Once he learned its secrets? His hands flexed, palms dampening. The dream of it came to him, only today it wasn't a dream. To touch the hardened leather of its covers, trace the embossed lettering with his fingertips.

To fall headfirst into the ancient pages that would take him - his nose began to twitch with the burning, gathering force of a sneeze. No, no, no! To be caught in here? His hands flew to his face, violently scrubbing to stop the disaster his nose was threatening to unleash. The eye-watering sting faded away.

He took a careful breath through his mouth, rounding his full, pale lips into a soft 'o' as he exhaled. Way too close! He had to get out before something else happened that would get him caught ... His eyes darted back to the book.

It couldn't have been put there on purpose. For him to see, to caress, to revel in. Could it? His feet seemed to have a mind of their own, taking him closer, step by deliberate step. His arms shook as he reached for the forbidden, the denied, the chain that would bind him for eternity. He fought to pull back - take his will back. His soul. He knew if he tasted, the seduction of it, the wondrous, ever-deepening expectancy of it ...

It was open before him, the spine so worn there was no resistance, no protest, to his hasty, rough intrusion. Not a leaf fluttered. The glorious thing opened to the page like it was meant to be, fated.

The jumble of symbols took hold of him, possessed him. Consciousness returned enough to prompt him. He quieted the breath that had been coming in rattling, rapid gasps. No noise! An inner voice muttered the arcane words. Desire tugged at his lips, tickled his tongue, begging him to say them out loud. He jammed his mouth shut, sealed.

Memory was all he had, and he'd better make it good. The words flamed in his imagination, branded themselves into his psyche in a way that might never be erased. As the pages were devoured, a tingling started in his spine, little by little, raising, amplifying, into a stream of almost unbearable excitement.

He staggered back, barely catching the chair he knocked into. His guts tied themselves into knots and the thrill shivered again into bone-aching fear. To be caught - no. It couldn't happen. Darm took the room in, every nook and cranny of it. Any mote of evidence left behind - just get out of here! He let the long cloak he was now sweating in drag across the faint footprints he'd left in the dust.

As he reached the back of the room, he counted under his breath. One long, shaking finger extended, the well-trimmed nail managing to scratch a tiny red spot on the spine of the seventh book, on the seventh shelf, of the seventh bookcase.

He tore the hat off his head, letting his dark curls fall around his shoulders. The heavy shelving silently retreated far enough into the wall for Darm to squeeze through into the inky blackness behind it.

All that could be heard was a faint whisper as it shifted back into place, stirring the musty air in the library a little. Then all was still.